30. Serena
Serena
One more. With tired, trembling hands, I pulled the last thread of the miniskirt I was designing.
I sat back, rolling the tension from my shoulders as I admired my work. Would it win me a spot in New York Fashion Week? Probably not.
It would get me more clients, of that I was sure.
It was going to be worn by a socialite turned film director, debuting at a film festival in New York.
We’d spent over two months working on her outfits—all custom-made, of course.
Every piece was tied back to the themes of her film, and I loved that my clothes were part of her storytelling.
Tailoring was consistent work, but I wanted to do more custom work, and I hoped this was a step in the right direction.
Checking the clock on the wall, I found I was done earlier than usual.
I hustled to the house and found Donovan at the kitchen island, a sandwich halfway to his mouth. He kept his eyes on me as he shoved half of it in and tried to talk.
“Don’t talk with food in your mouth,” I scolded, “You’ll choke. And since you’re here, I take it Enzo hasn’t left to get Harper?”
Donovan shook his head.
“Great.” I clapped. “Can you take me to get her?” I wished I could drive, but it had been years since I was behind the wheel, and Enzo not-so-subtly insinuated that I wasn’t to leave without a bodyguard.
I missed getting my girl from school. We were inseparable for so long, since it was just the two of us. Now we had people. Our circle expanded, and I loved it, especially because Harper loved having more people around, even if she was often the only child.
Probably because all it took was a smile or a frown to get the men who were always guarding the house to trip over themselves to get whatever she wanted. She was the little princess.
Still, I needed some time with my girl.
Donovan and I climbed into the car.
“Relax. I’ll let you know when we’re there,” Donovan said and began to drive.
When I was tired like this and in the back seat, I sometimes got motion sickness.
That was the last thing I needed to deal with today.
I wanted to get my girl and go home to love on her and watch a movie.
Putting on one headphone and keeping the volume low so I could hear if he needed me, I closed my eyes as I listened to an audiobook.
Something hit me in the face, and my eyes snapped open. I must’ve dozed off when we hit traffic.
Taking out my headphones, I looked in the review mirror to see Donovan.
“Sorry, I fell asleep,” I said.
“Someone is following us,” he said. His knuckles were white where he held the steering wheel.
I sat up straight and turned, trying to find the car.
“Three cars back there is a white sedan. One car back and two rows over, there’s a blue sedan,” Donovan said as he checked his side mirrors.
“How far away are we from Harper’s school?” I asked. How long had I slept? It felt like both an hour and a minute.
“We’re in Long Island City. We haven’t made it to the bridge,” Donovan said. He pulled up his phone and shot off a text. “I let the guys know what was happening. Enzo is in a meeting and might not have his phone on him. The guys will update him.”
My heart was pounding. It was happening again. I could play the break-in as a random act and the yacht attack as someone out to get Enzo. But it was just me in the car. The only thing that tied all three attacks together was me.
“Someone is after me,” I whispered, panic rising.
“Hold on,” Donovan said. The car launched forward. He turned the wheel hard to the right, the tires screeching as we narrowly missed an oncoming car and went down a side street.
Hands shaking, I found Enzo’s number and dialed. He always answers when I call. I didn’t care if he was meeting with the president of a foreign country. I was calling him until he answered.
It barely rang once before he answered.
“Amore,” Enzo said. “I-“
“We’re being chased,” I said in a strangled voice, fear bleeding into every word. “They’re going to get me this time. They’re going to get Harper.”
My baby. What if they already had her?
“I won’t let them have you or Harper,” he snarled. “Donovan knows what he’s doing. He was trained for this. I have men getting Harper right now.”
Those words should have reassured me, but all I could feel was cold fear rushing through me.
The car jerked. My head hit the window. Pain blossomed at my temple.
“They hit us,” I said, closing my eyes, rubbing my head, and taking calm breaths.
It didn’t work.
We were rammed from behind again, the hit on the side—the car tilting with the impact.
“Hold on,” Donovan said as the car righted itself.
“I’m scared,” I whispered into the phone.
“You’ll be okay. Harper needs her mom, Serena. Focus on getting safe and coming home to us,” Enzo said, his voice calm. I tried to absorb his calmness through the phone, but it didn’t work.
My head jolted back, my body slamming into the door as we were hit from the side and the back.
I screamed in terror, grabbing the handle above my head to stay in my seat.
“Put him on speaker,” Donovan ordered, his shoulders relaxed, hands steady on the wheel. Hands shaking, I missed the button twice before hitting the icon.
“Speaker!” I yelled. It was hard to think through the adrenaline spike.
Donovan said in a clear voice, “We’re passing thirty-first and forty-seventh. Two cars are making contact. No license plate.”
A car crashed into our side, my passenger door bending with a loud screech. My phone flew out of my hand.
“Serena.” Enzo’s voice came from somewhere in the car where my phone had landed.
“Serena, focus on me,” Donovan demanded.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push the fear deep down so I could listen.
I looked at Donovan’s eyes through the rearview mirror. Used that as my anchor point.
He nodded, turning his eyes back on the road. “When I say run, run. Don’t look back. Find a place to hide. Now move to the other side of the car and hold on.”
I nodded and did as he instructed. The window rolled down. Sitting behind the front passenger seat, I saw how focused Donovan was. His eyes were scanning the road, weaving between cars as best he could.
“Serena, ready?” Donovan yelled. “I need you to be ready.”
He careened over a curb, narrowly missed a car, and spun us out.
“Run. Now.” Donovan ordered, grabbing a gun from the center console. I didn’t need to be told twice. I flung the door open and sprinted down the sidewalk.
Shouts and car doors slamming behind me made me run faster.
Thank God I wore sneakers.
I sprinted, never looking back. Something nicked the ground in front of me, concrete spraying up.
A bullet. As if I needed a reason to run faster than I already was. I pumped my arms, willing myself to run faster, and turned into an open garage receiving center. The doors that led to the back were wide open, and I dashed inside.
A few overhead lights illuminated the massive space, leaving it shrouded in shadows.
Find a place to hide. That was what Enzo had done every time there was some danger. There were boxes everywhere, some half-open. I slid between two on the bottom shelf, boxing myself in on three sides, with no real way to see anything.
Please let this be good enough.
When I crouched down, trying to make myself as small as possible, my hand brushed something sharp.
I followed the edge, careful not to cut my finger, until I found a dulled edge that wouldn’t slice me when I held it.
It was dark, but I could tell it was something made of steel, about the size of my hand.
Good. If they found me, I’d have a surprise waiting for them.
There were shouts, echoing through the large space. My heart pounded. Beams of light flashed above me. I covered my mouth, trying to hide the sound of my breathing.
Be small. Be invisible. I willed myself.
The box I was hiding behind moved.
My stomach dropped, and a scream crawled its way up my throat. A man appeared, poking his head into the small hole he had created.
“Found her,” he yelled. I sent a punch to his nose, like I'd learned in the self-defense course I took years ago. The man shouted, and hurried footsteps came my way.
“She punched me,” the man said, and then the heavy box was removed, revealing me to a group of men, who all had smiles on their faces.
One of the guys moved closer, reaching for me. I took a step forward and then swung my leg up, nailing him in the balls.
If they thought taking me was going to be easy, I’d show them just how painful I could make it for them.