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My heart is breaking as I take in her sad expression, but I continue, “He told me about you, used to send me photos, but it was a long time since I’d seen a photo and you’ve grown up so much…I swear I had no idea you were his daughter until you told me about him. Baby, I’m so sorry.”

She waves me off. “I don’t want to hear it. Do you know anything about his death? Did you cause his death? Did you invite him to the auction house?”

Her voice gains momentum with every question and her eyes are fierce and bold on mine despite the tears trailing down her cheeks. Even though I know she’s hurting, her words feel like the stab of a knife, twisting deeper into my gut.

I exhale softly. “No, I don’t know anything about Warren’s death. He was a dear friend that I’ll always cherish. I never invited him to the auction house—although we were from two different worlds, we always respected each other’s boundaries.”

Then I admit, “Warren might have been doing things the right way, but I’m not surprised that he knew something about the other side of things. When I heard of his death and the missing art, I knew something wasn’t right. It’s the reason I attended the auction that night. I got word that his stolen piece might be sold, and I wanted to buy it. Maybe it holds a clue…but then I didn’t see it in the lineup that night. And things didn’t turn out the way I planned. I met you and I lost all my senses.”

I pause for a reaction to my last sentence, but all I see is a flicker of sadness that disappears again like nothing happened, so I continue. “When you told me about the access card, it confirmed my suspicions. I’ve never seen Warren at the auction house, so I knew the access card had to be newly acquired, and it also ties his death to the auction house. That’s why I suggested hiring a private investigator, and I’ve done that. All I’m waiting for is his feedback.”

“Good. When you get a call from the PI, you know where to find me,” she says in a dead voice.

My heart constricts painfully. “Baby, I wanted to tell you…”

“Then, why didn’t you?” she interrupts. “You had plenty of time to come clean. Why did you hide that bit of information?” She slowly wipes the tears from her eyes and exhales softly, “You know what? I can’t be here right now. I need space.” She walks past me toward the door.

“Bella—”

“I can’t do this, Roman,” she snaps, her eyes blazing with anger. “I need to think. Let me go. Please.”

I stand in place and watch her open the front door, immediately feeling bereft at her absence.

No!

I can’t let the only woman I love walk out of my life without a fight. Bella is mine. She has been since that first time I saw her, and I won’t let her run at the first sign of trouble. Even though it’s my fault.

I jump into action and reach the entrance in quick strides. I open the door and jog down the driveway in time to see Bella entering a black taxi. I frown in confusion, wondering how a cab was just idling in front of my house, when I notice the absence of a plate number as they drive away.

Fuck! It’s a trap.

“Fuck!” I run back to the house, my heart pounding with fear. I swipe the keys to my bike and rush to the garage.

I just fucking watched the love of my life get kidnapped.

I should have been more careful. I shouldn’t have let her out of my sight. Thoughts race through my mind as I rev the engine and drive off, making sure to keep the taxi in my sights.

Chapter Nine

Bella

Am I overreacting?

I don’t think so, I think as I slam the door of Roman’s house and stomp down the driveway to the gate.

Tears cloud my vision again and I immediately wipe them away. Every step puts distance between us, and I feel my chest tightening with pain, as if the tether holding us together is growing taut.

The only word that rings in my mind is:Why?

Why didn’t he tell me he knew my dad? If he was shocked the first time I mentioned him, he should have told me any other time. There were opportunities to come clean, and he didn’t, which only made finding out more painful.

I remember Roman’s words about how he met my father, and I feel a pang of pain in my heart for the young boy who had to fend for himself. Despite my current anger, it makes me glad to know that he had my father in his corner growing up.

Luckily, a cab is idling in front of the house.Perfect.

I open the door to ask if they can take me downtown, and I’m greeted by the sight of a man dressed all in black, sitting in the back seat. He’s holding a gun, pointed in my direction, and he says, “Hello, Bella. Don’t turn around. Don’t scream. Get in the car, or I will shoot you.”

My mind goes blank with panic, and the adrenaline from the fight with Roman is replaced with a fear that overtakes me completely. I couldn’t scream even if I wanted to—there’s not enough breath in my lungs.