Page 65 of Cage of Thorns and Blood

“How come you didn't bring a date?” I ask.

“Are you shitting me?” He stares at me as if I'm stupid.

“You could have brought somebody. Doesn't matter that it's not a real date. I bet loads of your gal pals would have appreciated a night out like this.”

He simply narrows his eyes and then glances around the room. “Talking of gal pals, where's yours?”

That's a good question, one that I don't know the answer to.

“Not sure. She saw a girlfriend.”

“We need to talk about her.”

I hold my hand up. “I know you disapprove, but it’s my life and?—”

“There’s been talk of a threat against her.”

“What?” The blood rushes through my ears, making a strange oceanic sound as I take in what he said.

“Yeah. Nothing definite, but with the shit we have going on with the Greeks, I’ve had eyes and ears on the streets. Seems there is word about you and her, and the feeling is that she’s a soft target, and also a two for one.”

“Two for one?”

“Yeah, you know. Fuck her up and hurt two families. You, a Mancini, and also the Andrettis.”

Fuck. Everything else, the games playing, my fucking pride, the fact I was going to come clean to her and beg if needed, it all falls away.

She’s in danger, and she’s coming home with me, and there’s nothing to discuss. Even my vendetta against the Andrettis is suddenly pushed into sharp focus. They are my enemy, but it seems we are now both enemies of the Greek mob. My enemies’ enemy is my friend, is the saying.

“I need to find her,” I mutter.

I push my chair back, about to go look for her, when an electrical whirring sound rings out in the room, and the curtains start to open.

Oh, this is going to be fun. I sit in my seat and decide I can wait another second. The idiots behind the curtain are about to reveal themselves to the entire room.

As the curtains open, I first see a tall man in a dark suit. And in his arms is a woman in a gold dress that I instantly recognize.

Fury hits me hard and swift. It's like a punch to the gut, taking my breath away. I stare at the stage, and my jaw works as I take in what I'm seeing. At first, I can't believe it. There is no way she would do this to me again, for a second time.

“Holy fuck,” Clifford says with a low chuckle. “She did it to you again.”

A loud pop rings out, and sharp pain digs into my palm. I look down and realize with a dull, foggy sense of warped reality that my hand is bleeding. I squeezed my champagne glass so hard it broke.

“Damn.” Clifford shakes his head and looks from the stage to me. “That girl really does hate you. I’m starting to worry that you might have a really tiny dick. You can't seem to satisfy a woman.”

I pick up the water glass next to me and without even thinking throw it in his face.

Clifford stares at me, murder shining in his eyes as water drips down his face.

My phone buzzes, and I grab it and take a look.

It’s from Vlad: Another one of our men found dead, same method.

Fuck.

Then I see the message pop up on Whatsapp. I open it. It’s from Renata: I found your pictures, and I know you were spying on me and using me. Fool me twice, huh? Well, the joke’s on you.

The fury abates a little. This isn’t the same as Duncan. This is her trying to recreate that past hurt because I’ve hurt her, again. I fucked up and she’s found out all about my little obsession before I had chance to tell her. Knowing her, she’ll have read it all wrong. Seen it as nothing more than a cold plot to bring her family down when really it’s always been a white-hot obsession with her. I’ll admit that truth and then all bets are off.

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