Page 20 of Cruel Existence

I left my father’s office, not accomplishing what I wanted. Instead, I had a new problem on my hands. I had to hope that it would lead Amara back to me and not lock her inside her father’s prison.

Eight

AMARA

Someone was blocking my sun. I peered over my sunglasses. It was Ciro. I couldn’t tell if he was eyeing my new bikini. His shades were dark. His face expressionless.

“Yes?” I prompted. “What’s wrong?” I stretched one leg along the other. My skin glistened in the sunlight. I hadn’t had a say in the house my father chose for us to live in, but I did like the pool. It felt as if I was in a French courtyard somewhere in the south of France on the coast.

Summers in Philly weren’t like this. The humidity clung to my skin regardless of whether I was inside or walking to the shopping district.

“We need to talk about last night.” His tone was never pleasant. “There are some things you should know.”

I sighed. “I knew you would tell my father.” I picked up the book I was reading. “I’m not surprised.”

“Actually, I haven’t mentioned it.”

I sat forward. He had my attention. “Why not?” I asked.

I had been waiting all day for my father to berate me about leaving Katya’s engagement party and giving Ciro the slip. I felt a warmth between my thighs just thinking about those precious hours I had stolen with Luka. They had been both delicious and dangerous. I wanted to touch my fingers to my lips and trace the bruises his kisses had left, but I had an audience.

“Didn’t you notice?” he grumbled.

“Notice what?”

“Your father hasn’t left his rooms today. Not even for meals.”

I held my breath, expecting him to elaborate. “Okay. And your point?” My father’s room was designed like a mini-apartment. As long as his maid brought him what he asked for, he could stay inside as long as he wanted. I preferred it that way.

“It’s almost one o’clock. He’s not well. I don’t want to add to his stress. I’m supposed to keep the Amatos safe. I take that seriously.”

I groaned. “It’s just bronchitis. He gets it all the time.” Of all the people to fuss over my father, I didn’t expect it to be Ciro. My father had caught something in the spring, in the harsh cold we left behind in the city. He blamed the snow and drafts in his offices. I was sure it would be gone after more sun and a little time outside. The problem was my father rarely left his office. Now, it seemed his new habit in New Orleans was not leaving his mansion bedroom.

Ciro was expressionless as he continued with his lecture. “Whether he is regularly sick or not, I thought I’d give you apass for last night. For his sake, at least. Not yours. Don’t mistake my motives.”

“A pass?” I reached for my water bottle.

I saw the sweat trickle down his neck. He was wearing a suit, equipped with body armor and weapons. I drank slowly in front of him, knowing he wouldn’t dare take a break even if he was dehydrated.

“Yes. A pass. If he knew you had skirted my detail, we’d both be in trouble.”

I laughed. “So, this is about you saving your job. It’s not really because you’re worried about his health.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m trying to do a favor for you too. He won’t be happy if he knows you spent the evening with Luka Novikov.”

“That’s crazy because he sent me to his sister Katya’s engagement party,” I argued. “He wanted me to represent him, and that means I have to socialize with everyone. Even Luka Novikov.” My argument was foolproof.

“You were there because of the Petrovs, not to sneak off with Luka Novikov.”

How did Ciro know what my father’s intentions were? “What are you talking about?”

“Trust me. Stay away from Luka Novikov. He is dangerous, Amara.”

“What do you know about him?” I tested. I suddenly had little bubbles tingling in my chest and throughout my belly. I wanted to know anything and everything I could about Luka.

“Russian mafia.” It wasn’t much of an answer. “Bratva is not something to toy with. Their training is…”

“What? What is it about him that makes you think he’s more dangerous to me than any of the Capos who work for my father?” It was a sound argument. I grew up in a dark world. What made the Russians the scary ones?

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