Page 21 of Crescendo

“I’ll get it, miss.”

My fiancé’s absence is joined by Olga’s. The morning after the proposal, a new companion shook me awake. I haven’t bothered to learn her name, and I can only pray that I never have to.

She’s younger than Olga, slender, with red hair that gleams as she crosses over to the door and pulls it open.

“Mr. Stacatto requests your presence, miss,” Gino says. His tone is flat, revealing nothing. “Eight o’clock tonight. He suggests that you wear the new dress.”

“Th-thank...” My lips are too dry, and it takes several swipes with my tongue before I can form a coherent response. “Thank you.”

“Miss.” He’s gone, closing the door behind him, and it’s a painful waiting game until night rolls around with all the finality of a tolling death bell.

The dress is silk. Lace adorns the sweeping neckline, and I’m alarmed to find that it plunges between my breasts, displaying a teasing V of cleavage. It’s an upgrade from my usually demure wardrobe, but it’s not an improvement. Vinny only likes to show off the toys that he knows are his.“You are mine,Mi Bella.”

“Your hair, miss.”

My new companion expertly styles it, pinning the dark waves up to display my neck. The illusion pays off. I seem whole despite my healing wounds and the battle scars etched into my flesh beneath black silk. Vinny’s chosen word haunts me.Nice.

“The car is waiting, Miss Manzano,” Gino calls from the hallway.

I believe that all is well until I enter the hallway. There are only three men in the suite tonight—Vinny’s taken the bulk of his detail with him, it seems. Their eyes chase me across the room, but on my way through the foyer, I catch sight of the grandfather clock perched against the wall. The time is displayed in emblazoned numbers, and I freeze in my tracks.

8:15

“It’s late.” Fear chokes me. I think I’m going to be sick, buteven my churning stomach knows better than to ruin my new dress. Oh, God. Oh, God.“C-call him! Please.” I turn to Gino, and for a second, I forget myself. My hand shoots out, seizing his collar. “Tell him!Please.It wasn’t me. It’s not my fault. I can’t be late.”

The room spins. Gino has to physically pry my fingers loose, but he lets me go just as quickly and backs away, leaving me to sway on my feet. His hand darts into the pocket of his suit jacket, withdrawing a slim cell phone.

“I will,” he promises, bringing the receiver to his ear. The words he speaks are barked out in another language, but he assures me that everything will be okay in English when he finally hangs up.

I believe him as he ushers me into the elevator and leads me across the lobby below. I have to believe him.

Out front, the car is idling, unconcerned by the danger its driver has placed me in. I think of the girl in my room, fearfully organizing the clothes in my closet. Will I learn her name tonight? God, the thought of it is too much. It swallows me whole, locking me within a prison that seals me up tight, cutting off all oxygen.

Gino leaves me at the curb. I’ll travel to this nightmare alone. I’ll face Vinny alone. The thought has never terrified me more.I can’t. I can’t.

I’m a shell of a woman, sitting in the back seat of the car, my hands neatly folded on my lap. My heart is a pathetic ball in my chest, incapable of churning blood. I can’t take my eyes off the scenery darting past, muted by the car’s tinted windows. I’m sure I’ll die before we reach the venue—suffocate.

But my pulse keeps thumping. My lungs continue to fill with oxygen. My body won’t obey me, so conditioned it is to following Vinny’s will.

My fiancé’s will.

Myhusband.The thought sends hot tears trickling down, but Idon’t hold them back. I’m too tired to wipe them away. He’ll be angry when he sees. I’ll be punished.

Yet they continue to fall throughout the entire journey and still linger when the car finally comes to a stop and the door is opened from the outside. A sob hitches in my throat. My ring weighs me down. Whoever the unlucky goon is to greet me, he’ll have to carry me inside.

I wait for him to utter the usual line.He’s waiting, miss.

I don’t expect for whoever he is to climb inside instead and shove his body against mine. I don’t expect to hear a gun cock or feel the icy ridge of a barrel graze my temple.

It’s like waking up from a dream. This new rush of fear that jolts down my spine is another flavor from the kind Vinny inspires.

“Keep driving,” a gruff voice commands as the door is slammed shut again, but with me trapped inside. “Keep fucking driving.”

Dante

Being Arno Mackenzie’s “guest” comes with the perk of a fully furnished apartment above the pub. It’s small but clean, something I’ve learned to appreciate after the shared quarters of a maximum-security prison. It’s a rare luxury to have your own toilet to piss in. Even rarer to take a shower without jostling for a spigot with twenty other men.

Arno himself claims to have his own place close by, but after the first night, I’m in no mood to reminisce. I spend the first night alone. Back before, I’d troll the city, keeping an ear to the ground for information, or scrounge up old allies who might not run at the sight of me. For what it’s worth, I avoid the bar, but I don’t have to for one fact to become crystal clear.

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