Chapter 43- Campaign Crisis
Lucia The photographs arrived at dawn.
I stood in Dante’s home office, watching his Exce as he spread them across his desk. Each image told a story
warehouse meetings with known
criminals, suspicious packages changing hands, bodies being disposed of after “accidents. All carefully documented, all perfectly timed to destroy his campaign.
But it was the final photo that made my blood rum cold.
Us. The night of our arrangement. My red dress vivid against hotel room walls, his hands possessive on my hips. The contract visible on the desk. beside us, terms of our marriage clearly legible
“Interesting angle,” I noted, keeping my voice steady despite the chaos in my chest “Almost like the photographer had access to the room beforehand. Karw exactly where to position cameras.”
Dante’s jaw tightened as he studied the image. “Your artist friend always did have an eye
e for composition”
Mark wouldn’t- * But I stopped, pieces clicking into place. The gallery opening When he tried warning me about you, about the corruption in the harbor project
“He was gathering evidence.” Dante’s voice carried that dangerous softness that meant trouble. “Using your past connection to get close enough for reconnaissance.”
“No.” But even 1 heard the doubt. “He’s not that calculating. That
“Like us?” His smile held na humar. “People change, cara. Sometimes they learn to play games they once condemned.”
Before I could respond, James burst in without kinusking – a sign of how serious things had become. “Sir, the Times is running the story. All of it, The contract marriage, the harbor corruption, the mysterious deathos of political opponent…..
“How long?
want
“Digital version goes live in an hour. Print edition hits stands tomorrow morning,” James looked between us, reading the tension. “What do you wi
avel history, phone logs.
Get me everything on Mark Sullivan.” I moved to Dante’s computer, fingers flying over keys. “Financial records, travel! Someone’s using him – feeding hum information, amaging perfect photo opportunities. I want to know who.“
“Already done.” Dante’s hand settled on my shoulder, grounding both of us. “Marco’s team has been watching him since the gallery incident. Building a profile of contacts, movements, patterns.
Of course he had. He noticed everything, planned for every contingency.
“The Chen family.” I said slowly, mand racing through possibilities. “They’re hacking your opponent. Have resources to arrange surveillance. Connections to my past through Miranda”
“And motivation to stop the harbor project.” Dance nodded, following my thought process. “But they’re not subtle enough for this level of manipulation. This required..”
“Inside knowledge.” I met his dark gaze. “Someone who knew about the contract About the project’s real
“Someone close to one of our families.”
The implications hung heavy in the air. Betrayal from within was always worse than external threats.
purpose.”
“Sir.” Taylor appeared in the doorway, tablet in hand. “Sullivan was just spotted entering the Peterson Gallery Alone”
Dante straightened, that lethal grace settling over him like armor. “Have the car brought around.”
“No.” I caught his arm before he could move. “He’ll be expecting you. Expecting Romano enforcement to handle this with typical efficiency.”
“You have a better idea?”
k to me. One last time, for old times sake. While your team tracks down his real handler.”
My smile held shadows and promises. “He’ll talk to
“Absolutely not.” His hands caught my hips, pulling me close enough to feel lus heart race. “After the safe house, I won’t risk-
“This isn’t about risk.“1 pressed elmer, using his body’s reaction to make my point. “This is about playing to our strengths. You taught me that. remember! Using every advantage, every connection_”
“I hate when you use my own tactics against me “But his voice had softened slightly
“No, you love it” The word slipped out before Lcould catch it, making us both freeze.
Sdence stretched for a heartbeat too long.
“One hour,” he said finally, professional mask sliding back into place. “Any longer and I send in teams. Any sign of trouble….
“I know.” I reached up to straighten his tie, the gesture somehow more intimate than a kiss. “Trust me.”
His eyes darkened at the words “With everything.”
The admission hung between us as I left, beavy with implications neither of us was ready to fa
farr.
The Peterson Gallery felt different in daylight all clean lines and careful curation, nothing like the shadowy pace where Mark had first tried
Chapter 43. Campaign Crisis.
warning me about Dante’s true lature.
I found him in his office, surrounded by the evidence he’d gathered. His face showed no surprise at my arrival
“You know why I’m here.”
He didn’t look up from the photos spread across his desk. “To stop the story? Or to warn me about Romano retaliation?”
“To understand” I moved closer, noting the tension in his shoulders. “This isn’t you. Mark. These games, this manipulation…”
“No” He finally met my eyes, and I was struck by how much had changed, Gone was the idealistic artist who’d once captured my heart. This man’s gaze held calculation that matched any Romana. “Maybe you never really knew me.”
“Maybe I didn’t.” I picked up one of the surveillance photos – Danie entering a warehouse, face cold with purpose. “Just like you never really knew our world. The choices we make, the reasons behind them…”
“I know enough” He gestured to the contract photo. “A nurriage of convenience, arranged to secure power. The perfect Romano solution – using love as just another business transaction.”
“You’re wrong. The words came hot and fast, surprising us both with their intensity. “About him. About us. About all of it
“Am 1” He moved closer, studying my face like one of his photographs. “Tell me something, Lucia – when did you stop pretending? When did the contract become real!”
That’s not
“The way you look at him now… it’s different from how you used to look at me.” His voice softened with something like pity. “You really love him, don’t you! Despite everything he is, everything he does…”
“When I feel isn’t relevant.” I straightened, channeling every lesson in authority I’d learned from both families. “What matters is who’s using you Feeding you information, arranging perfect surveillance opportunities….
Understanding flickered across his face. “You think I’m being manipulated?”
I know y
you are.” I moved to his computer, pulling up financial records Marco’s team had gathered. “Mysterious deposits to offshore accounts, Travel expenses paid by shell companies. Gallery funding that appears legitonate until you trace it back to…
“The Chen family,” he finished slowly.
“Through three layers of intermediaries.” I highlighted the pattern. “Clever. Almost undetectable, unless you know exactly what to look for.”
They said they were independent journalists. Investigating corruption in the harbor project.”
“They’re rival family soldiers, using your artistic credibility as cover for a power play.” I softened my voice, remembering why I’d once loved his idealism. “Think, Mark How did they know where to plant cameras? Who told them about the contract meeting?“
His face paled as implications hit. “Miranda”
“Who works directly for Jacob Chen I pulled up more documents. “The same Jacob Chen currently backing Dante’s opponent. The same Chen family trying to block the harbor development that would cut into their shipping monopoly.”
“I was so sure…” He sank into his chair, photographs forgotten. “The evidence seemed so clear.”
“The best manipulations always do.” I moved toward the door, mission accomplished. “You have one hour to kill the story. After that..,“
“He’ll send teams.” Mark’s laugh held no humor. “The great Dante Romano, solving problems with typical efficiency”
“No.” I met his eyes steadily. “After that, I’ll handle it personally. Because you were right about one thing- I do love him, Mark”
The words hung between us as I left, heavy with truth I could finally admir.
My phone buzzed as I reached the car.
“Well?” Dante’s voice carried that edge of dangerous control.
“Story’s dead.” I slid into the back seat, letting familiar leather chase away memories of another life. “Your team find the leak?”
“Miranda Chen’s assistant. Recently promoted, given access to sensitive files…”
“And happy to share them for the right price.” 1 closed my eyes, pieces clicking into place. “Have you handled it?”
“With typical efficiency.” His voice softened slightly. “Come home, cara.”
The word felt different now – less pussessive, more like belonging.
Because somewhere between contract and crisis, between his control and my defiance, between our masks and our moments of truth. everything had changed.
“Already on my way,” I said sofily.
