Chapter 6 - The Brother's Arrival|
At two o'clock that afternoon, a sleek black town car pulled through the wrought-iron gates of the Moretti estate.
The driver opened the door, and Marco Moretti stepped out onto the gravel driveway. At thirty-four, Marco was younger, sleeker, and far more charismatic than Vincent. He wore a double-breasted Italian suit, his hair swept back with pomade, a gold Rolex gleaming on his wrist.
He walked up the stone steps of the front porch with the easy confidence of a man who owned everything he looked at.
The front doors were opened by Paul.
"Where's my brother?" Marco asked, tossing his leather gloves onto the foyer table. "He called me three times on the encrypted line. Said it was urgent regarding the wedding venue contracts."
"Mr. Moretti is waiting for you in the library, sir," Paul replied, his face a completely unreadable mask.
Marco frowned slightly, sensing an unusual stillness in the house. "Where are the servants? It's usually bustling this time of day."
"Mr. Moretti gave the staff the afternoon off, sir," Paul lied smoothly.
Marco adjusted his cuffs, a flicker of tension passing over his eyes before he smoothed his expression. "Right. Let's get this over with. I have a dinner meeting in Manhattan at eight."
Marco walked down the long mahogany corridor and pushed open the heavy double doors of the library.
The room was dimly lit, the heavy velvet drapes drawn against the October afternoon sun. A single green banker's lamp glowed on the central desk.
Vincent sat in a high-backed leather chair behind the desk, swirling a glass of amber scotch.
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Opposite him, sitting rigidly in a wooden chair, her hands tied behind her back with a silk scarf, was Julianna Vance. Her eyes were red from crying, her yellow dress crumpled, her makeup ruined.
Marco stopped dead in his tracks. The door swung shut behind him with a soft, heavy thud.
