Chapter Eighteen
Elena
I leave the hotel room with a plan that isn’t a plan at all: get to the coffee shop, stand in line with Owen, and somehow not drink coffee.
Decaf? Maybe I could say it low to the barista, palm half over my mouth, hope the steam and noise swallow the word.
Or maybe I can order herbal tea? I make a face just thinking it. Owen knows me. If I order chamomile, he’ll call a doctor.
The elevator dings. Lobby, spin of the revolving door, air that smells like car exhaust and fried dough. I cut right, toward the side lot where I left my car in a spot reserved for hotel guests only.
It’s the reason I chose this hotel.
I’m halfway down the sidewalk when two shadows join mine. Two big shadows.
One on my left. One on my right. They don’t touch me, don’t speak, don’t even meet my eyes. They don’t have to.
Antonio and Nico Conti.
My stomach drops so fast I feel a little dizzy.
Of course. Of course Luca knows.
Of course he had me watched. I’m not just some woman he slept with, some woman he’s interested in. I’m the fucking prosecutor for his case.
How did I convince myself I could drive to a store thirty miles away or some no-name clinic out of town and no one would notice?
Because I wanted the illusion. Options. Time. I gave myself all three because I needed them.
I needed time to make a choice.
And just like that, I know I never had one. I know that there was only ever one option for me.
Even as I was making lists in my head and considering the possibilities, I always knew exactly what I was going to do.
It’s almost a relief.
The foot traffic is thick with the morning rush of commuters. New Yorkers walking briskly in crowds without looking up.
If I scream, I’ll get a hundred annoyed glances. Maybe it’ll be enough for me to slip away, run to my car, back to the lobby. Anywhere.
Just to give myself a little more time before my reality comes crashing down on me.
And then what? Where will I go then?
Besides, they won’t hurt me. I’m carrying their don’s baby. I’m safer than anyone on the street right now.
I would only be putting someone else’s life in danger by bringing attention to myself.
I slide my phone out of my pocket without breaking stride. My thumb flies.
Rain check on coffee. See you at the courthouse.
The message is sent to Owen with a small swoosh.
The hotel’s brick gives way to the open mouth of the lot, sun pooling on dented hoods. The city noise dulls a notch.
Antonio walks like he’s in no rush. Nico is quiet on my other side. Not just quiet, no. Still. He’s so still you’d barely know he was there.
It’s a bit unsettling, to be honest.
My car sits where I left it across the lot. I don’t want to get into it with them.
I’m fairly sure they won’t hurt me, but I’m not dumb, and I’m not alone anymore. I have someone else to protect.
I step ahead of them and turn confidently. The sun hits my face; I squint against it. They stop in unison. Not too close. But close enough.
Do they practice that?
My hands need something to do. I prop them on my hips so I won’t ball them into fists.
Antonio’s gaze skims me once, cataloging. I keep my face still.
My court face, I call it.
Nico’s eyes are unreadable, but I know he sees everything.
I hold my ground.
Antonio’s mouth tips.
“Skipping town, huh?”
“Yeah,” I say, dry enough to crack. My own accent, the Long Island that I forced out of me when I went away to college, slips in and out. “I’m skipping town from the mob, and where do I go? New York City.”
Antonio’s smile grows. “And you happened to pick the busiest hotel on the busiest street to… not hide in.”
“I’m not hiding. I’m on my way to court.” I tip my chin at the hotel. “I picked a place with parking. You know how valuable that is here?”
“And lottsa security cameras,” he says lightly.
“Security cameras?” I say, Long Island teasing my voice again. “At the busiest hotel on the busiest street in New York City, you say? It’s a mystery.”
Nico hasn’t said a word yet, still studying me. I nearly bristle under his gaze before he finally speaks. “You look tired.”
I narrow my eyes.
“I look like a person who’s going to be late for court,” I say. “But thanks.”
Antonio’s gaze flicks to my stomach and back so fast I almost miss it. Rage blooms, bright and hot. “Don’t,” I warn, taking a half-step back.
He lifts a palm. “Respectfully.”
I snort. “Right,” I say. “What do you want?”
“Luca would like a word.”
“He has counsel.” I let the steel harden my voice. “He can use it.”
“We’re past that,” Antonio says, a thread of gentleness that I hate sneaking into his tone. “You have to know that.”
“I haven’t made any decisions yet,” I lie.
Something flickers in Nico’s eyes for the first time. “I hope you’ll make the right one.”
“Whatever one I make is mine to make,” I emphasize.
“Not before speaking to him,” Nico warns.
“We’re not here to make trouble,” Antonio says, literally clearing the air with his hands. “Just want to make sure you get back home.”
They’re here to watch me. Make sure I don’t really skip town. And they’ll do it even if I disagree.
So I won’t. At least this way, I’ll be able to make the rules.
“You will not follow me into the courthouse,” I say sternly.
“You will not approach my colleagues. You will not linger around the Federal Building. If I see any of your faces the rest of the time I’m here, evidence will make its way to the judge that Luca was in my apartment when his ankle monitor said he was at home.
And he’ll have to watch another kid grow up from behind glass. Understood?”
I know it’s harsh, but I’m not ready for this all to blow up in my face just yet.
I need time.
“Understood.” He means it.
“Then we’re done.”
“Almost.” He slides two fingers into his inner pocket and produces a small white card—blank except for ten digits—held between forefinger and middle like a magic trick. “For when you get home.”
I don’t move. Heat seeps from the asphalt through my shoes. I can smell tar and fryer oil from a street vendor. I tell myself to say no. I tell myself to let it fall to the ground and step on it.
My hand is steady when I take it.
Nico tilts his head, the barest degree. “Eat today,” he says. It’s not an order. It’s an observation. “Something with salt.”
Why do people keep telling me to eat? Does it look like I don’t?
I stare at him until he looks away first. He doesn’t.
Fine. I look back at Antonio.
“No surprises,” I say.
Antonio’s smile widens again. “Long as there aren’t any on your end.”
“Please, like I can afford any more,” I mumble as I turn to walk to my car.
When I get there, I turn back to find them gone. They never made a show of leaving. Not a sound. They just… stopped being there.
I shiver in the heat of the day. It’s kind of creepy.
And they’re the nice ones.
I stand there a beat longer, the card heavy in my palm. Squaring my shoulders, I slide it into my pocket and open the door.