"I confirmed it." I shake my head, still not entirely sure why. "He didn't give me a choice, but when Pietro asked if it was what I wanted, I said yes."
"Because itiswhat you want."
"I don't know what I want."
Amanda gestures at the handcuffs in my lap. "Babe. He sent youbondage gearwith instructions to meet him at a theater. You're blushing so hard I could fry an egg on your cheeks. You know exactly what you want."
I groan and fall backward onto the pillows. "He's infuriating. He stalks me. He makes decisions without consulting me. He threatened tokillany man who tries to marry me."
"And?"
"And I can't stop thinking about him." The admission escapes before I can catch it. "When he held my hand in the car... Amanda, my father died when I was thirteen. Dmitri's losing his now. We just sat there in the dark, not talking, and it was the most connected I've felt to anyone in years."
Amanda lies down beside me, her shoulder pressing against mine. "That's not nothing, V."
"I know." I stare at the ceiling. "That's what scares me."
Amanda's silence stretches for exactly three seconds. Then her eyes widen.
"Oh no." She sits up fast. "No, no, no. We arenotdoing the sad thing right now."
My throat tightens. "I'm not?—"
"You're about to cry." She claps her hands together, the sound sharp enough to make me flinch. "Nope. Absolutely not. We have things to do."
"We don't have things to do."
"Oh, hell yeah we do." Amanda springs off the bed with the energy of someone who's consumed three espressos. "We are going to grab lattes and cookies from that new spot on Division Street. Crumbl or something? No, wait—Batter & Bloom. It's been all over my feed for weeks. Their brown butter sea salt cookie supposedly changed someone's entire life trajectory."
I stare at her. "A cookie changed someone's life trajectory."
"According to TikTok, yes." She grabs my hands and hauls me upright. "And who are we to argue with TikTok? Come on. Up. Now."
"Amanda—"
"You have approximately four hours before you need to be at that theater with those gorgeous cuffs." She's already rifling through my closet. "Which means we have time for emotional-support sugar and caffeine. Also, you need to tell me more about this Russian man who apparently wants to tie you up in atheater, because that isunhingedand I amobsessed."
Despite everythingI laugh.
"Fine." I push myself off the bed. "But I'm not talking about the cuffs."
"You absolutely are." Amanda tosses a cream sweater at my head. "Put this on. It makes your boobs look amazing."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Vittoria
The Grand Theatre looks abandoned when I step out of the SUV.
No marquee lights. No crowd. Just a dark facade and a single figure standing in the entrance like a ghost from a 1940s noir film.
"Miss Sartori." The man nods once. "Mr. Baganov is waiting for you in Room 1."
I glance back at Elio. "Stay here."
Elio's eyes say that he is not so sure, but he doesn't follow.
The Bratva guard holds the door open, and I step inside.
