It’s how I’ve managed to survive in the Rosso family without becoming a true believer in our cause. Trust no one completely. Verify everything. Prepare for betrayal.
But with Kira...
For the first time in years, I want to trust. Want to believe that the connection I felt when our lips met wasn’t fabricated. That the recognition I see in her eyes—of a fellow captive seeking freedom—is genuine.
I close the system, securing the evidence but not yet sharing it with Vito. Tomorrow night, I’ll look into Kira’s eyes and I’ll know. One way or another, I’ll know.
Because in the end, code doesn’t lie, but people do. And the most dangerous encryption of all is the one that hides a human heart from view.
In twenty-two hours, we either become true allies against the forces binding us, or we become the weapons our families always intended us to be. I’m no longer certain which outcome I fear more.
CHAPTER 12
Kira
The hotel ballroomhums with quiet danger. Men in expensive suits carrying concealed weapons. Women with diamond earrings and hidden knives. The air is thick with cologne, perfume, and unspoken threats.
This is what passes for diplomacy in our world—a summit between families, carefully orchestrated on neutral territory. The Plaza Hotel’s private conference level has been swept for bugs three times by both security teams. All phones are surrendered at the door. No electronics allowed, except for the secured tablets containing the presentations we’re expected to deliver.
I stand beside my father as he exchanges formal greetings with Vito Rosso. Alexei looms behind us like a human shield, while Nicolai observes everything with calculated disinterest. On the Italian side, Rafa maintains a similar controlled expression, though his eyes meet mine briefly—a flash of something urgent passing between us.
“The joining of our enterprises is proceeding on schedule,” my father announces to the assembled captains and lieutenants.“My daughter and Vito’s brother will present the integration plan for our digital infrastructure.”
Integration plan. Such a sanitized term for what’s really happening—the Rossos gaining access to our systems, us to theirs, each family looking for vulnerabilities while pretending to cooperate.
Rafa and I move to the front of the room, standing before the large screen where our presentation will appear. We’ve prepared separately, each creating half of what should appear as a unified proposal. I’ve never even seen his portion until now.
As we wait for the technical team to set up, Rafa leans close, his breath warm against my ear.
“We need to talk. Now.” He murmurs.
“We’re about to present,” I reply, maintaining my professional smile for watching eyes.
“Before that. It’s important.” His fingers brush against my wrist—a contact so brief it could be accidental, except nothing Rafa does is unintentional. “Bathroom. Two minutes.”
He steps away smoothly, approaching Vito with a question about the presentation order. A moment later, he exits the room with casual confidence.
I count to thirty before turning to Nicolai. “Technical issue with my portion. I need five minutes.”
He nods, understanding immediately. “I’ll stall.”
The corridor outside is empty except for security posted at strategic intervals. They note my passage but don’t interfere—I’m authorized personnel in this carefully controlled environment.
The women’s restroom is located at the end of the hall, while the men’s is directly opposite. As I approach, Rafa emerges from the men’s room and smoothly redirects me toward a service corridor I hadn’t noticed.
“Security cameras?” I ask as we slip through the door.
“On a loop for the next four minutes,” he replies. “One of Gio’s specialties.”
The service corridor is narrow, lit by fluorescent strips that cast harsh shadows. Rafa stops once we’re out of sight from the main hallway, turning to face me with an intensity that raises my guard immediately.
“You lied to me,” he says without preamble.
I maintain a neutral expression. “You’ll need to be more specific.”
“About the money. The thefts.” His eyes are hard, searching my face for tells. “It’s coming from your side, not mine.”
My heart rate accelerates, but I maintain a steady breathing rhythm. “What makes you say that?”
