"Sure," I tell Max, "I'll let you know if Dylan gives me any trouble."

There's silence on the other end of the phone. Maybe my glib assurance was too glib, because apparently Max isn't buying it.

"What aren't you telling me, Hadley?"

"Nothing. I'm sure it wasn't even him." Even after what's happened, I can't lie to Max.

"What wasn't even him?" Max asks, and I can tell he's making an effort not to sound exasperated.

I sigh. "Look, I don't think it was anything. It's just, I worked later than I intended to tonight, and when I came out of my office all the lights in the hallways were off, and I just got a little spooked. I thought there was someone in the office, following me, but then I walked right into Steve, the guy from IT, and we went through the whole office. No one was there." I let out another shaky breath.

"So I think it was just nerves. My imagination running away from me." I'm hoping he doesn't press for more, because I really don't want to tell him about Dylan trying to pull me into the elevator after the luncheon meeting. I'm afraid of what his reaction would be, and what he might do. Max threatening Dylan could just play right into Dylan's hands.

And Max doing worse than threaten is something I don't want to think about.

"Hadley," Max says, "if you ever feel like you're in danger, I want you to do two things. Call me. And run."

"In what order?" I ask, trying to make a joke of it.

"That would depend on the situation. I want you to trust your instincts. If you think there's something off, then there probably is." His voice is serious.

"Now you're scaring me."

"That's not a bad thing."

"You really think Dylan could be violent? Just because I messed up his little plan to embarrass my grandfather?"

"I don't know what his agenda is, or his motives," Max says. "But I intend to find out."

"I'd rather you just left it alone. Max, don't you understand that just talking on the phone with you hurts me?"

His voice is softer now. "It was never my intention to hurt you, Hadley."

"But that's not stopping you. You're going along with Gino's plan and you're hurting not just me but Angelica. You have to know she doesn't want to marry you. She doesn't love you. She'll never love you." Not like I do.

There's a brief pause before he answers.

"This artist, Benedicto, is as unsuitable for Angelica as I am unsuitable for you."

"Max-"

"Let me finish. I'm very fond of Angelica. Of course I'm not in love with her, but I care about her. I've known her for most of my life, and all of hers. Believe me, the alternative to her marrying me isn't spending her life with Benedicto. It's marrying a man who would make her life a living hell." He pauses. "And when he laid a hand on her - and he would - Vincenzo or I would kill him."

When Max says that, I believe him. I think I've known all along that Max is a man who is capable of killing. That he's probably killed in the past. A chill runs through me as I remember Max telling me how Vincenzo, when he was only 19, brutally killed the people who murdered Angelica's parents. An arranged marriage that apparently had worked out okay for Gino's sister, until a mob vendetta cost her and her husband their lives.

But this whole situation with Angelica is just insane.

"It doesn't make any sense, Max. You have to marry her so that she isn't handed over to some other mafia family? This isn't the early 1900's. Women aren't property that can be bartered in a business deal."

When Max doesn't answer I press on.

"Why would Angelica go along with marrying that guy?"

"Gino isn't forcing her to marry him. He's arranging for her to marry me."

"Why would she agree to marry you?"

Even though we're on the phone, I sense his quick smile. "Am I so horrible a prospect?"

"She's not in love with you."

"Love can't be everything," Max says.

"It was for your parents," I say softly. "Your mother regretted sending her first love away and marrying the man her father chose, and your father never forgot her. When she was desperate, she reached out to the man she still loved, and they both risked so much to be together."

"And my mother gave up so much to follow her heart instead of starting a new life away from organized crime. She was never able to accept what my father did, or his connections to the New York and New Jersey mafia. And in the end she -" He cuts himself off.

"She what?" I prompt.

He lets out a breath. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that I am not going to allow you to pay the same price my mother did, marrying for love and never being able to accept the life her husband had chosen. Hadley you know you would never be able to accept the life I was born to, and the responsibilities I must carry."

He seems to choose his words carefully, and I remember that for all we know, the FBI could be listening to our conversation. The thought of that makes me feel nauseous. Especially since a few moments ago Max said that if Angelica married a man who abused her, Max or Vincenzo would kill him. And after what happened with that client who works for Max, I don't doubt for a minute that he means what he said.

As if he's reading my thoughts, Max says, "It's better if we discuss these matters in person."

"Right," I say. Because who and what Max is makes everything complicated. Was I a fool in Paris to imagine things could ever work out between us? Maybe letting him go and moving on with my own life will be easier when he's married to Angelica. At that point, there'll be no turning back.

But I can't bring myself to say it, not now. The pain from the way he shattered my dreams after Paris is still too raw.

Instead, I say, "I don't know how you can just agree to marry Angelica like it's some kind of business arrangement." I take a deep breath and then ask him what I really want to know. "Is this going to be a marriage in name only, or are you planning to have sex with her?"

"Hadley, don't do this to yourself."

"I want to know."

"Like I said, some things are better to discuss in person. I'll pick you up after work tomorrow. We'll go someplace where we can talk."

"No, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Good night, Hadley."

"Max," I start, but he's already hung up the phone.

Great. Now I have to see Max in person and find out if he's planning to have a real marriage with Angelica, in every sense of the word. Since he didn't just say no when I asked him the question, I have a good idea what his answer is going to be.

* * *

I feel restless and can't sleep. When my phone is buzzes again, I reach for it, sure it's Max. He must be as unsettled by the way we left our conversation as I am. I fumble for it on the table beside my bed, and answer without checking.

"Hadley?"

Oh, crap. Not Max. It's Angelica.

I stare at the screen for a few seconds, then push the button to end the call. Angelica is the last person I want to talk to tonight.

When the phone buzzes again I let it go to voicemail.

The third time, I groan and punch my pillow, then reluctantly answer it. Because if I don't, she's apparently going to just keep on calling all night.

"I don't want to talk to you right now," I tell her.

"Don't hang up. Hadley, please."

I shift in bed, propping my head up on my pillow.

"I really don't have anything to say. I just talked to Max, and I'm upset. Plus, it's been a really hard day."

I realize Angelica knows nothing about the drama that unfolded at the Bar luncheon this afternoon.

"Hadley, I'm scared."

I sit up straighter.

"Scared about marrying Max?"

She gives a short humorless laugh. "No, not that. I'd never be afraid of Max. It's Bento. I still haven't heard from him."

That's right. She told me before that she hadn't been able to reach Benedicto. That was right before Max and I went to Paris.

"You haven't heard from him at all?"

"No, and I've left messages everywhere. I'm afraid to ask Uncle Gino. Afraid of what he'll tell me. And that he'll think I'm not going to go through with the marriage to Max."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

I roll my eyes. "Are you going to marry Max?"

"Well, I guess I have to. But maybe I could still keep seeing Bento."

"You want to marry Max and keep seeing Bento on the side?" For some reason I find this thought particularly horrifying. "You'd actually do that?"

"You're right," she says. "I can't do that. If anyone found out it would make Max look so bad. Plus, Bento would never. He's so Catholic. We were planning for me to meet his mother," she says, and I hear a trace of a sob in her voice.

"If Bento isn't going to interfere," I reason, "then I doubt if Gino would have done anything to hurt him."

"That's what Vinnie says."

"You talked this over with Vincenzo?'

"Of course, I wanted to see what his reaction was. If Gino wanted to make Bento disappear, he'd probably have asked Vinnie to take care of it."

I think about Vincenzo, the man with the expressionless face and the eyes of a killer, and a little shiver runs through me.

"Would Vincenzo tell you if he knew where Bento was?" What I'm really wondering, and don't say, is would Vinnie have told her if he made Benedicto disappear . . . permanently.

"I'm not sure. But I think I'd know if he'd hurt him. He wouldn't hurt someone I care so much about."

I'm skeptical about that. It seems to me that Vincenzo would do whatever Gino asks him to do. But I let it pass.

"Vinnie told me to stop worrying about Bento and do what my uncle has asked of me," Angelica explains. He told me Max would take care of me, and treat me the way I should be treated, and I know that's true." Her voice breaks slightly. "But I'm in love with Bento."

"I don't know why you're calling me, Angelica. You know I'm in love with Max. When we were in Paris . . . " My voice trails off. Some things I just can't share.

"I'm sorry. If I knew where Bento was, I'd convince him to run away together. Or at least I'd try."

"Vincenzo would just find you, and bring you back."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Vinnie wants me to be happy."

I'm finding it hard to believe that the cold-blooded enforcer is capable of having feelings for anyone, other than a sense of loyalty to Gino and, by association, Angelica.

"Why are you calling me, Angelica?" I ask again. "You have to know how difficult this whole situation is for me."

"I don't want you to hate me. I feel like we were just getting to be friends, and I want you to know none of this was my idea."

"Of course I know it's not your idea. And I don't hate you. I don't know if we can stay friends once you marry Max, but I don't blame you for this."

"I'm glad," she says, "because I need to ask you a favor."

"A favor?"

"Can you find out from Max if he knows anything about what happened to Bento?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself? After all," I can't help adding, "he is your fiancé."

"He won't tell me. He won't even discuss it. You know how Max is when he makes up his mind about something."

Yes, I do know.

"But he might tell you, Hadley. Would you ask him for me? I can't stop thinking that something terrible has happened."

Since it looks like I'll be seeing Max tonight, I tell Angelica I'll try to find out what he know about Benedicto's disappearance.

After we hang up I lie there wondering. Max is Benedicto's sponsor at the art gallery, as well as the person who arranged to use him and his art as part of the money laundering scheme. How far would Max go to ensure that Benedicto doesn't interfere with Gino's plans for Max and Angelica to get married?

I'll ask the question tonight, but I'm starting to worry about what the answer might be.