Chapter 9
Christiano
Hugo walks ahead with two of his best men to clear the area, and only when he nods at me do I move.
With Nico by my side, I stalk toward the pier where Constantin Dragomir is standing, sticking out like a sore thumb.
Just like me, he’s dressed in black. I easily pick his men out of the crowd of people, and knowing my team will have my back, I focus my attention on the head of the Romanian mafia.
He’s my height, with black hair and intelligent eyes.
Unlike the Irish and Albanians, I actually respect Dragomir. He’s a danger to me, which is a nice change of pace.
When I stop beside him, he keeps looking at the view of the Hudson River and the city. “The air smells like oil,” he mentions.
I don’t bother commenting as I push my hands into my pockets. My body may seem relaxed, but I’m on fucking high alert. Dragomir is one of the few men on the planet who actually stands a chance of killing me.
He lets out a sigh, then turning his head, he meets my eyes. “What are we going to do, Falco?”
I take a deep breath and shrug. “A war between us will wipe out both sides, and I’m not in the mood to attend funerals.”
He nods as he turns his attention back to the river. “I hear you’re having trouble with the Yakuza.”
“Just a minor altercation.”
“And you’re almost done wiping out the Irish.”
I shrug. “It’s been fun, but I’ve grown tired of them.”
“And the Albanians?” he asks.
“Nothing more than an annoyance.” He’s showing that he’s been keeping tabs on me. “How was Amsterdam?” I ask to return the favor.
Dragomir’s lips curve up, and he chuckles. “Good. I’ve made a deal with the Italians.” His vigilant gaze flicks to mine. “Now I just have to come to some kind of agreement with the Sicilians.”
A solid minute passes before I say, “I get fifty percent of whatever you sell in the States, and you get fifty percent of whatever the Cosa Nostra sells in Europe.”
My offer grabs his attention, and he turns his body to face me. “Asia, Africa, and South America?”
“Fifty-fifty. We form an alliance for the sake of our organizations. No poaching each other’s contacts.”
Dragomir stares long and hard at me before he lifts his hand. When we shake, he says, “Don’t fuck me over. I’d hate to come back.”
The corner of my mouth curves into a smile as I pat his shoulder. “Join me for lunch at my restaurant.”
His features relax a fraction, and while we walk to where all the cars are parked, he says, “I hear you have a good hacker.”
Having him bring up Rosie makes my guard go up. When I don’t reply, he continues, “Unfortunately, mine was killed. How would you feel about giving me access to La Rosa? I’d make it worth your while.”
I stop near his black town car and stare at him for a few seconds before I say, “All communication remains electronic and comes through Enzo, Nico, or myself.”
He nods. “Fair. I would also be protective of such a valuable asset.”
Turning, I walk to my SUV while throwing over my shoulder, “We can discuss the fee over lunch.”
After I climb into the backseat and Nico gets in behind the steering wheel, he says, “That went well. It’s going to take a while to see if the alliance can work.”
I nod, and as we take the lead so Dragomir can follow us to the restaurant, I mention, “He wouldn’t be here in person if he wasn’t serious. The moment he set foot in New York, the deal was made. That’s why I worked so fucking hard to get him here.”
With Dragomir taken care of, I can now concentrate all my attention on finishing off the Irish and putting the Albanians in their place.
The sooner I get the shit out of the way, the sooner I can focus on Sienna.
Sienna
After spending the entire morning and afternoon moving into my new apartment, Mom drops down on one of the couches and lets out a tired sigh. “I need a break.”
Walking to the kitchen, I grab a cold can of soda from the cooler we brought along and take it to her. “Have something to drink.”
She takes it with a grateful smile. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
“Why do you still have this dress?” Bianca asks as she comes from the direction of my bedroom.
I turn to look at her, and the instant my gaze lands on the pale pink gown, my heart squeezes painfully in my chest.
Searching for a reply that won’t make my sister suspicious, I pause for too long, and it has her eyebrow rises.
Unable to come up with anything else, I say, “I still have it because I like it.”
“But you wore it to the engagement party.”
“Enough, Bianca,” Mom mumbles.
Not listening, she continues, “I would’ve gotten rid of it right after calling off the engagement.” Her eyes flick between Mom and me. “And it’s not like you’ve worn it since.”
Hurrying to Bianca, I grab the dress from her and go to my bedroom.
“Do you still love Christiano?” my sister calls out.
“Jesus, why won’t you drop it?” Mom snaps.
“Christiano is clearly still hung up on Sienna, and neither of them has dated since the breakup.”
Knowing Bianca won’t stop, I walk back into the living room, and just as Dad carries the last of the boxes into the apartment, I admit, “Of course, I still love Christiano. I always will.”
“Then why did you end the engagement?”
“It’s just too much pressure, and I’m done talking about it.”
When Bianca’s lips part to say something else, Dad shoots her a glare. “Enough!”
Her mouth snaps shut, and when she goes back to the bedroom, I let out a breath of relief.
Bianca would actually be a perfect match for Christiano. She never backs down and always speaks her mind.
The thought of Christiano marrying my sister makes my stomach turn queasy.
I’ve repeatedly said I want him to move on, but the day it happens, I know it will rip my heart out of my chest.
“What is this?” Dad’s question draws me out of my thoughts.
I glance at the object in his hand that looks like a mushroom.
“It’s a rain machine. It helps me meditate.” I take it from Dad and get back to work.
“If I had to listen to water running all the time, I’d never leave the restroom,” Mom mentions with a chuckle.
While I pack the last of the kitchenware away, I catch Dad checking the security system for the hundredth time. Coming up behind him, I brush my hand over his back. “Stop worrying. I’ll be safe here.”
“I know. Alfio and Billy will take shifts so there’s always someone guarding you.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I lift myself onto my tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek.
“What are we eating?” Bianca calls out from the bedroom.
I walk the short distance, and seeing how much she’s gotten done, I gasp, “Holy crap, B. You’ve been busy. Thank you so much.” When she gives me a grin, I ask, “What are you in the mood to eat?”
Her face lights up, and without having to think about it, she replies, “Thai curry.”
Giving her a pleading look, I ask, “Would you mind calling in the order?”
“No probs.” She hurries out of the room to get Mom and Dad’s order, and I continue to pack the last of the clothes away.
My eyes land on the dress that’s tucked into the corner, and taking it out, I stare at the spot where the blood stain used to be before I got it drycleaned.
No matter how much time passes, the memory of Christiano going down still causes me unbearable pain.
I wish things had happened differently, and that we were never attacked by the Irish, but instead, celebrated our engagement. We would’ve gotten married within a year, and we’d probably have a couple of children by now.
In an attempt to get away from the heartache, I quickly hang the dress again and shut the closet doors before rushing out of my bedroom.
I force a smile to my face when I reach the living room, and while I listen to Bianca calling in our food order, I glance around my new apartment.
With my family’s help, everything is unpacked.
“Knock-knock,” Raya says as she comes in. Her eyes widen, and she gasps, “You’re all done?”
“Hold on,” Bianca tells whoever’s on the other side of the line. “Raya, I’m ordering Thai. Do you want something?”
“What are you having?” my friend asks me.
“Green Curry.”
“I’ll have the same,” Raya replies to my sister. Coming closer, she hands me a package. “Just a little something as a homewarming gift.”
“You didn’t have to.” With a grateful smile, I take the bag and peek inside. Seeing the dusty pink plush blanket, my lips curve even more. “I love it!”
“You can snuggle under it while watching TV.”
“Thank you.”
Mom gets up to take a closer look at the blanket, then asks, “Where did you get it?”
“From an online store. I’ll send you their details.”
Dad steps out of the apartment and joins Alfio, who’s standing right outside the front door. I watch as Dad leans against the banister, his eyes locked on the courtyard below. I don’t like the worried expression on his face. It’s as if he’s waiting for trouble to crawl out of the shadows.
It’s going to take some time for my parents to get used to me living on my own, but once they do, they’ll stop worrying so much about me.
They can’t baby me forever, and it’s not fair to them.
Turning my attention back to Mom, Raya, and Bianca, I spend the next two hours chatting with them.
Raya is the first to leave, and as I see her to the door, she says, “I love everything about your apartment.”
“Thanks again for the blanket.”
“I’ll pop in on Saturday.” She gives me a quick hug. “Enjoy your first night in your own place.”
“Thanks. I will.” Smiling, I watch her walk down the corridor toward the stairs.
Just as I turn around, Mom gets up from the couch. “It’s time for us to leave as well. Riccardo and Gianna are landing tomorrow at five am.”
We were all very relieved when Augusto let us know Riccardo is on his way home.
It’s taken a lot of effort not to let my panic and fear spiral out of control like it did when Christiano was shot.
Back then, I spent three weeks in the hospital, but this time I only broke down when we got the terrible news.
I know the medication plays a significant role, helping me handle things better, but with Riccardo being shot, the tormenting fear has intensified.
“Should I meet you at the airfield?” I ask.
Dad shakes his head. “We’re taking him straight to the hospital. You can wait there for us.”
“Okay.”
When my family leaves, I blow them a kiss before shutting the door and locking it. I switch on the alarm, then turning around, my gaze drifts over my safe haven.
My books and decorations line the shelves, the familiar sight making the apartment feel less strange and more like it belongs to me.
This is it. I’m on my own.
Walking through the apartment, I make sure everything is precisely where I want it, and once I’m happy, I head back to the living room and sit down on the couch. I kick off my shoes, and pulling my legs up, I fold my arms around my shins.
I let the mask I always wear around other people drop from my face, and as exhaustion sets deep into my bones, silence wraps around me.