Chapter 43
Aurora
Alexei doesn’t move or raise his voice. Just looks at me like he’s measuring the weight of my soul.
I want to lie, the instinct so sharp it burns my mouth.
Instead, a half-crazed laugh bubbles up. “I met Gio Falcone before I ever met you.”
Alexei sits motionless and unblinking, as if carved from stone. “Details.”
I drop my gaze to our hands, which are still locked together on my lap. My fingers have gone white around his. His wedding ring presses against me, leaving grooves in my skin.
We’ve only known each other for a few weeks, but that ring possesses meaning. He cares for me, even if he’s never said the words.
I need to tell him the truth.
“Red Bird’s occasionally contracts out catering and servers.
Gio sometimes uses them for his parties.
I worked a few events at his house. That’s where I met him.
When I…I didn’t know he was mafia. I thought he was just a nice rich guy.
And he was interested in my artwork. He even bought a piece…
” My confession escapes in a rush and then trails off as I grapple with how to explain the next part.
“Tell me the rest.” His body is as rigid as a steel beam. Bracing for impact.
“One night, at the mansion, I overheard him talking to Benny in his office.” The memory floods my mind with perfect clarity.
“What did he say?” Alexei’s blank expression reveals nothing. “As precisely as you can remember it.”
I’ve played back Gio’s threat in my head so many times that I know it verbatim.
“Gio was talking as I walked up, but I heard, ‘He said shit. He clammed up. I looked that man in the eye, and he lied to me. Played dumb about it…thought he could play me. Keep quiet about that chaos on the island and keep the diamonds for himself. Idiot. Now he’s out of the picture. And it stays that way.’ I didn’t understand, but from what you’ve told me, I think he might have been discussing MJ, though he never gave a name. ”
The silence stretches between us like a rope. The longer it lasts, the more I worry it will snap and hit me square between the eyes.
He draws in a long breath. “He lied to my face.”
Not a question. A statement of fact.
I feel so bad about withholding information that I can’t answer.
I screwed up. I should have already told him about Gio. But how was I supposed to guess that he knew Gio?
Alexei paces the length of the room, jaw clenched. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Because smart girls keep their mouths shut.”
“Bullshit.”
It’s not bullshit, but I’m not about to tell him that. I try again. “Because I didn’t want to be in the middle of a mafia war.”
He shakes his head, anger flashing in his eyes. “You already were.”
I know that now. I’ve been stuck in the middle ever since that night in the alley but pretending otherwise.
Pretending I could survive this by ducking my head and waiting for the storm to pass. But the storm is inside me, so there’s no escape.
My eyes slide shut. “Because Gio said he’d kill Samantha.”
A string of Russian tumbles from his lips.
I keep my eyes closed to shield myself from his anger, his disappointment.
“It’s not just a threat. He knows where she goes to school.
Her classes. Her dorm number. I’ve seen men hanging around the coffee shop when we meet.
I tell myself I’m acting paranoid, but those same guys are in the pictures she posts.
I couldn’t risk it. Not when they know where she is. ”
I open my eyes.
He’s staring at me, but the anger has faded. Only icy emptiness remains. Like he’s cranked the temperature down inside his own skull.
He sits here, vibrating with a kind of soundless rage.
My heart plummets through the floor.
I’ve fucked up royally, and Alexei may never forgive me.
ALEXEI
Time stops as her words plunge into me like bullets, each one finding its mark with devastating precision. Gio threatened Samantha. He’s been watching Aurora’s sister. All this time, she bore this weight alone. Living in fear.
The fucker threatened what’s mine.
The thought blazes through me like wildfire, consuming everything in its path. My hands don’t shake. My breathing doesn’t change. But inside, I’m nuclear. The next step is clear as day.
I’m going to kill him.
Not just kill him. Obliterate him. Subject him to a slow, painful death. Send a message no one will forget.
While I was questioning Aurora’s loyalty, her honesty, her commitment to our arrangement, she carried this fear alone. The sister she practically raised, the only family she has left, dangling over a cliff with Gio Falcone’s hand on the rope.
And the whole time, I was oblivious. I couldn’t protect her because she didn’t tell me.
Because she didn’t trust me.
The realization shoves a sharp blade between my ribs. This shouldn’t hurt. I shouldn’t care. This marriage was nothing more than a business arrangement. A way to keep her alive. Her fears, her secrets, were hers to hold.
Until she became mine.
Aurora’s eyes glimmer with unshed tears. She’s waiting for anger and accusations. Braced for punishment.
An emotion I’m afraid to name knifes through me. “You’re safe now. Both of you.”
I stride from the bedroom, already pulling out my phone and calculating angles, assets, and kill zones.
The first call goes to Sasha. He answers on the second ring, and I immediately begin barking orders.
“Get four more men on Samantha Bailey. Northwestern. Allison Hall, third floor, east wing. I want eyes on her twenty-four seven starting immediately. Use the younger guys who can blend in on a college campus. She shouldn’t know they’re there. ”
“What’s going—”
“Now.” I end the call before he can ask questions I don’t have time to answer.
I call Trevor next. My oldest friend. He’s not Bratva, but I trust him with my life. As the owner of a bar, he hears more than most and doesn’t mind sharing that information with me. That’s as close as he’ll get to anything illegal.
“I need everything you have on Salvatore Giovanni Harrison Falcone.”
A beat of silence. “I’ll send what I have. Last known location was his father’s compound, but he’s been moving around a lot lately. Unpredictable.”
His father’s compound, where he hosts his parties. “Find him.”
“Consider it done.” No questions. No hesitation. That’s what true friends do in emergencies.
I hang up and stalk through the loft, body thrumming with purpose. The rage crystallizes, becoming colder and more focused.
Gio’s already dead. He just doesn’t realize it yet.
I’m halfway to the door, keys in hand, guns checked and loaded, when I sense Aurora behind me.
Whirling, I find her in the bedroom doorway, arms hugging her waist. Her tight shoulders and pale face convey her unhappiness.
She seems smaller somehow, diminished by terror. Holding on to nothing but herself.
I slam to a halt.
She’s dressed for her art show. Hair done, makeup perfect, decked out in a floor-length emerald satin gown with a plunging V-neckline that deepens the green of her eyes. Tonight is her night. The culmination of her work and dreams. And I was about to storm out on her to hunt Gio down.
Near my heart, plates grind against each other, reconfiguring into a new shape. For the first time since MJ died—hell, maybe for the first time in my life—I find myself putting someone else’s needs ahead of my own violent impulses.
The rage floods my veins and tastes metallic and sharp on my tongue. I force the fury down, caging it.
Gio can wait. I’ll rip his world apart, piece by piece. Tomorrow, he’ll regret ever laying eyes on Aurora.
But tonight belongs to her.