Chapter 1 - The Ring on the Carpet
The golf club cut through the air hard enough to whistle.
Giulietta Marconi moved before Preston Hale finished the swing.
She stepped inside the arc, caught his wrist with both hands, and drove her shoulder into his chest. The metal club struck the wall instead of her ribs. A framed wedding photograph crashed to the carpet.
Giulietta twisted.
He stumbled backward and landed across the cream sofa, knocking two silk pillows to the floor.
Her wedding dress hung from a mannequin near the window. White silk. Hand-sewn pearls. Forty thousand dollars of softness waiting for a ceremony that suddenly felt like a joke.
"You touched me," he said.
Giulietta looked at the engagement ring on her left hand.
"No," she said. "You tried to hurt me. I stopped you. Learn the difference."
She placed the ring on the glass table between them.
The effect was not.
"Put it back on."
"The wedding is over."
"You don't get to decide that."
Giulietta almost laughed.
"That sentence is exactly why I do."
The lock clicked behind her.
Warren Hale stepped into the suite in a charcoal tuxedo, his silver hair perfectly combed. He looked at his son sprawled on the sofa, the club on the floor, and Giulietta standing barefoot in front of him.
He did not ask why Preston had a weapon.
"Put that back on," Warren said.
Giulietta's stomach tightened.
"How did you open that door?"
Warren's expression barely moved.
Behind him, the corridor should have been empty.
Marco Bellini stood ten feet away with six Marconi men behind him, all in dark suits, all silent.
Giulietta saw Warren notice them.
For the first time, confidence left his face.
In it was a second brass key.
"Funny thing," he said. "We found this in Mr. Hale's pocket downstairs. Same cut as the one he just used."
Giulietta looked from the duplicate key to Warren.
Then to Preston.
May you like
And suddenly she understood the locked door had never been meant to keep people out.
It had been meant to keep her in.
