“Of course not. You belong to me.” His eyes flicker to the bandage above my breast. He cut me like a schoolboy carves his name into a desk. But that doesn’t mean he owns me.
One day, he’ll find that out.
“Stephanos will not touch you.”
I scoff. “That’s supposed to reassure me?”
Victor comes closer, his pale eyes pinning me into place. His hand grabs my wrist and presses a point that makes my fingers spasm, and I drop the knife.
He catches it and holds it up. It all happened in a flash, too fast for me to see.
“I have much to teach you. But this time together is at its end. There’s a decision for you to make.” He tosses the knife so it flips overhead and embeds itself in the wall above the headboard, where it quivers. It’s in the dead center of the room, and I half expect the bed to split in half, bisected by this moment and the blade. When it doesn’t, I turn back to my nemesis. He looms over me, half of his face in the light and half in shadow. But when he speaks, I hear both the iced-over tones of the psychopath and echoes of the soft, hopeful murmur of a lover.
“So now, I must ask. Lula. . . will you trust me?”
* * *
Victor
Joe drivesus to the restaurant, and Lula sits next to me in the back seat, a black silk blindfold over her eyes. When I guided her to take her first steps outside, she raised her head to the sun. She’s thinner than when I first brought her here, but not by much. I tried to feed her well, but she’s more hardened. The circles under her eyes are darker from a lack of vitamin D, but also not enough feasting with friends and family—not enough joy.
I can’t give her everything, even if I wanted to. But maybe I can give her enough.
She said yes to trusting me. But she didn’t bother to keep the derision out of her tone. But she is here, next to me, sitting up straight and gorgeous in the sleek black dress I gave her. I can only hope that there’s a tiny sliver of trust in her toward me. Maybe there is.
And maybe we are both lying to ourselves.
Joe pulls right up to the door, and I help her out. She wrinkles her nose, probably smelling the stale cigarettes that stain the evening air. Once inside, the smell is better, replaced with butter and garlic. Spiro had a hand in hiring new people for the kitchen, and the result is a massive improvement over what Cavalli’s used to be.
The decor still has the same faded carpet and old furniture. But there’s a fresh coat of paint and no sign of bullet holes. I pull Lula along to the back room, pausing in the shadowy hallway to lift the blindfold from her eyes.
She blinks once and takes in her surroundings with the wary look of a hunter in unknown territory.
Low laughter and the murmur of men’s voices come from the room ahead.
“Ready?” I ask.
She shrugs and visibly hardens. I draw her close on the pretense of fiddling with the coat’s collar.
“Do this for me,” I whisper in her ear. “And I will give you everything you want and more.” I pull away to take in her expression, but it’s blank and remote. It reminds me of my own face in the mirror.
Maybe I taught her more than I should have.
“You’re missing one thing.” She’s wearing my tan trench coat, and I reach into a pocket to pull out a silver tube of lipstick. Her lips compress to hold back a grimace, but she lets me paint it on her. A pop of red in her colorless face. Warpaint. “Now you’re ready.”
“You’re not going to tie me up?” She holds up her hands, presenting her wrists.
“I think you’ll behave. The stakes are too high, the reward too great.”
Her eyebrows twitch, but her forehead smooths before I can ask about her thoughts. “Let’s get this over with.”
“As you wish.” I lead her into the room where she faced Stephanos last. According to Spiro, it’s much the same with the unneeded tables and chairs pushed to the side. A few men lounge around the long table lining the opposite wall, and they fall silent as we approach.
“Lucrezia Romano, meet my new friends. Spiro, Uzi, Kill Zone.” Each man stands as I name them. There are five more newcomers, all vetted and vouched for by Spiro. He completes the introductions by saying, “And Joe’s out back. He’s coming in soon.”
Lula stands silent through this, shifting slightly from foot to foot. I keep a hand on her elbow.
“Shall we?” I sweep a hand toward the table, and the men part to make a path for us. I guide her to settle in the center of the booth lining the wall. The seat of honor, but hemmed in on either side by me and Spiro.
