CHAPTER EIGHT
Tierney
“It’s for the best.” Tiernan killed the engine of his Mercedes on the tarmac.
We were parked on the edge of the runway strip at the private airport where the Ferrantes’ company plane was about to take off.
The formidable man inside was ready to take me to Italy, to a new fiancé I’d never met. I held back tears.
Pushing my Miu Miu shades up my nose, I refused to show weakness. “You know, Tiernan, history is full of men who thought they knew what women needed. Never ended quite as brilliantly as you think.”
“You always said you wanted to live by the sea.”
“I also said I wanted to choose my own husband.” I tried to keep the shakiness from my voice. “Funny you forgot that last part.”
Tiernan scrubbed his face, staring out his window. “Look, I know it’s not ideal, but—”
“But you’re too busy with your perfect little family and booming business to keep a close eye on your wayward sister.” I curled my fingers around the door handle, a fresh wave of fury hitting my chest. “Totally understandable.”
“You’re off the mark. I’m trying to help you hea—”
“Don’t patronize me, Brother. We’re both fucked up.
You’re just hiding it better.” I shook my head.
“I’ll see you at the wedding in two weeks.
” I pushed the door open and hopped out of the SUV.
Tiernan got out and rounded the vehicle, popping the trunk open and hurling out my suitcases.
I’d only brought two, plus the tote bag on my shoulder.
I had plenty of clothes. An unholy number of shoes, too.
But I postponed sending them to Italy, still clutching on to the hope I’d be able to change Achilles’s mind.
Tiernan rolled the suitcases across the tarmac toward the plane. I stared at his back, nauseous with dread.
I knew he thought he was doing the right thing by me. He knew I wasn’t happy, leading a loveless, sexless life, with Achilles breathing down my neck and monitoring my every move. As far as he was concerned, this was an act of liberation, not punishment.
I had to marry Coppola. Defying Tiernan, the head of the Irish clan, came with a price tag I couldn’t afford. My brother loved me in his own messed-up way, but I had no illusions about who and what he was.
Two Camorrista soldiers stood at the pulled-down airstairs leading to the airplane. When we reached them, they nodded at Tiernan, took my suitcases, and carried them upstairs. I placed a hand on the banister, trying to regulate my breaths.
“Don’t do anything stupid.” Tiernan grabbed the back of my neck, forcing me to look him in the eye. “You hear me?”
I wanted to shake off his touch, but the truth was, I brought this on myself. I went toe-to-toe with the cruelest man in the Camorra, and now I had to pay the price.
“What if Stefano is bad to me?”
“Achilles warned him off,” Tiernan assured me. “But on the off chance he gives you trouble…just let me know and I’ll break the lad’s bones one finger at a time.”
“Revenge is a pointless concept. What I want is to prevent the tragedy from happening, not plan a response to it,” I muttered.
“You can hold your own,” Tiernan said softly, and something inside my chest finally loosened.
Though his posture was slack and at ease, I knew he was eager to leave. Lila was still reeling from the baptism. He didn’t like leaving her and Nero for longer than an hour anyway. He wanted to get back to her, and as much as I hated him in this moment, I still loved her.
“Go.” I nodded, unable to bear the thought of Lila frightened. “Go to your family. They need you.”
And then he was gone, the Mercedes driving out of the airport, disappearing in a cloud of dust.
It was time to face the music.
I entered the plane, numbly taking in the chrome-and-dark-accented cabin.
I spotted Achilles at a round table with three of his soldiers.
Two I recognized as Nico and Fabio, mid-rank members of the Camorra.
The other one was Jeremie. Achilles seemed to take a liking to the Bratva heir, whom he had dragged as a collateral seven months ago during a gunfight.
Didn’t take a genius to figure out why. Jeremie was smart, quiet, efficient and didn’t ogle me like I was dessert whenever he was assigned to chaperone me.
Either way, Tiernan told me Jeremie’s time was almost up with the Camorra. Alex, his brother and the Bratva’s pakhan, needed him back in Vegas.
Achilles wore gym shorts, a faded black I’m not here to talk hoodie with the hood flipped on, and a socks-and-slides combo.
The picture of nonchalance. His brothers wouldn’t be seen dead in this outfit, especially not showing their faces in Napoli.
Luca and Enzo were all about appearances.
Casual smart slacks, Hogan sneakers, and a well-tailored designer tee were their idea of dressing for comfort.
But Achilles truly did not give a shit. Not about what people thought of him and certainly not about how he looked.
“Anywhere on this side of the plane.” Achilles tossed a hand in his opposite direction, not bothering to look up from his game of cards.
Prick.
I slouched into a cream-colored recliner, popping my AirPods into my ears and scrolling through my messages.
My girlfriends congratulated me on my speedy engagement, offering to plan a lavish bachelorette party.
No one seemed surprised by the news I’d be getting married shortly.
Everyone knew I was reckless and wild. My best friend, Frankie, even said, “I’m surprised this is your first marriage.
Either way, you’ll eat the man alive, leaving no crumbs. ”
But she had no idea who I was. She only knew the person I’d shown the world.
“Sixty seconds to takeoff,” the pilot announced from the cockpit.
I tried practicing deep breaths, but even that small task seemed impossible.
The plane rolled across the strip, gaining speed, then took off. My stomach dropped. I didn’t mind flights—not even flights in questionable, tiny airplanes—but I did mind this one. Because it was taking me to a future I had never signed up for.
Every second on this plane brought me closer to losing whatever I had left of my freedom.
I cleared my throat before speaking for the first time. “How long’s the flight?”
No response. Achilles tossed a card into a pile, muttering something in Italian. The other men barked out a laugh. I closed my eyes and drew in a breath.
I wasn’t prone to panic attacks anymore. I’d buried my past so deep inside my head, I no longer recognized it as a part of me. But whenever I did get them, they were bad. Achilles used to help me when we were younger. Hug me extra tight. Talk me through my emotions.
“Tell me five things you see. Four things you hear. Three things you can touch. Two things you can smell. One thing you can taste.”
That one thing used to be his mouth. I’d reach on my toes and kiss him, and my anxiety would melt away like wax under hot water.
He wasn’t that boy anymore. But I was still that girl.
The one who remembered the only safe place she ever knew was inside his arms.
The chatter in Neapolitan grew more boisterous. The men lit up cigarettes, pouring whiskey into tumblers.
I logged on to the Wi-Fi and googled the flight time. Nine hours. Okay, plenty of time to work with. I could find a way to convince him to turn the airplane around.
“Can you tell me where in Naples I’ll live?” I asked evenly. Maybe if Achilles realized this was real—that he was really handing me over to be fucked by someone else—it’d stir something in him.
No response. I knew he heard me. Asshole.
“I hope you’re not attending the wedding because I’m not sending you an invitation.”
No answer.
“Does he know he’s getting your leftovers?”
No answer.
My pulse hammered against every inch of my skin.
I needed to get his attention, and he was hell-bent on not giving it to me.
But Tiernan was right. I’d always been creative. The penny dropped when I realized I didn’t necessarily need to get his attention. If I got his soldiers’ attention, that’d be enough to piss him off.
I was wearing a summer dress—yellow with blue and pink flowers—with white ankle socks and a pair of Mary Janes. With a pout, I stretched across the recliner toward my tote bag on the side table, allowing my dress to ride up until my white cotton underwear was showing.
The chatter and laughter stopped.
“Can’t find my AirPods,” I sighed, wiggling my ass in the air, now on all fours on the recliner to reach my perfectly reachable bag. “Anybody seen them?”
I felt his eyes burning my ass like a good spanking.
Fabio cleared his throat. “You’re wearing them.”
“Oh. Silly me.” I reached to one of my ears, popping the AirPod out and letting it fall to the floor. “Oops, so clumsy.” I stood up and turned around, giving them a good angle of my ass as I bent down to pick it up. It wasn’t the most sophisticated warfare scheme—but it was a bulletproof one.
Achilles decided he’d had enough.
He barked something in Neapolitan. His soldiers stood up and slinked to the back of the plane, leaving their cards behind.
“Show’s over, Piccola Fiamma.”
“No way. I’ve only just begun,” I countered. I twirled on my toes, swiveling to face him and tossing my hair back. “Once they’re back, I’m going to give your soldiers a show they’ll never forg—”
“What do you want?” he said, cutting me off, sprawling in his seat. He rested his inked paw on his thigh, every inch of him deeply tanned and muscular.
“You know what I want.” I kept the breathless panic from my voice. “I want out of this arrangement. I’ve never even met the guy.”
“No.” One word. Bored. Monotone. Controlled.
“Come on.” I stepped forward, collapsing on the seat next to him. “I’ll do anything. I’ll move out of New York. Away from America. I’ll even work for the Camorra!” I offered desperately. “You can use all of my connections. Even the Keatons.”
“No.”