Chapter 2 - The Bride He Actually Wanted
Adelaide remained standing.
Mateo noticed.
“You can sit.”
“I’m fine.”
“You look like you’re deciding whether the window is survivable.”
She glanced toward it.
Third floor.
Probably not.
“That depends on what you’re planning.”
Something close to humor touched Mateo’s face.
“Good.”
“What’s good?”
“You’re afraid and still asking questions.”
“I’ve had practice.”
That erased the humor.
Mateo gestured toward the chair again.
This time she sat.
He pushed the file toward her.
Adelaide opened it.
Her stomach tightened.
Quarterly reconciliations.
Loan-risk models.
Internal compliance memoranda.
All written by her.
None officially carrying her name.
“How did you know?”
“I pay people to know things.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the answer you get tonight.”
She looked at him.
“If you knew about me, why ask my father for ‘a daughter’ instead of asking for me?”
Mateo leaned back.
“Because I wanted to know what kind of man Rockford Jones was.”
“You already knew.”
“I knew he was incompetent. I didn’t know whether he was cruel.”
Adelaide understood.
“You tested him.”
“Yes.”
“And he sent me.”
“Yes.”
“Because they thought you’d reject me.”
Mateo’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
Humiliation returned.
But this time it came with anger.
“You used me to test my family.”
“I used the situation to reveal them.”
“Convenient distinction.”
“Fair.”
That answer surprised her.
Powerful men usually hated being challenged.
Mateo appeared almost to expect it.
Adelaide pointed at the folder.
“Why do you care about my work?”
“Because your father didn’t lose fifteen million dollars.”
Her heartbeat changed.
“What?”
Mateo slid another document across the desk.
Three wire transfers.
Seven million.
Four million.
Four million.
Each moved through different entities.
Each eventually returned to companies connected to Jones Financial.
Adelaide adjusted her glasses.
“No.”
“What?”
“These dates don’t match.”
Mateo leaned forward.
“The trades?”
“The supposed losses.”
She grabbed the report.
“The technology positions were liquidated three days before this second transfer.”
Mateo said nothing.
Adelaide looked up.
“You already knew.”
“I wanted to see if you would.”
Her anger sharpened.
“Stop testing me.”
A long pause.
Then Mateo nodded.
“Agreed.”
She studied the documents.
“My father claimed the money vanished in trades.”
“It didn’t.”
“Then someone stole it.”
“Yes.”
“From you.”
“From both of us.”
Adelaide frowned.
Mateo tapped the ledger.
“This money moved through Jones Financial. Whoever did it wants evidence pointing toward your father.”
“Rockford signs anything placed in front of him.”
“I know.”
“Evelyn manages his personal accounts.”
Mateo’s eyes sharpened.
“And Chloe?”
“She manages shopping.”
Mateo almost smiled.
Adelaide continued reading.
A company appeared repeatedly.
Bellweather Strategic Holdings.
She knew the name.
“I’ve seen this.”
“Where?”
“Vendor authorization requests.”
“Signed by?”
Adelaide’s stomach sank.
“Evelyn.”
Mateo stood.
She looked up quickly.
He crossed toward a cabinet and poured water, not alcohol.
“You’re staying here.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“No.”
“You think I’m a prisoner?”
“I think you walked into a house containing information worth killing for.”
She stared.
“I already told you not to threaten me.”
“I’m not.”
He handed her the water.
“I’m warning you.”
Adelaide didn’t take it.
Mateo placed it on the table.
“The marriage condition was leverage against Rockford. Nothing happens without your consent.”
She blinked.
“You don’t expect me to marry you?”
“I expect nothing.”
“Then why demand marriage?”
“Because whoever moved my money believes an alliance between our families would give me access to Jones Financial.”
“And it would.”
“Yes.”
“So you wanted access.”
“Yes.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“Usually.”
“That sounds threatening.”
“It should.”
Despite herself, Adelaide almost smiled.
Mateo noticed.
Something changed between them.
Small.
Dangerous.
He walked toward the fireplace.
“There’s another reason I wanted you here.”
Adelaide waited.
Mateo picked up a framed photograph.
He handed it to her.
Two younger men stood outside a Boston courthouse.
One was Mateo’s father, Antonio.
The second—
Adelaide stopped breathing.
Her mother stood between them.
Young.
Alive.
Smiling.
“What is this?”
“Taken seventeen years ago.”
“My mother knew your father?”
“Yes.”
Adelaide looked up sharply.
“How?”
“That is what I intend to find out.”
She stared at the photograph.
Her mother had never mentioned the Morettis.
Never.
Mateo continued.
“Your mother worked briefly as outside counsel for several Moretti businesses before she married Rockford.”
“My mother was a lawyer, not a mob accountant.”
“I didn’t say otherwise.”
“You said she worked for your family.”
“She investigated my family.”
That changed everything.
Adelaide rose.
“What?”
“My father believed someone inside the organization was laundering legitimate company money through Boston financial firms. Your mother agreed to help identify them.”
“And?”
“She found something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why not?”
“Because she died four days later.”
The room became silent.
Adelaide felt suddenly nine years old again.
Rain.
Glass.
Her mother screaming.
The smell of gasoline.
“You’re saying the crash…”
“I’m saying I don’t believe in coincidences involving fifteen million dollars and dead accountants.”
“She wasn’t an accountant.”
“No.”
Mateo’s eyes hardened.
“But you are.”
Adelaide stared at the photograph.
Her mother’s hand rested on Antonio Moretti’s shoulder.
Comfortable.
Trusting.
“Why didn’t you tell me immediately?”
“Because twenty minutes ago you thought I might murder you.”
“That hasn’t been ruled out.”
A surprised laugh escaped him.
It was brief.
Real.
It transformed his face.
For one dangerous second, Adelaide understood why women probably made terrible decisions around Mateo Moretti.
Then he became serious again.
“You’ll have a private suite upstairs. Two guards outside.”
“No.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“I don’t want guards.”
“Then you can have four.”
“That’s not negotiation.”
“I wasn’t negotiating security.”
She glared.
He met it calmly.
Finally, Adelaide said, “One guard.”
“Two.”
“One.”
“Two.”
“You are impossible.”
“So I’m told.”
They settled on two.
As Adelaide reached the door, Mateo spoke.
“One more thing.”
She turned.
“Your family didn’t send luggage.”
“No.”
His eyes cooled.
“They really thought you weren’t coming back.”
The truth hit harder spoken aloud.
Adelaide lifted her chin.
“I told them I wasn’t.”
Mateo studied her.
Then he said quietly, “Good.”
She frowned.
“Why good?”
“Because if what I think happened to your mother is true, Adelaide…”
May you like
His gaze moved to the photograph still in her hand.
“You were never safe with the Jones family to begin with.”
