Pathetic, I tell myself. Enough with this.
This is weakness, and I can’t afford weakness right now.
I’ve planned this for years, and we’re so close I can taste it.
Soon, it will be over, and my life will be mine to do with as I please.
Then I can think of her. Then I can consider…
I lean back with a whoosh of air.
She’ll know.
Elena will know.
She won’t be able to put me behind bars—I’ve made sure of that—but she’ll know it was me. She already knows I got out that night undetected. She knows what I’ve done, what I’m capable of.
Anything happens to that bastard Nick Dixon or Lucia, I’m the first name that would come to mind.
And that will seal my fate.
For the very first time, I feel something slip through me. An unease of sorts.
The same small slide of doubt I saw in my son’s eyes.
Before I can think any more about it, the glass doors open again, and Nico walks in.
His jaw is locked, and his eyes flick once around the room, then land on me.
Before he even speaks, I know.
Whatever it is, it’s going to change everything.
Again.
“Papà,” he says. “I need to tell you something.”
Chapter Eighteen
Elena
I leave the hotel room with a plan that isn’t a plan at all: get to the coffee shop, stand in line with Owen, and somehow not drink coffee.
Decaf? Maybe I could say it low to the barista, palm half over my mouth, hope the steam and noise swallow the word.
Or maybe I can order herbal tea? I make a face just thinking it. Owen knows me. If I order chamomile, he’ll call a doctor.
The elevator dings. Lobby, spin of the revolving door, air that smells like car exhaust and fried dough. I cut right, toward theside lot where I left my car in a spot reserved for hotel guests only.
It’s the reason I chose this hotel.
I’m halfway down the sidewalk when two shadows join mine. Two big shadows.
One on my left. One on my right. They don’t touch me, don’t speak, don’t even meet my eyes. They don’t have to.
Antonio and Nico Conti.
My stomach drops so fast I feel a little dizzy.
