Chapter 55
CARMELA
C hristian gets a call and has to leave first.
Shamelessly, I cling to him. “I don’t want you to go,” I mumble against his chest.
“Fuck, Camela,” he says. “I don’t want to go either. But I have to, you know.”
He kisses me, and I open up to it and him. Being with them is a form of addiction. I would do anything for them; today, I realize they would likewise do anything for me.
The knowledge only tightens my resolve on the course I’ve set. I force myself to disentangle my arms from around his neck. In the grainy morning light, I stare into his eyes, feeling the moment slip from my grasp, just the way he is.
Today will be hard, but I’m doing this so that tomorrow might be better.
Then it’s Dante’s turn to leave.
“Are you going to be alright?”
No. “Yes.”
“I’ll speak to you later.”
No, you won’t. Later, he’s going to realize I’m not here anymore.
My eyes feel gritty. I’m worn out. They loved me hard last night, but my body is gladly paying the price.
My shower is fast and efficient. I take today’s birth control and leave the rest there. It would be hard to explain if Ettore or any of his men happened to find them on me. My stomach churns at the thought of being near Ettore without that protection, but there is nothing I can do.
In the dressing room, I pull my hair back into a ponytail, put on a pair of jeans and comfortable shoes, and the oversized gray sweater that Cherry brought me.
The apartment complex combines private residences, serviced apartments, and holiday lets.
The colors are all neutral, and nothing would stand out.
I snag Dante’s baseball cap, the one I’ve only seen him wear once when he met me in the coffee shop.
My heart squeezes at the memory. I tighten the cap to fit my head as best as I can and pull it down low.
I leave my cell phone on the nightstand and walk into the lounge where I drink a large glass of water.
It’s still early, and rush hour will be in full swing. The best time to leave is when there are other people around.
I take a deep breath and fail to steady my nerves before collecting the money from the takeout drawer: eighty-seven dollars and a few coins.
I stuff it into my pocket.
There is only one more thing I need to do before I go. God, why does this bring me to my knees? Why is this the hardest step of all?
My fingers shake as I unlock the clasp. I hold the necklace and stare at it for the longest time. I lied for him—wore it against my skin. It can’t come with me. If I’m going to claim Russians held me, there’s no way they would leave something valuable around my throat.
It’s a part of me, a part of my journey from who I was to who I have become.
I kiss the heart-shaped pendant and then place it on the coffee table.
When he finds it, he will know I left of my own accord, and that’s for the best—I hope.
With a last lingering look around the room, I head through to the foyer. My hands shake. The first attempt at the combinations fails, and so does the second and the third. My palms turn sweaty. Did I remember it wrong? On the fourth attempt, I hear the lock disengage.
My heart is in my mouth. I’m almost waiting for an alarm… or a comedy portcullis to drop from the ceiling.
Nothing—I open the door and peer outside.
An empty corridor stretches out in two directions. In the distance on the left, I can see the elevator bank.
Deep breath. One foot then the other until I’m over the threshold, the door held open in my hand.
Once I let it go, there’s no going back.
I let it click shut.
I’m outside.
The sound of a door opening further down the corridor galvanizes me into action, and I walk briskly toward the elevator bank.
It arrives while the couple are still noisily exiting their apartment. It’s empty, but it stops at three different floors on the way down and is full by the time we reach the lobby.
I let myself be swept up with the people as they move through the lobby toward the soaring glass entry doors. When I arrived with Christian, I came in through the parking garage, and none of this is familiar.
I spot the soldier halfway between the elevator bank and the exit.
Maybe I’m wrong and he’s a regular security guard.
Only the way he stands is purposeful, his eyes scanning the lobby before scoping a group of arriving guests beyond the open door.
After a lifetime of being around men of his kind, I’m convinced he is no ordinary security guard.
I stumble and bump into a young man. “Sorry,” I mumble, fighting down the urge to break into a run and flee. Running would be stupid. Even suddenly veering off might draw the soldier’s attention, so I continue walking, trying to keep to the middle of the ‘pack’.
As I draw closer, I realize he’s more interested in the few people entering than in those leaving.
I keep my eyes down, reminding myself that my appearance is nothing remarkable or noteworthy.
My pep talk doesn’t help. My heart is beating out of my chest. I can barely breathe as I draw level with him, waiting for him to shout for me to stop.
He doesn’t. I swept through the doorway and onto the sidewalk, where the concierge and two assistants were welcoming a family and collecting their baggage.
The rush of people momentarily stuns me.
Train station… Only, which way is that? It wasn’t like I could Google it at the risk of Dante reviewing my search history. Maybe with hindsight, it wouldn’t matter now.
More people seem to be heading to the right than left, and I let myself move with the steady stream. The route takes me past the entrance to the club. I keep my eyes fixed ahead, but I’m aware that he spends a lot of time there, even out of hours, and he could be there right now.
Keep it together, Carmela.
This is all new to me: being alone, traveling without a bodyguard or soldier watching me, whether I was aware of them or not.
Not once in my entire life have I been outside on my own.
I’ve never caught a train or a bus.
Yet I am surrounded by people doing exactly that. Unexpectedly, it’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
The people trail takes me to the central marina, where the restaurants and coffee shops are already busy. Here I find a tourist map. The station is a block away.
I enter the station, buy a ticket, and wait with the other commuters on the track. The train that arrives is packed, so I get on and find a place to stand. The motion is oddly soothing, and I stare out the window, lost in my thoughts.
I remind myself that this is the only choice, the right choice.
I can do this.
End this nightmare once and for all.
DANTE
Something was off about her—something beyond what happened between us, and her revelation—a restless disquiet. It’s only now I’m away from her, in Leon’s office listening absently as he talks to Mateo on the phone, that the feeling returns with a vengeance.
I don’t usually call her until after lunch—it’s only ten o’clock—but I call her anyway.
No answer.
Why doesn’t she answer?
I hang up and call again.
Leon finishes his conversation and looks over at me in question.
“Carmela’s not answering,” I say.
“Maybe she’s sleeping… or taking a shower.”
It’s still ringing out. With every iteration, my anxiety cranks up another notch.
I hang up. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” She must be bored, cooped up in there all the time. I scrub a hand over my face. I’m tired. She’s probably tired, too, and sleeping, just as Leon said.
Only that sensation of restlessness is growing, manifesting in a knot of tension at the back of my skull…
“What did Mateo say? Has he made any headway on acquiring the apartment yet?” It’s still too calm out on the streets, and it’s making me uneasy. I want this over with, but it’s like my feet are stuck in quicksand, and every step forward is painfully slow.
“Yes. He just confirmed it’s been booked. Said the door is key coded so you can go ahead and move her, if and when you are ready. Has something happened?”
I shrug. “Nothing specific. Something just feels off. Maybe it was our conversation yesterday with Christian. Like, the risks are compounding and the payoff for taking them can no longer be justified. I’m uneasy.
It’s taking too long for Ettore to reach tipping point.
If he finds out even half of what Christian’s done, he’ll fucking carve him into pieces.
” Where am I going with this? “Maybe I can see more merit in getting Christian the fuck out of there and declaring ourselves in a clean fight… And then there’s what Mateo said about Cherry.
Just one more loose thread that could come back and bite us. ”
His face shutters. “You don’t need to worry about Cherry.”
Fuck him. He’s going to deal with questions until we deal with Ettore.
The chemistry between him and Cherry was apparent long before he started growling over Mateo’s revelations and the implications they presented.
“She’s been compromised. Someone has gone to a lot of effort to fuck her over and put a target on her.
It sucks, and it’s not fair, but we also have no idea how deep this might go…
or why she’s even working here, in a club run by one of his capos.
She’s a qualified doctor, and even if she has been struck off for malpractice, there are a hell of a lot of options beyond dancing in a club.
We need to dig a hell of a lot deeper into her story, and until then, she’s a threat. ”
A tic thumps in his jaw. “I know. It doesn’t fucking add up. But we’re stretched pretty thin right now. She’s being watched. If she does something, anything, that concerns me, I will take whatever action I need to. If she hurts Carmela, directly or indirectly, she’s not the woman I hope she is.”
I nod. Satisfied as I can be. “I’m going to check on Carmela. Ask Mateo to give me a timeline for moving her. I can’t shake off the feeling something is about to go down.”
“No problem.” He’s all business again. “Call me when you’ve spoken to her.”
I leave. It takes me ten minutes to reach the apartment foyer, where I take the elevator to my apartment.
I ring her five more times on the way.
She doesn’t answer.
The moment I step inside, my gut tightens. There is a strange stillness in the air.
“Carmela!”
Nothing.
The lounge is quiet. A single empty glass sits on the kitchen counter—that wasn’t there when I left.
A pounding kicks off at the base of my skull as I stride for the bedroom and check.
Empty.
Her cell phone is on the nightstand. I pick it up and quickly review it. Her last message was to Leon yesterday, asking Cherry to call around.
Cherry.
She had the code to the door.
I blink rapidly. My chest is heaving. I suffer an insane urge to roar and lay waste to the apartment.
Leon is a dead man—I’m going to strangle Cherry myself.
I punch Leon’s number and lift the cell to my ear as I stride back into the lounge. “She's gone.”
“What?!”
“Have Cherry brought in now. She was the only person beyond Christian, you, and me who had the entry code for this apartment. There’s no sign of tampering. Whoever got in used it.”
“Fuck! Fucking hell! I’m on it.”
I need to tell Christian… But I don’t want to compromise him.
Think, damn it!
I shoot off a text message.
Dante: I’ve lost that book you left in my apartment. If you happen to find it, let me know.
I’ve got tunnel vision when I stalk back through to the lounge area. My chest is heaving and sweat breaks out across my skin.
“This can’t be happening,” I mutter. She must be here somewhere. She can’t just be gone. “Think, Dante!”
Sunlight glints off something on the table.
My gut tightens. My steps slow.
I swallow hard as a draw near.
There on the coffee table is the necklace I gave her.
“Lie for me.”
She did. The whole time she was with Ettore, even after she learned I was marrying Helena, she kept it on, wore it for me, my good girl. So fucking hot and filthy, so perfect with her sassy mouth.
The more I learn about her, the deeper I go for her.
I can’t lose her.
My fingers shake as I pick up the heart shaped diamond pendant and enclose it in my fist.
God, I have so many fucking regrets, and I should burn in hell for most of them.
Last night was wild. But the things she said afterward linger. I’ve forced myself to bury what Ettore did with her because I’d have lost my fucking sanity if I didn’t. After last night, I can’t hide from it, nor the terror she lived with.
I left her there.
It doesn’t matter how I try to spin it. I fucking failed her.
Now I have failed her again.
She clung to us this morning—she didn’t want us to go, almost like she knew this was coming for her.
Maybe something was off with Cherry, and she was worried about telling me.
I only know she kept this necklace on all this time, wearing it, a symbol of us.
There’s no way she would have taken it off willingly.
Unless she was leaving me a message.
I’ve failed her too many times. I can’t fail her again.