HARD TO TRUST

Chapter 3

Morning came with sunlight cutting through the curtains and the smell of coffee.

Tia opened her eyes to find a breakfast tray on the table beside her bed and a woman standing by the window. Not Dr. Marino this time. This one was younger, dark-haired, wearing jeans and a leather jacket with the confidence of someone who knew how to use the gun she probably carried.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty." The woman turned and smiled. "I'm Lucia. Dante's sister."

Tia sat up slowly, her ribs protesting. "Does everyone in this house just walk into rooms uninvited?"

"Only when Dante tells us to." Lucia moved to the breakfast tray and poured coffee. "He said you'd be difficult. I like difficult."

"How comforting."

"Drink. Eat. My brother wants you downstairs in an hour." Lucia handed her the coffee. "I'm supposed to make sure you're presentable and haven't tried to escape through the window."

"Would that work?"

"No. We have snipers on the roof." Lucia said it so casually that Tia couldn't tell if she was joking. "But I admire the instinct to check."

Tia sipped the coffee. Perfect temperature, exactly how she took it. They'd done their homework.

"You don't look like him," Tia observed.

"I take after our mother. Dante got our father's looks and temper." Lucia sat on the edge of the bed without asking. "He also got the family business, the enemies, and the constant paranoia. I got to go to art school in Paris."

"That seems fair."

"It's not. But it's survival." Lucia's smile faded slightly. "He told me what happened to you. Julian Blackwell is a dead man walking, he just doesn't know it yet."

"Dante said that?"

"Dante doesn't have to say it. I know my brother." Lucia stood and walked to the closet. "Now, let's find you something that doesn't look like you lost a fight with a highway. You need to look like someone who can handle a room full of dangerous men."

"I am someone who can handle a room full of dangerous men."

"Then let's make sure they know it."

Forty minutes later, Tia stood in front of the mirror wearing tailored black pants, a silk blouse, and heels that made her feel like she could stab someone if necessary. Lucia had offered to cover her stitches with makeup, but Tia refused.

"Let them see it," she'd said. "Let them know I survived."

Lucia's grin was sharp. "Oh, I see why he likes you."

"He doesn't like me. I'm useful."

"With Dante, those things aren't mutually exclusive." Lucia opened the bedroom door. "Ready?"

"No."

"Perfect. That's the best time to walk into a negotiation."

The house was different in daylight. Less ominous, more like a fortress. They descended the main staircase into a foyer where two men in suits stood guard. Neither looked at Tia directly, but she felt their assessment like a physical touch.

Lucia led her through corridors lined with more art and old-world elegance, finally stopping at a set of double doors.

"He's in there with his inner circle. Marco, Enzo, and Father Benedetto."

"A priest?"

"Former priest. Long story." Lucia knocked once and opened the doors without waiting for a response. "Your guest, brother."

The room was a study that doubled as a war room. A massive table dominated the center, covered in papers, photographs, and what looked like surveillance equipment. Four men looked up as Tia entered.

Dante stood at the head of the table, dressed in a different suit but wearing the same expression of controlled assessment. To his right was a mountain of a man with scarred knuckles and the build of someone who'd won too many fights to count. To his left, a lean man with wire-frame glasses who looked more accountant than criminal. At the far end, an older man in casual clothes with a rosary wrapped around his wrist.

"Miss Harrington." Dante gestured to an empty chair across from him. "Thank you for joining us."

"Did I have a choice?"

"No. But I appreciate the illusion of cooperation." He waited until she sat before continuing. "This is Marco, my head of security. Enzo, my financial advisor. And Father Benedetto, who keeps me honest."

"Unsuccessfully," the priest added with a slight smile.

"Now that introductions are complete, let's talk about Julian Blackwell." Dante placed a photograph on the table. Julian, leaving a restaurant with a blonde woman who wasn't Tia. "Your fiancé had dinner last night at Moretti's. Four hours after your disappearance. He seemed remarkably composed for a man whose bride-to-be had just vanished."

Tia stared at the photo. Julian's face showed concern, but his body language was relaxed. Playing the part of the worried fiancé while planning his next move.

"Who's the woman?"

"Vanessa Chen. Tech investor. Also one of Kozlov's money launderers." Dante laid out more photos. "They've been seen together six times in the past month. Always in public, always careful."

"He was cheating." Tia's voice came out flat. She wasn't surprised, just recalibrating her understanding of how thoroughly she'd been fooled.

"He was establishing an alibi," Enzo corrected, his voice soft but precise. "If you'd died in that crash, he'd have Vanessa testify they were discussing business all evening. Your jealousy over their professional relationship would explain why you ran."

The calculated cruelty of it settled over Tia like ice water.

"What else do you know?" she asked.

Dante nodded at Marco, who pulled up something on a tablet and projected it onto the wall. Financial documents, transactions, dates.

"The Meridian formula you mentioned had been a controlled substance synthesis patent. In the right hands, it could revolutionize pain management. In the wrong hands, it's a blueprint for designer opioids that could flood the market." Marco zoomed in on a series of transfers. "Kozlov's been moving money into shell companies for three months. He's preparing to pay fifty million for full access to your family's research."

"Fifty million." Tia's hands clenched in her lap. "My father's life work, sold to criminals."

"Your father doesn't know," Dante said. It wasn't a question.

"He trusts Marcus. He trusts Julian." She looked up at Dante. "He won't believe me if I tell him. He'll think I'm hysterical, that I'm trying to sabotage my own engagement."

"Then we don't tell him. We show him." Dante leaned forward. "But first, I need everything you know. What exactly did you overhear last night?"