“How noble of him to agree to not cheat on you again and actually try to make the marriage work. Give that man flowers.”
“He isn’t a good man, Gianna. There are no good men in our world. But I think he really wants to try. And I want it too.”
“Why don’t you ask him if I can come visit for a few days? I don’t have school for another two weeks and I’m bored out of my mind without you. We could spend a couple of days at the beach in the Hamptons and go shopping in Manhattan.”
“What about Father? Did you ask him?”
“He told me to ask you and Luca.”
“I will ask him. I don’t think he’ll mind. It’s not like he’s home very often at the moment. Most days I’m alone with Romero.”
“Why don’t you ask Luca if you can go to college? You’ve got perfect grades. You would have no trouble getting into Columbia.”
“What for? I won’t ever be allowed to work. It’s too dangerous.”
“You could help Luca with his clubs. You could be his secretary or whatever. You’ll go crazy if you stay in that penthouse all the time.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” I said, even though I really wasn’t sure. Gianna had a point. “I will talk to Luca about your visit. Now I really need to take a shower and grab something to eat.”
“Call me as soon as possible. I need to book a flight.”
I smiled. “I will. Stay out of trouble.”
“You too.”
I hung up. Then I got ready and dressed in a breezy summer dress. It was sunny outside and I wanted to walk through Central Park. When I stepped into the living room, Romero was sitting at the dining room table with a cup of coffee in front of him.
“Was Luca very angry with you?” I asked as I walked past him toward the huge open kitchen. Homemade carrot cake set on the counter and I could hear Marianna humming somewhere. She was probably cleaning. Romero got up, took his cup and leaned against the kitchen island. “He wasn’t happy. You could have been killed. I’m supposed to protect you.”
“What’s Luca doing today?”
Romero shook his head.
“What is he doing? I want to know details. Why is he taking so many guns with him?”
“He, Matteo and a few others are going to find the guys who killed our man, and then they’re going to get revenge.”
“That sounds dangerous.” A hint of worry filled me. Revenge was never the end of things. The Bratva would take revenge in turn for Luca’s revenge. It was a never-ending cycle
“Luca and Matteo have been doing this for a long time. They are the best, and so are the men with them.”
“And instead of being in on the fun, you have to babysit me.”
Romero gave a shrug, then he smiled. “It’s an honor.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’d like to go jogging in Central Park.”
“Will you try to run away again?”
“Why would I? There’s nowhere I can run. And I doubt you’ll let me escape again. You look fit enough.”
Romero straightened. “Okay.” I could tell that he was still suspicious of my motives.
I put on my shorts, a tank top and my running shoes, then went back out. Romero had changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt. He kept a stash of clothes in one of our guest bedrooms, but he lived in an apartment about ten minutes from here. “Where have you hidden your guns?”
“That’s my secret,” he said with a rare grin, then he caught himself and put on his professional face.
Romero was fit and could easily keep up with me as we jogged through the many pathways in Central Park for the next hour. It felt wonderful to actually run outside for once instead of always being limited to the treadmill. I felt free and almost as if I belonged among all the people doing ordinary things, like walking their dogs or playing baseball. Maybe Luca would run with me one day, when the Russians weren’t giving him so much trouble anymore. But when would that ever be?
* * *
Later that day I sat on the roof terrace, watching the sunset, my legs pulled up against my body. Romero was checking his phone. “Luca will have more time for you soon.”
I looked at him. Had I appeared lonely to him? “Did he tell you when he’d be home today?”
“He hasn’t written yet,” he said slowly.
“That’s a bad sign, right?”
Romero didn’t say anything, only frowned down at his phone.
I went inside when it became too cold, put on my nightgown and curled up on the couch, turning on the TV. I couldn’t help but get more worried as the clock edged closer to midnight, but eventually I drifted off.
* * *
I woke when I was lifted off the couch. My eyes fluttered open and I peered up into Luca’s face. It was too dark to make out much. Romero must have extinguished the lights at some point. “Luca?” I murmured.
He didn’t say anything. I put a hand against his chest. His shirt was slick with something—water? Blood?
His breathing was even, steps measured. His heartbeat was calm under my palm. But I couldn’t read his mood. It was strange. He carried me up the stairs as if I weighed nothing. We reached our bedroom and he put me down on the bed. I could only see his tall shape looming above me. Why wasn’t he saying anything?
I stretched and fumbled for the main switch beside the bed. I brushed it with my fingertips and the lights came on, and I gasped. Luca’s shirt was covered in blood. Soaked in it. There was a small cut at Luca’s throat and if the rips in his shirt were any indication, he probably had more wounds. Then my eyes found his face and I became very still, like a fawn trying to blend in so as not to attract the attention of the wolf. I’d thought I’d seen Luca’s darkness
