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I nod. “I think my old driver, Neil, is working for some very bad people.”
His eyes widen. “I’ve noticed the black sedan following us sometimes. I thought it was on Mr. Moretti’s orders or I would have said something.”
“I thought it was, too, but now I’m not so sure.”
He says, “I’ll get you to Mr. Moretti without anyone following us. No one knows this town better than me.”
Steven kept his word, taking me through hotel parking garages and backstreets the entire way to Alessandro’s office. The sedan was definitely following us when we first left the Bellagio, but we lost him shortly after going through the first parking garage.
We arrive at Alessandro’s office and Steven says, “I’ll be waiting for you and will let you know if I see the sedan.”
“Thank you, Steven.”
I hurry from the SUV, entering the building.
A woman waits for me next to the receptionist’s desk.
“Mrs. Moretti, I’m Kate, Mr. Moretti’s assistant.”
I shake her hand. “How did you know what I looked like?”
“Mr. Moretti has a photo of you on his desk.”
He has a photo of me? I try not to show my shock. If she notices, she’s discreet about it.
“Right this way.”
I follow her into an elevator where we’re whisked to the top floor.
“His office is right through that door. Just go on in.”
“Thank you, Kate.”
Inhaling, I open the door, entering the office. Alessandro sits behind his desk and jumps to his feet when he sees me.
“Isa. What is it? What’s happened?”
I’m momentarily floored by the man standing before me. Alessandro looks like he’s lost at least ten pounds since I’ve seen him last. His cheeks are gaunt, and his eyes have dark smudges under them. His beard and hair are both unruly. But the most shocking thing is that he’s not in a suit. No, he’s wearing jeans and a black t-shirt.
I cross the room, going to him. “Alessandro, I need to tell you something. My father found me when I was out today.”
A dark look flashes in his eyes.
“What did he want?”
“He said he’d been looking for me since the wedding. He also told me he’s been working with someone in the Brotherhood. Someone that’s planning on having you killed.”
“Did he give you a name?”
“It’s Smith. Gerald Smith.”
His eyes widen. “There’s no way it’s Smith. No, it has to be Zhang. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Alessandro, it’s Smith. My father knew that I was filing for a divorce from you, andno oneshould know. Not yet, at least.” Hurt flickers across his face, but I continue, “He also said that as soon as it was final, that the Facilier Family was going to take you out.”
This gets his attention. “Facilier?”
“Yes.”
