The seconds tick by like hours, long enough for stupid, irrelevant concerns to take precedence. I’m tired. All I want to do is crawl into bed and blast Bach until I fall asleep. I want to eat my leftover Thai food with extra hot sauce. I want...
“Time’s up.” Vinny pulls himself upright to all six feet, two inches of his height. The movement displays the muscles that ripple in his forearms, straining the sleeves of his suit jacket. “This isn’t very sportsmanlike.Daniela? Would you like to give us an idea of what really happened?” His tone is crisp with impatience.
“Vinny...” I trail off. My side hurts from having connected with the pavement. There are dark circles under my eyes, I know, from staying up all night and playing until my fingers bled. I’d give anything to play now, to lose myself in the cadence of the music.
“Daniela?” Vinny points the gun in my direction—not at me, exactly. Instead, he trains the barrel over the framed photographof an Italian villa hanging behind my head. It’s a warning. “What happened?”
I fold my hands over my lap, and I try to look anywhere but at the men who are crowding the room. There’s a beautiful view of the city from the window across from Vinny’s desk, silhouetted by the gap between the curtains. I can see everything highlighted by neon lights and flashing street signs. Against the black backdrop of the night sky, it almost resembles diamonds.
“Daniela—”
“They followed me from the subway,” I say, my voice detached. “One of them took my purse, while the other grabbed me. They held me down and tried to... Vinny, I’mfine.”
“No.” The flat of his hand strikes the surface of the desk with a sound that has me jerking upright. “It’s notfine.”
Two quick pops muffled by the silencer and it’s over. Two bodies hit the floor with a thud, and Vinny puts his gun down. There’s a noticeable release of tension in his shoulders. People like me prefer bubble baths to relax. Men like Vinny go for murder.
“Your cello came,” he tells me while wiping something from his chin. “Next time when I send you a fucking car, you be in it, too. Thesubway.” He shakes his head, perplexed by the idea of me being so indignant as to shun his hospitality.
In a way, I suppose it’s ironic. I cared enough about my cello to have it delivered to the hotel in the town car Vinny had sent for me, but I couldn’t bear to climb inside it myself. I walked, traveling two blocks before taking a bus and then the subway.
If I were lying to myself, I’d claim I’d wanted the exercise. In truth, I just wanted to prolong the moment. That freedom. That soothing silence of being alone with my thoughts for once. A world without violence or vengeance or Vinny.
“Lynn?” Vinny snaps his fingers to draw my attention. “Go to bed. Get some rest. We’ll do lunch tomorrow. How does Capellas sound?”
“Great,” I croak.
Capellas is a restaurant on Fifth, firmly under Vinny’s control. The chef’s name is Tony. His wife is Maria. For a share of their profits, Vinny ensures their establishment’s “protection.” Out of gratitude, Tony always serves him one hell of a chicken marinara—on the house.
“Good.” He motions for me to get up while he circles the desk to stand in front of me.
I try not to flinch when he touches me and trails a thumb along the corner of my mouth. He observes me like that for two seconds. Then he leans forward and brings his mouth to my forehead, leaving a chaste kiss.
“Mi Bella.”
His hand runs down my spine, sensing the curves of my body through the fabric of my sweater, but I don’t react. I don’t cringe.
I inhale. In and out. Out. In. There’s a noticeable tremor in my hands when he finally pulls away. His dark eyes don’t miss it and they narrow, homing in on the rebellious fingers.
“Those bastards better have not hurt you,” he growls with an intensity that makes my stomach churn.
Fear has a bitter flavor that settles on my tongue. Or maybe it’s love?
I run my eyes over Vinny’s chiseled features. He must seem handsome to some, with a Romanesque nose and smooth, olive skin. He has a laugh that can raise goose bumps and eyes that gleam like firelight. But none of that can make up for the monster lurking within the beautiful exterior.
“Get some sleep,” he tells me before laying another soft kiss on my cheek.
“Goodnight, Vinny.” It’s a precarious trip over the bodies of the two dead men to reach the door. I manage to keep my balance until I grab the doorknob.
Then his voice rings out behind me, issuing another command. “Send Gino in here to clean up this fucking mess.”
“O-okay.” I pull the door open and stagger into the narrow hallway beyond it. Two men are standing on either side of the doorway, both broad-shouldered with matching stern expressions. “Gino,” I speak to the one with a goatee and heavy-set build. “Vinny needs you to clean... He needs—” I wind up gesturing to the room with a wave of my hand.
He nods once. “Of course, Ms. Manzano.”
He brushes past me while I head down the hallway of the suite. It contains ten rooms, all interconnected on the highest floor of the Hirmark Hotel. My room is on the far west corner, but I don’t head for it now. Instead, I cross the living room, past four more men lounging on the imported Italian furniture.
One of them calls out to me. “Your instrument is safely in your room, miss.”
