Who was I kidding? I was hiding out, buying time. Something had changed in my father’s life. That could be the only reason the Russians had all but kidnapped me. I certainly didn’t know much about the politics of the mafia except for what I’d seen on television and had read in news reports, but there were always factions of one crime syndicate threatening another for power, money, and territory.
Maybe I’d believed my father invincible, allowing me to escape my legacy.
It was useless to call my mother or brother. Maybe Luciano.
Or Sophia.
As a crowd of people passed, I turned away out of habit, glancing at my reflection in a store window. Loose strands of ebony hair were falling from my usual bun from the humidity. I’d shoved the hat inside my bag but was grateful I’d been wearing it when I’d run into my mystery lover.
As I tucked the strands behind my ear, vivid green eyes met mine, my reflection unable to hide worry and fear. They reflected sadness in leaving everything I’d come to love. Andthere remained a dark, yellowish, and still swollen patch under my eye that foundation couldn’t seem to hide.
Another reason I’d appreciated the mask. Even after several days, the ugly reminder was still there.
Sighing, I placed my fingers gingerly against my skin, wincing as soon as I did. The pain had been nothing in comparison to what I’d experienced several times before, but it had been another reminder of why I’d wanted nothing to do with the princess lifestyle. I made a face in hopes of obliterating the sadness, allowing a short groan while admitting I looked terrible.
I’d barely managed to powder my nose to reduce the shine and add a little blush and mascara. Today, the smattering of freckles I worked hard to hide with makeup was like a beacon of innocence.
Only the things I’d been through, the horrors I’d seen in my short life would age anyone. It certainly had done so with me. After taking a deep breath, I purposely turned away, feeling more alone than I had in a very long time.
At least I’d remembered that an old friend lived in New Orleans. When I’d called her, she’d given me advice on a cheap hotel. I’d packed up and had left New York only a few hours after the incident at the theater.
The email I’d left the ballet director in New York had been written amidst tears and anguished sobs. At least the lie of a family member facing a horrific medical condition seemed plausible enough. Maybe I’d merely flamed the bridge and hadn’t burned it down.
After stopping to catch my bearings, I almost experienced a panic attack. I’d been on fast forward for almost four days, everyday little more than a blur. I had almost nothing to my name, two bags containing years of my life but nothing to show for my hard work. What little money I’d saved was safely tucked away inside my bra. A trick I’d learned from one of my roommates.
I’d never felt more like a pauper in my life. I certainly couldn’t stay in a hotel for very long. That meant I’d need to get a job, one that hopefully worked around my schedule at the ballet.
First things first. Meeting with my old friend. At least having someone I knew in the new city should prove grounding.
I was excited to see Emmeline again. She’d always been a breath of fresh air. I rounded the corner, checking the GPS on my phone as I did. She’d asked me to meet her where she worked. Indulgence. It sounded like a club, but it was ten-thirty in the morning.
The hard thud jarred every muscle, the tremendous force catching me completely off guard, so much so I stumbled backwards only to be saved by two strong hands grabbing me. For a few seconds, it was as if I was floating instead of falling.
“Whoa. I’m sorry. Are you alright?”
The strong hands belonged to a very sexy man with a deep and husky voice, the tone as alluring as any I’d heard in a very long time.
No, it wasn’t possible. Not three times in twelve hours.
His voice was low and smoky, a little rough around the edges. Blinking and shocked that I was winded, I slowly lifted my gaze to stare into the most enigmatic pair of midnight blue eyes I’d ever seen. With flecks of gold and silver surrounding his irises, the stark shimmer was momentarily mesmerizing.
My entire world froze, my mind incapable of processing or accepting what I was seeing.
Him.
No. No. There was no chance in hell this was a coincidence. He was just as shocked, maybe even more so than I was.
Yep, my luck sucked. The man from the night and morning before. Fear swept through me gnawing at my insides. My instinct was to fight him, but his hold was firm, the look on his eyes as defiant as mine likely was. I’d worked so hard to hide every emotion, pretending I was perfectly fine being alone, but I’d never felt so entirely devoid of anyone to support me my entire life.
“My perfect Aphrodite,” he said under his breath. “My lost angel. How amazing running into you for a third time.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I bit my lip. Would he buy the charade or toss me into the ocean?
He took a deep breath, cocking his head as if trying to decide what the hell to do with me. “Is that the way you want to play it?”
“I’m sorry?”
While his voice was full of amusement, his entire face was pinched in confusion and uncertainty, his eyes scrutinizing mine. I prayed that he’d let it go. Couldn’t he get the hint? I just wanted to pretend that we hadn’t been embroiled in utter sin.
