I put the photos back into the envelope and drive back to the villa.

  I find both the sisters in the office. Gabriella sits at the desk, Adelina, on it. The second I step through the door, two sets of eyes are on me. The sisters are similar yet different. Gabriella is all dark eyes and jet black hair to Adelina’s blue and chocolate brown. Gabriella has a severity to her, where her sister dons jeans and a tank top. They’re contradictions.

  “Well? Any luck?” Gabriella asks.

  I take the envelope from my pocket and hand it to Adelina.

  She removes the pictures, her eyes widening ever so slightly. “Sergio Fonzo is scarface,” she breathes. She scans the images, a frown crossing her face.

  “He’s been staying at a hotel. The Riviera.”

  The concern on her face deepens. “I know it. It’s in the central tourist area, near Maljik beach.”

  I nod. “It will make it easier to get near him but harder to kill him without drawing attention.” I look at Adelina. “Anything that happens from here on out will land squarely on your shoulders. If we make this a public debacle, they’ll be forced to push back ten times harder. If they don’t, they’ll look weak. Kill him quietly and they have the opportunity to at least save face where rival families are concerned.”

  Gabriella folds her arms over her chest. “Does it matter? War is war. They’ll come for her either way.”

  I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. For the head of a mafia family, she lacks the ability to think strategically. I’m just about to open my mouth and explain the basic principle of how to do her job when Adelina speaks.

  “He’s right. This needs to be done quietly. That way, if I take over, the family will still seem outwardly united.”

  “So they can off you on the inside with very little resistance? No.” Gabriella rounds her father’s desk and comes to stand in front of Adelina. She’s taller than her younger sister, and outwardly, she would seem the more domineering of the two in her smart dress and expensive, designer shoes. She isn’t, though, and I think she’s starting to realize it.

  “You have to trust me, Gabi. I know what I’m doing.”

  Gabriella scoffs. “You are a child, Lina. You weren’t raised for this.”

  “I assure you, whatever innocence I had has been well and truly taken.” Her choice of words has something uncomfortable twisting in my stomach.

  Innocence taken. The images that race through my mind, well, I wish that I could dig them out because they bother me far more than they should.

  Adelina turns to me, dismissing her sister. “Kill him. Quietly.”

  I nod and leave the room, the sound of the sisters bickering still reaching me halfway down the hall. Finally, I can do my job. I’m one step closer to going home. Adelina is one step closer to sitting on a throne she never wanted. And this…confused period in my life can come to an end.

  7

  Adelina

  Sasha is going after Sergio Fonzo tomorrow night. He’s been running surveillance on him for the last two days, and I haven’t seen him. My stomach knots with nerves at the thought of him going after scarface for reasons I can’t explain to myself. He’s a killer. This is what he does. Maybe I’m just worried he’ll get killed before I have the chance to end him. That’s what I try to tell myself anyway.

  Of course, as soon as Sasha kills Sergio, Enrique will know something is wrong. He’ll come for me. Maybe I’ll be able to get Sasha to kill him, but I can’t rely on that. Enrique is smarter than I’ve ever really given him credit for. I’m running out of time.

  I find myself outside Sasha’s bedroom door without really remembering how I got here. I think I need…a friend. My hand hesitates an inch away from the wood. He’s not your friend. He killed Daddy. In our situation, I go through moments where I almost forget, where I see him the way I did before. A soldier, a savior, a lover. Then I remember, and that festering resentment rises up like a wave, drowning out everything else. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to forget, trying to force it away. I take a step back, my hand falling to my side. No, Sasha is not my friend, no matter how much I might need one.

  The floorboard creaks under my foot, and the door flies open. In the blink of an eye, I’m staring down the barrel of a gun. My eyes slide past the weapon to Sasha, heart thrumming in my chest so hard it’s choking me. He won’t shoot me, but basic survival instinct kicks in when a gun is pointed in my face. He lowers the weapon, and I’m met with a fierce glare.

  “What are you doing?” he asks.

  “I…” I stumble over words. “I wanted to speak to you.”

  “About what?”

  “Uh, just…” I drag a hand through my hair, hating the nervousness that flutters in my stomach. Am I scared of him? I should be.

  He moves back and opens the door wider, a silent invitation. I take uncertain steps forward until I’m standing in his room. The space smells like him, fresh mint and just…clean. The scent brings a wave of nostalgia because my mind still associates it with the way he made me feel. Before all of this, back when I was a scared girl, and he was the only one who made me feel safe.

  His long legs eat up the distance across the room as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed. He looks relaxed, legs spread casually, his elbows resting on them. “What do you need?” he asks impatiently.

  “Matteo Santori wants my answer by tomorrow,” I say, telling him exactly what’s plaguing me.

  “And you’re here, why?”

  I release the breath that feels as though it’s about to make my ribs crack. “I need advice.”

  “From me?”

  “I can’t ask Gabriella. She’s so set against my entering into another betrothal. And…” I duck my chin to my chest, looking down at my own knotted fingers. “I have no one else.”

  “I think we both know that my opinion means little to you.”

  “Because I didn’t listen to you when it came to Enrique? If I hadn’t married him willingly, he would have forced me to eventually. You know that. Better I seem willing and get close enough to end all this.”

  His eyes harden at the words “get close.”

  “I was backed into a corner.”

  “I was willing to protect you,” he growls.

  “At what cost?” I shout. “Were we supposed to run forever?”

  He says nothing for long moments. Those eyes, such a clear, frosty blue, seem to strip away my flesh until he can see my soul. Every weakness, every undesirable trait. “And now? Are you backed into a corner?” His head tilts to the side the way it always does when he’s trying to work me out and anticipate my next move. “Because the way I see it, you have free choice. You just can’t help yourself, Adelina. You throw yourself into dangerous situations again and again.”

  “Because I’m never safe. I will never be safe until this is all over.” I pant several breaths. “I’m so tired of being used by everyone, surrounded by false friends.”

  Him being the worst culprit.

  His lips flatten. “Well, you seem to burn friends as quickly as you gain enemies.” He meant for that to hurt, and it does.

  “I didn’t ask for any of this. I just need someone in my corner.”

  “And you think that someone is Santori?”

  “He’d be an ally.”

  “You have allies.”

  I snort. “Nero? My sister had him as an ally once. Look where that got her.”

  “Your sister was weak. She disappointed him.”

  My teeth clench hard enough that my jaw aches. “He took advantage of her.”

  He says nothing for long moments until the silence feels oppressive. His stare is so intense, I want to look away, but I can’t. “What is all of it worth in the end, Adelina? Santori will help you, and for what? So you’re stuck in exactly the same situation again, only you believe this man is more noble than the last.”

  “He offered me an out. After six months, if I don’t want—”

  “You know as well as I do, a mafia betrothal is binding. If you take the Bianchi seat and become engaged to him, do you really think he’ll let you walk away?”

  “He’s not like that.”

  Sasha’s lips twitch before a rare laugh slips from his throat. “After all you’ve seen and been through, you cannot tell me you’re still this naïve. Your hand would buy him power, access to a combined Bianchi and Ricci empire. All men want power, even the ‘nice’ ones.”

  I swallow heavily, feeling stupid and confused all at once. “What would you have me do?”

  “From a strategic standpoint, it would be a strong maneuver. Combined, you’ll have a lot of power and money.”

  “I don’t want your strategic view. I want a personal one.” I catch the slight softening in his eyes and take a step closer until my knees almost touch his. I find myself needing to hear his words, his feelings. I want him to talk me out of it, for no other reason than he simply doesn’t want me to marry another man. I reach out, halting just before my fingers touch his.

  His eyes drop to my hand, then lift back to my face. Something unfurls between us, tentative yet familiar.

  “Tell me not to do. As my friend.”

  He pushes to his feet, towering over me until my chest brushes his. “We were never friends, Adelina,” he whispers. He reaches out, delicately stroking a strand of hair away from my face as his eyes trace over my features.

  A trembling breath slips from my lips, and I sway toward him like a drunk.

  He leans in farther until his lips almost touch mine. “Go to Santori. Make your deal,” he says before pulling away.

  I drop my gaze to the floor, disappointment niggling at my chest, though I tell myself that I’m simply irritated because it means I won’t be able to get close enough to kill him any time soon.

  “Thank you for the advice.” I turn and leave the room, pulling it closed behind me. As the latch clicks into place, I release a long breath. I don’t know what I’m doing or why anymore. I need to prioritize my motivations.

  I watch Sasha pull away, the wheels of the SUV spitting gravel everywhere as he floors it out the gate.

  I anxiously smooth the material of my dress down and make my way through the lobby. The enormous mirror throws my reflection back at me, making me pause. From the heels on my feet to the tight twist of my hair, I look just like my sister. Presentable. Powerful. For a moment, I almost mourn the loss of myself because I realize there’s not a trace of the old Adelina Ricci to be found. There’s something sad about that.

  I pace the lobby, my heels clicking over the terracotta tile until my feet begin to hurt. Finally, I hear a car pull up in the driveway. The seconds seem to tick by perilously slow until the silence in the house feels oppressive. I count two sets of footsteps before the doorbell rings. When I swing the door open, Matteo waits for me. A wide smile splits his lips as his eyes subtly sweep my body. He looks so handsome, and I have to wonder how he doesn’t already have a wife. Another man lingers behind him, his stern expression and distinct lack of interest marking him as security.

  “Matteo. Come in.”

  As he steps into the foyer, I notice, for the first time, the way he carries himself. Like a man who knows he holds all the cards but feels no need to voice it. I’ve always gotten the sense that the Santori family was much more than they seemed.

  I lead him and his bodyguard through the house and into my father’s office. I could have chosen any room; there are plenty that would match the casual setting in which he held out first meeting, but I brought him here. As I sit in my father’s office chair, I can almost feel his hand on my shoulder, guiding me. Matteo takes the seat across from me, deftly flicking the button on his jacket until the material falls apart, revealing a matching charcoal grey waistcoat with a cobalt blue tie. He’s every inch the suited and booted businessman, dressed to intimidate. His eyes drift to the painting that hangs on the wall behind me. A small smile tilts his lips as he leans back in the chair and props an ankle on his knee.

  “All business today, I see.”

  I brace my elbows on the old, scarred wood of my father’s desk. “This is a business arrangement, is it not?”

  His eyes narrow. “You look good in that seat. Your father would be proud, though they are big shoes to fill.”

  “Luckily, I don’t have to. My sister does a good enough job.”

  The condescending smile is barely there, but I see it, and I know he thinks Gabi is weak. By now, news of her getting kidnapped by Enrique is well known. He made her look weak but worse, he made her a fool.

  “Have you thought about my offer?” Matteo asks.

  “Yes.”

  He lifts a brow. “And what have you decided?”

  “I will agree to your arrangement, but with my own condition in place.”

  He shifts, placing both feet flat on the floor and leaning forward enough to prop his elbows on his knees. “Well, I’m all ears.”

  “I don’t want an official betrothal. No big announcement. Only you and I will know the true details of our arrangement. It will be…as if we were dating.”

  He inhales a deep, audible breath, his expression tightening. “That won’t work. I need it known publically that we are bound to each other, in a form, at least.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if I can put you in the Bianchi seat, then other suitors are sure to pursue that power. How can I be sure that you won’t simply pick a better option?”

  My temper spikes along with my pulse. I square my shoulders and meet his gaze. “Do you think I sell myself so easily, Matteo?”

  “I don’t mean–”

  I shove to my feet, slamming my palms down on the desk. “My father was a good man, a loving father, and a strong leader, and yet he sold me without my knowledge. In the blink of an eye, my father was dead, and I was promised to the man who had killed him. I have run and been hunted across the globe. I have accepted my fate and vowed to get revenge. I have married and been forced to do unspeakable things with the man responsible for his death, and I have killed him in turn.” My breaths fall from my lips in rapid pants. “I will not be bound to another man, and I will not sell myself like an over-used cow at market, as I was before.”

  He lifts a brow. “That’s quite a speech.” He says it without a single trace of mocking in his tone.

  “If my verbal agreement is not enough for you, then we cannot make a deal. I will not be a pawn in another man's game, no matter how honorable you insist your intentions are.” I sit back down. “If you are truly as noble as you claim, then you will date me and win my affection the traditional way.”

  “Win your affection?” That smile crosses his lips again and makes me feel like I’m missing some joke. “Well, I’m confident I could at least do that. But as you know, betrothals are not about affection, Ms. Bianchi.”

  I inhale a deep breath. “It’s all I can offer you. I would like your help but not at the cost of my freedom.”

  “I appreciate that. I only want to support you.”

  I lock eyes with him. “If that is true, then be different. Be better. Offer me help based on our mutual, verbal agreement and our families' long-standing friendship.”

  On a sigh, he pushes to his feet and re-fastens the buttons of his jacket, nipping his narrow waist once more. “I must consult my father.”

  We both know what that means. Mafia’s are run by old men through young men. Their traditions and values are unshakeable. His father will never agree to this. For a moment, I almost re-consider, because I really do need his political ties.

  But I remember what brought me here, to this decision. I’m fed up with having to barter myself based on my name, my marital status, what’s between my legs… If I’m to truly take the Bianchi seat, I can’t rely on all that comes with being a woman. I have to step up and demand to be treated as they would a man. Few women in the mafia have managed it, my sister being among them, but some…the most ruthless, have. That is what I must become.

  Matteo turns toward the door.

  “Matteo?”

  He pauses and glances over his shoulder at me.

  “I will take the Bianchi seat, with or without you, and when I do, I will remember those who helped me. And I will remember those who tried to take advantage.”

  His lips twist. “You cannot take it without allies, Adelina.”

  I smile back and tilt my head to the side. “Oh, you think you’re my only option?” I laugh. “No. I have allies, they’re just…a little bloodthirsty. My coming to you…that’s me trying to do this the nice way, the political way.” It’s true, with the right political alliances, I wouldn’t even need to kill anyone. I could have the entire Bianchi mafia behind bars. Nero, however, isn’t a man of mercy. Bullets are faster than negotiations, after all. “Without you, well, this all becomes a bit messier.”

  Matteo’s smile falls, and his eyes narrow. “Perhaps you are more of your father’s daughter than Gabriella.”

  I cock a brow. “Perhaps.”

  He jolts his chin in a small nod and leaves the room. His bodyguard follows suit, and the second the door closes, I release a long breath.

  Turning my chair, I stare up at the picture of Daddy on the wall. I wonder if he would be proud of me or simply disappointed by my failures.

  8

  Sasha

  The Riviera Hotel is the tallest building on the beachfront, and Sergio, of course, has the penthouse suite on the top floor. There’s absolutely no way to get a clean shot from any of the surrounding buildings. I could get him on the street, but killing a mafia boss in public is considered poor taste. It would undoubtedly come back on Adelina and Nero badly, so I’m forced to get up close and personal.

  I walk into the hotel, tugging at the tie that feels as though it’s choking me. When I broach the front desk, the girl behind it offers me a wide smile.