Chapter 4
MADISON
I yell in surprise, kicking back at him. “Stop it—help! Someone, help!”
But the street is quiet and dark. Can nobody inside the Nove building see what’s going on? I’m next to a window, but not directly in front of one.
“Help!” I yell again.
My attacker spins me around so I can look at him. He stares into my face. Confusion fills his dark eyes, and his brows pull together.
Without a word, he lets me go, turns, and strides away.
“What the hell?” I whisper. I want to yell at him, but I don’t want to push my luck.
I stand there, shaking, watching as he rushes off. My throat is sore from where he grabbed me. What the fuck just happened? Someone attacked me, then let me go. Why?
A moment later, a car pulls up to the curb. Is it him? Is he coming back to take me somewhere? I start for the door to Nove when the passenger window rolls down.
“Are you Madison?”
Oh. It’s my ride. I send another fear-filled glance after the man who attacked me, but he’s far down the block. He’s nothing more than a retreating shadow.
The ride home is a blur. I’m shaking with adrenaline as I watch the city go by. My wrists feel bruised and tender after the guy grabbed me. I rub the star sapphire jewel on my ring, trying to focus on anything other than the feeling of that man’s hand on my throat.
Instead of having the driver drop me at the gate, I give him the code so he can take me all the way up to my house. I don’t want to walk down the dark driveway, and I can always change the code later if I’m worried about security.
And yeah. I’m worried about security. The past couple of months have been awful.
I guess I could blame the inheritance. It changed my life, but can I really say it’s for the better?
Sure, I could move out of my crappy apartment, and I can afford food and health insurance.
But my cousins tried to kill me, I somehow hooked up with a man who is married, and a random guy on the street just accosted me and shoved me into a building.
When I get inside, I lock the door after me and punch in my security code. I am completely done with this night. I want to lock everything out for the foreseeable future.
A buzzing sound comes from my purse. I fish out my phone and find twenty-seven unread text messages and ten missed calls. All from Damiano, of course.
“Fuck you,” I say under my breath. “Fuck you with a wire-bristled brush, you complete and utter asshole.”
I switch my settings to “do not disturb” and take my laptop upstairs to bed with me. Season Two of Flesh and Teeth is my comfort watch of choice. I listen to the mournful moans of zombies and pretend I’m crying for the grizzled old cowboy who just became the zombies’ latest meal.
I’m not crying for him, though. I’m crying for me.
* * *
DAMIANO
How many times am I going to let Alessia ruin my life?
It started out well, as most of these things do. When I married her, we were deeply in love. Our families both approved the match. Our wedding was grand, with a giant feast. Everyone came to celebrate with us. Alessia was the most beautiful bride, and I, the doting groom.
Soon after, things changed.
When she divorced me, I was at my lowest. Wrongfully imprisoned, helpless to plead my case. The divorce stole my last remaining hope.
And now she is back in my life, fucking everything up once again.
“Francesco is here,” she insists, gripping my forearm. “You must do something.”
I stare past her, at the door where Madison disappeared ten minutes ago. “I’ll ask for some guards to stand outside your apartment. That is all I will do. And Alessia—we are not married. We are divorced—”
“I took it back.” Her light brown eyes fill with tears, which spill down her cheeks. “I take it back. I don’t want to be divorced anymore, Damiano.”
We’ve had the same conversation nearly every day since she has come to the US. I refuse to have it again.
“Goodnight, Alessia. The new guards will be outside your apartment within the hour.” I usher her toward the door and close it after her, resisting the impulse to slam it.
Now, I must handle damage control with Madison. I can only imagine what she must be thinking right now. It isn’t a good look, having another woman rush into my apartment and start yelling at me like Alessia has done.
And Madison was the one who opened the door—fuck. Fuck. They had time for a conversation. What did Alessia say to Madison?
The dread I’d been feeling transforms into full-on panic. There’s only one reason Madison would’ve left like that, without hearing me out—she thinks Alessia and I are together. She thinks that I would cheat.
I pull my phone from my pocket, dial Madison. No answer. Shit.
As the call goes to her voicemail, I rush out of my apartment and into the elevator. All the way down to the ground floor—I can’t seem to get there fast enough. How much time has passed? Ten minutes? Fifteen? She’s long gone by now, I’m sure of it.
Why did I waste so much time calming Alessia? How could I not realize what Madison thought of the situation?
The elevator reaches the lobby. I rush out before the doors are fully open. Wildly, I look around, searching for a head of brown hair, for her sexy black dress.
She’s nowhere in the lobby. I take long strides to reach the sidewalk outside the building. I see a couple walking down the street with their arms linked. Otherwise, nobody is around.
She probably ordered a ride and went home.
That makes the most sense. I want to go to her.
I could. Nothing can hold me back from her—not physically.
But emotionally…would she ever forgive me if I broke past her boundaries?
I don’t think she would. She has already complained about my overreaching ways.
Defeated, I go back upstairs to my penthouse. For the rest of the night, I deliberate one way, then the other. Go to Madison, or give her space. I continue to text and call, leaving her voicemails and messages with apologies, explanations. Is she reading any of them?
Alessia, for once, leaves me alone. Perhaps I frightened her off. Good.
The next morning, I begin to worry.
Madison, if you don’t respond within two hours, I will come to your house to make sure you’re safe.
There. It’s somewhat respecting her boundaries, while soothing the worried beast inside of me.
A half hour later, she texts me back. I’m fine. Don’t contact me again.
Can I accept this? I cannot. But what choice do I have?
Seth calls when I’m driving to the office on Monday. I answer through my car’s system. “Hey.”
“Did you get the paperwork for the building purchase?”
“Yeah. I already signed it and sent it back.”
“You did?” He’s quiet for a moment, likely switching over to check his email. “Oh, there it is. Looks like we’re all set—minus the personnel.”
Normally, such a new advance for our business would delight me. We’re growing. It’s wonderful. But now, I can’t muster up much excitement. “I’ll have Mendoza start recruiting.”
“Sounds great,” he says. “We’ll need the usual. A couple of receptionists, a small unit to stay local, and another unit for distance missions. Even if they come straight out of the military, we’ll need to train them up, so we might want to get Fletch out here. How’s his German?”
“I can’t remember.”
He pauses. “Damiano, you’re barely talking. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Everything.
He laughs. “Let me guess. Drama with your ex-wife?”
“She ambushed me and Madison.”
He lets out a low whistle. “I bet this happened before you had a chance to warn Madison about Alessia? Even though I told you this was going to happen?”
“Yes, you told me so. You win, okay? I don’t want to fight about this.” I stop at a traffic light, mindlessly watching as cross-traffic whizzes by.
“I shouldn’t help you,” he says, “but you’re so fucking pathetic.”
“You think you can help?” My brain lights up with anger and I have to refrain from switching to Italian. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t fucked off to Europe at the first sign of feelings.”
“I’m not afraid of feelings in general, asshole,” he says in a tight voice. “I told you, Madison is off-limits.”
“Only because you are getting in your own way.”
“No, it’s because you ignore boundaries. We could—”
It happens in pieces. The light turns green. I start across the intersection.
Blue sky, the loud drone of a truck’s horn.
The crunching of metal on metal.
A half-second delay.
Then pain.
Then darkness.