Chapter 9 - DON'T LET HER LEAVE
Lorenzo Bianca received the emergency message at 5:42 p.m.
EMPLOYEE DISTRESS ALERT. SERVICE CORRIDOR B.
The employee name stopped his heart.
Rosie Hastings.
He called her immediately.
No answer.
He called again.
Nothing.
"Mateo," he said.
His underboss looked up.
"Boss?"
"Get to the Drake."
"What's happening?"
Lorenzo stared at the security notification.
"Someone's got Rosie."
Mateo moved instantly.
Meanwhile, Rosie was being escorted toward a service elevator by two men who had once greeted her every morning.
She kept her shoulders straight.
Her grandmother's voice echoed in her mind.
Never let frightened men know how frightened you are.
Prescott walked beside her.
"You should have stayed out of this."
Rosie looked at him.
"You should have hired a better caterer."
He frowned.
"What?"
"Your daughter's wedding. The truffles are overpriced, the floral budget is ridiculous, and frankly, the seating chart is a war crime."
One guard almost laughed.
Prescott's face darkened.
"You think this is funny?"
"No," Rosie said. "I think you're a criminal who doesn't appreciate the staff."
The elevator doors opened.
She stepped inside.
As the doors began closing, Rosie reached behind her and pulled the fire alarm.
A deafening siren erupted through the hotel.
Sprinkler warnings flashed.
The guards froze.
Rosie slipped between them and ran.
She knew the Drake better than almost anyone.
Every hallway.
Every staircase.
Every service door.
She turned left through the linen storage room, ducked beneath a hanging rack, and pushed through a maintenance exit.
Behind her, men shouted.
She reached the main kitchen just as Chef Henry emerged carrying a tray of appetizers.
"Rosie?"
"Call the police!"
His expression changed instantly.
She continued running.
Then she collided with someone near the service entrance.
Strong hands caught her shoulders.
Rosie gasped.
Lorenzo.
He looked down at her.
"Are you hurt?"
She shook her head.
"Prescott. He's involved. His security guards—"
"I know."
She stared.
"How?"
"Mateo intercepted a communication."
Lorenzo turned toward his men.
"Protect the hotel staff. Nobody interferes with the police."
Then he looked directly at Marco, the hotel's head of security.
"Don't let her leave."
Rosie stiffened.
"Excuse me?"
Lorenzo caught her expression.
"Not because I want to control you."
He lowered his voice.
"Because Prescott's men are waiting outside, and I need you safe until the police arrive."
Rosie swallowed.
The distinction mattered.
Before she could answer, Mateo returned carrying a laptop.
"Boss. We identified Prescott's real identity."
Lorenzo frowned.
"Who is he?"
Mateo turned the screen.
A decades-old photograph appeared.
The man was younger, with dark hair and a hard expression.
But Rosie recognized him immediately.
Richard Prescott.
Mateo spoke quietly.
"His real name is Carlo Vescari."
Lorenzo went completely still.
Rosie stared.
"The man who killed your father?"
May you like
Lorenzo nodded.
"And yours," he whispered.
