71. Neomi
If anyone had told me six months ago that I would spend a Wednesday afternoon shopping in Chicago with Violette Marchetti, the matriarch of a mafia syndicate, and basically my mother-in-law, I would have laughed in their face.
But here I am, standing beside her in the middle of an expensive boutique while she debates the merits of two nearly identical black coats, as if the decision might determine the fate of Western civilization.
“That one is nice, it fits you perfectly,” I tell her.
She narrows her eyes at the mirror.
“The lapel might be too odd.”
“You’ve been looking at it for fifteen minutes. Maybe you’re just being picky. You look incredible.”
Violette tilts her head.
“I know I look incredible,” she replies calmly. “That’s not the issue.”
I laugh before leaning against the display table behind me.
“You’re impossible,” I say, shaking my head.
“So I’ve been told.”
She turns back toward the mirror and smooths her hands down the front of the coat again. After studying me for a moment, she turns back toward the dressing room with a smile. She pulls the curtain shut, and I stand waiting again.
“How are things with Gabriel?” she calls from the dressing room.
I smile to myself. “Things are really good.”
She opens the curtain and steps out with one jacket draped over her arm. Of course, it isn’t the one she debated for fifteen minutes. The attendant takes her selection, and we make our way to the counter.
Violette hands her a credit card, then focuses on me. “Have you three had a serious discussion on where this is leading? I only ask because my Lars needs reassurance. He needs to know Gabriel is on the same page that you two are.”
I nod. “Actually, we talked about it last night. Gabriel is going to stay in Chicago.” I huff out a breath. “I think we’re actually going to give this a shot.”
Violette’s eyes go misty. “Oh, Neomi, that makes me so incredibly happy. I have been so worried about my Lars for years now. And now look at him. He has you and Gabriel. I can’t tell you what it means to me that he’s found his people.”
Her words make my heart swell. “I think we’re the lucky ones. Lars is such a good man and so sweet. We’ve only been together for a short time and now I can’t imagine my life without him.”
Violette signs the kiosk and takes the garment bag from the attendant. She loops her arm through mine as we walk out into the late afternoon sun.
“Vi, I have a question. Is the organization going to have an issue with our relationship? It’s not exactly conventional, and I don’t want Lars to be a target.”
Violette puts on her sunglasses. “No, dear. The Marchetti Syndicate prides itself on not being stuck in old ways of business or thinking. They accept Lars just how he is. Besides, I think Enzo would kill anyone who dared to say or do anything derogatory.”
“That makes me feel better.” I sigh, soaking in the sun. “I’m hungry. How about lunch?”
She perks up at the question. “Yes, let’s go have a bite to eat and some champagne.”
“Should we meet back at the estate?”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you in a moment.”
Her heels click along the pavement as she walks to the curb where Calvin is waiting by the back door of her town car. I prefer to drive myself, even if it means that Lars has to have my security detail follow me.
I dig in my purse for my key fob, and the world is perfectly normal for one more second. The click of the remote unlocks the doors.
I hear two short beeps before my car explodes.
The blast tears through the parking lot with a deafening roar.
The force throws me backward before I even understand what’s happening. Heat flashes across my face as the shockwave rips through the parked vehicles, shattering glass and sending metal fragments screaming across the pavement.
The sedan erupts into a violent fireball. The sound is so loud it steals the air from my lungs as I hit the ground hard.
Smoke and debris rain across the sidewalk while alarms shriek from every direction. People scream. Violette tries to grab my arm before one of our men pulls her away, securing her.
“Neomi!”
Then only thing I can hear is an intense ringing in my ears. I blink through the haze as one of my security men pulls me toward the storefront behind us.
Flames pour from the twisted remains of my car. The entire front half of the vehicle is gone. Metal burns in the middle of the street while shattered glass litters the pavement like glitter.
Another guard rushes forward. I think he’s trying to ask me a question, but I can’t make it out.
“I—” My voice comes out hoarse. “I can’t hear anything.”
Calvin and a guard escort Violette over to me, her composure somehow intact despite the chaos. Her eyes move across the burning wreckage with frightening calm.
I can see her lips moving, but I can’t hear a sound. Fear and concern fill her face.
The security men are already moving, forming a protective perimeter while people scatter down the sidewalk. Violette calls an ambulance while telling the men to notify Lars.
Sirens wail somewhere in the distance. I stare at the fire consuming what remains of my car. If I had been one step closer—the thought stops before it finishes.
Violette places a steady hand on my shoulder.
I sob, my ears ache, and fear permeates my body.
“I need Lars.”