Matteo was in a strange mood, had been ever since heâd found me in the living room two nights ago. He hadnât said much, which was unusual for him. I wasnât sure if he was angry at something Iâd done, and I didnât really care. That night Iâd promised myself that Iâd have to stop whatever was going on between him and me. Iâd sworn to myself that Iâd never become one of those women, that Iâd never marry a Made Men, and much less develop feelings for him.
Christmas was only five days away but we both definitely hadnât caught the holiday spirit yet. There wasnât a single piece of Christmas decoration in our apartment. Iâd considered asking Matteo to buy a tree and decorate it together, but then the panic had set in again and I hadnât said anything. Instead Iâd accepted the strange mood between us almost with relief.
Matteo was gripping the steering wheel in a steel grip as we drove away from the last Christmas party of the season. The hosts had rented a deserted warehouse and turned into a winter wonderland with fake snow and a real ice bar. Aria and Luca were still there but Matteoâs bad temper had caused Luca to send us away early. Heâd probably worried that Matteo would end up killing someone again. I couldnât blame him.
The road was covered with a fine sheen of frost which glittered in the glare of our spotlights.
âYou know whatâs funny?â Matteo asked in a tight voice.
I glanced toward him, his tense body and dark expression.
âWhenever you think Iâm not watching, you look like you might be happy and then the moment our eyes meet, itâs like âpoofâ and the happiness is gone.â
I wasnât sure what to tell him.
âWhy do you insist on being miserable?â
Before I could formulate an answer, Matteo suddenly floored the gas. I was pressed into the seat. âWhat are you doing? You donât have to kill us because youâre pissed.â
Matteo peered into the side mirror. âIâm not trying to kill us. Iâm trying to save our lives.â
Something collided with our trunk. I glanced over my shoulder. Flashlights of another SUV filled the rear window.
âWho are they?â I asked.
âRussians would be my guess. I noticed them too late. Fuck. This happens when I get distracted by other shit.â
We were the only cars in this part of the industrial area. Matteo twisted the steering wheel and we shot around a corner into a narrow street between two high storehouses.
âHead down,â Matteo barked.
I obeyed at once. Struggling against my seat belt, I leaned forward. A second later, our pursuers shot at us. The rear window exploded and shards rained down on us. Matteo didnât react, he kept driving like a madman. Heâd somehow even managed to pull his own gun.
I clutched the seat, my head pressed against my legs as I jerked back and forth with every twist and turn of the car. The tires were screeching, gunshots whistling through the air, glass bursting. A new shower of shards rained down on me as the side window in the back exploded as well.
âFuck,â Matteo snarled while he tried to get a connection with his phone, probably to call Luca. Fear was clogging my throat tightly. Fear for my own life was only a small part of it. Seeing Matteo in clear line of fire terrified me even more. He couldnât duck his head. One bullet and everything could be over.
We turned another corner and I slammed against the door. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting my rising sickness.
More shots rang out and Matteo let out a hiss. I peered to the side. Matteo was still driving and shooting at our pursuers, but he was bleeding from wounds in his arm and shoulder. That moment another bullet grazed his head, blood spurting everywhere, even on my face. Matteo didnât even seem to care; he fired another round of shots. Suddenly we were spinning, the car out of control. I wrapped my arms around my chest as I was thrown around in my seat. Through half closed eyes I saw our car shooting toward a massive wall and then there was an earsplitting crash as we smashed into it. My body jerked forward, the air rushing out of me as I was flung against the safety belt. It cut into my collarbone, and my vision turned black. Then something soft exploded in my face, stopping my impact.
I didnât know how long I hung limply in my seat belt, my face buried in the deflating airbag as I tried to catch my breath. My ears were ringing but eventually that faded and silence greeted me. With a groan I sat up, ignoring my throbbing headache. Smoke was rising from our crushed hood, slowly filling the car through the broken windows. I blinked to get rid of the dots dancing in and out of my vision. My entire body was sore but nothing seemed to be broken. At least I could move.
I turned to the driverâs side and stilled. It was dark in the car. Our lights were smashed but from somewhere a distant glow illuminated what was around me. Matteo was slumped over the steering wheel. Like many mafia cars, the driver didnât have an airbag because it was a bother during car chases. Blood plastered his dark hair to his forehead, soaked his shirt and dripped down on his pants. So much blood. He must have hit his head against the steering wheel or maybe the dashboard when weâd collided with the wall.
Was he dead?
He wasnât moving, and I couldnât see if he was breathing. I held my breath, listening for a sound. There was nothing. I blinked, then peered over my shoulder to see where our pursuers were. Their car had smashed into another building and had already caught fire. They were definitely dead. Was our car going to start burning too? I needed to get out.
Wasnât this the chance Iâd been waiting for? Matteo and I were alone. Nobody was here to stop me from running. I could leave and be free. I unbuckled myself, then glanced at Matteo again. I needed to check if he was dead, but somehow I couldnât. What if he was really gone? What if he was dead? My throat felt tight and raw. My lungs refused their work as panic settled in my body. God, what if he was dead? What was wrong with me? Hadnât I wanted him out of my life six months ago? This was my chance, probably the only chance Iâd ever get. The smell of gas drifted into my nose, and the smoke inside the car was starting to burn in my eyes. Matteo was a killer. He wasnât a good man. If you asked most people, theyâd say he deserved death.
With shaky fingers I reached out and touched Matteoâs shoulder. He still felt warm but that didnât mean he was alive. Slowly I inched my hand up until I brushed his blood-slick throat. My fingers ghosted over his skin, finding nothing, pressing and searching, until finally a soft pulse beat against my fingertips.
I exhaled, relief slamming into me like a hammer. Still alive. He was still alive. Thank God. With a sizzle and a pop fire shot out under the hood of the car. I gripped the door handle and pushed but it didnât budge, distorted from the crash. Panic spread in my chest as smoke and heat filled up the car, and I started clawing at the door. I shifted, tugged my sleeve down my hand and roughly cleaned the window frame from broken remains before I climbed out of the car head first. When I finally felt solid ground under my feet, I almost dropped to my knees because my legs were shaking like crazy. The entire hood was burning now and Matteo was still in the driverâs seat. I rushed around the car, toward his door, praying that it wasnât stuck like mine. I didnât think I could drag Matteo through a narrow window without his help. I gripped the car door and tugged as hard as I could. With a screech it flew open and I landed on my butt. I caught my breath, then stumbled to my feet and grabbed Matteoâs arm. He hadnât been wearing a seat belt so I could pull him out of the car without trouble. He plopped down on the asphalt a bit too hard and I winced, then quickly hooked my hand under his armpits and pulled him away from the car that was catching fire way too quickly.
Matteo was heavy and dragging him away from the car with my aching body hurt like hell, but I didnât stop until I was sure he was a safe distance away in case of an explosion. I let go of him before I straightened and wiped the blood from my palms on my pants. Matteoâs eyes were closed, his face turned to the side, showing his striking profile. Strands of hair stuck to his bloody forehead and a puddle of red was quickly spreading around his head, trickling from his head wound. I could see his chest rising and falling. My eyes searched our surroundings. The car of the Russians was already a flaming mess, dark plummets of smoke rising into the sky. We were in the middle of nowhere, an abandoned industrial area nobody set foot in without reason. But the smoke would certainly attract attention. Somebody would find Matteo before it was too late.
Right?
I should run. I should want to run. I started backing away from Matteoâs unmoving form on the ground, ignoring the way guilt corded up my throat. Heâd forced me into a marriage Iâd never wanted. He knew I would use the first chance I got to escape. I took another step back. Matteo had chosen a path of danger and death. Even if he died today, it was what heâd chosen for himself.
This wasnât the life I wanted.
I turned around, then paused. I closed my eyes. Distantly flames crackled. Someone would find Matteo in time. And even if they didnât, I shouldnât care.
I didnât care about him. I didnât. And I definitely shouldnât.
I should hate him. I should hate what he was and what it meant for me. I should that he couldnât give me up no matter how often I pushed him away. Why couldnât he give up?
I started walking away, one small step after the other. Once I was out of town, I would call Aria and ask her about Matteo.
It will be too late for him then.
Maybe.
Or maybe not.
Matteo was tough. A head wound wouldnât kill him.
I chanced a look over my shoulder, my eyes finding Matteoâs unmoving body, sprawled out on the concrete. Behind him the cars were burning, tingeing the illuminated city sky black with their smoke.
Funeral black.
The pool of blood around Matteoâs head looked black from my vantage point, and it had grown even more. âI donât want to love you,â I whispered as I jerked to a halt, clenching my eyes shut. But I did. I did love Matteo.
My eyes flew open, I whirled around and begun walking back, then started running, getting faster and faster, until I was racing. I dropped to my knees beside Matteo, fumbling in my pockets for my phone but coming up empty. It was in my bag. My gaze went to the burning car where Iâd left my stuff. Stupid Gianna.
I reached into Matteoâs pocket and exhaled a shuddering breath when I grabbed his phone. Not wasting time scrolling through his contact I hit speed dial.
âIâm not in the mood to talk to you, Matteo. You acted like a major asshole tonight,â Lucaâs sharp voice rang in my ear.
I let out a sob.
âGianna?â I could hear Aria in the background but couldnât hear what she was saying.
âHeâs dying,â I said after a moment, sound flat and voiceless.
âWhat are you talking about? Give me Matteo.â
âI canât. Russians attacked us. Thereâs so much blood, Luca, so much blood.â
âIs Matteo alive?â For the first time since Aria almost died, Luca sounded worried.
My eyes darted to the body beside me. To my husband.
Was it my imagination or had Matteoâs chest stopped moving? I pressed my palm against his blood-soaked shirt. There was nothing. âHeâs not breathing. He was a moment ago, but heâs not anymore.â Hysteria found its way into my voice.
âGianna, you have to do CPR. Iâll be there soon. I have your GPS coordinates. But youâll have to get him breathing or itâll be too late.â
I didnât say anything, only stared at the man I loved. Iâd wanted to hate him, had given it my all, and in the beginning there had been hate, so much of it, but not all of it had been directed at Matteo, and now hardly any seemed left, and it felt ridiculous to hold onto what little I still harbored.
âGianna?â Lucaâs voice sliced right through me. I could hear commotion in the background, the sound of a car springing to life. I put Luca on loudspeaker and cupped Matteoâs face, then pressed my lips against his and blew air into his lungs. I tried to remember how often to press as I rested my hands against his ribcage. I didnât know the first thing about CPR except for what Iâd seen on TV. Why had I never paid better attention? What if Matteo died because I was doing something wrong?
Lucaâs next words tore through my thoughts. Iâd forgotten he was on the phone. âI know you feel like Matteo trapped you, that he ruined your life, but no matter what you think, he didnât do it to make you miserable. For some unexplainable reason Matteo loves you. You donât have to believe me. You can keep hating him but donât leave him alone, not now. If you help me save his life, Iâll grant you freedom. I swear it on my honor and my life. Aria is here. Sheâs witness. You will get money, a new identity and even protection from the Outfit if you want. Itâs all yours if you save his life.
âOkay,â I said as I pressed down on Matteoâs chest again. I wasnât even sure why I said it.
âYou have to do chest compressions. Hard and fast. Donât worry about breaking his ribs. 30 pushes, two breathes. Fast.â
I sped up my compressions, then bent over Matteo to breathe into his mouth twice. âHeâs not reacting!â I gasped as I started everything from the beginning.
âKeep doing it.â
And I did, even as my fingers cramped. They were red and sticky with blood. I couldnât even see through my eyes anymore. They were blurry with tears. Why couldnât I stop crying? I cried over a man like Matteo but had hardly shed a tear over Sid.
âWeâll be there in ten minutes,â Luca said. âHowâs Matteo?â
I didnât reply. I pushed harder against Matteoâs chest and then he drew in a shallow breath. I froze, almost scared Iâd imagined it. I quickly leaned over his face and felt the gentle breeze of his breath against my cheek. I brushed shaky fingers over his throat, finding his pulse. It wasnât as fast and strong as usual, but it was there. I closed my eyes for a moment, squeezed a few annoying tears away and then I opened them. I sank down on my butt and stretched out my legs. I wanted to cradle Matteoâs head in my lap but worried about hurting his neck, so I merely rested my palm against his chest to reassure myself of his steady heartbeat. His blood was starting to soak my pants but I was beyond caring.
âGianna? Are you still there?â
âYes. Matteo is breathing again.â
There was a pause. âGood,â Luca said quietly. âStay where you are.â
âDonât worry.â I tilted my head back and stared up at the sky littered with stars and hazy with smoke. The gentle rise and fall of Matteoâs chest was almost like a lullaby and my eyes started to droop. My headache had gotten even worse. I probably had a concussion.
The roar of an engine made me turn my head. Two cars were racing in our direction. The one in the front was Lucaâs Aston Martin and the one in the back belonged to his crony Romero. I quickly pulled my hand away from Matteoâs chest and rose to my feet, even as my vision swam.
The Aston stopped with fuming tires and Luca jumped out. He stormed toward Matteo, barely sparing me a glance as he knelt beside his brother and felt his throat. He did a quick scan of Matteoâs injuries and then Romero and Sandro were already beside him.
Someone touched my shoulder and then Aria appeared in my field of vision. She wrapped her arms around me and I sagged against her, feeling drained. âAre you hurt?â
âMaybe. Probably. I donât know.â
âGet her away,â Luca said. âTake my car and drive her to our apartment.â
I pulled back to look down at him. âWhere are you taking Matteo?â
âTo the hospital. This is too serious for our doc,â he said, then smiled coldly. âDonât worry. Iâll honor my promise. When I return to the apartment, weâll make the necessary arrangements to ensure your freedom.â His eyes were hard. I had a feeling he wouldnât have minded much if Iâd died in the crash.
âMaybe Gianna wants to go to the hospital with Matteo,â Aria suggested softly as Luca and Sandro lifted Matteo carefully and carried him over to the jeep. Romero was talking to soldiers on the phone, making arrangements to keep the police out of this.
âShe doesnât,â Luca said firmly. âHelp her gather her things from Matteoâs apartment, so we can get her settled in her new life before my brother returns home.â
Why didnât I protest? Why couldnât I admit my feelings even now?
Aria gave me a searching look but I shrugged, ignoring the heat behind my eyeballs and the tight feeling in my chest as I watched them take Matteo away. âWe can follow them in our car,â she whispered.
I swallowed, then shook my head. âNo. Lucaâs right. I need to pack up my things.â
Frowning, but without protest, Aria led me toward the Aston Martin.
Every inch of my body hurt and my head felt like it was filled with cotton. Groaning, I tried to open my fucking eyes, which seemed to be glued shut. Resisting the urge to peel them open with my fingernails, I slowly opened them a tiny bit, then finally fully. Luca was sitting in a chair next to my bed. A fucking hospital bed. âDonât tell me you took me to a fucking hospital?â I rasped, then coughed. Fuck. I felt like death warmed over.
Luca leaned forward, a wry smile on his face. Did he have to look so damn worried? I wasnât a kid who needed his protection anymore. âNow that youâre swearing again, Iâll consider moving you to my penthouse. Romero is already looking forward to playing nurse.â
I was reaching for the needle in the back of my hand to pull it out but paused when his words sunk in. âYour penthouse?â
âYouâll need to rest a few days. And I know you, so there needs to be someone to keep an eye on you.â
He was watching me carefully. As if he was trying to gauge if I could take the bad news. âDid something happen to Gianna?â
âNo. Sheâs fine.â He paused.
âSpit it out. Damn it!â
âI made a deal with her.â
âStop fucking around. Tell me the fucking truth. I can take it.â
âWhen she called me, you werenât breathing. I was worried sheâd use her chance to run.â
âMy life against her freedom,â I said with a dark laugh.
âShe agreed. Now sheâs home with Aria, packing her bags.â
âWe need to protect her from the Outfit. Her Father wonât accept it.â
âYou want to protect her?â Luca asked incredulously.
âSheâs still my wife. And Iâll protect her as long as sheâll let me.â
âSheâll leave as soon as Iâve set everything up. You better forget about her sooner than later.â
I glared. âWould you just forget Aria because someone told you to?â
âAria wouldnât need bribing to save my fucking life.â
I jerked the needle out of my hand and sucked the blood away that welled up before I swung my legs out of the bed, despite my splitting headache. My eyes scanned the table beside my bed for my knives and my gun holster. They werenât there. Damn it. I felt fucking naked without them.
âFuck,â Luca muttered. The bastard grabbed my shoulders to stop me from standing. âI didnât mean to get you all riled up. Youâre supposed to stay in bed.â
âI donât give a damn. Iâm not a fucking toddler. Stop patronizing me. Iâve dealt with worse shit than a headache.â I shrugged his hands off and slid off the edge of the bed. Big mistake. The moment my bare feet hit the floor, I swayed. Luca steadied me. With a groan, I sank back down on the bed. âWhat did they give me? I feel as if someone put Roofies in my drink.â
Luca gave me his most patronizing expression. âI told you to stay in bed.â
âShut up.â I blinked a few times. It did nothing to banish the dots from my vision. âI want to get the hell out of here. Iâm fine.â
âYouâre fine when I tell you. Iâm your Capo.â
I opened the drawer in the bedside table, but my weapons werenât in there either. âWhere are my knives?â
âIn the car. I could hardly roll you into hospital armed to the teeth.â
I clenched my jaw, then pushed myself to my feet again. This time I hardly swayed at all.
Luca glowered at me. âGoddammit, Matteo. Why canât you listen for once?â
âDonât give me that bullshit. If our situations were switched, youâd be out of the fucking hospital already.â He didnât bother denying it. I knew him. âLetâs go.â
Luca thrust a bag at me. âSandro picked up a few clothes for you. The ones you were wearing during the crash have to be burnt.â
I got out of the embarrassing hospital gown and slipped into clean jeans. âWhat about underwear? Maybe Sandro likes it if his junk jiggles around in his pants, but I prefer another barrier between my balls and the zipper.â
Luca snorted. âI wonder what it will take to shut your big mouth. Almost getting killed and having your wife leave your sorry ass obviously isnât enough.â
I stopped buttoning my shirt. I knew he was joking. And he was right. Nothing ever got me down. Not when our mother died, not when Father beat the crap out of me, not when I was bleeding like a pig. Then why the fuck did mentioning Gianna feel like a fucking punch to the gut? Damn it. I was turning into a pussy. I sent Luca a forced grin, but he was already scrutinizing me with a frown.
âDonât tell me youâre so eager to get out of hospital because you hope to walk across Gianna and talk her into staying with you. She wonât. The selfish bitch wants freedom.â
I stalked toward him, getting right in his face. âDonât call her bitch.â Then I fucking swayed and had to grab Lucaâs shoulder to stop myself from making a faceplant. So much for being threatening. Damn it.
Luca only stared.
âI swear if you donât stop giving me that fucking pitying look Iâm going to beat you to a bloody pulp,â I muttered.
âI donât pity you. Pity is for people who got into a bad situation with no fault of their own, but you chose Gianna. You saw how volatile and fucking annoying she was and you still wanted her. You were turned on by her bitchiness. You got yourself into this mess. Now you have to deal.â
âCold-hearted bastard,â I said, glad he didnât try to console me.
Luca smirked. âAlways.â
I shoved my shirt into my jeans and slipped into my shoes. âSandro is a fucking asshole. No socks either? Is he a nudist or what?â
âHe probably thinks you are.â
I headed for the door, trying to walk as tall as possible despite my wobbly legs. Luca walked too close. He probably thought he might need to catch me if I fainted. âStop hovering. People will think youâre my sugar-daddy.â
Luca ignored my comment. âWhat do you remember before you woke up?â
Back to business, thank God. âA bunch of cock-sucking Russians chased Gianna and me. I got rid of the first car pretty quick. A bullet between the brows got rid of the driver and the resulting crash of the other fuckers. The second car was more trouble. I donât remember what happened to them.â
âThey burnt in their car. Charcoal all of them.â
âWhat about my car?â
âCharcoal.â
âGreat.â
âCould have been worse. You didnât look good when I first saw you.â
I reached for the tender spot on top of my head. A few nurses watched us as we passed them, but they didnât stop us. Luca had probably already settled everything in advance.
âYouâre lucky they didnât shave your entire head. Knowing how vain you are, you wouldnât have stopped bitching about it.â
âYou know how to cheer me up,â I said.
Luca was busy texting someone. He barely glanced up.
âYouâre warning Aria that weâre coming, arenât you?â I couldnât help but wonder if Gianna was still with Aria, if they were making plans for Giannaâs future without me. Luca had offered Gianna freedom on a golden platter. Sheâd be stupid not to go through with it. A life away from the mafia was something sheâd always wanted. Away from me. Sheâd finally get her wish.
Luca spared me the barest glance. âItâs for the best, believe me.â
Annoyance zipped through me. Luca had always tried to dictate my life â look out for me as he called it â and it had only gotten worse since he was also my Capo. âI can handle Gianna. Iâm not a pussy, Luca. I wonât break down and cry because my wife wants to run as far away from me as possible.â
âI know.â He stuffed his phone back into his jacket. Of course I knew heâd already told Aria everything she needed to know.
We arrived at Lucaâs car. He opened the door for me. âDonât think Iâll put out just because youâre being a gentleman,â I told him as I half fell into the seat. I hoped Luca thought I had done it on purpose and not because my legs had gone on strike.
âDonât worry. Your backdoor is safe.â Luca shut the door in my face before he rounded the car and slipped behind the steering wheel. He started the car and slid out of the parking lot. âDo you want me to organize someone who can distract you? Maybe not today because of your head. But in the next couple of days.â
I snorted out a laugh. âYou mean a hooker?â
Luca gave a one-shoulder shrug, not taking his eyes off the street. He had his poker face on and it annoyed the crap out of me, because I wasnât sure if this was a test or if he was being serious. A few years ago, Iâd have said he was dead serious. Luca had never had trouble moving from woman to the next, but that had been before Aria.
âFirst of all, I might have a concussion but Iâm not dead, and that means I donât need a pity fuck. If I want a woman, I can find one myself and donât need to pay someone.â
âYou havenât seen yourself in the mirror yet.â
I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. âOkay. Maybe Iâd have more trouble than usual.â I had two black eyes, both of them swollen and bloodshot, and there was a bluish lump below my hairline. Not to mention that my hair was a matted mess.
âYouâll scare the shit out of every woman youâll approach.â
âSo what? It always worked for you.â
Luca chuckled. âSo is that a no?â
âA big fat one. I donât want to fuck anyone butâ¦â Realizing the fucking trap Iâd just walked in I snapped my mouth shut. Damn it.
âYouâre not going to give her up, are you?â Luca said in a resigned tone.
âNo.â
âI swore on my honor to grant her freedom but I can break my promise if thatâs what you want. Itâs not like I havenât done worse before.â
âNo. I donât want you to break your oath. And it would only make her hate me more. You canât force Gianna to do anything. She needs to come back to me freely. Thatâs the only way.â
Luca shook his head. âMatteo, even you must realize how futile it is to hope for that. Sheâll run and never come back. Are you willing to risk that?â
âYes.â
âThen youâre a better man than I am. I would never let Aria go.â
I glared out of the window. It sounded easy: letting her go, giving her the chance to find her way back to me, but I wasnât sure I could go through with it. I wasnât better than Luca. But I was a hunter and sometimes a chase was useless, sometimes you had to wait for the prey to come to you. I wasnât a patient hunter, but this time I would try.