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There's a long pause, and Hadria stares out the window the whole time. I think she's not going to answer me, but at last she says, "She heads up the richest mob Family in New York."
So Hadria's actions here in Chicago have started to attract attention from important people, even out of state.
Interesting.
A few nights later, my hands tremble as I pull on the blue velvet dress I'm to wear to the meeting with Nero. The plunging back makes me feel exposed in my weakest place, like I have a target right between my shoulder blades, but as I stare at my reflection in the mirror I can't see any sign of self-consciousness. With the amount of makeup I've piled on—smoked-out eyes, contour and bronzer, and an enormous amount of mascara—it would be hard for my true self to show through.
Is Hadria right?Isthere a kind of power just in the way I look? Or was she only flattering me, manipulating me into wearing this dress?
I stare hard again at my reflection, seeing not myself, but some other creature.
If I'm really going to play this part of the sexually desirable trophy, then I should probably go all-in. I hike up my skirt—not far, since it's already so short—and I roll down the panties I was wearing underneath.
I'm definitely all-in now. I'll have to be careful getting in and out of the car, for one thing.
When there's a knock at my door, I'm expecting Lyssa, so when Hadria strolls in, my mouth falls open.
"You look amazing," she says, but in this clinical way that makes me wonder if she actually means it. "Turn around."
I turn to face the mirror, keeping my eyes on her. The gold heels I'm wearing are ridiculously high, but I'm still a few inches shorter than her, and she easily passes her hands over my head. And then, around my neck, she fastens a diamond collar. It sparkles ominously, Hadria's insignia of the three-headed dog, now cast in gold, resting in the hollow of my throat.
"What is this?" I ask, reaching up with a frown.
"It will undermine Nero's composure," she tells me. And then she adds, "And it will help you remember who you belong to." Her eyes burn into mine with a strange, fierce possessiveness that both unnerves and thrills me.
Her hand skims down my back and I shiver at her touch, hating that my body betrays me. Hadria notices and smiles, just a tiny quirk of the lips, before turning away. "It's time," she calls back. "Come on, Sunny. Time to shine."
The drive to the meeting is tense, Hadria staring out the tinted window while I fidget nervously. Lyssa sits across from us, gun already in hand, the metal glinting dangerously.
I haven't felt like this since my wedding day…like a lamb being led to slaughter.
The meeting location is an abandoned warehouse deep in the industrial district. Hadria's men flank the building before we getout of the car, their assault rifles in hand. My ankles wobble as I step out of the car. Hadria offers her arm and I cling to it more out of need than gratitude.
Inside the warehouse, the space is dimly lit and sparse. A long table sits in the center, surrounded by hard-backed chairs. Men in dark suits turn to stare as we enter. Their eyes crawl over me, undressing what little clothing I have on. I resist the urge to cover myself.
Hadria's grip on my arm tightens. "Gentlemen," she greets them coolly. They look away, chastened. These must be Nero's men, Imperioli Family members.
A door slams open across the warehouse and Nero storms in, eyes searching for Hadria. But when his gaze falls on me, his eyes widen, especially as I turn toward Hadria in a submissive gesture, and let him glimpse my full naked back.
"What's the meaning of this?" he demands through gritted teeth. "Why is she here?"
Hadria's smile is vicious. "I wanted you to see what you'll never possess."
Nero clenches his fists, nostrils flaring. Hadria's plan is working—and almost straight away. He's losing control, giving in to desire and envy.
She can play him like a fiddle.
Hadria takes a seat at the head of the table, gesturing for me to sit beside her. The men arrange themselves around us. Nero sits opposite Hadria, glaring sullenly.
"Papa doesn't know you're here," she begins. It's not a question.
"The old fool is too soft," Nero says.
"Well," she says with a cold smile, "I believe we are beginning to find some common ground, little brother. Let's see if we can find a little more, shall we?" Hadria begins outlining her demands. The Syndicate members listen intently, nodding along, and the Imperioli men are paying close attention too…except for their leader. Nero fidgets in his seat, struggling to keep his eyes on Hadria.
They keep darting back to me.
To my nipples, tight and obvious under the dress. And to Hadria's diamond collar around my throat.
