CHAPTER NINETY-SIX

CHAPTER NINETY-SIX
ELENA

The sleek black car cut through Chicago traffic like a shark through water. Alexander had never used his position to disobey traffic rules before, but today seemed to be an exception. Taking corners fast enough to let me grab the door handle, his driver seemed to grasp the urgency without direction.

Breaking the quiet that had descended since we left the penthouse, I said, "You're scaring me. What do you imagine it to be?"

Alexander's eyes fixed on the road ahead; his jaw was tight. "Unknown. Still, everything that involves you..." He dropped off the sentence early.

I watched the city blurring past the tinted windows. We had coffee just an hour ago, savoring a perfect morning. Now tucked safely in my pocket, the keycard Alexander had given me seemed to have ten times the weight.

Could it be nothing at all? Perhaps someone from the gallery forwarded details on my exhibition. Knowing it was wishful thinking, even as I said it. At Moretti Enterprises, gallery assistants followed security procedures exactly.

My hand found Alexander's, gently squeezing. "Anyway it is, we will deal with it. Together."

The car drew up to the tall glass tower of Moretti Enterprises, and I felt myself somewhat shrink in shadow. Though I knew Alexander's world, the building screamed money and power in a way that still made me uneasy.

As soon as we got out of the car, security staff swarmed around. Luca came up to Alexander straightforwardly.

"Mr. Moretti, we've kept the item in your office as asked."

"Any sign of how it passed security?" Alexander asked, his voice clipped as we walked across the marble lobby. Workers stopped and watched us go, their expressions a mix of interest and anxiety. I could almost hear the gossip machine whirring to life as the great Alexander Moretti rushed through his own building looking like he was ready to kill someone with his artist girlfriend.

"None, sir." It arrived via regular mail, but the mailroom does not record it passing through. Now we are going over all of the security footage.

The executive floor elevator ride was quiet and tense. Alexander's hand stayed tightly on the small of my back, as though he feared I would vanish should he let go. Under different conditions, I could have thought his protectiveness was rather appealing. It now simply heightened my nervousness.

"Whatever it is," I said gently, "remember that I've dealt with worse than creepy mail."

He raised a little corner of his mouth. "I am aware of your abilities. Does not mean you have to."

As I remembered it, Alexander's office was shockingly huge, with floor-to-ceiling windows providing a panoramic view of Chicago. But all eyes were on the single white envelope sitting innocuously on his large desk, not on the view.

According to Luca, "It's been scanned. No explosives, no harmful compounds."

"Thanks, Luca." Alexander nodded to dismiss her, then waited until we were by ourselves to approach the envelope.

"Should you not be wearing gloves or something?" half-joking, I asked. "Preserve the evidence!"

"Already handled for fingerprint identification." He took great care picking up the envelope. My name was neatly handwritten on the front. There was no address or stamp on it.

Alexander opened it with methodical accuracy. His face darkened as he stared at it; then he silently handed it to me.

My blood ran cold. Taken from outside, this picture shows me in my penthouse studio through the windows. My back to the camera, I was working on the abstract piece I started last week, but it was definitely me. Given the angle, it had to have been taken using a telephoto lens from a building across the street.

Alexander said, his voice oddly calm, "Turn it over."

I turned the picture upside down. On the rear, in the same graceful script used on the envelope:

"The artist fits among those who really value her abilities. -VC"

"VC," I uttered, my mouth dry. Vincent Carter?

Alexander nodded and returned to examine the picture as though it might expose more secrets. "He's starting his first action."

"What does he imply from 'gifts'?"

"I'm not sure." Alexander said with a dark tone. "But this presents a direct threat. He says he can get to you—even in the penthouse."

As I considered someone seeing me through the windows, photographing me in what I would have considered to be a private space, a chill shot up my spine. "How could he have known I was with you?"

"Vincent possesses resources." On his desk phone, Alexander buttoned something. "Luca, assemble the security personnel in the conference room. five minutes."

He looked at me, his face softening just a little. "I regret you're caught up in this."

Trying to sound braver than I felt. "Not your fault some creepy rich guy has decided to play stalker," I said. "Though I am beginning to believe all billionaires have too much free time on their hands."

The attempted joke failed as Alexander examined the picture. "We have to upgrade the penthouse windows right away to one-way glass. And we must determine from which building this was taken."

The security conference matched my expected level of suspense. Six austere men and women in suits listened as Alexander clarified the circumstances; their facial expressions betrayed nothing. 

"Ms. Rossi will need round-the-clock security," Alexander said. "I'd like the penthouse's security staff doubled. And I want a complete background check on every Vincent Carter staff member."

"We should also take temporary relocation of Ms. Rossi under consideration," one of the security team advised. "If they have located the penthouse as her address—"

Alexander cut him off, saying "No. She stays with me where I can guarantee her safety."

Being discussed like I wasn't seated right there made me bristle. "Don't I have an opinion in this?"

Alexander turned to look at me then spoke to the team. "Please let us have a moment."

He looked to me when they had filed out. Elena, this has nothing to do with control. This is concerning your safety.

"I know that. But you cannot simply decide what I should do in my life without involving me. That is not how this operates."

"Concerning security—"

"When it comes to everything," I said. "We are partners, Alexander." At least, I believed, we were.

Frustrated in every line of his body, he ran a hand through his hair. "You are correct. I regret it. But you have to realize how serious this is. Vincent Carter poses threats."

"I see that. But so is living in a bubble covered in bubble wrap."

Alexander watched me for a long time before apparently deciding. "You never go anywhere without security going forward."

I looked at him, the full weight of his words sinking in. There are no more instinctive coffee runs. There are no more aimless city walks searching for ideas. There is no more ordinary life.

My voice hardening, "We need to talk about this, Alexander," I said. "I'm not in a cage."