Sienna POV
On the third day of sick leave I got a call from a number I didn’t know.
A second of silence on the other end.
“It’s me.”
Luca’s voice.
I could picture him: sunk in the leather chair behind his desk, collar open, fingers tapping, impatient — and still, he’d made the call.
“How?” I roughened my voice, as if I’d just woken.
“Luca Hawthorne.”
”Oh.” I shifted, pressing the phone to my ear.
“What do you want?”
Before he could answer I added, “Or did you miss me? It’s been two days.”
”No.” Flat and clean.
“Are you better? Why haven’t you come in?”
”Are you worried about me?”
”No.” His tone didn’t change.
“An employer asking after an employee. I’m going to Los Angeles next week to handle something, and I need someone to travel with me.”
”Mr. Hawthorne.” I let that go and switched questions.
“That thing from last time — have you thought it over?”
”What thing?”
”That thing about me being your lover.
We’re compatible in bed too.
Each of us gets what she needs.
Isn’t that a good arrangement?”
The line went quiet.
I could hear him breathing.
He didn’t answer for so long that I thought he had hung up.
“Sienna,” he said finally, his voice a degree lower, “what do you think this place is? A recycling depot?”
I gripped the blanket.
I’d known he would refuse; a setback this small couldn’t touch me.
“Fine. If you don’t want me, I’ll find someone else.” I kept my tone airy.
“I’m on my own anyway. It gets lonely.”
On the other end came the faint click of a lighter opening.
“You can try. Let’s see which man on this territory dares to touch you.”
Beep.
He hung up.
I took the phone from my ear; the screen went dark and showed me my own face, expressionless.
K had been messaging me for days, pushing for progress, and I had no idea how many more times I’d have to take a hit like this from Luca.
He ran hot and cold on me.
The only thing that ever worked was turning his possessiveness against him — the most dangerous method there was, one misstep from being broken into pieces.
But it had come this far.
There was no road back.
Back at the office, Luca was almost never in the building.
On the afternoon of the third day the internal line rang.
It was Theo.
“Sienna. Mr. Hawthorne is at Aurelius and needs a document delivered. Second drawer on the left of his desk, code two-five-five-five. Go now.”
By the time I reached Aurelius it had started to rain.
I gave Luca’s name and a waiter led me down a long corridor.
The door of the private room was open a narrow gap, voices coming from inside.
Through that gap Luca sat with his back to me on a sofa.
Across from him another man lounged back, a cigar between his fingers.
The other man was nothing like Luca in type.
His face was aggressive, the high cheekbones sharpening every line of it, his thick blond hair combed back without a strand out of place.
Dark shirt, sleeves rolled to the forearms, muscle crossed with old scars.
A young woman knelt on the carpet at his feet.
He lifted his eyes suddenly and looked straight at the gap.
Our eyes met, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up.
Nothing about the way he looked at me was veiled.
He raised one eyebrow, the corner of his mouth moving.
Then he slid his gaze away, lazy, as if nothing had happened.
The door opened from the inside and Theo came out, blocking that line of sight.
“Give me the file,” Theo said, taking it.
“Thanks for making the trip.”
”Of course.” I turned and walked fast.
I’d barely rounded the corner when I collided with a woman in heavy makeup.
She saw me, froze, then her eyes went wide.
“Sienna?!”
It took me two seconds to place her — to find, under the exaggerated eyeliner and the overworked contour, someone I knew.
“Lily?”
Lily Carter had come into Blackwood in the same batch as me, at fifteen, though we were later split into different groups.
She was never trained as an operative; the underground clubs got her instead.
I helped her get out a few years ago.
She’d wanted me to go with her.
Lily yanked me behind one of the corridor pillars and dropped her voice.
“What are you doing here?”
”Long story.” I glanced at the uniform she was wearing.
“You work here?”
”Yeah.” Lily tugged at the scrap of fabric she had on.
“I came here right after you got me out. Aurelius pays well, and the boss doesn’t care what we do in private. It’s a living.”
I looked toward the shut door at the end of the corridor.
“The blond man in that room. Who is he?”
Lily’s face changed.
She checked the corridor on both sides and leaned in.
“You don’t know Adrian Moretti?”
The Morettis’ second in command.
The ports, the casinos, the smuggling lines — all of it in his hands.
Marcus was his stepfather, but everyone in the circle knew it was Adrian who ran the underground business.
He had men, he had guns, he had territory of his own.
Lily closed her hand around my wrist.
“Why are you asking about that man? Stay away from him. He’s crazier than Victor. Victor at least keeps a few rules, knows what he can touch and what he can’t. Adrian crawled up out of the underground fight pits. Cross him and you’ll be dead before you know what killed you.”
I thought of that unhurried glance through the gap in the door, and nodded.
“Understood. You be careful too.”
Lily looked like she wanted to say more, but a voice crackled through the radio at her waist.
Her expression shifted; she answered, waved, and went off down the corridor on her heels.
By the time I came out the rain was heavy.
I had no umbrella, so I held my bag over my head and ran for the car at the curb.
I’d just started the engine when something thudded into the back and the car lurched forward, the seat belt cutting into my chest.
Rear-ended.
I shoved the door open and ran out into the rain.
The rear bumper was caved in, the tail light shattered across the ground.
The car that had hit me was a black SUV, its front end barely dented.
I’d owned mine for two days.
I walked up to the driver’s side and hammered on the window.
A man in a black suit got out, his face heavy with flesh.
Before I could speak he got his blow in first.
“How did you park? What are you blocking the road for?”