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ANYA
Very few things stick with me. I learned early on that, killing, especially if it’s protecting the ones I love or myself, is not one of them.
Caishen Goh might be a ruthless son of a bitch, but it doesn’t make him indestructible. I almost hate that he will be given a quick, painless death.
The Annual van der Sar Charity Ball and Auction is in three days. It’s one of the biggest global events of the year. Anyone who’s anyone will be there. But I only care about one. And in seventy-two hours’ time, he will cease to exist.
We spend the next few days deliberating over every detail. There is no room for mistakes. The plan was simple, really, but by no means easy. Kai had a great one, throwing back Caishen’s methods in his face. We know he will have guards on the roofs surrounding the building at the event. The man travels like he’s the president. So, we’ll set up our own snipers to take out his guards first and then another group will rush in and take him out. Much like he did at our wedding. I guess you could call it poetic justice.
Laughing to myself as I put on my earrings in front of the vanity in the walk-in closet, I hear my husband approach from behind me.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, pulling my back to his front as he presses his nose into my hair and inhales.
“I’m excited for tonight.”
Refusing to give Caishen any more of my time, I tilt my head, giving him more access to my neck. He kisses the spot where my tattoo is etched on my skin.
“You smell good. But you’re lying.” Turning around in his arms, I take in his gray suit.
He always looks so good no matter what he’s in. Basketball shorts, a suit, or those damn gray sweatpants. It didn’t matter.
“I’m just ready for this to be behind us.” I pretend to adjust his collar. “You look handsome.”
“And you are breathtaking, as always,” he compliments back as he kisses me deeply, causing me to forget my own name. “After this, we’re going on that damn honeymoon.”
Tonight is a rare date night, and fireworks go off inside me. I could laugh at the thought. Doing something as mundane as going on a date was difficult for us already with our line of work. Add in the chaos of the wedding and the press, and it was near impossible.
We already had to push back our honeymoon. But I’m grateful for tonight. I miss my husband, and I think he could sense it, too. After all, tonight was his idea. He’d sent a dozen white roses with an emerald green dress and a note letting me know he had plans for us. I also found I like color in my wardrobe.
The butterflies in my stomach had me giddy. I feel like a teenager again. The restaurant is busy for a weeknight but can still keep its intimate charm with the high booths and warm lighting.
“I can’t believe you had the opportunity to date Princess Ines, and you didn’t grab at the chance,” I chastise.
Nico raises a brow, but I can see the hints of a playful smile.
“I can’t believe you’re mad at me fornotdating another woman. Your little lady crush is getting worse.” He raises his whiskey glass to his lips.
He’s not wrong. Princess Ines is the people’s princess. She will be the next generation’s Princess Diana but hopefully without the tragic fate. Though no one could ever replacethePrincess Diana.
“It’s not even a crush anymore. I’m in full-blown love,” I sigh, dreaming.
“Do I need to remind you that you are a married woman, Mrs. Delucci?”
“That depends, Mr. Liu,” I quip with a wink. “What would this reminder include?” I love messing with the possessive bastard almost as much as I love the man himself.
As we dig into our dinner, the conversation flows nonstop. We made a rule to not talk about work or Goh. Trying but failing to keep from gaining attention from the other patrons. My stomach aches from laughing so hard, and it feels so good to see Nico smiling so freely. Marcella would faint at our decorum, and I made a mental note to strike off fancy restaurants from our list of things we can do. Nico and I have proven we cannot have nice things.
The conversation shifts to our childhoods. Swapping stories of the young Delucci men and my life with the Violantes. Dom would kill me if he found out I told Nico this stuff. Like the time he was caught by Papa sneaking back to the Villa in Italy one summer morning in only his underwear when we were teenagers. Donna set the sprinklers on him.
Or when Nico showed up to show-and-tell in first grade with a poisonous snake he found and hid from his parents. The little guy got loose before Nico could present. He didn’t even realize it was gone until it was his turn. School was canceled for the next two days until the reptile could be located. Marcella was embarrassed, and Giuseppe had to write a rather large check to sweep it under the rug so Nico wouldn’t be expelled. Apparently, the administrators decided bringing a lethal animal equaled aweapon. How Nico hid the thing for so long without being caught or bitten himself was a mystery.
“Is there anything else I can get for you, monsieur? Madame?” the waiter asks in what I suspect was a fake French accent.
I wonder if it’s part of the job requirement.
“No, that will be all. Thank you,” Nico responds politely in French.
The corner of my lips turn up.
