“You could and open yourself up to a political minefield. Or…help someone who has a rightful claim.” I can almost see the wheels turning, processing, plotting, thinking through all the ways he could manipulate this situation to his advantage.

  “The thought has crossed my mind, but a name is not enough to hold a mafia, and you will need to hold it. You’re of very little benefit to me otherwise. If your sister is anything to go by, you won’t last two minutes.”

  My spine instantly stiffens at his patronizing tone. When this is all said and done, he will know that I am far from the little girl he thinks I am.

  “I am not my sister. I am Adelina Ricci-Bianchi,” I say through clenched teeth. I know I have his attention when he tilts his head. “When the king falls, the kingdom belongs to the queen, does it not?”

  A small smile pulls at his lips. “In theory, though when the queen murders the king, that changes things a little.”

  “Unless there’s no one left to defend the kingdom.”

  He steeples his fingers in front of him. I can see him thinking, deliberating.

  “You have nothing to lose,” I push.

  Long seconds tick by before he finally speaks. “Just how do you propose to take the crown, Adelina?”

  I almost smile. “I need to go back to Sicily, to my sister. The Ricci name still instills loyalty from other families.” Our eyes lock, and the breath that was held captive in my lungs slowly releases.

  He taps his index finger over his bottom lip. “Okay, Ms. Bianchi. I will back you, but it will be from a distance. When the time is right, I will send you men and resources.” Hard eyes lock with mine. “This is a binding agreement. Do not disappoint me. I will not be as lenient with you as I was your sister. I have much higher hopes for you, Adelina.”

  It’s as close to a show of respect as I’m going to get from Nero, and I nod in acknowledgment of the threat. “I need help getting back into Sicily. I’ll be wanted. The Bianchi’s will have a price on my head by now.”

  “I can offer you a plane.”

  “Good. And I’m going to have to kill whoever is now top of the Bianchi family. I need an assassin.”

  He lifts a brow. “Then find one.”

  “You have one. A very good one.”

  “Sasha won’t do it again.”

  “My sister paid him for his services last time. I’ll pay him more.”

  “He won’t mix business and pleasure…again.” He eyes me up and down.

  “This is business, Nero, pure and simple.”

  “Perhaps you should have reminded yourself of that.”

  I let out a frustrated breath. I need to keep Sasha close and get him away from here. If I kill him in Sicily, I can make it look like it was Enrique, risen from the dead, and Una will kill Enrique in turn. My father will be brought to justice, finally. Beyond that, I’m not sure I even care about sitting on a foreign throne. But this is a means to an end, the back-up plan where love failed me. None of it works though if I don’t get Sasha to come with me.

  Nero lifts one dark brow. “I will speak with Sasha, but I make no promises.”

  “Thank you.” It’s the best I can ask for right now. Pushing to my feet, I turn and leave the office, releasing a hard breath the moment the door closes.

  I think whatever distrust Nero might feel toward me is over-shadowed by his male ego and his inability to see past what’s right in front of him. They think I’m nothing more than a naïve little girl on the run. My father didn’t raise me to be weak, but in the last few months, I’ve been reduced to the very thing I despise. I often ask myself if it’s really all worth it, but then, I’ve come this far. To give up now would render everything I’ve already endured pointless. Let them think I’m weak. They’ll see.

  4

  Sasha Sasha Sasha Sasha

  I knock on Nero’s office door and slip inside the room. The scent of dust, wood polish, and old books greets me.

  “You wanted to see me,” I say.

  “Yes. Sit.” He gestures to the leather couches that face each other in the center of the room.

  The leather creaks as I take a seat.

  Nero folds his arms over his chest and leans against the front of his desk. “I have a job for you,” he starts.

  I sigh. “Let me guess, you want me to go to Sicily?”

  His eyes pinch slightly. “Yes.”

  “And why would you require me to protect Adelina Ricci? Again.” He shifts, his expression hardening. “What’s in it for you, Nero?”

  “I am going to help Adelina become head of the Bianchi mafia in her husband’s stead.”

  “Head of…” I laugh. “Again, what’s in it for you?”

  His entire body stiffens. “What’s in it for me?” he roars. “That man hired the Elite, brought them to my fucking gate.”

  “He’s dead!”

  A small, twisted smirk pulls at his lips. “I will systematically tear that entire family to pieces and put the very woman who killed their king on the throne. It’s poetic really.”

  What if Adelina doesn’t want the throne? She was a normal girl once, until she was dragged into all this. I know Nero doesn’t care about that though.

  Nero smooth’s a hand down the front of his jacket, resuming his usual calm. “Adelina will pay you to kill Enrique’s replacement. And I need you to…protect my interests.”

  “I can’t,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “Because you’re in love with her?”

  “No.” Because she compromises everything that I am, like a poison.

  “It’s just another job.” He pushes off the desk and takes a few steps towards me. “I need you to do this for me. I know I have your loyalty.”

  “What about her?” I say quietly.

  He sighs. “Without us, how long do you think it will be before the Bianchi family gets her? A day? A week? Her sister can’t keep her safe.” His hands brace against his hips. “It’s just a job, Sasha. Unless you’re too involved with her to remain professional.”

  “Of course not. Adelina and I are no longer involved.”

  He nods. “Of course. She was a…how did you put it? A fleeting lapse in judgment.” He shrugs. “So, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  I can do this. One last job. Adelina can play the mafia queen. Nero will have his perfect little puppet, and I can once again become nothing more than a soldier. Away from her.

  I sit on the opposite side of the plane from Adelina, headphones in so as not to invite conversation. I still have nothing to say to her, and I’m irritated that she teamed up with Nero to get me here.

  After a few hours, movement in my periphery draws my attention. Adelina has fallen asleep, though she looks far from peaceful. Her body strains as though she’s fighting invisible hands, and a deep frown sinks a line between her brows. Her lips move, and I tug an earbud free.

  “No, no, no,” she pleads, breaths hitching erratically.

  I try not to think about what she’s dreaming of. Images flit through my mind, and I slam my eyes closed, forcing them away.

  A scream slips from Adelina’s throat, and I shove to my feet, grabbing her shoulder and shaking her roughly. When her eyes flash open, I see the blind fear in them, the horror. A lone tear clings to her eyelashes. Stepping back, I sit down and put my earbud back in, ignoring her stare. I do not care for her. I simply don’t want to listen to her screams.

  The plane bumps onto the tarmac at Palermo Airport, I glance out the portal window at the surrounding countryside. In the distance, terracotta-tiled villas dot the hillside, the surrounding fields speckled with hay bales. On the other side of the plane, I can see the ocean, stretching to the horizon, where it meets the bright blue sky. I’m not deceived by the quaint beauty here though. This country has been nothing but mayhem every time I’ve been here. All thanks to Adelina.

  A black SUV waits on the tarmac, sunshine glinting off the glossy paint. Gabriella’s right-hand man, Lorenzo, leans against the driver’s door. Adelina is quick to embrace him, kissing both cheeks as she smiles wide. She’s wearing jeans, a T-shirt and converse, and next to the suited, brawny man, she looks like nothing more than a child, a little girl.

  “Is Gabi okay?” she asks in a rush.

  His lined face crumples on a frown. “Yes, of course.”

  “Okay. Good. That’s good.”

  He opens the back door, and she climbs in. When his eyes meet mine, they’re hard and unforgiving. He’s evidently still bitter about the fact that he allowed Gabriella Ricci to be taken by Bianchi, and I had to go get her back. I don’t care for his personal feelings or Gabriella Ricci. I saved her because Nero asked me to and for Adelina. That’s it. I ignore the man as I climb inside the vehicle.

  The pair of them chat in Italian, though Adelina knows I understand every word.

  He mentions the wedding, and there’s an undertone of disappointment in his voice, though he never openly chastises her for marrying Bianchi. When he says that her father would have loved to have been there, I almost snort. A blatant lie.

  I wonder, if Adelina had insisted on marrying Bianchi, would Eduardo Ricci have stopped it? But of course, he wouldn’t have had to. If he weren’t dead, then she never would have been on a blind revenge mission. Though, if he had simply allowed her to be wed, he may still be alive. Not for the first time, I’m painfully aware of my role in the path that Adelina has taken. Her father’s death was a catalyst for all that has followed.

  Equally, had I never killed him, we never would have been thrown together. It was supposed to just be a job, but the consequences have been far-reaching for so many. I wish I’d never taken the job, never met Adelina, and never fallen for her, only to watch her marry the enemy. But here we are again, full circle. Me, taking a job, only this time, I’m aware of the facts, and I know to be wary of her charms.

  I tune out their conversation. It’s nothing of any importance, and I feel as though I’m intruding.

  When we reach Gabriella Ricci’s villa, I step out of the car. Though it’s winter now, there’s still a warmth in the air that New York lacks. Truthfully, I like the winter in the city. The cut of the icy winds and snow-covered streets remind me of home.

  The ocean can be heard lapping at the cliffs that extend beyond the gardens. A gull caws overhead as it drifts on the breeze. It’s peaceful here, quiet, and that is something I miss. Adelina loops her hand through Lorenzo’s elbow as they stroll toward the front door of her childhood home. She smiles up at him, their bond clear, almost fatherly. Once again, I’m reminded of what I took from her, but I smother the notion quickly. I’m not here to feel remorse for anything.

  As soon as we’re inside, heels hurriedly click over the old terracotta-tile floor, rushing toward us. Gabriella rounds the corner and practically runs to her sister. Gabriella Ricci has always been the image of poise and grace, a mafia leader. Now though, she throws her arms around her younger sister’s neck and chokes back a sob as she buries her face in Adelina’s shoulder. “I didn’t expect to see you again,” she breathes.

  Adelina winds her arms around her sister’s back. “I’m fine, Gabi.”

  Even her own sister thought she would die in Bianchi’s house. When they finally pull apart, Gabriella’s gaze slides to mine. The smallest of smiles touches her lips, and her expression softens as she gives me a tiny nod. Then her features shutter once more, the mask she must wear slipping back into place.

  “Good to see you, Sasha,” she says. “Come. We have business to discuss.”

  She turns, once more the stoic head of the Ricci family. Of course, I know differently. Adelina was once the naïve one, while her sister was the favored child, chosen to lead. Perhaps Eduardo simply respected that she was older because he surely must have seen that Adelina would have been the better choice. Gabriella came face to face with Enrique Bianchi once, and it terrified her. She backed down almost instantly like a dog with a boot on its throat. Meanwhile, Adelina, the one who was kept out of the mafia, the one who should have been weak, willingly married the creature just so she could slay him.

  We walk down the hallway and into an office. Gabriella takes a seat at the desk that looks entirely too big for her. A painting of Eduardo Ricci with two little girls hangs on the wall directly behind her, reminding everyone in the room that she has some very big shoes to fill.

  A couch sits to one side of the room, and I go to it, taking a seat. Lorenzo sits on the other end, and Adelina slides between us.

  “So, you killed Enrique Bianchi,” Gabriella starts.

  Adelina stiffens, her fist balling against her thigh. “I put a blade in his throat.”

  Gabriella smiles. “I’m so proud of you, Lina.”

  The same smile doesn’t reach Adelina’s face. Instead, she looks…haunted.

  “I’m going to move to take control of the Bianchi family business,” Adelina says.

  Gabriella’s brows pull together tightly. “What?” She trips over the single word.

  On a deep sigh, Adelina pushes to her feet and shifts until she can face both Gabriella and me. “I have a target on my back. I can either run from my enemy or control them.”

  I almost believe that she actually wants this, but I know better. Nero is skilled at making the most flawed plan seem like a great idea.

  Gabriella snorts. “You think they’ll allow Enrique’s widow to run the family? The one who made herself a widow, incidentally.”

  “I never said it needed to happen willingly.”

  “War? Lina, we are not in a position to take on the Bianchi’s again. Nero won’t back me now—”

  “No, he’s backing me. But I need your help.”

  A tense silence descends over the room. Gabriella stares at her sister, and the muscles in her jaw start to tic.

  “It’s not personal, Gabi.”

  “Just business?” Gabriella pushes to her feet and rounds the desk. She seems to grow taller with each step and looks every inch the mafia leader, in her tailored, black dress and power heels. How deceiving looks can be. “Be careful with Nero Verdi, little sister. His loyalty only goes as far as your ability to serve him.”

  Adelina holds her sister's gaze. “As with any ally.”

  There’s another tense beat before Gabriella nods. “What do you need?”

  “A meeting with Matteo Santori.”

  Gabriella frowns. “Santori. Why?”

  “No one can stand alone, Gabi. I may have Nero, but I am very much alone here in Sicily. He approached me at the engagement party. I believe he was offering me an out from Enrique.”

  More of Nero’s convoluted plans? No, I don’t think so. This is Adelina working off her own back. She doesn’t trust Nero. Clever girl. I almost smile.

  “The Santori’s aren’t strong, Miss Adelina,” Lorenzo says. “You know they’re small business. Cannabis and party drugs, mainly.”

  “Father always said they were honorable and loyal to a fault.”

  He nods. “That they are.”

  “I don’t need power and money. I need loyalty.” Adelina’s gaze shifts to me, ocean-blue eyes a swirling void of calculation. “Sasha, can you find out who would be next in line behind Enrique?”

  I push to my feet, tension gripping my muscles. “I’m not here to help you, Adelina. Your war is your own.” Now both sisters are staring at me. “I’m here to protect you at Nero’s request. If you want someone dead, then pay me and it will be done. Beyond those two tasks, I do not work for you.” I walk toward the door, and no one stops me as I leave.

  I make my way outside the house before crossing the gardens. Velvety grass rounds the side of the house and stretches away until it reaches the edge of the cliffs. Below, the ocean rhythmically kisses the rocks, and it’s almost soothing. I take a seat on a small stone bench only a few feet from the edge. The sunshine bathes me in warmth, and I close my eyes as I inhale the scent of the sea.

  I don’t want to be here. I know my indifference will be threatened in her domain, in her constant presence. I think Sicily will probably always remind me of her. The sun, the sea, the cobbled streets, and terracotta-tiled roofs. We ran through Sicily and Italy together.

  I still remember the first ferry ride from Naples to Ischia. The way she stood on the deck of the boat, the sea breeze whipping her hair away from her face. I thought her skin was like golden sunshine, and there was a wildness in her that reminded me of the ocean itself. She made me peer out of my self-imposed prison of restraint. She made me want to experience just a taste of that wildness. And before I knew it, she had unlocked the door and dragged me into the chaos with her. Just when I thought I liked it, she tore herself from me, leaving me to face it alone. I had managed to get back into my box and close the door, but being with her, here, the lock is rattling. I can’t go back out there, so I can’t help her. She’s a job, nothing more. That is how I stay within these bars. I can’t be invested in her fate anymore.

  A throat clears, and I’m instinctively on my feet, hand on the gun holstered at my thigh in a heartbeat.

  Gabriella stills, raising both hands. “It’s just me.”

  I relax, and she lowers her hands. She’s still wearing her formal-looking dress, but her shoes are gone, and she now pads barefoot over the carpet like grass.

  “Sit down, Sasha,” she orders as she drops onto one side of the bench, and I perch on the cool stone as she lets out a sigh. “Adelina needs you,” she says.

  “I’m here in a professional capacity, Gabriella.”

  “I know she hurt you.”

  “What Adelina and I had was a moment of weakness.”

  She stares out over the ocean, and the sun makes her inky black hair shine. “You love her.”

  “That time has passed.”

  She narrows her eyes, studying me intently. “Has it? Or are you just hurt by her actions?”

  I shutter my expression entirely. “Do not try to place normal emotions on me. I assure you, I have none.”

  Her lips twitch before a smile that annoys me graces them. “You don’t believe that, Sasha. Whatever you once were, you aren’t that anymore.” She lifts a brow. “You can glare all you like, but having emotions doesn’t make you any less of a soldier.”