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The door opens and his head of security, Lorenzo, steps inside the room. Without so much as another word, Luca waves me out.
I’m left gob smacked, not only because my pussy is pounding with unrelenting need but because he’s let me live another day.
I have no fucking idea why.
9
ARA
The fucker literally almost choked me out. Worse? I got off on it. That’s fucked up. Isn’t it?
I sit on my sofa, binging on some drama I’m not paying any attention to. My mind’s a heated, calculated mess while contemplating how I should pivot. Luca Armani is a damn roadblock. How do I get around him? Or is the only option through him?
Two nights have passed since Luca summoned me into Balmere club. I’ve had to wear turtleneck sweaters in the middle of spring so no one asks about the bruise marks around my throat.
I haven’t heard from Luca and I’ve barely slept. I purchased two guns the day after our encounter and keep one in my bedside table and the other in my kitchen. I also changed my locks. I’ll be fucked if I’m going to let him intimidate me out of my own apartment.
I considered contacting Dmitri, but my own stubborn resolve refuses to ask for the help that will come at a price. I’ve gotten this far, after all. I can’t pull out now. Luca is exactly where I need him to be to quench my revenge.
Maybe I really do have a death wish.
My doorbell buzzes, and a cold chill runs over me. Silence. No knock. I blow out an exasperated breath, pissed I’m so jumpy. Then again, I’ve never felt like the devil is watching over every single step I take.
Scrutinizing my security camera, I notice a rectangular package has been left at my door. When I open it and look down the hallway, no one’s there. At my feet is a long white box with a black ribbon.
I feel the buzz of my phone in my pocket.
A message from an unknown number.
Be ready in forty minutes.
I furrow my eyebrows.
Who is this? I ask, then wait.
No response.
Considering my recent circumstances, my mind can only drift to one person who would be so absolute and demanding.
I contemplate my options. I can’t go to the cops. Not only does he probably own half of them, but I’d only be incriminating myself in the process. Dmitri’s protection is out of the question because it comes at too high of a price. But this…
I place the box on my sofa, untie the black ribbon, and open it. It reveals a long, gold, shimmering silk dress with matching heels and accessories. An elegant scarf is tucked safely underneath. It’s intentional to hide the bruise marks on my throat. This fucker cannot be serious.
I’m wise enough to know when someone like Luca Armani says jump, the only answer is how high? For now. Until I figure out how to get out of this mess. But feeling at his mercy…losing my power and control—it’s abhorrent.
The threat is very much a looming scythe at my neck. I pull the dress out. Perhaps the best way to break Luca Armani is by doing exactly what the devil himself demands. What better way to study the man I plan on destroying than close up. Gone are the days of photographing him from afar and studying his movements. Today, I have to step up to the task. Even if under his terms. I’ll find a way to pivot; of that much I’m certain.
Fine. Let’s play this game.
Fifty-four minutes later, I walk through the lobby of my apartment complex with my head held high with every intention of being late. Playing with one of the most powerful men in New York might not be ideal for most, but for some reason it seems to put a pep in my step.
Death wish or not.
As expected, a sleek black car is waiting for me. Rain is pouring, and before I can even consider stepping across the threshold from the entrance, Lorenzo runs over with an umbrella.
“Good evening, Miss Barone,” he says in a very different tone to how he spoke to me when he tapped on my car window.
“Thank you,” I suspiciously say as I hold onto the edge of the scarf. I couldn’t care less if it went flying in this wind. But what might raise more alarm is if others notice the marks on my throat.
