Page 1 of Dangerous Deception

1

ADELINA

“Carlos is dead.”

Soft notes of French classical music drift through the air, dancing around the words I speak aloud into the empty conservatory where only the dewy drops of paint on the end of my brush bear witness. The soft yellow paint wells up on the end of my brush, threatening to escape the bristles while the vibrant painting before me blurs through my building, unshed tears.

Marie, my dearest and currentlyonlyfriend in the entire world, told me it helps to say these things out loud. It’s part of the natural grieving process, apparently, and bottling up such grief will only lead to disaster—disasters like the wonky eyes of the teddy bear I’ve spent forty minutes crafting with delicate strokes of my brush. The bear is supposed to look warm and welcoming, but he’s currently giving off serial killer vibes.

It’s not the best design to hang in the halls of a children’s hospital.

I close my eyes, letting warm tears drip down my cheeks while my chest squeezes like someone’s reached inside my ribcage and grasped my heart in their fist.

Carlos is dead.

My fiancé.

Five days ago, I laid him to rest in the cemetery alone. No one else attended except my bodyguards. Not even his family.

Because his family are dead too.

To those around me—mainly Marie—Carlos was a sweet, kind gentleman I’d met while volunteering at the hospital. I was the painter, and he was the weekly entertainer. We bonded over our shared passion for bringing smiles and laughter to children battling a range of illnesses.

It’s the partial truth. I volunteer there as often as possible, reading to children who have no one, playing dress-up, and hosting art classes for every budding Picasso. Carlos would also be there but in a much more formal capacity.

Carlos was a Mafia heir and I was to be his wife, joining our families together in order to secure a stronger future for both of us. Such things are common in this kind of life, and our engagement started as part of an arrangement.

For the past five years, a rising family in my world has become known as nothing more than bloodthirsty tyrants, leaving smaller families like my own to scramble for safety and security in the arms of others. While marriages like mine to Carlos would have occurred for traditional reasons, this was supposed to be a joining of strength that would protect all of us.

Now Carlos lies in the cold, hard ground alongside the rest of his family, and I have nothing but infinite heartbreak and renewed conviction that my family will be next. My father works tirelessly to keep us afloat, but these days, no one is safe from the Varricchio family. They’re the sharks and everyone beneath them are simply chum.

And they took away the man I loved.

At least I think I loved him. Sometimes, it’s difficult to untangle my feelings.

Carlos spent time with me. He was a kind man with warm eyes and a good heart. While he spent most of his time at the hospital acting like my bodyguard, he was so good with the kids. He would bring me coffee and the last toffee donut from the cafeteria. We’d share childhood stories over pasta at a local restaurant, and my heart would flutter each time he called for me.

I was lucky. Most arranged marriages rarely result in romance. And he made me feel good, so it had to be love.

Now it’s over.

He’s gone.

I’m alone.

And my family’s future teeters on the edge of destruction.

Slowly, I open my eyes and squint as if my time in darkness will have altered the look of the teddy bear. Nope. It stares at me with squint, empty eyes that peer directly into my soul. Definitely not kid-friendly.

Although…

Wiping my tears with the back of one hand, I sniffle and try to compass myself. Rather than scrapping the painting, I attempt to salvage it. Instead of holding a bouquet of flowers, I give the teddy bear a small knife and cover it in brightly colored blood. Adding an eye patch over the worst-painted eye, I adjust his sailor’s outfit to be ripped and dirty, then quickly paint in some scattered pieces of a toy robot.

It’s gone from a sweet teddy bear picture to a somewhat alarming killer picture. Not ideal for this time of year, but I’ll put it aside for Halloween. I’m sure the kids will appreciate it since they’ve gone through things much more terrifying than a killer teddy bear. By the time I add the last strokes of detail, my tears have dried and I’m nearly out of paint on my palette.

It’s good enough.

The small burst of satisfaction in my chest is momentary and quickly swallowed by the next wave of grief.

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