The elevator ride back up to the penthouse after my family's visit felt like drowning. Adrian hadn't answered my question about November Seventh, and his silence said more than words could.
By the time we reached the top floor, my legs were trembling with exhaustion and fury. I tore my wrist from his grip and stumbled toward the bedroom, desperate to be away from him.
"Elena," his voice came low, steady. "Rest. You'll need it."
"For what?" I snapped.
His eyes flickered with something I couldn't place. "For the docks."
I froze. "What are you talking about?"
"Your fiancé," he said. "He's made another mistake. And you're coming with me to see it."
---
Hours later, I found myself in the back of his car, the city peeling away around us. Rafe drove in silence, Leo riding shotgun. Adrian sat beside me, composed as if this were nothing more than a midnight errand.
I clutched my coat around me, glaring at the blur of streetlights outside. "Why drag me along?"
"Because you still believe there's something in Luca worth saving," Adrian said simply. "And belief dies harder when you see it for yourself."
The words burned. "You're wrong."
He didn't reply.
---
The docks appeared like the underbelly of the city — warehouses looming against the water, the smell of oil and rust filling the air. Rafe killed the headlights before turning into a narrow lane.
"Pier 14," Adrian murmured.
At the far end, under a single flickering floodlight, I saw them. Two men I didn't know, built like thugs, and between them — Luca.
My heart stuttered. His hair was a mess, his jacket half-zipped. He paced, agitated, glancing toward the water like it might swallow him whole.
The taller thug handed him a black case. Luca opened it just enough to reveal stacks of cash, then snapped it shut quickly, like he was afraid the night itself would steal it.
"What is he doing?" I whispered.
"Buying time," Adrian said. "Badly."
---
We crept closer, shadows our shield. My breath fogged in the cold air as I strained to hear.
"Petrov says last payment due in two days," one thug growled in a thick Russian accent. "Not two weeks. Not two months. Two days."
"I told him I'll have it," Luca said quickly, voice shaking. "I just need—"
"You had time before. You use it badly."
"I'll have it!" Luca's desperation cracked through the night. "It's complicated."
The second thug chuckled. "Complicated is dying without paying."
---
My chest ached. I wanted to believe Luca was innocent, just cornered. But every word made that harder.
The taller thug leaned closer to him. "Petrov says if money not here, he takes what Rossi promised."
My blood iced. Rossi. My family.
Luca's face went white. "That's not on the table anymore."
"Not your choice," the thug sneered. "Rossi agreed."
My stomach dropped. "Oh my God," I whispered.
Adrian's hand brushed my wrist — not harsh, just steady. "Now you see."
---
Luca's head snapped up, his voice desperate. "Tell Petrov I'll get it. Just tell him—leave her out of it. This is my problem."
The thug's laugh was sharp. "You still think you choose?"
That was when Adrian stepped forward.
His presence cut the air like a blade. The Russians stiffened, hands darting to their jackets. Luca spun around, eyes wide.
"Evening, gentlemen," Adrian said, calm as water. "I believe you have something that belongs to me."
"Moretti," one thug spat.
"The same," Adrian said. "And before you make the mistake of thinking this pier is far enough from my reach — ask yourselves why you didn't hear us arrive."
The thugs froze. Guns were drawn. Rafe moved faster, steel clicking as he leveled his weapon. The dock seemed to hold its breath.
"Careful," Adrian said softly. "We all know how these stories end."
The thugs exchanged a look, then backed away slowly, disappearing into the dark.
---
Silence settled. Luca stood frozen, clutching the black case like it might save him.
Adrian's gaze was lethal. "You have a talent, Greco. Finding trouble too big for you to carry."
Luca's eyes flicked to me. "Elena—"
"Don't," I snapped, voice shaking. "Don't you dare say my name."
Adrian stepped closer to him. "You're going to tell me why Petrov thinks the Rossi family owes him anything. And you're going to tell me now."
Luca swallowed hard. "It's not what you think."
"Then enlighten me."
His gaze darted to me. "It's your father, Elena."
My breath caught. "What?"
"He's been in business with Petrov for years," Luca blurted. "Smuggling, laundering… I don't even know all of it. But he—he used your name once. As collateral."
I staggered back. "He what?"
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"He thought you were safe," Luca rushed on. "That you'd marry someone respectable before it came due. That Petrov would never collect. I swear I was trying to fix it—"
"By offering her again," Adrian cut in. "Only this time through me."
"No!" Luca's voice cracked. "I was trying to protect her!"
My laugh was bitter, broken. "Protect me? You stood there at the altar knowing all of this, and you let me walk into it blind?"
"Elena, please—"
"Stop!" My voice echoed over the water. "Just stop."
---
Adrian's gaze didn't leave him. "You're done. Whatever scraps of loyalty you had left, you buried them tonight."
Luca's shoulders sagged. For the first time, he looked small. Defeated.
But before I could process, headlights flared at the end of the pier. Another car rolled up, sleek and black.
The back door opened.
And Petrov stepped out, cane tapping against the wood.
He smiled like a man arriving late to his own party. "Now isn't this a family reunion."
---
The thugs returned, flanking him. My heart clawed its way into my throat.
"Luca," Petrov said, almost fond. "You've been very busy. Meeting my men without permission. Very careless."
Luca stammered. "I—I was just—"
"Buying time," Petrov finished. "I know. But time is money, and you're running out of both."
His gaze slid to me. "Ah. The bride. What a pleasure to see you again so soon."
Adrian moved subtly in front of me, blocking his view. "This pier isn't yours, Petrov."
Petrov chuckled. "The ocean belongs to no man. Only those strong enough to take it." He leaned on his cane. "Tell me, Elena. Did your father ever mention November Seventh?"
The world tilted. That name again.
"What happened?" I demanded.
Petrov's smile widened. "Ask Moretti. He knows. He was there."
I turned to Adrian, heart pounding. His face was stone. Silent.
"Tell me!" I shouted.
He didn't.
Petrov's laugh was soft, chilling. "Secrets, secrets. They always taste sweeter when stolen."
He tapped his cane against the wood, and his men stepped closer.
The night thickened, danger pressing in.
And I realized — the truth wasn't just about my father or Luca. It was about Adrian, too.
The man who stole me might be hiding the darkest secret of them all.
-l