The second time, the candles swayed, a cool breeze passing through the hall, and the smell of strong cologne invaded my noise.
Not a ghost then.
Placing a hand on Nino’s arm, I squeezed, silently communicating that someone was nearby.
The place was full of guests, it could have been anyone, but as deep in as we were, we hadn’t encountered anyone from the party in a while. The only people roaming these halls were ones on a specific mission.
I couldn’t tell if the cold frisson was from the swords or the unexpected guest. Probably both.
“Give me the knife,” I whispered.
Nino handed it over, coming to stand in front of me.
“You will have to be my eyes—”
Too late, a solid arm came from behind, wrapping around my throat in a painful squeeze. He squeezed me so hard that I blacked out. When I came to after what seemed like a second, the knife had fallen from my hand. His other meaty arm came over my shoulder, his hand coming down on Nino’s head like a sledgehammer.
Nino froze before he crumpled to the floor in a heap.
It all must have happened in under five seconds.
Did Lothario’s wife direct him to us? My feelings told me yes. He had been looking, and she had pointed him in the right direction.
“Hello, Frenchie,” Vanni said, his hot breath in my ear. “It is good to get you alone.”
“Famous last words,” I said, my voice strained.
I had hoped to get him to loosen his hold, or let go altogether, but the words only enraged him enough to snap, taking my neck with him. It felt like he was going to break it like a twig.
I tried to squirm, to wiggle out of his hold, but he was too solid, too overcome by anger.
My eyes felt like they were about to explode from their sockets, the pressure rising, rising, while nothing could get in. A paper bag holding in the air, at any moment about toPOP.
He kept muttering things about wanting to leave this dirty job for something cleaner, like real estate.
As a last-ditch effort, I clawed at him.
This seemed to loosen his hold, and I gasped, greedily inhaling the air that had been stolen from me. After a moment, though, I realized he was no longer holding me, but laid on the floor, face down in a pool of his own blood.
I whirled around, still coughing, rubbing my throat, to find Vincenzo staring down at him, the knife I had dropped in his hand, stained with Vanni’s blood.
Leaning down, he stuck it in the man’s back.
I expected him to ask me how I was, was I hurt, or what had happened, but he did none of these things.
His eyes were dilated, crazed, and he came at me. All I had time to do was put my hands up in surrender, the coughing not abated. I dimly wondered if Vanni had crushed my windpipe, but then told myself I’d be dead. If not crushed, perhaps he had caused damage, but I couldn’t find it in myself to even try to speak.
“You never listen!”he said in Italian, lifting me off my feet and pinning me to the wall.
“What?” I croaked. I sounded like a dying frog. If this was the permanent state of affairs, I vowed to never speak again.
He breathed hard, and the smell of blood and musk wafted off his body in intense clouds.
“You reek of him,”he said, his mouth close to mine.
I really thought he was going to kiss me, so I turned my face in case.“I should smell likehim. He’s my husband, and you,sir, are not!”
An insane, almost crippling urge to laugh bubbled up from some dark place, but I held it down, because I knew Vincenzo was enraged and wanted to use me as a pawn in this game. All for revenge.
