Page 55 of The Red Queen

“I’m not!” Mrs. Capelli defended herself, her body vibrating with fear and tension. “It was an honest mistake, Signora, it won’t happen again.”

Desi pressed the knife against the other woman’s cheek. Not enough to cut, but enough to make sure the woman knew if she breathed wrong, Desi was going to slice her.

“No, it won’t happen again, because I won’t let it.” Ice dripped from each word.

They stared at each other for several long seconds, then Desi stepped away from the older woman, releasing her neck. Mrs. Capelli stayed frozen against the wall, staring at Desi as though she were a goblin.

“You’re lucky I’m trying to change.” Still holding the knife, Desi reached for her wine and took a sip. “Or I would spill your guts all over this carpet and call it a misunderstanding.”

“Dios,” Mrs. Capelli whispered, her face white.

“How about we stop these misunderstandings?” Desi said pleasantly, taking another sip.

“Si, yes, it won’t happen again.”

“Good.” Desi smiled. “You may leave.”

Desi and Donada watched as Mrs. Capelli flew from the room, hurtling past Vitto, who was standing guard in the hallway. He watched her run away, an expression of disinterest on his face.

Desi closed the door and turned back to Donada. “I think you were right about this whole changing the future thing. I feel better already.”

Donada laughed and shook her head. “That wasn’t quite what I meant.”

“I’ll keep working on it.” Desi set her glass down and replaced the knife in her vanity drawer, next to the gun she’d taken off one of Giovanni’s men when he wasn’t paying attention.

“You do that.” Donada grabbed a jewelry box from Desi’s nightstand. It had been delivered that morning. “Now, tell me, are you going to wear pearls or diamonds for the big day?”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Her wedding day.

How was it possible that Desi had reached this point in her life? She was thirty-five and hadn’t thought she would ever walk down the aisle. Hadn’t wanted to. Until now. Every passing day with Giovanni, in his household, with Donada, Vitto, and the others had convinced her that she could hope for something more. A different life.

She sighed at herself and her maudlin thoughts and reached for a tissue, pressing it beneath her eyes. Now she would have to repair her makeup.

Sliding onto her vanity chair, Desi leaned into the mirror and used the eyeliner brush to fix the smudging. She’d been teary eyed more than usual. It was a strange sensation that Donada encouraged her to embrace. Tears were normal and Desi wanted to embrace normalcy.

Though she found idleness boring, she didn’t want to embrace death and destruction again. When Giovanni finally allowed her to work with him, she would ask him for a desk job.

She snorted at herself. A desk job… like a cop recovering from an injury. Or an ex-cartel enforcer recovering from a lifetime of PTSD.

She froze.

Where had that thought come from? She wasn’t stupid. She knew PTSD existed, but she’d never thought to apply it to herself. It was a condition caused by experiencing traumatic and life-threatening events, which, of course, Desi had. Repeatedly.

She stared at herself, into her brown eyes, trying to read an emotion. Any emotion. They still looked dead to her. Like the soul had been sucked out of her long ago, leaving a grim reaper in its place. Someone who stole souls because hers had been taken.

“Jesus, such thoughts on my wedding day.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the imagery before she committed herself to a man who would see right through her every thought. He would know there was something wrong. He always seemed to know because he’d taken the time to get to know her.

“I can do this,” she whispered.

She opened her eyes in time to save herself from a bullet to the head. She moved just as Antonio pulled the trigger, flinging herself away from the vanity and tumbling to the floor in a blur of white skirt and long, dark hair. The gun had a silencer, but the mirror shattered as the bullet struck it dead center.

Vitto rushed into the room, his gun drawn, but he was too late.

Desi screamed his name as Antonio’s second bullet hit the other man, flinging him into the hallway.

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