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“Is this the good shit?”
“Of course.” He tugs me to sit beside him, and I tense. “We only drink expensive liquor.”
“That’s right.” With his uninjured hand, he brings the rim to his mouth, his wrapped hand crushing my hip. “You’ll fit in just fine with the Scipione family, bimba. We drink the best things, eat the best things, and only fuck the best girls in the world.”
He gives me a leering glance, and I stop the gag. Barely.
“And once you’re mine, this,” he explains, looking around the suite, “is mine.”
I want to dig into that—what does he mean—but he’s not drinking, and I’m running out of time.
With two fingers, I lift the glass to his mouth and lean forward. At this angle, he gets a superb view of my cleavage, and it’s the perfect distraction. Freddie gulps down his beverage, and when it’s empty, I drop it on the side table.
Ello swings by, picking it up. Can’t leave evidence.
“You know, you are gorgeous,” he slurs. “Prissy, but damn. I bet you fuck better than anyone else I’ve met.”
Charming.
He falls back, blinking slowly.
“C’mere.” He pats his lap. “One time. No one will know.”
His eyes aren’t even open.
“I’m good.”
Standing, I tug my dress down, gather my purse, and cross my arms. Ello stands on the opposite side, and as Freddie’s breaths slow, he touches his neck.
“Still alive.”
“That’s all I need.”
He can’t die—yet. I have to break this contract, and therefore ruin any future marriages, too.
“How long do I have?”
“Just enough,” Ello says, looking at his watch. “You know the way. You need to get down there; otherwise, all this falls apart.”
“Right.” Steeling my spine, I salute him comically. “Keep up here. I don’t need you watching me.”
His skin takes on a greenish hue. “No. I’ll make sure no one bothers Freddie or discovers what happened. You just be careful down there.”
“Of course.” I have little choice.
With one last look, I grab the duffle bag beside the bar cart and descend the stairs, hopefully to my new future.
18
BRIAR
Where is she going?
Sitting at my family’s kitchen counter, I swipe through my phone at my camera positioned in Valentina’s room. She’s in another dress—a slip of a thing that makes my cock jerk and my hackles rise that someone is going to see her—and she’s fixing her makeup. She does her makeup only when she leaves the house.
She’s up to something. I’ve caught her multiple times picking up her phone, looking through our thread, then putting it down. She wants to tell me something—but she doesn’t.
“Who are you spying on?” Collins asks, walking into the kitchen.
