Page 34 of Flawed

I'll always rememberour time together. I wish things were different, but you were right when you said we can't be together.

If I could change my life for you, I would. But I can't. I'm too far in, and for reasons I'll never be able to tell you, there's no getting out. And I'd never put you in a dangerous position.

You deserve the best, my darling stellina. Don't ever settle for anything less.

You'll forever have my heart,

Luca

My insides quiverlike a freight train. I read the letter over and over until it's full of blurred ink from my tears.

For hours, I sit stunned, rotating between tears and dry eyes.

I don't have any way to contact him.

Why didn't I get his phone number?

Stop thinking like this. He admitted it's unsafe for me, and he's never going to be able to get out.

He doesn't know about the baby. Maybe if he did, he could get out.

What am I saying? He's part of one of the most dangerous crime families in the world. He's right. You don't just get out.

My father works for the Marinos. I work for the Marinos. There is no fairy tale ending for us. Luca did me a favor ending this.

Maybe our baby could bring the families together.

Romeo and Juliet both ended up dead. What delusional planet am I living on now?

My baby isn't going to have a father.

You knew that a few days ago before Luca reappeared in your life. This isn't new.

Why does this hurt so bad?

It's turning dark when the doorbell rings, knocking me out of my thoughts. I still have my robe on. The clock reads 5:45.

I rise and get dizzy. I sit back down and curse myself. I haven't eaten all day. The doorbell rings again, and I slowly stand, then make my way to the buzzer. I hold it down and ask, "Who is it?"

"Bill. Delivery for Ms. Moulin," a man's voice says.

"What kind of delivery?" I question, trying to think what it could possibly be. I don't remember ordering anything.

"Furniture," he replies.

The hairs on my arms rise.Furniture?I race to the window and glance at the street. A semitrailer is parked in front of my building, and a ramp has been lowered from the back.

I return to the buzzer, push it, and state, "I didn't order any furniture. I think you have the wrong apartment."

He replies in an annoyed voice, "Ma'am, are you, Ms. Chanel Moulin?"

"Yes."

"Then I have a delivery for you. And I'd like to go home and see my kids at a decent hour tonight. Can you please release the lock so we can do our job?" he asks.

"I'm not accepting anything. I didn't pay for anything," I claim.

He barks, "This is fully paid for and nonrefundable. If I don't deliver it, I've gotta take it back, and that means my guys and I don't get to eat dinner with our families tonight."

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