For the second time in my life, I’ve been traded away for my father’s gain. I never harbored any fantasies about him regretting how he treated me once he realized I ran away, but experiencing his ice-cold ruthlessness still feels like a kick in my gut.
He’s right about one thing. He’s not Papà anymore. Even that simple term carries a connotation of affection I no longer feel.
I am an object to him.
I have to trust I’m more than that for Damiano, but trusting anyone is difficult for me these days. I wish he’d pushed harder to get more information about Gemma. What are they going to do to her? Her betrayal will be punished. How harshly? I don’t know. All I do know is I’m to blame for putting her in that position.
Since we hung up on my father, Damiano and I’ve been on our feet. He’s figuring out the logistics of getting my father’s drugs to Ibiza. I roam the halls and try to identify where Lazaro might break in from, even though Damiano has reassured me ten times over he’ll never be able to get in.
When he sees me hovering by the living room window, he comes over and stops behind me. “The police have his photo,” he says as he brushes my hair off my neck. “They’ve been instructed to bring him to me as soon as they see him anywhere on the island.”
I look over my shoulder at him. “You’re working with the police?”
“I’ve had the chief in my pocket for years. My point is he won’t find you, Vale. He’ll be dead before he lays eyes on you.”
I want to believe him, but something holds me back. It’s funny how things can change so quickly. Last night, when I was in his arms, safe and warm, I would have believed anything he said. If he asked me to stay with him then, I would have said yes. Now, my world feels like a glass plate spinning on a thin wooden pole. I don’t know what to do with myself. Thinking about the future fills me with dread.
“Where’s Martina?” I ask.
He glances in the direction of her room. “She’s still asleep. When she wakes, don’t tell her about Lazaro, all right? I’m afraid she won’t take it well if she knows he might already be on the island. He killed her friend, and—”
“I understand.” He doesn’t need to explain it to me. I know exactly what Martina is feeling. “I’ll keep her company.”
Damiano’s eyes soften. “I appreciate it. I’ve got a few things to review, will you be all right?”
“Go, I’m fine.”
He curls his fist into my shirt at the small of my back, presses me into him, and brings our lips together. I give him what I have, but God, it feels all wrong. The closer Lazaro gets, the more I think about the past and the awful things I did.
The day drags on even once Martina wakes and we get busy in the kitchen. She teaches me how to make her favorite cake, and we spend hours baking all the layers and making the flavored creams. At one point, I have to pause and duck into the bathroom to collect myself. It’s so absurd to be baking while a killer is probably on his way over. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself. Then I return to the kitchen and pour myself a large glass of wine.
When the evening comes and the skies begin to dim, we sit down for dinner. We’re halfway through our grilled tuna steak when the doorbell rings.
I jolt out of my seat. Is it Lazaro? No, that’s impossible. He wouldn’t ring the doorbell.
Damiano settles me with a calm look. “I’ll be right back,” he says, lifting his napkin off his lap and putting it by his plate.
“Are you okay?” Martina asks, her face lined with concern.
I realize I’m still standing, so I sit back down. “Yeah, fine. Just a little jumpy.”
My racing heartbeat slows only when Damiano reenters the room with Ras by his side.
“You’re back,” I say, noting Ras’s tired eyes.
They lose their tiredness as soon as they land on me. He comes closer, shaking his head, as if I’ve sorely disappointed him. “Look.” He sticks out his hand.
There’s a very clear bite mark on his index finger. My eyes widen. “That’s from Gemma?”
He drags a chair out and sinks into it. His eyes flash with a dark curiosity I hadn’t seen in him before. “I’ve got a few long gashes on my back as well. I swear, she must spend her free time sharpening her nails into knives.”
I arch a brow. “What did you expect? You ambushed her in the women’s change room. I’d be more concerned if she didn’t put up a fight.”
He huffs a laugh. “I’ve never had a woman I haven’t slept with rough me up like that.”
Is it just me, or does he sound mildly impressed?
“Do you know what your father’s going to do to her now that she’s been caught helping?” Ras asks and looks down at the plate Martina places in front of him.
“No. He wouldn’t tell us.”
Damiano meets my gaze. “I’ll find out. I just need a bit more time to secure the deal.”
Would he be able to patiently wait if this was Martina we were talking about? I glance away. Ras doesn’t look too happy with that answer either. He sticks his fork into the tuna and tears off a piece.
“How did she look?” I ask him. “Did she seem happy?”
Ras peers at me from under his brows. “She looked…fine.” He clears his throat. “We didn’t talk much until she got on the phone with you.”
There has to be something I can do for my sister from my new position by Damiano’s side.
But it’s not up to me. It’s up to him. He will be don, and it will be his word that matters, not mine.
“Finish up your food in my office,” Damiano tells Ras as he gets up. “We have things to discuss.”
I’m so absorbed with my worries I barely notice them leave. My wineglass is empty. I refill it nearly to the brim.
Why did I agree to involve Gemma in all of this? I should have run when Damiano offered me my freedom, instead of sticking around and thinking I can help. Now I’ve created problems for her and I don’t know how to solve them. It’s like everything I touch turns rotten. Damiano might not understand this yet, but I know it to be true.
I’m sick of it. Sick of being who I am. A coward, a fool, and a killer.
Rising from the table, I realize Martina is gone too. Wasn’t she here when Ras and Damiano went to his office?
A foreboding feeling prickles the back of my neck. She probably went up to her room when she realized I wasn’t in the mood to converse. Still, I decide to check on her. When I get to her bedroom door, it’s silent on the other side. I knock and walk in. She’s not there.
My feet move quickly as I go back down and check the kitchen, the next most likely place for her to be. It’s empty. I grab a small cutting knife and slip it into my pocket, alarm bells ringing inside my head.
When I return to the living room, I see something move by the pool. I walk closer and closer to the glass doors leading outside. It’s dark out there, with just the built-in lights giving the water a soft glow, but I can’t see around the edges of the garden.
I flip the light switch. Suddenly, everything is illuminated, and that’s when I see Martina.
It’s like someone dropped me into a vat of thick tar. Every movement feels harder, every breath impossible to take. She’s in Lazaro’s grip, his knife pressed to her throat. Icy panic creeps into my lungs until I can’t breathe. How did he get in? How is this happening?
I push the sliding door open and run toward them. “Martina!”
Lazaro smiles and squeezes her harder. He rarely smiles with teeth, but this time I see them. It looks grotesque on his face, like an alien going through the motions without understanding the emotion behind it.
I stop when I’m a few feet away. “Let her go.”
He rakes his gaze down me before settling it back on my face. “Wife.”
“Let. Her. Go. Lazaro.”
“I’ll have a scar for the rest of my life,” he says, ignoring what I said. “The bullet went right through my chest.”
Martina’s pale and stiff with fear. Her worst nightmare’s come alive. God, I’ll do anything to get Lazaro away from her. I just need an opportunity.
“I wish it had gone through your heart,” I whisper.
He chuckles dryly. “I didn’t teach you how to use a gun yet. Don’t worry, when we’re home, I’ll teach you everything I know.”
I always thought there was a chance he’d be done with me after I betrayed him, but now I know I was wrong. He’s not going to kill me. He’s going to take me back, punish me, and have me kill again.
I can’t do it. I won’t do it.
Pounding footsteps sound behind me. I don’t need to turn to know it’s Damiano and Ras.
“Drop the knife, or I’ll put a bullet in your head.”
I hear Damiano but can’t see him. I don’t want to take my eyes off Martina even for a moment. He must be a few meters behind me.
“If my pulse stops for any reason, I blow up,” Lazaro says simply, nodding toward the watch on his wrist. It must be tracking his heartbeat.
My eyes widen.
That smile is back on his face. “I’m not an amateur, Valentina. You managed to trick me once, I’ll give you that, but it’s never going to happen again.”
I believe him. A strange sensation materializes inside my ribcage. I feared this moment so much, but now that it’s here, my fear takes a back seat. I meet Martina’s gaze and know what I must do.
“I’ll go with you if you let Martina go,” I say.
“She’s staying with us until you and I are on my boat.”
A boat? There’s no beach here, just a sharp cliff that leads to the water. How did he get a boat here without it being detected by Damiano’s guys?
Damiano tries to step closer, but I move out of his reach.
“Vale,” he says under his breath.
I look at him over my shoulder and shake my head. A dozen emotions play across Damiano’s face. I’ve made many choices in my past that I regret, but I’m not going to add another one to the list today. I will get Martina to safety, even if it’s the last thing I do. He loves her so much—more than my parents ever loved me. I won’t let him lose her.
Turning back to face Lazaro, I take a step forward. “Look,” I say as I spread my arms wide. “I’m unarmed, I don’t even have my phone with me. Take me to the boat and leave her be. If you say you’ll release her, they won’t shoot me.”
Lazaro eyes the men behind me. The only advantage I have here is that he knows nothing about my relationship with Damiano. For all he knows, Damiano has been punishing me for my involvement with his sister’s kidnapping all this time.
“Is that right?” he asks.
“Vale,” Damiano grinds out. “What the—”
“Tell him you won’t shoot me if he lets your sister go,” I insist. He can’t blow this chance.
I hear him heave a breath. “I won’t shoot her.”
Lazaro’s knife glints in the light. “Good. I’ll let your sister go when the time comes. Remember, if you kill me, we will all be dead. Don’t follow us unless you want me to slit her throat.”
He jerks his head to the side, telling me to go through the gate that leads out of the pool area. The lock on it is broken. There should have been a guard here, right?
As I step past the gate, my attention snags on the man lying on the ground. The guard is dead. Damiano and Ras don’t follow. I can only imagine the torture this is for him to see his sister in danger.
“We don’t have time to admire the scenery, Valentina,” Lazaro says behind me. “Walk straight until you reach the cliff.”
I follow his instructions, my heartbeat racing inside my chest. I keep looking over my shoulder to check on Martina, but it’s dark outside, and all I catch are short glimpses of her terrified face. She must be in shock. Is Lazaro really going to let her go? I pray he will.
There’s a rope ladder hanging off the edge of the cliff, and when I look down, I see a small motorboat anchored below. It bounces gently on the black water. That’s how he’s planning on getting away.
“Take the ladder,” Lazaro commands.
There’s no way I’m leaving her alone with him. “What about Martina?”
His blue eyes meet mine. “Go down, Valentina.”
A drop of sweat rolls between my breasts. “No. Not until you let her go.”
The air turns sticky and dense as Lazaro studies me with his cold, calculating gaze.
“She’s the only one who’s ever gotten away,” he says finally. “A dark mark on my perfect record.”
Fuck. He’s going to kill her.
I can’t let that happen.
I jerk the kitchen knife out of my pocket and press it against my wrist. “I know exactly where I need to cut myself so that I bleed out in minutes. I’ll do it if you kill her.”
Martina’s features contort. “Vale, no!”
Lazaro sucks in a surprised breath. “You’re bluffing.”
The fact that he thinks that shows how little he understands me. “Let her go, or you’ll never get me back.”
I spent a long time being scared to do the right thing, but I’m not afraid anymore. This time, I’m going to do what’s right, no matter what it costs me.
He grimaces. If I didn’t know him any better, I’d think he was actually hurt by my words. “You’re my wife,” he snarls. “You belong to me.”
“And you’ll get me back as soon as you let her go.”
His hard gaze, the gaze I’ve felt on myself so many times before, penetrates past the layers until he finally sees the truth of what I’m saying. He clicks with his tongue and pushes Martina away hard enough for her to fall to the ground. He steps over her and advances on me. “Drop the knife and get down the ladder, or I’ll change my mind.”
I do as he says, giving Martina one last look before I lower to the ground and place my foot on the first rung. She’s crying silently, her face wet with tears.
The rope creaks and sways as I climb down, its rough surface harsh against my palms. Lazaro stands on the edge off the cliff, watching my every move, and when I’m nearly at the bottom of the cliff, he turns and starts his descent.
My feet touch the rocks the boat is tied to by a thick rope, and as I try to find my balance, I trip on something.
I glance down.
There’s a fist-sized loose rock beside my foot. Without thinking twice, I bend down, pick it up, and hide it behind my back.
Lazaro jumps off the last rung and turns to face me. He jerks his head in the direction of the boat. “Climb in and sit down.”
There are only two seats, side by side. He unties the rope while I take my seat. When he’s done, he takes his spot behind the wheel.
I put the hand that’s holding the rock between my thigh and the edge of the boat, hiding it from sight. “Where are we going?”
He turns the key in the ignition. “Back home.”
He steers us out to sea. It’s so dark, it takes me only thirty seconds to become disorientated. I have no idea what direction we’re going in.
“New York isn’t my home,” I tell him. “It stopped being that when I got married to you.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks. “I made mistakes with you, but I’ll fix them.”
“Mistakes? Forcing me to kill for you is more than a mistake,” I say.
“That’s not what I meant. I should have spent more time with you. We should have started working on a family.”
I look at him in horror. That’s what he thinks he did wrong? “I’ll never give you a child, Lazaro. I’ll cut it out of my womb before I bring your spawn into this world.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying. But I’ll fix you. I’ll teach you how to see things my way. You’ll never leave me again, Valentina. You’re my wife. My partner. I’ve waited a long time to share my life with you, and I’ll never let you go again. I love you.”
I squeeze the rock in my palm. “You don’t love anything.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Do you really have an explosive on your body?”
He nods. “Our insurance in case they decide to come after us.”
The clouds part to reveal a sliver of the moon. It’s like a celestial eye, looking down at me and waiting to see if I’ll do what I need to do.
I suck in a deep breath.
I’m never going back.
I lunge at him and slam the sharp edge of the rock into his temple. He shouts in pain and throws me off him, but I jump on him again. It’s easier to fight him when I don’t have any self-preservation left.
“Stop it,” he roars.
I land another hit on his head. This one knocks him down. I don’t wait to see if I did the job right this time, I just keep hitting him and hitting him until there’s blood all over my hands.
When I stop, he groans weakly and blinks one eye at me. “We’re a team. We’re good together.”
“No, we fucking aren’t.”
I take the rock with both hands and slam it right into the center of his face.
