Chapter One of Unresolved
Gemma
I locked the bookstore door behind me before I dropped the keys into my tote bag, which already held my purse and a couple of fiction books. A satisfied smile creased my face. My shop, which carried both old and new books, might not make me a millionaire, but it sure made me happy.
I’d learned money couldn’t buy happiness. I’d also learned heartbreak destroyed happiness and it took inner strength and hard work to leave the ashes-in-the-mouth taste behind.
My heeled ankle boots clipped along the sidewalk as I edged past hundreds of other pedestrians, most of whom would be taking the underground subway home. I adjusted the strap of my tote bag before I pulled my trench coat closer around me, pretending I was shielded, safe. It was a habit I’d acquired in order to ignore the hemmed-in feeling I endured every time I braved the human traffic.
I grimaced. I’d need a bulletproof vest to achieve that.
More than likely my phobia stemmed from my upbringing, which hadn’t exactly been normal. My father was a prominent underworld figure, who I knew only thanks to newspaper clippings. He was also a man who had no idea of my existence, and I planned to keep it that way.
My mother had been a stripper who’d managed to extricate herself from that way of life before my sperm donor dad even noticed she’d gone. But then, in her words, she’d been nobody, nothing, a woman who’d flown so far under the radar she hadn’t even been missed.
I stopped at the corner of the block even as two pedestrians jaywalked across the road to the sound of furiously honking horns. I barely noticed. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up, the strong sense of someone watching me almost overwhelming.
That it wasn’t the first time I’d experienced the sensation made my skin tighten and my hands clammy. Bad enough I had to fight off claustrophobia on a daily basis, this was a whole new level of intimidation.
I surreptitiously glanced behind at the dozens of faceless people in mostly gray, beige and black. They stared back without really seeing me or anyone else. It made me want to believe I was imagining things and that I was wrong, but my perception was too powerful to ignore.
The pedestrian light flicked to green and I stepped across the road with everyone else who’d stopped to wait. I lengthened my step, hurrying to get ahead of the crowd.
My bus stop was on the next street corner.
Only once I made it there did I turn around, standing still as I watched the oncoming crush of people move toward me like an unstoppable tide.
I blinked. No one stood out.
My pulse settled. Whoever had followed me was gone now.
The bus soon after arrived and I stepped on with a grateful sigh. Finding an empty seat, I stared out the window as the bus doors closed and we headed for the Bronx.
I drew in a steadying breath and closed my eyes as I regained my equilibrium. Growing up with a mother who’d too often looked over her shoulder had kept me in a constant fight or flight mode.
If my father ever found out I was alive, I had no doubt I’d be dragged into his ‘family’ and used to his benefit. Likely I’d be married off to some other mobster asshole who would strengthen my father’s connections.
My hands clenched in my lap. I’d die before allowing that.
I finally got off at my stop and walked through some graffiti-riddled, pot-holed laneways that led to my apartment. I glanced up at the puke-orange, ten-story building that looked dreadful but kept so many families safe.
My mother and I had managed to make the interior of our apartment quite lovely, not that she was around to enjoy it. She’d found a man who adored her as much as she adored him and they were both traveling the world and living life to the full.
I couldn’t think of anyone more deserving of a happily-ever-after than my mother. She’d done everything to protect me, including getting me away from the one man who’d threatened to destroy me...destroy us both.
I did my best to shake off the image of Alessandro, but his towering, corded physique, his dark styled hair and shadowed, designer stubble, along with his supposed, love-filled eyes were hard to forget.
He’d been everything to me...until I’d discovered he was part of a mafia family. It was only lucky I’d never met any of his brothers or his sister. He’d enjoyed keeping me all to himself, and for that at least, I was grateful.
It meant I too was invisible, unrecognizable. I doubted he’d even shown pictures of me to anyone. I’d been a part of his personal life and I’d bet that was how it’d stay.
A tabby cat, one of its ears partially missing, trotted toward me with a raucous meow. I stooped to run a hand along her rough fur, her fat, pregnant belly. “There you are,” I crooned. I hadn’t seen her yesterday afternoon and had imagined the worst.
Opening my tote bag, I withdrew a small plastic bag of kibble, then tipped it onto the ground. She ate with gusto and I watched her for a few minutes before straightening. “Where are your friends?” I asked.
As if on cue, three more cats ran toward me. A ginger, a tuxedo and another tabby. I’d managed to deworm and feed them all on a regular basis and they were beginning to fill out and look a lot healthier. I had plans soon to neuter all four of them before I released them here again.
They weren’t feral exactly but I knew in my heart they weren’t pets to be kept indoors. These streets were their home, along with the weather-proof box I’d bought and tucked out of sight behind the apartment building.
Leaving the cats to their dinner, I pushed open the door to the musty, chocolate-brown carpeted foyer of my building. I took the stairs to the seventh floor—I didn’t trust the rickety elevator—before I finally traversed the corridor that ran along my level. Unlocking my door, I stepped into my apartment.
I smiled. It was so good to be home.
I glanced around the living room with its warm yellow walls highlighted by a lamp with a rustic gold-patterned shade and a textured abstract canvas in gold and brown with a touch of red. An oversized cream lounge and a crystal vase of orange bird-of-paradise were in a big vase next to a pile of books on a glass coffee table.
Everything had been carefully selected, from the yellow and orange cushions, and the green ferns overhanging their terracotta pots, to look casual and comfortable. That the bright colors warded off my earlier trepidation was a welcome bonus.
Exhaling softly, I turned to shut the door.
It crashed open, masking my shriek of terror. I glimpsed a tall man covered in black before one of his powerful arms wrapped around my throat. I didn’t have time to wonder who it might be, not when a chemically saturated cloth covered my nose.
I sucked in a startled breath before I realized my mistake. Then the world faded around me, and then there was nothing.