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I take the time to apply a hint of eyeliner and mascara as I contemplate what we could possibly be doing for our date tonight. Nicolo has been unusually secretive about it. He’s dropped hints, giving me a sly smile as he promises I’m going to like it, telling me I should wear my best dress, but no matter how many times I’ve asked, he’s chosen to leave me in the dark.
My stomach quivers with anticipation as I slip into my peacoat and head toward the front door. He can’t possibly refuse me a jacket today when frost still lingers on the windows and trees well past noon. My dress has no sleeves or back to it, and I would be frozen in no time.
The house is exceedingly quiet as I walk through the living room toward the front door. Aunt Patritsiya has taken Clara to the Children’s Museum for the day, and already, I miss my little girl. A smile tugs at my lips as I lock our apartment and carefully make my way down the stairs in my black high heels. I’m still not quite used to walking in glamorous shoes. It seems somewhat ironic to me that I can balance on the tips of my toes without a second thought, but I wobble slightly with every step on the pencil-thin stilettos.
Nicolo’s driver is supposed to pick me up today–part of the surprise–so I stand on the curb a few minutes before four and look down the road in the direction he should come from. My breath plumes before me, and I pull my coat tighter around me to ward off the chill.
As I wait, my mind wanders to Nicolo once more and this mysterious date he has planned. I don’t know why, but somehow, I feel as though something has changed for him. He would never have planned a date like this for me when we first got together.Would he?I wonder if that might not have been his intention with the shopping date, only he hadn’t cared to understand me back then. He thought he might impress me simply by buying me nice things. The notion intrigues me.
While we haven’t changed anything about our arrangement, I do find I’m starting to enjoy our time together. I even feel like we’re beginning to form a connection, in some strange way. He’s sharing more with me emotionally and actually seems to care about what I think. Still, I can’t let myself fall for him. Not again. He could easily drop me as soon as I admit my feelings are real.
A cold gust of wind cuts through the thin fabric of my dress, and I shiver, glancing down the road to see if Nicolo’s driver is almost here. I spot a black SUV turning the corner onto my street and release a sigh of relief. I feel like my lips might be turning purple with the cold. The SUV pulls up to the curb, classic tinted windows making it impossible for me to see if Nicolo’s waiting inside to surprise me.
The door pops open a moment later, a burly bodyguard stepping out to usher me inside. I don’t hesitate to slide across the fine leather seat, anticipating the warmth within. As the guard follows me back into the car and closes the door, I glance up for the first time. And my eyes meet the familiar hate-filled gaze of Troy Gatti.
My heart stops.
I recognize him from that night at Danza, but if I had any question in my mind, the cast encasing his right arm confirms it. As my pulse jump starts back to life, a cold sweat breaks out across my brow. From the look in his eyes, he has something in store for me, and I’m not going to like it one bit.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Troy drawls, leaning back against the seat and turning to look at the guy next to him.
“I’d say we caught ourselves some proper bait,” the man says.
My heart skips a beat as I absorb the meaning behind his words. I study his face, searching for any hint of empathy there, but all I find is cold rage. He has the same strong, Italian features as Troy, the same almond eyes and sneering lips. Though he looks several years older than Troy, I can only assume they’re related–brothers would be my guess. Which means that Nicolo killed their father, and I’ve just willingly entered their vehicle.
Panic floods my brain, and without a second thought, I scramble for the door, desperate to escape. The brothers release a bone-chilling chorus of laughs as the guard sitting next to me snatches up my wrists, effectively restraining me before I even have a chance to fight back. The second guard reaches across my shoulders and shoves me back against the seat as the driver pulls away from the curb, taking me away from my home and from safety.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” the older Gatti sneers. “We just want to have a bit of fun.”
Troy chuckles darkly. “Alexia, don’t toy with the poor girl. She’s going to be begging us for death by the night’s end. It’s just cruel and unusual to give her a sense of false hope.”
Alexia flashes a look toward Troy that tells him he ought to keep his mouth shut. “You’ll have to excuse my younger brother,” he says, turning his cold eyes back to me. “He can be a bit… crass sometimes.”
“What do you want from me?” I demand, putting as much strength into my voice as I can. I don’t know what I can possibly do to get out of this situation, but I can’t bring myself to cower, to give them the pleasure of watching me beg.
“What do we want?” Alexia asks, his tone dripping with false confusion. “Well, we want our father back. But seeing as neither you, your boyfriend, nor the God Almighty has the power to deliver him to us, we’ll take what we can get.”
“Now, who’s toying with her?” Troy gripes, casting a sideways glance at his brother.
Alexia completely ignores the rib as he keeps his eyes leveled on mine. A shiver runs down my spine as I see the intense hatred within their depths. I swallow hard as I cast my mind for any means of escape. But I’m surrounded by men almost twice my size who seem entirely at ease with the thought of hurting me–killing me, even.
“What are you going to do to me?” I ask, and this time my voice quivers.
Alexia slides forward on his seat, his gaze more intent now, as if he’s glad I asked. “We’re going to torture you,” he says with unadulterated glee. “We’re going to cut you up bit by bit and send pieces of you back to your self-righteous fuck of a boyfriend, and when we’re done with you, Nicolo will know not to fuck with the Gattis ever again. He took my father from me, so now I’m going to take what he cares about from him.”
The snort that escapes my lips surprises even me. “You think I’m what Nicolo cares about?” I ask in disbelief. These guys clearly don’t understand the arrangement.
A flash of uncertainty dances across the brothers’ faces before Alexia quickly recovers, masking his moment of hesitation with a dark chuckle. “You’re trying to play games with us, to convince us that we’ve got the wrong person, but I assure you, short of Silvia Marchetti–who’s impossible to get to after our botched attempt to kidnap her–” He flashes Troy a withering look that makes his younger brother scowl. “You are what Nicolo cares most about in this world. He spends more time focused on you than he does thefamily business.”
Alexia’s words unsettle me. That can’t be true. Sure, Nicolo was obsessed with tormenting me at the start of the year. Yes, we’ve spent a considerable amount of time together lately–especially after what happened to his sister, but that was about Nicolo finding a way to release the stress of his situation. It has nothing to do with me personally. He’s already made it perfectly clear that I’m completely disposable to him. Forgettable, even.
Still, my pulse quickens. At one point in my life, I would have given anything to be what Nicolo cares for most, but right now, I’m faced with the cold, hard reality that not only am I not–even the possibility of it has put my life on the line. I’m going to die, and I don’t even get the added benefit of knowing that Nicolo loves me. Instead, my body turns to ice as I realize that I will be leaving Clara an orphan when she’s little more than a baby. I don’t relish the thought of dying, but the thought of leaving my beautiful baby girl behind is unbearable. And she will be an orphan because when I die, the knowledge of who her father is dies with me.
“You know, I think I’m going to like the sound of your screams,” Alexia taunts, a smile spreading across his lips.
Irrational anger consumes me as I look across the car at the Gatti brothers’ sneering faces, and I do the only thing I can think of to show them just how much I hate them. I spit.
My saliva lands on Alexia’s cheek, and his head jerks back in shock. His fingers go to his face as he wipes away the fluid, and Troy laughs at the unforgivable sign of disrespect. Alexia’s dark eyes burn with a new form of fury, and his hand comes out of nowhere. He backhands me so hard, I’m flung sideways across the lap of a bodyguard, and a loud ringing fills my ears as I see stars.
