Page 33 of Possessive Mafia Vows

“I want to sell it on merit. I want people to look at my work and feel compelled to buy it because it reaches out to them. I don’t want a friend of a friend handing over some cash as a favor.”

“Sure, I get it.” He nods, and his head keeps right on nodding like it has somehow worked loose from his neck. “I’ll speak to him. Tell him the piece is no longer for sale.”

Relief floods my chest. “You will?” Maybe he is trying.

“Anything for my baby girl.” He licks his lips. “On one condition.”

There it is: the hidden clause.

“Tell me who’s been following you.”

“What?” It takes several beats for me to work out what he’s talking about. My shoulders slump. “It’s nothing. I was just being paranoid.”

“People don’t get paranoid for no reason. You sounded pretty adamant on the phone.”

“It’s fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”

He watches me for a long time, and it’s obvious that he doesn’t believe me. Finally, he says, “Have it your way. But I want you to promise me that you’ll let me know if it gets out of hand.”

“Okay.” I’m not promising him anything. An awkward silence settles between us, and I glance at the door. “I’m busy…”

“I know.” He walks to the door, the coat flapping around his legs. “If I find out someone is hurting my little girl, I’ll?—”

“They’re not. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

“That’s a lot of fines for someone who looks as if she’s about to cry.”

He reaches out a hand to touch my face, and I back away, tears stinging my eyes right on cue.

“Please go.”

I want him to leave so that I can lock myself in my studio and breathe again. My chest feels tight, and my head is spinning, and I don’t think I’ve taken a deep breath since he walked through the door.

“I’ll call you, sweetheart. I’m never going to stop trying.”

He walks away, and I follow his retreating back with my eyes. He’s almost at the corner of the block when another man walkstowards him in a beige coat with a red woolen scarf around his neck. They exchange a few words, and I head back inside, checking that the man in black has gone.

I don’t even make it to my office before the doorbell rings again.

Sucking in a deep breath, I go back and open the door expecting to find my father standing there looking apologetic. But instead, I’m peering into the cool gray eyes of Nick Morris.

He smiles and steps inside, unwinding the red woolen scarf from around his neck. “I was passing by and thought I’d take you for lunch.”

8

KYLE

Sienna isn’t readingmy messages. I try calling her, and she doesn’t pick up, so I type one final message and hit send.

I don’t know what you’re talking about. Five minutes. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll come to the gallery.

Five minutes drag by so slowly it feels like five hours. I’m already in the elevator and on my way down to the parking lot before the time is up.

I call Bash from the car en route to the gallery. “What did you say to Sienna?”

“Huh?” I picture my brother scratching his head and messing up his hair. “What did she tell you?”

“Nothing. That’s the problem. She isn’t even reading my messages now.”

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