THE BAKER’S DAUGHTER AND THE MAFIA’S SECRET

The sheer force of the explosion sent me crashing to the hardwood floor. Fine china shattered into a thousand pieces, and the elegant, three-tiered chandelier above the table swayed violently, raining crystal dust down on us.

“Stay down!” Dominic roared, physically shoving his mother behind the overturned buffet table.

Marco and four other security guards immediately drew their weapons, forming a protective wall between the guests and the arched doorway leading to the burning foyer. Thick, acrid black smoke began to crawl along the ceiling.

I coughed, my eyes watering as I scrambled on my hands and knees toward Eleanor.

“Anna, are you hurt?” the elderly woman asked, grabbing my shoulders with surprisingly strong hands.

“I’m okay,” I choked out, clutching the silver seal in my fist. “But my mother…”

“We will get her back,” Eleanor promised fiercely.

Dominic racked the slide of his Glock, the metallic clack cutting through the screams of the terrified guests. He looked at Marco.

“How many men did he bring?” Dominic demanded.

“Cameras show at least a dozen, heavily armed,” Marco reported, checking his earpiece. “They used a breaching charge on the reinforced doors. Boss, they’re swarming the foyer. We need to fall back to the safe room.”

“I’m not running from a rat in my own house,” Dominic snarled.

Through the haze of smoke, heavy combat boots stomped onto the marble floor of the foyer.

Vincent Bellini stepped into the threshold of the dining room.

He was a terrifying figure. Tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a tailored charcoal suit that looked entirely out of place amidst the tactical gear of the mercenaries surrounding him. But what drew everyone’s horrified gaze was his left hand.

As he gripped a heavy silver revolver, the sleeve of his jacket pulled back, revealing a jagged, hideous black burn scar that stretched from his wrist to his knuckles.

The man from the drawing. The man who had taken my mother sixty-one years ago.

And standing directly in front of him, serving as a human shield, was my mother.

“Mom!” I screamed, trying to stand up.

Dominic grabbed my waist and yanked me back down behind the heavy mahogany table. “Do not move, Anna. He will kill her.”

My mother looked exhausted, battered, but her eyes were sharp and furious. Her hands were zip-tied behind her back, and a piece of silver duct tape had been ripped roughly from her mouth, leaving a red welt on her cheek.

Vincent pressed the barrel of his revolver directly against her temple.

“Dominic!” Vincent shouted, his voice echoing through the ruined dining room. “I know you’re in here. Stop hiding behind your guests and let’s do business like gentlemen.”

Dominic slowly stood up, keeping his weapon aimed squarely at Vincent’s chest.

“You just blew up my front door, Vincent,” Dominic said, his voice dangerously calm. “That’s a poor way to start a negotiation.”

“I didn’t have time to knock,” Vincent laughed, an ugly, grating sound. He looked around the room, his eyes scanning the terrified guests before landing on Vanessa, who was cowering near the fireplace.

“Vanessa, my beautiful girl,” Vincent smiled. “Did you get the seal?”

Vanessa swallowed hard, looking at Dominic, then back to her father. “No, Dad. Dominic took it. He knows everything.”

Vincent’s smile vanished. His dark eyes locked onto Dominic.

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Vincent sighed. “But it saves me the trouble of pretending to like you. Bring me the seal, Dominic. And the physical bearer bonds. Do it now, or Elizabeth’s brains paint your expensive wallpaper.”

“I don’t have the bonds,” Dominic lied smoothly. “They’re in a secure vault downtown.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence, boy!” Vincent roared, pressing the gun harder against my mother’s head. She winced but refused to cry out. “Thomas Romano didn’t trust banks. He kept those bonds on this estate. I know they’re here. And I know you need the bloodline heir to sign them over.”

Vincent’s gaze swept the room again, finally landing on me, crouched beside Eleanor.

“Ah,” Vincent purred. “There she is. The little housemaid who didn’t know she was royalty. Stand up, Anna.”

I hesitated, looking at Dominic.

“Do it,” my mother suddenly yelled, her voice hoarse. “Stand up, Anna! Look this coward in the eye!”

Vincent backhanded her across the face.

“Shut your mouth, Elizabeth,” Vincent hissed.

“Leave her alone!” I screamed, standing up to my full height. My legs were shaking, but I clenched my fists at my sides. “I’m right here.”

Vincent smiled. “Good girl. Now, you’re going to walk over to the kitchen, find wherever Thomas hid those papers, sign your name on the dotted line, and stamp it with the seal. You have five minutes.”

“Or what?” Dominic challenged. “You kill her? If you kill Elizabeth, the shares default to Anna. If you kill them both, the shares default to my mother, who will burn them before giving them to you. You have no leverage, Vincent.”

Vincent chuckled darkly. “You think I’m just here for the money, Dominic?”

He reached into his jacket pocket with his free hand and pulled out a small, metallic detonator with a blinking red light.

“My men didn’t just put a breaching charge on your front door,” Vincent revealed softly. “While you were eating your little chocolate cake, we rigged the entire foundation of this estate with C4. You don’t give me the shares, I press this button, and all thirty-four of your elite friends, your mother, your little maid, and you… all turn to ash.”

The guests began to panic, weeping and praying out loud.

Dominic’s face paled. He knew Vincent wasn’t bluffing. The Bellinis were desperate, cornered animals.

“You’d die too,” Dominic pointed out, his gun unwavering.

“I’m a dead man anyway if I don’t pay the cartel,” Vincent shrugged. “I’m taking you all with me.”

“Dominic,” Eleanor whispered, tugging on his pant leg.

Dominic glanced down.

Eleanor held up the heavy brass key.

“The cellar,” Eleanor mouthed silently.

Dominic’s eyes widened slightly in understanding. The old storm cellar beneath the greenhouse. It was built as a bomb shelter during the Cold War. It could withstand the explosion.

Dominic looked back at Vincent.

“Fine,” Dominic said, slowly lowering his weapon. “You win, Vincent. The bonds are hidden in the kitchen, just like you guessed. Under the floorboards in the pantry.”

Vincent grinned triumphantly. “Smart boy. Send the maid to get them.”

Dominic turned to me. His eyes communicated a desperate, silent command.

Trust me.

“Anna,” Dominic said aloud. “Go to the kitchen. Get the lockbox. Take my mother with you to help carry it.”

Vincent frowned. “The old lady stays here as collateral.”

“The lockbox is cast iron and weighs eighty pounds,” Dominic lied without missing a beat. “Anna can’t lift it alone. Unless you want to wait longer?”

Vincent checked his watch, the cartel deadline clearly burning in his mind.

“Fine. Two minutes. If they aren’t back, I blow the house.”

Dominic helped his mother to her feet. He looked at me, giving a tiny, almost imperceptible nod toward the hallway that connected the kitchen to the rear gardens—and the greenhouse.

“Go,” Dominic whispered.

I grabbed Eleanor’s hand. We hurried out of the dining room, slipping through the swinging doors into the massive, stainless-steel kitchen.

The moment the doors closed behind us, Eleanor dropped her frail act. She moved with shocking speed, bypassing the pantry entirely and heading straight for the back exit.

“Mrs. Romano, what are we doing?” I gasped as we stepped out into the cool night air.

“We aren’t getting the bonds, Anna,” Eleanor said, pulling me toward the glass walls of the massive greenhouse in the distance. “The bonds aren’t in the kitchen. They’re in the cellar. And so is the only thing that can stop Vincent Bellini from pressing that button.”

We rushed into the humid, plant-filled greenhouse. Eleanor hurried to a heavy iron grate on the floor, hidden beneath a row of overgrown ferns. She handed me the brass key.

“Open it,” she ordered.

I jammed the key into the rusted lock and twisted. With a heavy groan, the grate swung open, revealing a dark stone staircase leading underground.

I clicked on my phone’s flashlight and we descended into the cold, damp cellar.

At the bottom of the stairs sat a massive, dusty metal safe. But there was no dial on it. Only a keypad.

“Mrs. Romano, how do we open it?” I asked, panicking. “We don’t have a code!”

Eleanor smiled grimly.

“We don’t need a code, Anna,” she whispered. “Thomas didn’t lock it to keep people out. He locked it to keep something in.”