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One week later
Suna
Imight have waited a good, long time to have sex, but now that I had, I couldn’t get enough. Luckily for me, my new husband had more than enough time and energy to indulge me. The last week had been a whirlwind of visitors and moving men getting my things settled in the penthouse and the second ceremony. We had gone through with it, considering how much my mother had been looking forward to it. Okay, secretly, I wanted to wear the dress. So, despite already being married and thoroughly defiled by the groom, we repeated our vows before the best and most powerful of New York’s underworld.
Now, finally, we were leaving on a honeymoon. Three weeks in Italy before heading to France and Spain. I couldn’t wait. Vincenzo had promised me I wouldn’t feel the walls of his cage, and he was right. My tether to him was inside me. My heart was tied to his, and when we were together, I was free. When we were apart, I was eager to get back to him.
“Mrs. Luciano, is this the last bag?” Matteo asked. Vincenzo had assigned him to be my personal guard, and we were still getting comfortable with each other.
“Call me Suna, and no, of course, it isn’t,” I called as he wheeled another case away from the door. Okay, so I wasn’t good at packing light. It was probably a good thing I hadn’t run off to Canada with only the clothes on my back. I’m sure I would have been terrible at living in hiding.
“I’ll take it down and be back in a minute,” he said, not meeting my eyes.
“Stop judging me. It’s good for your step goal!” I called to him as his broad back departed.
I had to admit I got on well with the Lucianos. Elena, Rafael’s wife, was an instant best friend, and through her, I’d gotten to see how a woman could have a special place in a family full of so many powerful men. I wasn’t invisible in the Luciano family.
I propped the hallway door open, wheeling another case out in the hope I could lighten the work for Matteo and went back inside to finish up. I was packing way too much, but since we were flying to Rome on a private jet, I didn’t see why I had to pack light. Well, that was how Vincenzo had put it. The man was a menace. He was trying to spoil me like no woman had ever been spoiled, and it was going to take a long time to make him realize I didn’t need so much stuff. I felt cherished and loved, and that was what I wanted more than anything.
I planned on doubling my violin lessons, and Miss Simone and I were discussing creating a music foundation to benefit kids in the city who were left behind. Music was a great way to manage stress. I’d turned to my violin in moments of extreme turmoil my entire life. I wanted that for others.
A thump from the hall announced Matteo’s arrival.
“I promise, I only have one left. Two maximum.” I laughed, picturing Matteo’s stoic expression. Since he’d complained about the portions of pasta his mama made for him at home and started tracking his steps, I’d been helping him get in more. So, in that way, over-packing was altruistic, right? Maybe not.
I tugged the heavy case toward the door. “Did you hear me? I’m nearly done, I promise,” I called out into the large space before the door.
Usually, guards stood either side of the opening, but I’d roped them into helping load the car downstairs. As I stood on the threshold looking out, the space was empty. I could have sworn I heard a noise.
“Matteo?” I stepped out and looked from side to side. A dark shape lay slumped in the hallway near the emergency stairwell. Tension roared to life in my chest.
“Matteo?” I tried again, quieter this time.
The shape didn’t move.
Alarm crept along my nerves.
I had to go back inside and lock the door. I had to call security and Vincenzo. I had to get my gun. All the preparation I’d done to be ready for a dangerous moment crowded in on me, and all I wanted to do was creep over to my bodyguard—my friend—and check on him, which I knew I wasn’t allowed to do. I backed up to the door, stepped inside, and pulled it closed.
I’ll get help, Matteo. I promise.
I was still making the vow when the door stopped short of closing properly, and a rough work boot forced its way between the gap.I didn’t want to see if it was the man from my nightmares or someone else. Vincenzo had enemies. The Lucianos had enemies, and so did the Songs. There was no shortage of people who might want to hurt me. I turned, abandoning the door, and ran.
I skidded across the floor, cursing my socks on the slippery wood as I dived toward the bedroom. Inside the closet, there was a panic room. If I could get there—
As a gunshot exploded in the enclosed space, I dived to the side, and plaster flew off the wall in front of my face. Okay, no panic room. I had the impression he wasn’t trying to hit me, only terrify me.
I fell to my knees and changed course, crawling toward the bathroom. Heavy footsteps followed me deeper into the apartment. A hand landed on my ankle as I gripped the poker sitting ornamentally beside the fancy gas fire. I turned as the firm grip on my leg pulled me backward and brandished the poker between us. My eyes met those of the man who, once upon a time, I had been given to as a bride. Disgust curled in my belly.
Hyuk-Su was at least thirty years older than me. He had set his sights on me when I was seven, and he had braided my hair. His watery eyes met mine, and I was shocked at how rough he looked. His teeth were stained and rotting, his hair had fallen out, and his clothes smelled. Being stabbed and left for dead, unwelcome at the table of the mafia family that had always fed him, must have been difficult. It didn’t look like Hyuk-Su was doing very well.
Before the look in his leering eyes could paralyze me, I brought the poker down, stabbing toward his chest. The movement wasn’t strong, and it glanced off his breastbone, but he grunted enough for me to pull my foot from him and scramble to my feet. I ran through the house, hearing him closing in on me from behind.
I knew Vincenzo would hear what was happening. His security downstairs would realize something was wrong. I just had to hold him off. I reached the bathroom door and slammed inside, closing the door on Hyuk-Su’s face and turning the locks. There were many. Vincenzo was pretty paranoid about security as a kingpin could be. Now, I couldn’t be more grateful for my small and secure cage. No one could get in here without a pick ax.
I ran to the cabinet and pulled a false back from it, sending bottles of shampoo and moisturizer cascading onto the floor. I pulled out a gun, checked it, and clicked off the safety. I’d been handling weapons for years. My father had been taken with the idea of me being a judge, destined to be since I was only one year old, and had trained me accordingly. Now, I held the gun, faced the door, and waited. He couldn’t hurt me again. I wouldn’t let him, and this time, I’d put my nightmares to bed once and for all.
He wasn’t leaving this apartment.
