ChloeA faded commotion downstairs wakes me up, my mind taking a few seconds to adjust and understand where I am. It's been a few days since we moved to Vermont, but I still haven't gotten used to this place, or this bed, for that matter. The safehouse isn’t uncomfortable at all, nor inconvenient, but no matter how hard I try, nothing makes me feel the same way I feel at Tony's house back in Staten Island. Which should also be considered my house now too, if he hadn't sent me here.I ponder going back to sleep, deciding whatever’s going on downstairs is probably irrelevant. My mother must be giving orders to Tony's soldiers for groceries or something like that. Since she can't go out by herself, she’d rather ask them to do the chores for her.But when I hear a familiar, deep voice, I get to my feet immediately. What is Armando doing here? Tony sent several men to watch us, but his second shouldn’t be here, not when they’re likely facing a war back in New York.Tiptoeing out of the ro
TonyI can't force myself to answer Chloe. I've been struggling to keep a stoic facade ever since she arrived here. I knew bringing her back was a mistake from the moment Armando suggested it to me, but he was right when he said I couldn't ask what she knew over the phone. Despite spending hundreds of thousands of dollars every year to keep the inner communication of the Saints untraceable, I still don't trust that someone might not be able to hack into our phones and listen to what Chloe had to say.In the end, she didn't give me much information, but it seemed enough for Cal and my men to start digging. Anything that will help me get closer to Mateo at this point is already a win.A part of me also wanted to see her, to make sure she was alright, to make sure she was taking care of herself while being away from me. But the moment she crossed that door, the moment her sweet scent hit me, I knew I made a mistake. I couldn't look at her, otherwise I wouldn't trust myself enough not to
ChloeMy arms voluntarily look for support around his neck. His hands on my waist tighten their grip, my skin burning up with the contact. Our tongues move together in a hungry dance, exploring each other's mouth as if this is the first time.I missed him so much; I can't even put into words what I'm feeling as he guides me backward toward the living room. This is not how I imagined, or even wanted, to reunite with him, but pulling away from him right now might break the spell he’s under and make him regret coming here in the first place.That’s why I follow his lead, making sure to hold him and never let go.Once we get close to the couch, instead of tossing me on my back and climbing over me, Tony turns us and sits down, pulling me onto his lap. I straddle him, immediately feeling his hard cock against my thigh, which ignites something within me that feels primarial and animalistic.My entire body is sensitive right now–any small contact of our skin entices me from head to toe. My c
Chloe"What do you mean?" he asks with a frown. "You can't do what anymore?""I can't do this push and pull anymore. I…." I choke on my words, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden.So, with pain in my chest, I get up from his lap and start gathering my clothes from the floor and putting them back on. I feel his eyes on me the entire time, but he doesn't say anything. He probably realizes there is no way we can escape this conversation anymore.Tony silently picks his boxers and pants up from the floor and puts them on, and for a whole minute, we're both mute, neither of us daring to continue the conversation.Once we're dressed, I look at him, finding him staring at me from the same spot on the couch."I am tired of not knowing what this is," I finally clarify, gesturing between us. When Tony doesn't answer, I add, "Maybe you shouldn't have come here after all."I don't mean it, but I’m mad at him for always being quiet when I need him to say something, anything at all, to ease my mi
TonyComing here was a fucking mistake.Seeing Chloe did everything to me that I was trying to avoid. It just left me even more confused than before. We haven’t spent more than an hour together, and I still managed to screw it up.Being with her felt natural as if this was the only place I could be. Whenever I’m with her, holding her in my arms and feeling her close to me, everything just seems to go away. Every concern, every fear, every bad thought I ever had… I finally feel at peace.That’s the sort of effect she has on me. But I was not expecting her confession. Hearing her say she loves me and not being able to say it back shattered my heart in ways I can't explain. The look on her face will haunt me forever. It seems to have become a pattern lately. I can't seem to be able to stop hurting and disappointing her. I know what she expects from me, but unfortunately, I can't give it to her.It's clear to me that I have fallen for her, harder than I could ever have expected. It's a f
ChloeI should be dead.I was certain I’d be killed the moment I saw Mateo by the front door.I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look as mad as he looked a couple of minutes ago.Somehow, by the grace of God perhaps, when I saw him approaching me with that gun pointed at my face, I managed to take it from his hand after sparring with him and shot him in the shoulder. I think.I didn’t stay there to confirm. I didn’t wait to see if he was injured or not. I simply ran out of the house, not daring to look back, not even once. It’s been a few minutes, and I’m still blindly running through the neighborhood, trying to think of what to do or where to go. There’s no one on the street that I can ask for help, and even if there were, I’d be so afraid that Mateo would kill them for helping me that I don’t think I would ask for help anyway.It’s cold outside, and I’m still only wearing my shower robe, and even though I don’t dare to look back, too afraid of what I’ll see, I know I’m being follow
Chloe“Listen,” Tony continues, still focused on the road. The police sirens get more and more distant as we drive away from the city, but I still don’t ask him where he is taking me. “I know you don’t want to think about it now, but I need to know what happened,” he requests in a gentle voice. I hear a hint of pain in it as well, but mostly, I can hear the guilt behind his words.I want to tell him none of this is his fault, but we’ll have time for that later. Right now, we just need to make sure no one else gets hurt, or worse, killed.I inhale sharply, steadying myself enough to share the recent events with him. I am strong, and I can do this, I tell myself. I’ve always told Tony I could handle it all, and even though I was scared as hell back there, I still managed to save myself.I can do this.“After you left, I spent a few more minutes in the office before I headed up to take a shower. I don’t think I was in there too long, but as soon as I stepped out, I heard the alarm go off
TonyI warned Chloe not to even try and convince me of doing anything else other than going after Mateo and his men. I’d been doing my best to act cautiously, to consider every single possible outcome from this war, but after he ambushed Chloe at the safehouse, making her fight for her life, it left me blind with rage.My guilt didn’t help, either.I was so relieved when I found her on that dark street, wearing nothing but a robe covered in blood, that I could have cried when I held her in my arms. She felt so small, so vulnerable within my embrace that the monster dormant inside me snapped to life, and I simply couldn’t put this aside any longer. Even if I die, even if I don’t get to see her one last time, I will make sure to take Mateo down with me, so he never has the chance to lay a hand on my wife again. Or my daughter, for that matter.“Do I really have to go with Cal?” Chloe’s sweet voice asks from the bed, making me take my eyes off the phone and look at her. I promised her
*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
*Tatiana*As soon as the plane touches down at JFK airport, a wave of anxiety washes over me. This is my first time leaving my home country of Russia. I’ve spent my entire life looking over my shoulder, waiting for my asshole uncle, Oleg Romina, to show up and finish the job he started twenty years ago when he murdered my parents in cold blood. Now, he’s summoned the only parents I’ve ever known, Lev and Ilya Ivanov, to return to America. I insisted they bring me along, but as we deboard the plane, a sense of unease settles into my chest.My biological father, Petr Romina, used to be the boss of the Romina Empire, a smaller Russian mob that has territory in several countries, including New York where Oleg resides. When I was old enough to understand the kind of life our family used to have, Lev and Illya told me the truth about my parents’ deaths. My mother was my dad’s mistress, and when Oleg learned that they were planning on getting married, his greed made him murder both of them,
*Angelo*Sweat drips from my forehead into my eyes as I run through the streets, in too much of a hurry to even consider finding a car or waiting for someone to come and pick me up. Traffic would only slow me down, and I can’t afford to lose a single second.My heart beats so fast that my chest hurts. My legs grow weak as I try to push forward, shoving away the worst case scenarios in my head. I force my lungs to take in as much air as possible because I certainly need it.More than that, I need to be able to focus. I can’t risk making a single mistake. The streets are empty, proving everyone that says that New York City never sleeps wrong.I round a corner and see my final destination–but I’m too late.The air is thick with the smell of gunpowder and blood. Several bodies litter the ground. I step over them, afraid to look down in case I recognize some of them. I can guarantee the person I’m looking for doesn’t lie among them.Some of the Saints men arrive right after me. I was nea
CalThe Basilica of St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral hums with excitement. Murmurs from the intimate crowd waiting in the pews whisper through the air, rising to the impressive ceilings as sunlight fans through the stained glass. I’m sweating balls in the tuxedo Tony insisted I wear. It fits like a glove–perfectly tailored–which Tony said was because his tailor is Italian, and they always know best. In fact, Tony’s wife, Chloe, and her mob wife minions put this wedding together for us down to the smallest detail. I don’t know half of the gathered crowd, but judging by the cheetah print and hair gel, most of these people are Saints in some way. The Irish Kings stand out, however, because they’re lining every exit–armed to the teeth. Tony stalks over to where I’m standing near the altar waiting for the ceremony to begin. He glances around, leaning in to say, “I’ve got guys outside.”“Thanks,” I grumble, tugging at my tie. He looks toward the crowd. I know he feels the same way I do abou