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Chapter Fifteen
Alessandra had no lifeline to hold on to. She was adrift at sea, and it was only a matter of time before the watery depths claimed her. Here was her husband’s mentor and friend asking for the one piece of evidence she held in her hands. It would be so easy to say goodbye and take the file to her room.
Clearly, Jerry sensed her train of thought because he sternly called her name—Alessandra—sharp as a whip crack. He stepped up to her, put his hand on the manila folder, and pulled it gently from her grasp, which seemed to loosen against her will.
“Trust me,” he said softly.
Trust… That dreaded word again. Why was she the one who had to trust others? They were allowed to keep their secrets while never holding her confidence. Alessandra was the one putting herself on the line, emotionally and physically. She needed answers.
Alessandra pouted like a petulant child as Jerry flipped through the papers. She sank into the sofa and closed her eyes. What if there was something incriminating about Drake? She never wanted her husband to face harm.
Marriages went through rough patches; everyone says the first year is the roughest. All they had to do was make it through this one. But she questioned if her love was enough.
Jerry continued to flip through the documents with a studious look. Occasionally he made a sound of acknowledgment. Finally, he visibly relaxed with a sigh. He placed the folder on the coffee table. Alessandra made a quick grab for the file.
“There’s nothing here that you didn’t already know. I’m sorry, I know you were hoping for something more.”
Alessandra couldn’t hide her disappointment as she leafed through everything. There was nothing about her husband’s time in Italy, their wedding day, or his connections.
“Can you please leave now?”
“Alessandra, let’s talk. I’ll stay with you and wait for Drake to come home.”
Alessandra shook her head. “I’d like to be alone right now.”
“Don’t do this. You aren’t alone.”
“And you’re helping my husband keep secrets from me.”
“Enough, Alessandra.” His Dom voice returned, stunning her. “Don’t do anything rash.”
After a few more minutes of insisting he should stay, Alessandra finally shut the door on Judge Matthews. She stood with her back against the door, listening intently for any noise for a few minutes before heading down the hall.
It was time for her to take matters into her own hands. First, she read the file backward and forward. Jerry hadn’t lied. Everything was a surface biography of the couple. And to think that bitch tried to extort me for this info.
Alessandra uncovered her tool kit that was cleverly hidden in her walk-in closet. She studied the lock on Drake’s office door as she’d been taught by Russell. What would Papà say if he could see her now? Would he be proud that his daughter was engaging in such espionage?
Alessandra had ample practice picking locks thanks to years of being locked in her bedroom as a teen. But that bedroom lock was nowhere as sophisticated as Drake’s office. It took her longer than she would’ve liked. The telltale click filled her with satisfaction as she overcame the first hurdle.
Drake’s office was messy and cluttered, unlike the rest of the penthouse. Papers were strewn across the desktop and boxes were piled around the room. Alessandra assumed it was discovery for his new case. Since returning to the city, work was something they no longer discussed.
Knowing she didn’t have much time, Alessandra approached the wall painting behind the desk of a yacht against a picture-perfect blue sky with white puffy clouds and gentle crested waves. She recognized a hidden wall safe, as her father’s office had one—only the paintings varied.
She slid the painting up and was greeted by a standard wall safe with a digital keypad underneath. She tried every conceivable combination, including their dates of birth and wedding date.
It was smart for Drake not to pick something easily guessed, but Alessandra felt a little disappointed at not being able to crack the safe. That little voice within her was hurt by him not choosing a combination associated with her. She shook the thought out of her head and focused on her priorities.
Eventually, she grew frustrated with the red blinking light and chirp alerting her to the wrong combination. Alessandra returned to the desk drawers.
She took a pin hook and a turning tool from her kit and moved to pick the lock. After several attempts, she realized it wouldn’t be of any use. The locking mechanism on the desk seemed to be custom-built.
Alessandra wanted to tug her hair in frustration, but determination left her unperturbed. She cursed and turned. That’s when her attention settled on the built-in bookcase. A light bulb went off in her head, and she began checking for hollowed books, not stopping until every one was strewn across the floor. She smacked the shelf and discovered a false panel. She carefully ran her fingers along the edges until finding a hidden hook. The door opened to reveal a closet that she assumed doubled as a panic room.
Inside, Alessandra found a lockbox and matched it to the key she had found taped inside one of the book covers. She pulled out a nine-millimeter, testing the weight and checking the cartridge.
Growing up in a house full of armed men, she was no stranger to weapons or how to handle them. But for some reason, the lengths to which Drake had gone to keep this weapon concealed sent a shiver down her spine.
