EleniA few weeks after the hotel date, I look over the table of classes on my laptop one last time and shut it with a smile. My first registration at Tandon, and I got all the classes I wanted! I text Dante about my success and laugh when he responds with a huge thumbs-up. He texts like he protects his data, but I’ve grown used to the labyrinth of old-timey habits and emoji usages. He’s thrilled. And, with any luck, bored out of his mind at Piacere. He put out the hooks for potential rats to snap up a little while ago, and nothing has caught yet. That means a full day of sitting around waiting for disaster, which makes him feel, in his words, “like a fireman without a fire,” so he’s been coming home a little grumpy, but watching his mood improve as soon as he sees me makes it really easy not to take personally. Plus, we’re now going on—I check the date—just about two and a half weeks without any deaths in the organization. The quiet made getting ready for school a lot easier. Dante
EleniGianna—whom I now hate—picks up on my bitchy mood after our run-in with Camila and not only makes me stay at brunch long enough to sober up but comes home with me and hangs out for the rest of the day, inventing new activities every time I get bored enough to get pissed about Camila all over again.My phone vibrates on the edge of the bathtub next to me. I glance at it. A text from Dante, letting me know he’s on his way home. I lift it and silently show the screen to Gianna.“Perfect.” She caps the bright-blue nail polish bottle in her hands. “I just finished.”I wiggle my neon-painted toes. “You know you didn’t have to stick around all day, right?”She shakes her head and stands. “You’d think you never had a best friend before.”“I haven’t,” I admit.She takes my hand, the expression on her face softening. “Fuck, I didn’t realize.”I shrug. “It’s not a big deal, really. I had friends. I was just too busy with The Greek Corner to ever become anybody’s go-to.”“It absolutely is a
DanteI adjust my tie in the pale moonlight slanting in through the window and glance at Eleni over my shoulder. She’s sprawled across the bed, as always, with her hair everywhere. I pull my attention back and tighten it a little more. Sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night like this feels oddly like a betrayal after the fight this afternoon, but it’s not as though I’m going to see Camila. And, truth told, I’ll do just about anything to keep as much space between Cal Duncan and Eleni as possible. I pat the gun already holstered on my hip and creep out of the room.Tony waits for me in a car outside, not idling in case that draws the attention of the neighbors. They tend to have their ears a little extra pricked in the weeks after the barbecue. All the accountants and lawyers around here aren’t exactly subtle about wanting an invite, but I don’t think they’d blend with the crowd. I slide into the passenger’s seat, and Tony turns on the car.“It’s my job as your caporegime to sa
EleniI blink awake in the morning with my mouth watering. Cold sheets. No Dante. I check my phone and find the usual text. At Piacere today, had to leave early, news when he gets home. I drop my phone with a groan. My stomach grumbles. I think I spent all night dreaming about loukoumades, these honey puffs Mama used to make for my birthday, or whenever she was in a really good mood. The air even smells like them, as if I brought the memory from my dreams into reality.If Dante was here, I could have convinced him to drive around to find some. Instead, I’m just going to have to throw myself on Seb’s mercy. Or, more accurately, the mercy of Seb’s alarm clock. He’s rarely awake before noon.My mood sours as I get dressed and discover my favorite T-shirt fell out of the laundry basket before it got taken this week, so it’s still dirty. I pull on one of Dante’s and scowl at myself in the mirror as I brush my teeth. Today sucks. Maybe I’ll skip schoolwork and catch up with a few of my cap
EleniMama doesn’t like the news I’ve fallen in love with Dante, judging by the lecture that follows. Still, I sit politely and listen to every word, smiling at the sheer joy of having a mother to scold me again. After that, we talk over police procedurals, her favorite show and how to watch them, for a few hours, catching up on everything we haven’t had time for in our last few calls. Gianna shows up because I forgot we made lunch plans, and unlike Dante, Mama took to her instantly. Before an hour passes, she has Gianna in the kitchen with her hair pulled back, walking her through the steps of properly seasoning lamb for gyros. I sit at the kitchen island, correcting Gianna’s technique when Mama isn’t fast enough. She smacks my hand away when I try to steal a bite of pita, and for a moment, I think I know what it was like to be Christos when we were kids. She means the smack, but so much affection sparkles in her gaze that I know I have nothing to worry about. My heart squeezes. I
EleniDespite how tired he seemed a moment ago, Dante comes alive when I kiss him. He grips my hips like the last anchor in a storm, and I undulate against him like the waves he’s trying to hold on through. I don’t know what to do with this warmth in my chest. It’s something more permanent than love, more certain. So I just wrap myself around him, slide my hands into his hair, and try to find a place where everything makes sense to me again.Dante pulls back. “I’m a little sore tonight. I don’t know if I have the whole routine in me.”That home-warmth flares.“Okay,” I say. “I don’t mind.”He smiles against my lips. “I love you.”“I love you too.” A giggle bursts from my lips. “Do you want me to…?”Dante trails his kisses away from my mouth, down my neck. “Only if you need it. I’m happy just to feel you tonight.”He’s nearly liquid underneath me, languorous and slow. I shake my head. I’ve never seen this side of Dante, not straining against his own iron control or forgetting about it
DanteThe next morning, Eleni lies splayed across my chest, her naked shoulders peeking above the blanket. Her hand lays open, and the ring I picked out for her glitters on her finger. I smile. It was time. Being “just a girlfriend” in this life put her in so much more danger. At least, that’s what I told Tony and the other guys. But who the fuck was I kidding? The birds are singing, the sun is shining, and my fiancée is drooling a little. My ribs hurt with how full my heart is.Or with the weight said fiancée is putting on my still only mostly healed bullet wound. But I’ll let El wake up in her own time. I brush a few curls back off her face.She wakes up with a snort and blinks up at me in total confusion for a second. Then, she touches the corner of her mouth where the drool was coming from and turns bright red.“It’s okay!” I try to say before she can freak out.She buries her head beneath the pillow. “Forget the proposal. I’m moving to Alaska.”I roll over top of her, caging her
EleniA week after Mama arrived, we walk along South Beach with our sandals in our hands, looking out over the water at the Verrazano.“—and then Adriani said, ‘if you get another orange from that man, I’m going to nail them to his front door and let the streets run orange with the juices!’” Mama says.I laugh so hard I actually have to stop walking. The sand burns my feet, but I don’t mind. Mama and I have spent nearly every day together since she arrived, and as much as she complains about Theia Adriani, she tells stories about her younger sister almost constantly.“Theia Adriani should meet Tony,” I say when I get my breath back. “I think they’d either fall passionately in love or hate each other on sight.”Mama smiles. “Tony is the one with the very stiff hair, yes? And those lovely eyes.”I swallow down another burst of laughter and decide to tell everyone about the “stiff hair” comment later. “Yes, he is.”She nods. “And he is the right hand. Capo supreme.”“Caporegime,” I corre
*Tatiana*My eyes don’t move as I watch my kidnapper’s face contort in confusion at what I just said. It was a gamble, but it was my last shot since I came to terms with not being able to escape from this place unharmed–if not fucking dead as a doornail.I doubted it would work at first, but I seem to have hit a sensitive topic when I offered to help him with information about Oleg. It’s not like I have much on him anyway, since I was barely ever in the same room as him while I was his prisoner, but if it’s Oleg that he’s after, I’m more than happy to help him with his vendetta.My determination seems to do its job because my kidnapper climbs off me and extends his hand to me. I hesitate, staring at his large hand while wondering what the hell might have made him change his mind.Maybe he’s playing games with me, pretending to believe me so he can tie me to that chair again.“Come on, I won’t tie you up again.” Is he a fucking mindreader? His brows shoot up as he waits for me to grab
*Angelo*This goddamn woman is not only beautiful but also clever as fuck. She definitely knows how to use her appearance and charm to her advantage, blinking those beautiful eyes at me. Even in a T-shirt and jeans, she looks sexy as hell. She doesn’t need to wear anything seductive or whisper dirty words in my ear. Just being under her gaze is enough for my dick to start twitching inside my pants. Fuck!I don’t know why the hell I fell for that, believing she actually needed to go to the bathroom. Maybe, deep down, there’s still some good left in my corroded heart. Or maybe I just didn’t want to believe that she’d be able to trick me. But she almost broke free from me, which would’ve been fucking embarrassing when the guys outside had to bring her back to me, seeing me rolling around on the floor with my smashed up cock in one hand. Needless to say, the pain she caused me made my blood boil. But even so, I can’t force myself to strike her. Not yet. Instead, I pinned her to the floo
*Tatiana*Okay, fuck, that does sound like a genuine threat. He’s definitely not new to any of this, and he’s used to stubborn people like me. He’s probably faced worse in his years in the mafia, assuming he’s from another syndicate. Judging by the way his eyes are hungry for information, I doubt he’s just a normal person Oleg owes money to or had a bad business deal with.Lev taught me how to hold on during an interrogation as long as I could in several of our lessons in the past, but he never really tortured me while doing so. How am I supposed to act when the real deal is actually happening? I thought I was prepared for this, but maybe I’m not?Am I ready for this man to cut my skin, hold my head under water, pull my nails out of my fingers, and all the dreadful things these people are known for doing? How long until I break?Panic creeps through me again, and I realize I need a plan B before I lose the grip on my self-control and have to start pleading for my life. I don’t wanna
*Tatiana*I feel like I must’ve gotten run over by a truck. My head is pounding so hard, I feel like vomiting, but even so, I force my eyes to open. There’s no light here except for a dim stream coming through a tiny window near the top of the wall in front of me, so it’s difficult for my eyes to adapt.There are strands of hair in front of my eyes and face, and when I lift my hand to push them aside, I realize my wrists are tied behind my back in what feels like a very thick, tight rope. My legs are also strapped to the chair, both my ankles tied. I can barely move.Panic starts creeping through me as I realize what’s going on. Images of the recent events flash through my mind, making me remember how I ended up here, wherever I am.I look from one side to the other, taking in my surroundings. Even though it’s dark and humid here, I spot some tools and boxes that make me think this has to be a basement. The place is quiet, and there seems to be no one around, although I doubt they’d l
*Angelo*“I’ve got her,” I inform the rest of my men who are all wearing earpieces. “I’m taking her to the car.”“Roger that,” Dice replies right away. “We’ll meet you there.”I toss the woman’s limp body over my shoulder and step out of the alley, ignoring the curious and frightened stares I receive from pedestrians bustling by on the street.The SUV is parked in front of the deli, and when Sal spots me, he climbs from behind the wheel and rushes to open the back door for me. I place the woman in the back seat—carefully, even though I don’t need to be—and go around to the other side so I can sit beside her. I buckle us both in and wait for the others to load up.Even though I knocked her out, and she probably won’t wake up in the next few hours, I still need to keep a close eye on her, just in case she wakes up and tries some funny business. I’ll watch her the entire way until we’re out of this part of the city and safe in our territory where we’re less likely to be attacked.“That w
*Tatiana*Getting someone to help me proves to be an almost impossible task, even once I wander into a populated area of New York City.I know literally no one in this city, and it’s not like I can trust anyone. While I’m fairly certain my adoptive parents had allies here, I have no fucking idea who they are or how to find them. Oleg must have eyes and ears everywhere, so it makes me hesitant to approach anyone.But in this dress, I’m an easy target for anyone who might be helping him. New York is a crazy place, but I’m probably the only woman in a bloody, ripped-up wedding gown on the streets today. If the mob doesn’t get to me, the police certainly will.My stomach is beginning to ache from the knot that formed in there weeks ago, but I force myself to take deep breaths. At least I’m able to hold back my tears–for now. My whole life turned upside down in a blink of an eye, and having to suppress my feelings so I don’t show my weakness to Oleg and Yakov has taken its toll on me.Pic
TatianaHow the hell am I supposed to escape this place when I have no fucking idea where I am? Running toward the back of the chapel seemed to make the most sense to me since the fighting is all happening at the front–at least for now–so I sprint toward the door the priest likely used and pray it’s unlocked.Thankfully, it is. I slam through it, looking around to ascertain if there’s any danger here. I see the priest huddled in the corner and almost roll my eyes. Hiking my skirt up, I take off toward a door I believe has to be an exit.“You shouldn’t go that!” he shouts. “They’re out there, too!”But my momentum carries me through the door before I can think, and I nearly run into a couple of Oleg’s men who are defending the back entryway against what appears to be another syndicate, one of the many groups of enemies Oleg has accumulated over the years, no doubt.“How the fuck did they find us?” one of the men in front of me shouts to the other in a thick Russian accent. I just have
*Tatiana*A tacky, overly poofy white gown hangs on the back of the bathroom door next to the full-length mirror. I take a deep breath and drag a hand down my face. How the fuck am I getting out of this?I hoped I’d have more time to escape, but this day has come more quickly than anticipated, and now, here I am. The fuckers got me to the church on time.“What do you think?” one of the maids who will be helping me get dressed asks, a timid smile on her face.Arching an eyebrow, I say, “I think I’d be better suited to black.”She laughs nervously and pulls the fancy frock down off the hanger. I have to assume this contraption cost thousands of dollars and was designed by one of New York’s biggest names in fashion.It’s a death trap to me.It would look so much better with a spray of vomit across the front.Telling myself I need to focus, I listen to the maids prattle on about how they’re going to do my hair and makeup and other such bullshit I couldn’t care less about.“This dress is m
*Tatiana*I spend most of my time in “my” room. Images of my parents bleeding out fill my mind, whether I’m awake or asleep. Even sitting by the window, staring out at the serene garden behind the mansion, I can’t shake the overwhelming sadness and revulsion that fills my body with every shuddering breath I inhale.No one comes into my room except for the maids–and that’s a good thing. When I have to see Oleg again, it will be all I can do to keep from lunging at him and trying to take him out right now. I will kill him–but I can’t be impulsive, or I’ll spoil my chance. Something tells me he won’t hesitate to kill me if he feels it’s necessary, regardless of all of his plans for me.No, I need to bide my time. Lie in wait. Strike when the timing is right.When I’m not picturing my parents’ pale bodies sitting in those chairs, I imagine what it will be like to kill him. That’s the only time I allow myself a bit of happiness, a small smile, when I think about what it will be like to hav