Page 52 of Coerced Queen

“Okay, so say I buy into this plan of yours, there’s still one snag.”

I raise a brow.

“Convincing Sav isn’t going to be easy,” Dante says.“He’ll never let you put yourself at risk.”

“Then don’t tell him where the list and the video will come from.”

“Sav is more than my boss.He’s my friend.I’m not going to deceive him.”

“Listen to me, Dante.We don’t have a choice.If he knows what I’m planning, he’ll try to stop me.You can say you’re getting the list and the video.Saverio doesn’t have to know I’m involved.We’ll tell him the truth when it’s all over.”

“Why don’t I just get the woman and the list?Why not let me in on your plan?Better yet, why not let Sav carry it out?”

“Because Elena won’t trust you or Saverio.She knows Saverio is going to avenge himself on her husband, and she believes she’s a target too.Raphael didn’t care that his attack would take me out.I was collateral damage.Elena thinks Saverio will make her pay to get back at Raphael.An eye for an eye.As Saverio made a point of not denying it when Rachele brought up the subject, Elena must be convinced her death is imminent.She won’t come anywhere near Saverio or any man who works for him.”

“Fuck.”He drops his head between his shoulders.“I don’t like this.”

“But you know it can work.It’s a much better plan than letting my husband commit suicide.”

“Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.”

A smile plucks at my lips, because I know I’ve won.

“But,” he says, holding up a finger, “if anything goes wrong, I want you and Claire out of the country.I’m going to put a backup plan into place, and you’re going to promise me you won’t give me any problems when I have to put your ass on a plane.”

“Promise,” I say, crossing my fingers over my heart.

“Fuck, Anya,” he says again, looking frightened.

And that’s saying something, because in all the time I’ve known Dante, even when that grenade rolled down the aisle and bullets rained on us, I’ve never seen him scared.

ChapterNineteen

Saverio

“You’re making progress, Mr.De Luca,” my physiotherapist says with an encouraging smile while stripping the protective cover from the massage table after our four o’clock session.“In a few weeks, we can exchange the crutches for a cane.”

I wipe the sweat from my brow with an exercise towel.“By the eighteenth of April?”

“That’s rather specific.”His eyebrows pinch together even as his lips quirk.“What happens on the eighteenth of April?”

“My wife’s birthday,” I say in a gruff voice.

“Ah.”He continues to pack away his equipment.“It depends on how quickly you recover your mobility and muscle strength, but you shouldn’t overdo it by pushing yourself too hard.That may result in new injuries.The right balance is important.”He straightens from zipping up his bag.“That’s what I’m here for.”

I grunt, taking the crutches where they lean against the back of the sofa.

“You already manage fine without the wheelchair,” he says.“But don’t hesitate to use the chair if your knee needs a break.It’s not a weakness to let your injury rest, you know.”

“Yes,” I say, having no such intention.

We agree on a time for tomorrow’s appointment before he leaves.Then I use the downstairs bathroom to shower.When I brush my hair in front of the mirror, I take in the scars and the mismatching acrylic eye.The production of the custom-made eye has started.In a month’s time, I’ll have an eye that looks exactly like my own.The only difference is that I won’t be able to see through it.I looked into bionic eye implants, but the research is still in its early days.

Turning my face to the right, I inspect my reflection.From this angle, with the damaged side of my head in the shadows and the left half untouched, I look perfect.Anyone seeing me from this side won’t guess there’s anything wrong with my face.It’s a cruel illusion.

A knock falls on the door.

“Sav,” Livy calls.“Are you in there?”

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