Chapter 10
Fiorella
I’ve never woken up in a stranger’s bed before.
This one’s empty, which is good. I stretch my legs and roll onto my side. Unfamiliar light filters through a window I’ve never seen before. Am I seriously in Luca’s house right now? With that strange, terrifying man not all that far away?
I sit on the edge of the bed and lean forward, shoulders hunched. I’m exhausted. I barely slept. Bad dreams kept me up half the night. Bodies, screams for help, a black void with sharp fingers trying to choke me to death. I touch the bruises along my neck and take a few deep breaths to calm myself.
Growing up in the Serrano Famiglia wasn’t always easy. My father made it clear that I’d be a target most of my life. I went to expensive private schools and was shunned by most of the other rich girls. The few friends I managed to make were all part of their own crime enclaves, but those relationships never lasted long. Even when the city’s at peace, each little Famiglia is constantly rubbing up against all the others, and it’s hard to cross those lines. Friendship is rarely enough.
Marriage though? Maybe marriage is the exception to that rule.
Not that I want to find out.
I stand unsteadily. I’m lightheaded and hungry. Luca’s clothes hang off my body: a pair of rolled running shorts and the smallest t-shirt he owns, still a couple sizes too large. I feel like I’m swimming in his things. I breathe in the smell and smile to myself. Soap and a hint ofhim.
After using the attached bathroom, I decide I’d better find something for breakfast. Otherwise, I’m going to be crabby all day, but I have a feeling I’ll need my strength.
Especially on my wedding day.
I open the door and release a scream loud enough to hurt my throat.
A corpse is sitting across the hall. He’s slumped over slightly. A gun lies in his lap. His neck is turned sideways, and he’s not moving.
Until the corpse is suddenly up on its feet, gun raised, sharp eyes roaming the otherwise empty hallway for threats.
Luca stares at me on high alert, breath coming quick.
“What’s going on?” he snaps, storming forward. I yelp and scramble away, but he grabs me and pulls me protectively against him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine! Would you get off me?” I try to yank myself free, but his grip is like a mountain.
“You just fucking screamed. What’s happening?” He raises his gun and scans my room.
“You scared the living crap out of me, that’s what’s happening. What the hell were you doing sitting across from my door like that?”
He looks at me then, lips pulled into a confused frown. He grunts in frustration and shoves the gun into the waistband of his sweats, only slightly relaxing his hold on me.
“I was guarding you.”
I lean back to get a better look at his face. “You were doing what?”
“Guarding you,” he says, almost snarling the words. “You think I was going to leave my wife alone? After what happened yesterday?”
“First of all, I’m not your wife.”
“Give it a few hours.”
“And second, did you seriously sleep on the floor like that?”
His jaw works. “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.”
I take him in again. There are bags under his eyes and stubble on his chin. His hair’s messy, and his clothes are rumpled. He’s clearly not joking.
The psycho really did sit out in the hallway all night long.
“You’re a crazy person,” I murmur, finally extracting myself from him. “We’re inyourhouse. Did you seriously need to sit outside my door like a dog?”
