– Chapter 4 The other end of the line went dead silent. The background noise stopped. Through the glass, | saw Luciano freeze. His movements stopped. He pushed Maya away and looked around frantically. “Catherine…” His voice changed. “Why would you ask that? Where… where are you?” My heart was bleeding. “Catherine, don’t overthink things.” Luciano’s voice was urgent. “The wedding is in a week. You’re the only one | love. You know that.” The only one?
“I’m handling some urgent family business right now, baby,” he continued, weaving his web of lies, his voice full of that tenderness | used to adore. “Go home and get some rest. I’ll come find you when I’m done, okay? We have the final fitting for your dress tomorrow.” —- | remembered him telling me, “My princess deserves the most beautiful dress in the world.” It was all an act. He could talk to me about wedding details while having sex with Maya, without even blushing. What kind of acting skills did that take? What kind of cold-blooded heart? “Okay.” My voice was surprisingly calm.
“lll be waiting.” It was the last lie | would ever tell for him. | hung up before he could reply. I’d heard enough of his voice. And Maya’s. | walked back to my car. My knuckles were white on the steering wheel. My hands were shaking uncontrollably, just like that seventeen-year-old girl cornered in the alley. But this time, there was no Maya to save me. —- This time, Maya was the one who hurt me. Tears blurred the road ahead. Outside was the industrial grit of Brooklyn-violence, drugs, every dirty deal imaginable. But none of it was as filthy as the darkness poisoning my heart.
| wanted to drive away, to escape this nightmare. But my hands were shaking too hard to even hold the key. My tears made it impossible to see. | needed to calm down. At 5 a.m., my hands finally stopped shaking. My tears had run dry. | was ready to leave this place and never look back. Just then, the heavy steel door of the club creaked open. A few men walked out, cigarettes dangling from their lips, laughing and joking. They seemed to be ina good mood. —- | knew every single one of them-Marco, Luciano’s right-hand man, who was always so respectful to me. Tony, the family’s accountant.
We’d talked about the stock market at a family dinner. Luca, Luciano’s cousin. His wife and | did charity work together. | thought they were my friends. My family. “Looks like the boss prefers his women with a little more fire,” Marco said with a laugh, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “Or he wouldn’t have stayed in there all night and postponed the family meeting.” “A princess like Catherine is for show, not for fun,” Tony said, flicking ash from his cigarette, his tone dripping with contempt. “Too pure. Bet she’s a dead fish in bed. The boss is still a man.
He needs a little spice.” Luca roared with laughter. “A spitfire like Maya knows how to play the game. | hear she’s up for anything in bed. No wonder the boss is obsessed.” Their words were like knives, slicing me open. —- So that’s what | was to them. A boring vase. A pretty, stupid girl to put on display. And Maya was the real deal, the one who could actually satisfy a man. They all knew. Every single one of them. While | was worried about Maya’s safety, they were laughing at my naivety. When | told Luciano “I’ll be waiting,” they were watching the show.
While | thought | was about to become the matriarch of the Carbone family, they were gossiping behind my back about how boring | was. Just then, the club door opened again. Luciano and Maya walked out. Maya’s face was still flushed from sex, her eyes lazy with satisfaction. They really looked like they’d had a good night. Maya swung her leg over her motorcycle. Luciano walked toward her, his hand reaching for her thigh, —- caressing the skin | would never show in public. The gesture was so intimate it made me want to vomit. Like real lovers saying goodbye.
In that instant, | flipped on my headlights. The bright beams hit Luciano. He squinted, shielding his eyes. When he adjusted to the light and saw me in the car, his face went white as a sheet. “Catherine…” His voice was a whisper, but | heard it clearly.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
