Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
The Mafia isn’t known for forgiveness, and I can’t count on a man to protect me over his own interests. The man I was supposed to marry certainly didn’t. And neither did my father.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but it shouldn’t be. I’ve known this all along.
I live with enough guilt for deceiving my friends, and I don’t need to add Cristian to that list. He’s making sacrifices with the belief that this could actually be more than what it is.
But it can’t be.
I need to make that clear before I ruin both of our lives.
23
CRISTIAN
After a tense standoff with Angelo, I walk down the hall to find the bed empty. The bathroom door is open, and the scent of lemon and vanilla hangs in the air from her shower.
It only takes one look at her as she applies her makeup to see that something has shifted this morning. She won’t look at me, and she’s dressed for a workout in a pair of leggings and a sports bra.
“Out of bed already?” I move in behind her, settling a hand on her hip as I meet her reflection in the mirror.
She tenses beneath my touch, and I don’t like it.
“I have a Pilates class,” she says.
Now I know she’s looking for an excuse to leave, because she reserves harder classes for her days off. Today isn’t one of them.
“How much of that did you hear?” I ask.
“Probably not all of it.”
Her response is toneless—armor meant to convince everyone she’s incapable of being hurt.
It weighs heavy on me, because I know I fucked up.
Things with Chantel have never been linear. Vulnerability destabilizes the system she’s built to protect herself, and the concept of trust terrifies her.
Whatever she heard in my conversation with Angelo validated her uncertainty. But I know better than to push her when fear has her in its grip. It’s the reason she ran from me in the first place, and it’s a mistake I won’t make twice.
She only surrenders in moments she feels safe. When she doesn’t, she retreats.
So as much as I hate it, I release her and give her some space.
“I’ll be here when you want to talk about it.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She tosses her makeup into her bag and zips it up. “I just want this to be over. You go back to your life, and I’ll go back to mine, and we can pretend this never happened.”
“No.”
Something sharp twists in my gut as she meets my reflection in the mirror with empty eyes.
“Angelo was right. There’s nothing in this for you.”
“Enjoy your class.” I scrape a hand over my face and stalk down the hall.
I’m in the kitchen checking the text from Bruno when I hear the front door slam. He’s here to pick her up, and I already have eyes on her outside. But it doesn’t stop me from pulling up the camera to make sure she’s safe as she gets in the car.
I assign two extra guards to follow her as an itchy feeling claws at my throat. I don’t like the idea of her out in the world with her stalker roaming free, and we still don’t know who he is.
Romeo and I planted surveillance in Black Velvet, and I’ve been trying to narrow down the pool of suspects. But so far, it hasn’t produced any solid leads. And as much as it might appeal to me to lock Chantel away, it would only make her hate me.
Once she’s gone, I make a quick call to Romeo to check in. It takes him forever to answer, and when he finally does, it’s clear that I woke him.
“Have you forgotten I don’t get up at the ass crack of dawn?” he grumbles.
“I need to know where we’re at on the stalker.”
He heaves out a sigh, then murmurs something into the background, presumably to Gabi, telling her to go back to sleep.
“Give me a minute,” he says.
There’s some rustling around on his end before I hear him typing at his computer.
“The bug in the dressing room picked up pieces of a conversation between Chantel and her friend. She told Chantel more letters had arrived. Five of them, from the sounds of it.”
“He’s escalating.” I let out a frustrated breath. “Nothing of significance on the cameras backstage?”
“The only people entering the dressing room are the other performers and staff.”
I pause to think about our next steps. I’ve already vetted the male staff at the club, and Romeo’s been tracking their locations for the past week. There’s no indication any of them have been following Chantel.
Having a camera in the dressing room would provide tangible proof, but that crosses far too many lines.
“Do you think one of the other dancers is just trying to scare her?” Romeo asks. “Maybe they want her to quit.”