Chapter 1 - THE WOMAN IN EMERALD GREEN
The woman in the emerald-green dress had been crying for exactly eleven minutes when she finally looked at the stranger sitting three stools away.
Not the delicate, movie-star kind of crying.
The ugly kind.
The kind that ruined mascara, tightened the throat, and made a person forget that other people were watching.
She had arrived at the Bellmont Hotel alone, ordered a glass of champagne, and spent the first five minutes pretending she wasn't waiting for someone.
By minute eleven, she stopped pretending.
The stranger noticed.
He had been sitting at the bar in a black suit, his jacket open, one hand wrapped around a glass of bourbon he hadn't touched.
He looked like a man who had learned not to trust beautiful rooms.
His dark hair was slightly messy. A faint scar crossed his left eyebrow. His expression was calm, but his eyes were tired.
Very tired.
The woman slid off her stool.
She walked toward him.
"Excuse me."
He looked up.
She swallowed.
"My name is Elena Moretti."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"I know who you are."
That stopped her.
"You do?"
"Everyone in this city knows who you are."
Elena looked around nervously.
"Then you know I have a problem."
"I assumed that part."
She almost laughed.
Instead, another tear escaped.
The man finally put his bourbon down.
"What kind of problem?"
Elena leaned closer.
"I need you to pretend to be my son's fiancée."
Silence.
The bartender stopped polishing a glass.
The stranger stared at her.
"I'm sorry?"
"You heard me."
"You want me to pretend to be your son's fiancée?"
"No."
Elena shook her head.
"I want you to pretend to be his fiancée."
He looked at her from head to toe.
Then back at her face.
"I'm a man."
"I can see that."
"You understand the problem?"
"Perfectly."
For the first time that evening, something almost resembling a smile appeared on Elena's face.
"My son doesn't."
The stranger's expression changed.
"Who is your son?"
Elena hesitated.
Then she whispered a name that made the bartender suddenly become very interested in the glasses in front of him.
"Adrian Moretti."
The stranger went still.
Everybody in the city knew Adrian Moretti.
Businessman.
Nightclub owner.
Real-estate investor.
And, according to rumors nobody was foolish enough to repeat too loudly, the man who had inherited the Moretti family's criminal empire.
The stranger leaned back.
"No."
"You haven't even heard the offer."
"I don't need to."
"Five hundred thousand dollars."
He stared at her.
"Still no."
"One million."
"No."
"Two."
He laughed once.
It wasn't amused.
"Lady, if you have two million dollars to spend on this insanity, you need a therapist, not a fake fiancé."
Elena's face crumpled.
"You don't understand."
"Then explain."
She looked toward the ballroom doors.
Music drifted through them.
A string quartet.
Soft laughter.
Crystal glasses.
A celebration.
Or what was supposed to be one.
"My son is getting married tonight."
The stranger frowned.
"Tonight?"
"His engagement announcement is happening in twenty minutes."
"And his actual fiancée?"
Elena looked down.
"She disappeared."
He said nothing.
"Three hours ago," she continued. "She left her ring on my kitchen table and vanished."
"That's unfortunate."
"It's more than unfortunate."
Elena reached into her purse and pulled out a photograph.
She placed it on the bar.
A young woman smiled from the picture.
Beautiful.
Elegant.
Perfect.
"Her family has already arrived," Elena whispered. "Three hundred guests are in that ballroom. Investors. Politicians. Business partners. People who have spent years waiting for my family to show weakness."
The stranger studied the photograph.
"And you think replacing her will fool them?"
"I don't need to fool everyone."
Elena looked directly into his eyes.
"I only need Adrian to believe it for one night."
The stranger's jaw tightened.
"Why?"
"Because if Adrian finds out she left before tonight's announcement..."
She stopped.
"What?"
"He'll destroy himself."
The stranger's expression softened slightly.
Elena continued.
"My son has spent his entire life believing that love is a weakness. This woman was the first person he trusted."
She wiped her cheek.
"If he learns she abandoned him in front of everyone, he'll turn that humiliation into anger."
"And that's dangerous?"
"Adrian angry is dangerous."
She looked toward the ballroom again.
"But Adrian heartbroken is worse."
The stranger was quiet.
Then he asked the question Elena clearly hadn't expected.
"Why me?"
Her lips parted.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Finally, she whispered:
"Because my son already knows you."
The stranger froze.
"What?"
Elena pulled another photograph from her purse.
This one was older.
Much older.
It showed three men standing outside a hospital.
One of them was Adrian.
The other was the stranger.
And between them stood a teenage boy.
The stranger stared at the picture.
His blood went cold.
"Where did you get this?"
"My husband kept it."
The stranger's fingers tightened around the edge.
Elena leaned closer.
"My husband knew your father."
A long silence followed.
Then the ballroom doors opened.
A man in a black suit stepped into the bar.
He was tall.
Broad-shouldered.
His expression was unreadable.
Adrian Moretti.
His eyes immediately found his mother.
Then moved to the stranger.
And stopped.
The room seemed to shrink.
Adrian slowly walked toward them.
"Mother."
Elena stood.
"Adrian."
His gaze remained fixed on the stranger.
"Who is he?"
Elena's heart pounded.
She had planned this moment a hundred times.
But now that it was here, her courage nearly disappeared.
She reached for the stranger's hand.
He looked at her.
She whispered three words.
"Please. Trust me."
Then she turned toward her son.
"Adrian..."
She forced a smile.
"This is the person I told you about."
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
"What person?"
Elena squeezed the stranger's hand.
"The one you're marrying."
Adrian's face went completely blank.
The stranger stared at Elena in disbelief.
And somewhere behind them, the ballroom erupted in applause.
The engagement announcement had begun.
But Adrian Moretti wasn't looking at the ballroom anymore.
He was looking at the stranger.
May you like
And the recognition in his eyes suggested that whatever secret Elena had dragged into the room tonight...
It was far bigger than a fake engagement.
