Chapter 6 Vows And Revenge

The phone shook in Lena's hand and she realized she was trembling all over.

Someone knows she was alive. Someone knows her real identity.

When her legs could no longer carry her she collapsed onto her chair. How? How did they know? She had been so careful these five years. She had cut off ties to her old life, every damn thing. There wasn't a link in that old life that someone could connect and it would point to her.

She looked nothing like Lena Santoro, also. Her face was slimmer, her cheekbones higher, her jaw more squared. If you brought a picture of when she was twenty and held it to her face now you wouldn't see any glance of resemblance, except she takes off her contact lenses and leave her hair in the natural color. She had confirmed it herself.

Life has hardened her in every way possible.

So how did this person know who she was? And what game were they talking about?

She picked up the phone and dialed the number. It didn't even ring.

She stood up and went to the kitchen where she filled a glass with water and drained it. She stayed like that, with her hands spread on the sides of the sink, her shoulders slumped and her head bowed.

Could it be... Moretti? Because what were the odds that just after a few days they saw each other someone now knows her identity?

Her hands tightened on the sink.

She shouldn't be jumping to conclusions like that. Lena had not seen any flicker of recognition in the man's eyes. Surely if he found out that the daughter of Alessio Santoro was still alive when the whole family was supposed to be dead, there was bound to at least be a reaction.

But she wouldn't rule him out yet.

She took a deep breath and left the kitchen, her appetite for dinner lost.

She might not know who this person was or what game they wanted to play with her, but she would play along with them. And when she uncovers their identity-and she will-she'll make them regret messing with her.

A man once said those who had nothing to lose were the scariest.

He wasn't wrong.

***

"Relax, Selene. Anyone who sees you now would think I had a gun pointed at your head."

"That would have been a much better case than this," she grumbled.

Rafe Moretti's lips curved. Lena wanted to smack that smirk off his damn handsome face.

Two days after she signed the contract she received a call from Moretti's assistant telling her she and Moretti had a meeting today, in an open spaced five-star restaurant, where the whole world could see them.

Lena had known they had to be seen in public together but this was... She just hated it.

Hated being seen with him.

And she was right to feel that way because people who saw them were looking at her like she had her boobs out. Why weren't they looking at Moretti the same way?

She could particularly hear their thoughts; "She must be either bold or stupid to be with Rafe Moretti." "She's definitely a gold digger." "Maybe she's just one of his whore."

Her hand clenched tightly around the glass of wine she was holding. She was going to have to get used to these. She was going to marry the man after all. There will be a lot of public outings in the coming future.

That thought made her sigh deeply and she drained her glass of its content.

Across from her, Mortetti raised an eyebrow, the smirk still on his lips. "My company is not that bad, is it?"

It is, she wanted to say. But she just plastered a smile on her face and said, "It's not. I just don't like being out in the public."

That wasn't a lie. She liked being in the shadows, not out in the open air when anything could happen.

"I didn't think that a man like you could walk around in open space without bodyguards crowding every inch of you."

He tilted his head. "A man like me?"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "You know what I mean."

The smirk was now a grin as he watched her. At least one of them was enjoying this evening.

"I do know what you mean, Selene. And who says I don't have bodyguards around me? They just don't crowd my space."

That was when she really paid attention to her surroundings. Just a few tables away from them a man sat, with a cup of tea in his hand.

If Lena wasn't deep into the underworld she would have thought he was just a normal man enjoying his evening. But he wasn't.

He was packed with muscles, his body was too tense as if he was preparing to fight at any time, and his other hand was in his jacket where she was sure his gun was.

She looked around and saw five other men like him.

"I see," she said and looked back to the man watching her. She wasn't sure he had taken his eyes off her all evening.

He looked like a predator assessing his prey, or a soldier staring down his enemy.

Lena knew that look all too well. She was giving him the same look: assessing him, looking for any reaction that could mean anything, looking for signs. She found nothing, and she was sure he found nothing on her, too.

She was guarded the same way he was.

Finally, he shook his head. "You're an interesting woman, Selene."

She didn't like how she used her name freely-even though it wasn't her real name. "So you keep saying."

"Any other woman–no, infant, any other person wouldn't have noticed my men. But you've spotted them all."

Lena just shrugged. "They're not that discreet."

"Trust me, they are."

She raised an eyebrow at him but he said nothing more.

They continued the rest of the evening in silence, only saying one or two words to each other. Lena didn't mind. She was okay being in silence than talking to a man whose every word wasn't as it seemed.

He was watching her to see if he would find any cracks in her façade, any meaning in her words. He was in for a surprise.

She had also been watching him and so far she's gathered that he couldn't be the one that sent the message. There wasn't even the smallest of recognition in his gaze. So it wasn't him.

But her guts still told her that the person was in the mafia. Once again another benefit of marrying Moretti. She would be in the mafia and she would meet its people.

She would watch them closely. One person was bound to slip.

"It's been a lovely evening, Selene," Moretti said, pulling her out of her daze.

She looked back at him and gave a tight smile. "It is, indeed."

He stood up and she followed, already ready to leave.

When Mortetti held out his hand she placed hers onto his. But instead of the usual handshake, he bent and kissed her knuckles.