Bianca’s right. There is a second elevator out of Rem’s apartment. “It’s supposed to be off limits,” she says mischievously. “But Johnny and I needed a quick escape from a party once and Rem never uses it, so I knew it would be the best way out.”
Bianca is also right about the size. It is claustrophobic, especially with Bruce in here with us. He’s as tall as Rem, but wider. Like a dump truck. Neck and shoulders and upper arms so thick they all seem to blend together. His only reaction to Bianca’s gleeful confession is to jab the button for the parking level again.
Bianca looks up at the monstrously large man and back down to me. “Bruce doesn’t like it either, but he agreed to the plan for extra pastries. It really is true—the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
I catch Bruce rolling his eyes, even if his mouth twists into something that I think is supposed to be a smile. He and Bianca have a connection, a mutual caring, and…I can’t believe I’m standing in a secret elevator with the wife of a mafia man and her bodyguard thinking about how platonically cute they are together.
I definitely need a dose of my old reality or I’m going to start to think this is a normal way to live. Which could prove even more dangerous than the possessiveness I seem to be developing toward Rem.
Keep focused, Lena. You get out of this building, find a way to get away, then leave town for good. No more Rem, no more Bianca, no more people trying to kill you.
A good plan. Except that Bianca’s is better. With Bruce guiding us with the focus of a ballistic missile, we travel from Rem’s building to Bianca’s favorite cafe with precision and total secrecy, and without a single opportunity for me to break away.
Even at our table in the cafe, there’s only one way in and out, and Bruce is standing guard over it. We’re tucked into the back corner of a restored Victorian townhouse, the most beautiful crown molding edging the walls behind us and a fire roaring in the fireplace to keep away the winter chill. Bulky Bruce and his dark suit are getting some odd looks from customers at the front of the building, but no one dares come too close to the area the owner has kept private just for us.
The cashmere sweater Bianca bought for me is warm and so soft. The pain in my side has dulled to the point I can almost ignore it. And the cappuccino the waiter sets in front of me is probably the best I’ve ever had.
I’ll give myself this moment, I think. Warm up, get caffeinated, catch my breath before I make a run for it. I take another sip of my coffee, closing my eyes on a satisfied hum.
“It’s good, right?” Bianca looks at me over the rim of her own cup. “I met Lucy at culinary school. She has the magic touch when it comes to all things comforting. Coffee, cake,cornetto. I come here at least twice a week and use her pastries in as many catering jobs as I can. It doesn’t completely make up for this—” she points over her shoulder to where Bruce standssentry, an unfriendly bull in a lovingly decorated china shop. “But she hasn’t kicked me out yet.”
“It’s only because you saved me when I kept splitting mycrème diplomateand Chef kept yelling at me until I wanted to cry.” Lucy comes up behind Bianca. She smiles at me and drops a quick kiss on Bianca’s head. “You saved my skin, Bia. You know you get pastries for life, even with the big dude in tow. Especially now that you’re eating for t?—”
“SHHHHHHH!” Bianca whisper-shouts at her friend. “Shut up, Lucy. Not in front of Bruce.”
The cafe owner slams a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, Bia. Sorry!” Lucy shoots a covert glance at the bodyguard. “He didn’t hear a word, you’re safe. And, just in case, I’ll send over some cannolis. I know how he loves them.”
Lucy darts back to the kitchen and I watch Bianca take a careful sip of her tea. The non-caffeinated kind.
She watches me watch her, anxiety creeping over her features. “You can’t tell Rem.”
“That you’re pregnant?” I guess.
She nods, her dark hair bouncing around her shoulders as her hand settles on her abdomen. “I haven’t told Johnny yet. I only found out a few days ago and I’m not ready for everything to completely change. Not yet.”
“Completely change?”
“He’ll double my security. No, triple it.” Bianca looks at me with horror. “I won’t be able to leave the house. He won’t want me standing on my feet all day working in the kitchen. He’ll change out my nice subtle Mercedes for an actual armored tank. He’ll go nuts, Lena, trying to keep me and the baby safe. I know it will all come from a place of love and everything, but I also know it’s going to drive me absolutely nuts. Fiercely protective, remember? And I just want two more days—three, max—before I let him wrap me in the world’s most protective bubble for the next eight months.”
Bianca’s declaration, her acceptance of her situation keeps me silent for a moment. As does the undeniable love she feels for Johnny that colors her announcement. “You’re okay with that? With the coddling and the restrictions and letting him decide how you live your life?”
Bianca’s expression goes sharp, assessing. “Lena, sweetheart. It’s not about me letting Johnny do anything or vice versa. That’s not how our marriage works. We’re in this as partners. A team. And as a team, we understand each other’s strengths and weakness and try to balance them as best we can. I know he’s incredibly protective of those he loves and understand he can’t function without knowing I’m safe. Which is why I agree to big boy Bruce here and the bulletproof car and all the other safety protocols he’s put in place.”
She leans forward and holds my hand, a comforting gesture I’m quickly getting used to.
“And,” she continues, “Johnny knows I can’t survive locked in a house all day, unable to do the work I love, sheltered away without friends or any kind of social life. I love Johnny, desperately, and he loves me the same way. But we also know that our relationship takes balance, that sometimes you give a little more than you receive, and that the same will sometimes be true for your partner too. So, no, I’m not looking forward to having all my security increased the instant I tell Johnny I’m pregnant, but Iamlooking forward to sharing the news about our growing family with him and experiencing the joy of having a baby with the love of my life. It’s all about balance. That, and…” Bianca takes a giant bite of the Italian-style croissant in front of her, licking her lips and instantly lightening the mood. “The excuse to eat as many pastries as I like. The baby is craving them soooooo much.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. Bianca is warm and real and forthright, and I like her. Which is why I don’t want her thinking I’man idiot when I lean close and ask, “You’re really married to the mob, aren’t you?”
Bianca’s mouth drops open in surprise. “Wait, how much has Rem told you? Or not?” Indignant, she sits up straighter. “Did you two nottalkabout this before getting engaged?”
“Bianca, I don’t think you understand…”
But Bianca doesn’t let me finish, caught up in her exasperation. “I mean, I know you guys are an arranged marriage. That sort of thing is alive and well, especially when you’re talking about the heads of the families. But that doesn’t give Rem the right to keep you in the dark about the life you’re marrying into. SweetJesus, that man.” Bianca collapses back into her chair. “I love him and all, but sometimes he can be such an idiot.”
Idiot isn’t the word I would use. Overbearing. Pushy. Authoritative. Inflexible. Sexy. Incredibly sexy. But definitely not an idiot.
And that’s when I realize it isn’t just possessiveness I’m starting to feel toward Rem. It’s protectiveness, too. An illogical protectiveness that has me leaning forward, waving off Bianca’s tirade as I try to say, “No, it’s not like that. I mean, well, maybe it is kind of like that, but we haven’t really had much time to talk, what with the shooting and the Russian guy and my apartment being wrecked, and the kissing…”
