Chapter 14 - The Sugar Trap
The interior of the Moretti estate was opulent, filled with marble statues and Renaissance paintings that looked out of place alongside the modern security cameras mounted in every corner. Mara walked behind the estate's house manager, her arms aching from the weight of the heavy delivery crate.
"Set it on the island," the house manager ordered, gesturing to a pristine, stainless steel kitchen that made Mara’s professional heart ache with jealousy, even under the circumstances. "Ms. Moretti will be down in ten minutes. Do not leave until she tastes the soufflé. She is very particular about the temperature."
"Of course, sir," Mara said, lowering her voice and keeping her head down.
The manager walked out to attend to other duties, leaving Mara alone with two guards standing at the kitchen entrance. She had to act fast.
Moving with practiced efficiency, she began unpacking the pastries. As she reached into the bottom of the crate, her fingers found the small, adhesive tracking beacon. She slid it out, and while pretending to reach for a spice rack near the kitchen’s main electrical panel, she slapped the device onto the back of the metal casing.
A tiny green light flashed. Signal live.
Miles away, Dante and his tactical team received the ping. The countdown had begun.
Mara then reached for the soufflé dish, but as she did, a voice chilled her to the bone.
"You know, I always say that a good chef puts their soul into the food," Luciana Moretti said, walking into the kitchen wearing a silk emerald robe. She wasn't looking at the breakfast. She was looking directly at Mara. "But I didn't think you’d put your life into it, Mara."
The two guards instantly drew their weapons, aiming them at Mara’s chest.
Mara straightened up, removing the chef’s hat and throwing it onto the counter. "Where is Lena, Luciana?"
"Safe. For now," Luciana said, sitting at the kitchen island and pulling a long, elegant silver knife from a block to slice a croissant. "Did you really think I wouldn't recognize the woman who stole Dante’s heart? I had eyes on the catering kitchen the moment your husband’s van arrived. You walked right into my hands."
"Dante is outside," Mara said, her voice remarkably calm. "And he isn't the man he used to be. He has something to lose now, Luciana. That makes him ten times more dangerous than the man who killed your brother."
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Luciana’s face contorted with rage. She stood up, slamming the knife into the wooden cutting board. "He is a dead man walking! The moment he steps foot on the grass, my snipers will—"
Before she could finish the sentence, the tracking beacon blew the electrical panel in a shower of sparks. The lights slammed off, and the smoke grenades Mara had left inside the delivery crate detonated automatically, filling the kitchen with an impenetrable, blinding wall of thick white smoke.
