Chapter 3
Three
AMARA
“ S hit,” I muttered as my foot slipped on the iron rail of the balcony. It looked sturdier than it was. I learned how precarious it was the hard way the first time I snuck out of my bedroom. I knew where to step and place my feet now. At least I thought I did.
I scraped my shin as I lowered myself to the row of hedges beneath my bedroom window. As I emerged, I looked right and left, expecting Ciro to be waiting for me. My father had gone to bed hours ago, trying to hide one of his coughing episodes from me.
A thin line of blood began to run toward my ankle. I wasn’t going to accept defeat and run inside for a bandage. The blood could stay. No. It would take Ciro hauling me over his shoulder to force me to turn around.
He was a giant of a man. Sometimes it felt as if he was a wall of shadows, lurking and planting himself in front of every path or exit I wanted to take. I understood his job was to protect me, yet something was unnerving about him. He was too quiet for someone his size.
When I didn’t spot him on the grounds of the compound, I began to run. I had found a place where the gates had been compromised weeks ago. My walks around the property hadn’t been worthless. The bars were slightly wider than the rest of the fencing. I could angle and squeeze my body through one limb at a time.
I was free.
On the outside of the Amato compound, I took a deep breath. I knew this type of freedom was short-lived. Soon Ciro would realize the gap in the camera coverage. What I feared the most was what my father had planned for me. He was working on my marriage contract. I didn’t have much time. I had to make the most of it before another man dictated my movements, my clothes, my spending.
I grinned when my Uber pulled up to the curb at the end of the street.
“Camilla?” he asked.
I nodded and ducked into the backseat. He drove toward the city.
I hopped out near Bourbon Street. The streets were always alive. It was nothing like Philadelphia. The constant buzz of tourists kept the bars filled and the music loud. I ordered a giant hand grenade at the first bar I approached. It was neon and glowed in the dark. The drink sloshed with the thump of the bass.
I felt a hand cup the edge of my cutoff shorts. I swirled around, slapping it away.
“Hey, just being friendly.”
I glared at him. “I’m not here for friends. Keep your hands to yourself.”
He sucked on his tongue, considering what he was going to do next.
His trucker hat was crooked, and his mustache creeped me out. I thought he was about to lunge toward me when I ducked under his arm and disappeared on the dance floor. It was a move my best friend had taught me. Blend in with the crowd and don’t move to an isolated location. I missed Gia. There was a hollowness in my chest when I thought about her, but I danced and swayed my hips to the music until I was certain the trucker creep had left the bar. I finished the hand grenade and ordered a hurricane for the next round.
I took the drink outside, sipping it on the patio. I waited for the buzz to hit. All I wanted was the slightest feeling of bliss. Calm. Nothingness. To forget I was no one here. To forget every face was foreign. I wanted that pit of misery to leave my body. I hated missing Gia. I hated missing the house I grew up in. I hated leaving the last place I had seen my mother alive. I chugged and chugged on the drink. I didn’t find that feeling at the end of the hurricane.
Instead, I was slammed with hopelessness. My life in New Orleans was nothing but a prison sentence. There wasn’t enough booze or people dancing in the streets to make me forget why I was there. To seal an alliance for my father in a new city.
I wiped a tear from my cheek and skirted to the sidewalk. I should call another Uber to take me back to the compound .
That’s when I stopped. Something caught my breath. Or someone.
It was the way his arm was slung around her shoulder. His nose barely grazed the side of her neck while she laughed. My chest tightened.
He was beautiful. Gorgeous.
Someone bumped into me, pushing me out of the way. “Hey, blondie you’re not the only one here.”
I chewed my bottom lip watching him up on that balcony. There was a coolness and arrogance about him that was undeniable. The way his dark hair fell across his forehead as if the haircut hadn’t cost five hundred dollars, but I knew it did.
Sharp, precise lines of his jaw. Edible lips. My heart continued to pound. It must have been the hand grenade and the hurricane mixing into a lethal potion, clouding my mind.
I didn’t gawk at men. I didn’t get attached to them. My father made it unbearable to date. My first kiss had been in a supply closet at school when I had stayed after to tutor another kid. It was the only place my father’s men weren’t watching me.
I shivered, realizing how exposed I was out here tonight. I took a step backward, rethinking everything I had done to get here. That’s when he turned. His eyes caught mine. I should have looked away. He had caught me and I’d rather stand my ground than slink back into the bar.
What I didn’t expect was for him to whisper in her ear and then wink at me. I saw how his thumb trailed along her spine.
I blinked. Shit. I blinked first. An unrelenting surge of jealousy had gripped me. Envy. I didn’t know what in the hell it was. He was a stranger. Clearly older than me. A native of the city. Sexy, cocky, and not in the world I lived in. If only he knew who I was, winking and smiling would be the last thing he’d want to do with me.
When he turned back around to speak to the man across from him at the table I hurried toward the Uber pickup corner, cursing myself for being stupid. Everything about tonight had been a mistake.
I shimmied up the outside lattice and onto the railing outside my room and pushed the window sash up enough to slide under the glass and into the cool dark room. I half expected to see Ciro sitting in a chair or on the edge of the bed with his gun in view. But the room was empty.
Perspiration stuck to my skin and the blood from my cut crusted around my ankle. I peeled off my clothes and threw them in the hamper. I turned on the shower, letting the water run for a few minutes before I stood beneath the warm stream of water.
When I toweled off and climbed under the cool sheets, all I could think about was the man on the patio. My chest ached and there was a gentle throb between my thighs. It was a desperate way to torment myself. To distract from everything else that made me miserable. But I thought about the lines of his face and his eyes. The way he held my stare, capturing it for seconds I let him have of me. It was all so stupid. He was on a date. I was about to married off to another family’s Capo. Lingering on the street any longer would have only fueled my longing for something I could never have—love.