Part One
The Hunt
Chapter One
Tierney
Present Day
Chiesa Di San Pietro Martire, Naples, Italy
“Fuck. Where is it?” I plopped onto the first pew of the church, rummaging in my Chanel bag for my pack of cigarettes.
I didn’t normally smoke. Then again, I wasn’t normally thousands of miles away from home, in close quarters with the most powerful Mafia family in the world.
Oh, and did I mention half its members wanted me dead? Fun times.
As if on cue, a large figure slid onto the pew behind me. An unlit cigarette materialized in the hand of an arm stretching across my shoulder. I plucked it from its owner with a scoff.
I didn’t need to look to know who it was.
As clichéd as it sounded, I always felt his presence before I saw him. He’d been my shadow since we were fourteen.
I recognized the rhythm of his breathing in the dark, the temperature of his gaze on my skin, the pulse of his footsteps inside my own chest. He’d become an integral part of me.Something so deeply entrenched in my existence, it was another facet of my identity now.
Achilles Ferrante.
My enemy. My rival. My impending demise.
“Do you always curse like a drunken sailor in church?” His dry burr reverberated in the pit of my stomach.
“Only when I have to share it with you.” I slipped the cigarette between my scarlet-painted lips, dunking my hand back into my purse to hunt for a lighter.
Achilles leaned forward, his lips skimming the shell of my ear. “Wanna know something?”
Goose bumps pebbled the back of my neck. Fifteen years later, and he still smelled of firewood, leather, and spice. “No.”
“You look like a whore in that dress,” he rasped, his voice dripping so much venom, I wouldn’t have been surprised if the floor was slippery.
“One you can never afford.” I flipped my hair in his face.
Despite my careless facade, his words landed like a bullet right in the center of my chest.
I wasn’t a sex worker, but I had slept around with the wrong kind of men in the past. Men who were cruel to me. Men who had hurt me.
It was the only way I could accept any form of affection.
But that was before the asshole had put me on surveillance two years ago. Now, I had to walk around everywhere with one of his soldiers. No more sex life for me. God forbid a girl enjoyed her favorite cardio.
“Sweetheart, if I wanted you, you’d be screaming my name so loud God’s ears would ring.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but even ladies of the night have standards.”
“So you admit to being a whore?” The wooden pew creaked beneath the weight of his carved muscles as he edged closer. “Do you offer group discounts?”
“Why, are you planning to bring every facet of your disgusting personality?”
Finally, my fingers wrapped around the silver Zippo in my purse.Bingo.
