The next words out of my mouth are going to be,I think Luca is following me.But she holds up a finger, trapping them behind my teeth. Lydia turns away with the hotel phone against her ear, eyes sharp and lips straight as an arrow. “Can anyone explain to me why there was an authorized floral delivery to one of my suites? What the fuck do you mean there’s no record of a delivery? How did someone gain access to this floor at all?”
Luca knew I was in San Francisco tonight. He knew where to find me. My name isn’t listed on the reservations for the multiple rooms we have access to, but he knocked on this door. And worst of all, he knew I was with Wilder and waited for him to leave before making his move.
He’d watched us.
He’s been watching me for a while.
The next number Lydia dials is Talent’s, and he picks up immediately. She repeats the sordid tale on a single breath, moving around the suite to lock the balcony doors, check the windows, and shut the drapes. Giovanni threatened to pick our girls off one by one if he didn’t get what he wanted in a timely manner, and there’s ten of them in the next room. What if that’s why Luca’s here? What if it doesn’t have anything to do with me and everything to do with keeping their word?
“The card said that she looked beautiful tonight, but that she would have looked better with the necklace on.” Lydia’s hazel eyes shift to me and stick, like she’s forgotten I was here and said too much. “The front desk said no one came through the lobby with flowers, and there’s no record of anyone using a room key to access the elevator to this floor at all. They can check security footage, but it will take a while. What do I do?”
Sinking into the oversized couch, I hug my knees to my chest and make myself small. The only comfort being the warm scent of sandalwood and oak on my skin. I rub my cheek against the sleeve of his shirt, hiding my nose in the soft cotton fabric. And maybe I understand why he was hesitant to love me, because a killer left flowers on my doorstep, but all I can think about is being back in Wilder’s arms.
My phone rings. Wilder’s name flashes across the screen as if he could sense my need or has his own.
“I should never have left you.” His rage is scarcely contained, and I close my eyes, seeing the way his brows come together and his jaw tightens when he’s completely unhappy. “I’m coming back.”
“You can’t.”
Talent’s voice is in the background, nearly as uncomposed as Wilder’s. Did we really think the mafia would leave us unchecked for long? Why would he wait and give us an opportunity to think of a way out of this? Giovanni never promised time, only action. The outcome was always going to be the same. The only choice we were given was to decide if innocent people died or not.
“If Luca is there…”
“If Luca were here, he wouldn’t have knocked. They’re trying to scare us.”
He chuckles, but there’s nothing comical in the tone. “I’m fucking terrified.”
“Are you at the office yet?” I ask.
“Camilla, I don’t give a fuck about the meeting. All I care about is getting back to you.”
I smile despite the terror in his voice and the terror deep in my bones. “Me too,” I admit. “But Luca won’t skip this meeting and miss the opportunity to see your reaction to this. If he arrives with Giovanni, Lydia and I will head back to Grand Haven right away. If he’s a no-show, that means he’s somewhere in the hotel. We can decide what to do after we know where Luca is.”
“It doesn’t matter if that dead motherfucker shows up or not, I’m coming back for you.”
“After the meeting,” I say.
Lydia comes to sit beside me with Talent on the phone, and for the five minutes, it feels like we’re all together. Wilder doesn’t say much else, but like Lydia, his silence is full. I find contentment is listening to him breathe or mumble impatience at his brother, the driver, or just circumstance.
My mind starts to wander the longer I sit. Is it safe for Wilder and Talent to be with the Coppolas? Are they walking into an ambush? Can we leave our girls and Lucky here defenseless? The mob has done much worse than kill a room full of prostitutes. It’s not beyond their capabilities. As my thoughts stir, so does my body, and I want to tell Wilder to come back for me now, let’s go now, but it’s impossible. I’ve distracted him enough.
Wicked, selfish girl.
Lydia rests her hand on my knee, tethering me down before I fly away. When they arrive at the office, we hang up our phones and don’t dare say what’s on our minds: the only way out of this is in.
Wilder and Talent in the mafia. In the family. All in. No way out.
Well, one way.
We stare at the gas-burning fireplace, designed for ambiance before practicality. The log is fake, the crackling sounds of wood turning to hot ember are fake, and it doesn’t give off any heat. The superficial flame isn’t enough to keep the dark from edging in, even with the gas turned all the way up and the lights on.
Daddy’s last words to me were,“What’s done in the dark will come to light.”
But that’s not how this is supposed to work. I have the scars on my hands to prove it.
Lydia’s phone rings, and I jump. She tightens the tether and picks up without saying hello.
She says, “All right.” She says, “Be careful.” She says, “I love you, Talent.”
