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I never wanted to be a murderer. I never wanted any of this. Ruby and I had a life planned out for ourselves. And now … well, it’s funny where life takes you sometimes.
Geo rolls down the window and converses with one of the guards, who then motions us to get out of the car. I glance at Connor, but he doesn’t look at me as he opens his door, stepping out. The guards roughly pat us down. My guard’s hands linger too long between my legs, and I want to punch him, but I don’t. That would be a death sentence right now. Something tells me to keep my mouth shut and do what they tell me to if I want to survive this.
They confiscate two guns and a knife from Geo and one gun from Connor, and then they nod for us to get back in the car. The gate starts to roll open.
The whole thing took three minutes, tops—fast, efficient, and terrifying. I raise one hand and look at it, watching it shake as I hover it in the air, and then I quickly lower it, tucking it underneath my dress and looking out the window.
I wish I hadn’t come. I wish Connor didn’t think I needed to be here.
But I guess I have a part to play, and play it I must.
A shiver runs up my spine as we stop in front of the large double doors of a grand house. It’s dark, ominous, and I watch as two men move down the steps and open our doors. They are silent, and I hesitate before stepping out again and standing. Connor comes to my side, extending his arm as if he were a gallant gentleman escorting me to a ball and not ahit it and quit itfuckboy who is taking me into the belly of the beast.
He still doesn’t talk as we enter the large foyer, and I glance around at the interior, which matches the exterior. Lots of dark wood, fancy filigree and molding, artwork, large flower sprays, and an oriental rug round out the antique and rich feel of the place, but there’s an underlying sense of dread—or maybe that’s just me.
I can feel Connor’s arm tense where I’m holding it, and I try to take my hand away, but he covers it with his own as a man approaches us.
“Right this way,” he says and then turns, giving us his back.
I look around, but I don’t see Geo. I guess he didn’t come in with us.
We are finally led into a dining room, and the man announces, “Mr. Connor Soltorre and his fiancée, Miss Wryn Coleman.”
Eyes turn toward us, prickling the hair on the back of my neck. There’s a fireplace, roaring with a fire, even with the warm temperature outside, and I want to stand beside it to calm the goose bumps rising on my arms. I see Sylvia and Lilliana already seated at the table along with others I don’t know. Lilliana raises a small hand in greeting, a soft smile on her face, and I want to return the wave, but my attention is pulled toward the front of the room.
A gray-haired man rises from his position at the head of the table, a broad smile on his face as he takes us in.
“So nice of you to join us for dinner,” he says, extending his hand to an empty seat beside him.
We continue that way and stop a few paces from him. Connor frowns, looking at the single chair and then back around the table. The only other empty chairs are five people away on either side.
“We apologize for being late,” Connor finally says, and the man shakes his head.
He’s not what I was expecting. His demeanor doesn’t fit the snakelike man I envisioned, and it’s throwing me off.
“Nonsense. You are right on time. Wryn,” he says, appraisingly looking me up and down, “please, sit. Connor, you are down there.”
“Sir, I’ve come to talk to you—”
“And we never do business at the dinner table,” the man cuts him off.
Connor nods, stepping forward to pull out my chair. I sink down as gracefully as I can in an evening dress and heels until my ass meets the cushion, and then Connor pushes the chair forward slightly.
My eyes follow him as he finds a seat far away from me, and then I turn back, feelinghiseyes on me.
“I am Viktor Leoni. It’s a pleasure to have you this evening,” he says, leaning my way. Geo explained to me earlier that Viktor is the head of the Leoni mafia.
He’s like a gentle grandfather in his actions, his eyes twinkling like he has a secret to tell me, and I find myself tilting toward him without realizing it.
I finally find my voice, licking my lips before saying, “The pleasure is mine.” I’m surprised when my voice doesn’t shake and actual words come out. I’m very aware of my chest expanding with breaths, my heart beating a staccato rhythm, a rushing sound in my ears.
I will myself to calm down.
“Yes, yes, I’m sure.” He pats my hand, and it doesn’t feel condescending.
Is this how he does it? How he takes down his enemies? Does he lull them into a false sense of security before striking?
Maybe Connor has it wrong. Maybe he’s actually just misunderstood.
