Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
I get dressed quickly, pulling on a dark coat and sneakers, the movements mechanical, my hands still trembling slightly as I tie the laces. I take the money and slip out of the penthouse before the bodyguards on the floor below can notice, taking the service stairs instead of the elevator. My heart is pounding as I push open the side door and step into the city night air. It’s cool against my face, carrying the faint smells of damp pavement and distant exhaust.
The early-morning quiet presses in around me.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
RICCI
The kitchen at Leonardo’s is quiet. The last of the staff is long gone, the big stainless-steel counters are wiped clean and gleaming under the low overhead lights. I’m sitting at the small staff table tucked against the back wall, the same place I’ve sat at for years when things get too heavy. Over a bottle of Barolo, I tell him that the news has spread.
Word is out that I was the one responsible for Salvatore’s death. It was always a natural suspicion. I was the closest to him, the one who stood to gain everything. But no one actually believed it. Not until tonight. Now the speculation is everywhere, and I’m no longer safe around the rest of the family. The men who once followed me without question are going to start looking at me sideways. Old loyalties will crack. I can feel the shift already, like the ground moving under my feet.
Leonardo meets my gaze across the small table. His eyes are steady as he sets his wine glass down with a soft clink.
“There’s no more time,” he says quietly. “You have to protect her. And you have to protect yourself. You cannot take any chances.”
I sigh. I rub a hand over my jaw, feeling the stubble there, and the exhaustion pulling at the edges of my mind. Viola’s face flashes behind my eyes, the way she looked at me on the balcony, her eyes enormous with hurt and shock. I can’t let them touch her. I won’t.
“Is everything else arranged?” I ask, voice low.
Leonardo nods. “Yup. The accounts, the papers, the safe houses. All of it is ready. You just need to say when.”
I push back from the table and shrug back into my jacket. Leonardo rises with me, clapping a hand on my back in that trusting way of his. No long goodbyes. We’ve never needed them.
Then I walk out of the restaurant alone.
The cool night air hits me the second I step onto the sidewalk. My car is waiting at the curb. I slide in, pull the door shut with a solid thud, and reach for my phone.
“Miriam,” I drawl. “You’ve been looking for me, I hear.”
There’s a pause on the other end, then a short, surprised laugh. “Ricci Santori. I didn’t expect you to be the one calling me.”
I lean back against the seat, watching the buildings in the distance. My hand tightens around the phone. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. As you are well aware, there is no one who will be as knowledgeable or valuable to you as I am. But my cooperation will come at a very high price.”
She’s quiet for a beat, then asks, “What’s the price?”
I lay it out, clear and cold, the words I’ve turned over in my head a thousand times. “In exchange for full immunity for me and for Viola, and guaranteed protection for her no matter what happens, I’ll turn over everything. The entire Greco Mafia’s financial history. Every rotten thing they’ve done, they’re doing and everybody who’s doing it. I know where all the bodies are buried, literally and figuratively. One man and his wife in exchange for the whole rotten structure. Will you take the deal or live to regret it?”
The line goes silent for a few seconds. I can almost hear her thinking, weighing the offer against whatever orders she’s operating under.
“I like it in principle. Let’s meet.”
Chapter Seventy
VIOLA
The address the kidnapper gave me leads to a small boutique in a quiet side street in the West Village, the kind of place I might have wandered into on any other day without a second thought. Tucked between a quiet café and a vintage bookstore, it is just the sort of discreet little shop where a woman might slip in for a quick browse on a cold morning. My hands are still shaking slightly as I push open the door, the bell above it giving a soft, innocent chime. The air inside smells faintly of lavender and new wool, warm and inviting. I tell myself this will be over fast. Five thousand dollars. A quick exchange. Then I can get back to the penthouse, back to figuring out the mess with Ricci, back to breathing again.
I step deeper into the store, the wooden floor creaking softly under my sneakers. A few racks of clothing line the narrow space, coats and dresses hanging in neat rows. It’s very dimly lit and of course, empty. There’s no one behind the counter. The silence feels a little too complete, but I push the thought away. I’m just jumpy. Everything feels suspicious right now.