Anyone else? How could he…? There is no way he knows who helped me come down here.
“I don’t…understand,” I nearly whisper.
“You don’t need to. Do what I asked, and I promise to take good care of you over the next few nights.”
My mind is empty, so empty, and I’m at a loss for words. He’s sending me away? Even if I told him I’m never coming back? He stalked me, made it clear he wanted things from me. And yet…
“I repeat, even though you seem to refuse to hear me—this is yourlastchance. Why don’t you say what you want to say now?”
“Because, Cecilia,” he says with lethal quiet, “we both know you’ll be back.”
5
Mikhail
The scent of her perfume lingers, even when she’s gone. Orange blossoms, vanilla, and musk—my fucking favorite.
Leaning against the hard wall, I can’t help but sketch a smile as her steps fade. They’re faster now, unlike when she came to me—rushing back to her cage, not realizing she’s already been trapped in another one. She wasn’t even supposed to find me this soon. Then again, curiosity always kills the prettiest cats.
Pain ripples through my body as I shift, reminding me of what it took to get here. Bringing my fingers to the side of my abdomen, I hiss when they come away slick. Must’ve torn the wound open again.
Hilariously enough, it’s not even from the gunshots—it’s from the fucking rose bushes they planted in the gardens like they’re living in La-La Land.Figures. The Italians have always carried a certain delusion with them, thinking they can get away with every pathetic attempt against my Bratva.
Even this basement feels more like a low-end hotel than a killing ground. The air is warm and humid—classic West Coast climate—with a nice breeze coming from the hole in my cell. For someone who’s supposed to be tortured down here, it’s fucking paradise, completely different from howwetreat our enemies.
But to each their own, I guess.
The worst part about being stuck here is actually how boring it gets. Truly. Thank fuck Cecilia decided to bless me with her presence, even if all she did was try to topple every chance she got. I loved it. After watching her every move for weeks, she still managed to surprise me. I expected nothing less from her.
Sweet and innocent, I’ve only ever seen her try to please others as if she’s trying to score points with God. It’s a constant lie she has to live through to obey her daddy, and I know exactly why.
Down here, however, her disguise was different. There was detachment—cold, unbothered pretense with lots of fucking cracks. I saw right through her, and it made this whole plan I’ve thrown myself into that much more delicious. Maybe she’s more than a wounded little bird after all.
The throb of bruises from when they dragged me here pulses together with the screech of a metal door. But the steps that follow aren’t small this time—they’re heavy, loud, and obviously belonging to a man. They’re also coming from a completely different direction than Cecilia’s, and when they stop in front of my cell, I don’t bother with more than tilting my head.
“Miss me already?” I ask.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I gave you what you wanted. Now, fucking talk.”
Cesare Cammarano, the Don’s advisor, shoves his hands in his pockets and watches me from the other side of the bars. I let out a hushed laugh, Cecilia’s pretty face coming back to the front of my mind…
Her doe-like brown eyes. Her petite stance. The way her chest trembled with shallow breaths. Yep, asking for her earlier was definitely worth a second visit from this bastard.
“You don’t want to talk? I’ll fucking talk then,” Cesare says. “See, I find it hard to believe a man with your reputation would simply let himself get caught. What gives?”
“Wrong neighborhood.” I grin. “Happens.”
Obviously, he knows I can’t be here by chance. What kind of idiot would go to his enemy’s house, alone and unarmed, in the middle of the night?
He’s right—Ididlet myself get caught. Which actually serves me twice—first, to make the Don a deal so good, he’ll think I’m fucking with him, and second, to spend more time with a certain someone with delicate pianist’s hands. All part of a long retaliation plan my genius half-brother, Wolfgang, would’ve never agreed to if he knew it existed. Too bad he has no idea what I’ve done. Yet.
“Here’s what I think,” Cesare says, pacing around. “I think you’re either suicidal, and this is your last stunt…”
“Next.”
“Or maybe—” He halts, his tone gaining an amused lilt. “Wolfgang sent you for retaliation, knowing full well you’d die at our hand. I heard the two of you aren’t exactly on speaking terms. You know, after he won nextPakhanand you remained…well, a nobody. No offense, of course.”
A genuine laugh bursts out of me, echoing off the stone walls.
