Page 85 of Unlock My Heart

“Fuck you,” I spit.

“Too late to grow that backbone,” Vitto tsks. “What’s it going to be? Boss or bitch to your little brother?”

“Boss,” I say in a resigned tone.

But fuck his terms. I will be the boss with my rightful queen by my side, if I have to slit Vitto’s cancerous throat and steal the throne.

Fabien

The present

“The marriage contract was sprung on me right before I met my ‘fiancée’ at the lounge. Couldn’t have picked the woman out of a lineup before then. Baby, I hated treating you like that, but I needed time to work out a plan.”

“Riveting,” Sienna says in a bored tone as I place her on the couch, but she’s not fooling me, not with that slight tremor of her hands.

I take a seat beside her, and she scoots away from me. I move over, and she moves again, and again, until she’s at the edge of the couch with nowhere to go.

“Do you have to be this close?” Sienna narrows her eyes at me.

“I’m not letting you leave until you hear me out.”

“What’s left to say?” Sienna releases a heavy sigh.

“A hell of a lot. Who told you I shot Ringer because of my fiancée?”

“I overheard Michele…” She trails off.

“And who told you that I’d be at the lounge?”

Her head hits the back of the couch. “Anonymous text.”

“So Michele,” I growl.

“Even if he did set you up, you gave him the material to do it,” she spits.

“Do you know how it gutted me, hearing that you married that asshole?” I grip Sienna by the chin, jerking her face inches from mine.

Her eyes burn with fury. “Good. Then you got a little taste of how I felt.”

“Ask me why I shot the fed.”

Sienna

The present

“Fabien, I don’t care why you shot the fed,” I lie, trying to keep the memory at bay.

Except panic’s already hijacked my nervous system. My heart rate increases. My breathing becomes shallow. I’m being dragged back into the alley…

Sienna

Eighteen-years-old

A reprieve in the torrential downpour allows me to admire my handiwork on Fabien’s car.

Something darts out from behind the dumpster, and I startle. A feral cat hisses at me, and I squeal, placing a hand over my heart.

“Was I right, or was I right?” Ringer appears, and the cat scurries away. His eyes drop, and I cross my arms over my chest, my soaking dress clinging to my breasts like a second skin.