From the expression darkening Bruno’s face, I can tell he’s reading bad news on his phone screen. He heaves a sigh, slips the phone into his back pocket, and looks over at Giovanni, who is clearly waiting for some kind of order. He shakes his head and Giovanni’s face settles into a stony look of resignation, his eyes narrowing. This wordless exchange is enough to throw my anxiety into high gear. I may not be in tune with how the mafia operates these days, but I am certainly in tune with Bruno’s body language, and I know this is not good.

He strides over to me and gently takes my face in his huge hands, staring into my eyes for a moment before kissing me. There’s a sort of quiet desperation in his kiss, the way his fingers press against my cheeks as he leans close to me. I can tell something is wrong. Very wrong, from the way things feel right now. A knot of worry balls up in my stomach.

“I have to go,” Bruno tells me softly, those bright green eyes burning into mine. Somehow, I knew exactly what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth. But there’s no use in fighting it. Bruno is a mafioso and he does exactly what he has to do, whether I like it or not.

So I give him a quick nod. “You have to promise me that you’ll come back safe, okay? I-I don’t have a good feeling about any of this, Bruno. I can’t— I won’t lose you again.”

“Mia passerotta,” he says, tracing his thumb over my chin fondly, “I will never leave you for long. You can trust in that. I will be careful. I have something very important to live for.”

It’s almost as if there’s a silent now missing at the end of his sentence, and it breaks my heart to think that before he found me again, he didn’t think he had any real reason to keep going. I vow to myself to make his life beautiful again, to bring him the kind of joy that will make him happy to be alive. I want to give him everything.

But he has to survive this first. We both do.

Bruno kisses me one more time and then slips out of the apartment, leaving me here with Rafaela and Giovanni, the two most unlikely companions for this situation. Rafaela comes up behind me and takes my arm, giving it an encouraging squeeze.

“Come on, chica. Let’s have some of that cocoa and try to just relax,” she suggests, holding up the box of fancy dark chocolate cocoa I brought as a sort of weak apology for getting Rafaela tangled up in this mess. Though, to be honest, her involvement with Nico probably would have made her a target at one point or another anyway. For such a big metropolitan city, New York is starting to feel like a claustrophobic little town. And we’re all snagged in the same dangerous web.

“Giovanni, you want some?” Rafaela asks. He looks stoically amused for a moment, and then gives a shrug.

“Sure,” he answers flatly.

“Claro,” she replies, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as we go into the kitchen. She heats up some milk on the stove while I stare blankly at the tile floor, trying to remain as calm as possible despite the nervous energy bubbling in my veins.

“Ugh, I wish I could just turn my brain off for a while,” I murmur, closing my eyes.

“I know what you mean,” she says. “It’s hard not to think of the worst-case scenario. But jumping to conclusions when you don’t know anything for sure only adds unnecessary stress.”

“Are you counseling me right now?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

She smiles. “If that’s what you need. But if I were your real therapist, I wouldn’t do this.”

She reaches up to take down a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet, pouring about half a shot into the cocoa mug before mixing in the hot milk and cocoa mix. Then she hands it to me.

“Wow, if I could get boozy cocoa at the therapist I might actually go,” I tease, blowing gently on the mug to cool it down.

“Well, whatever it takes, I guess,” Rafaela says. Then she calls out, “Giovanni, do you want some super special deluxe cocoa?”

Giovanni walks into the kitchen with a curious look on his face, having to tilt his head slightly walking through the doorway because he’s so tall. When he sees the bottle of whiskey on the counter his face breaks into a surprisingly pleasant smile. He nods. “Si, a little bit.”

“You got it,” she answers, pouring his concoction and handing it over. She turns to me and says, “Okay. So, let’s play therapist. Tell me what you’re feeling right now.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, I don’t know, Raf. I don’t think I want to talk right now.”

She shakes her head and puts a hand on her hip. “Dale, ahora. It’ll help, I promise.”

“Fine,” I sigh, gently swirling the contents of my mug. “Well, first of all, I’m terrified that something bad is going to happen to Bruno. I know this is some deep shit we’re all in, and I’m afraid that it’s at least partly my fault.”

“Mhm, and why is that?”

“Well, because of the stuff with my dad. And the shop. And now Bruno is back and we found each other but once again I’m in trouble and he has to save me and— ugh, I really hate this,” I confess.

“And you’re feeling worried about him, why?”

“Geez, you’re relentless, you know that?” I groan. Rafaela shrugs, waiting patiently for me to keep going. “Okay. I’m upset because I care about him. A lot. In fact, I think I might be falling in love with him all over again. And you know me—that’s totally not normal for me. I don’t just fall head over heels and lose my mind like this. I’m ambitious. I have a lot of responsibilities to take care of and I don’t usually let my feelings get in the way. But with Bruno, it’s impossible. I can’t just ignore how I feel. It’s too real and at the same time it feels like a dream, and now with everything going on, I’m just so afraid that I’ll lose it all.”

“I feel the same way about Nico,” Rafaela agrees, taking a sip of her cocoa. “Here I was, fresh out of Harlem and ready to make something of myself. I’m gonna be a doctor. I’m gonna help people. I have to get perfect grades and work so hard and I can’t lose focus but there he is: the man I can’t help but fall in love with. And he’s a distraction. He takes up all the space in my mind where I should be keeping information for my exams and my dissertation and stuff. Instead of just dreaming about having my own clinic and my own fancy office with a skyscraper view, I’m thinking about how cool it’ll be to grow old with him. I’m thinking about marriage and babies and seeing the world together. I want all of it, my career and my love, and it looked like I was gonna make it happen. But now… I don’t know anything. I’m scared, too, Serena.”

“It is impossible to turn away from love when it burns so brightly and beautifully that it nearly hurts to look with your own eyes upon it. We are eternally trying to get as close to the fire as we can in the hopes of warming our hearts, but the closer we step, the more dangerous the flames become. Love will always be a dance between too close and not close enough, but it is a dance that makes life worth living. ‘If good, why this effect: bitter, mortal? If bad, then why is every suffering sweet?’” Giovanni says suddenly, his deep voice thick with emotion.

Rafaela and I stare at him wide-eyed, surprised at such a lyrical outburst from the most unsuspecting of speakers. “Whoa,” she murmurs.

Giovanni shrugs and downs the rest of his spiked cocoa in one go. “I read a lot of Petrarch. These security jobs get very boring sometimes. The mind needs stimulation.”

“You’re going to make some girl very happy someday,” I comment, shaking my head in awe.

Giovanni grins, almost looking bashful for a moment. “Someday maybe, but for now my heart belongs to the most beautiful one of all: Italia.”

“Speaking of Italy, I could really go for some pasta right now,” Rafaela says, patting her stomach with a pitiful expression. “Serena, you want to help me get some dinner started? We may be on lockdown here but we still gotta eat.”

“Sure,” I answer, and the two of us start taking out ingredients for spaghetti while Giovanni pulls a small book from his jacket pocket and sits on a bar stool reading silently. “Raf, do you have a pasta strainer anywhere?” I ask.

“Oh yeah, we got a new one the other day. It’s still in the foyer in a shopping bag if you want to go grab it,” she says, chopping tomatoes at the counter.

I walk into the entranceway of the apartment to look for the bag, glancing at the door to make triple-sure it’s locked and deadbolted while I’m at it. Just as I look over at the door, something dark passes by the peephole and my blood runs cold.

Surely it’s just one of Raf’s neighbors coming home from work or something. Or just a trick of the eye. Nothing to worry about. But just in case, I step closer and look through the peephole. There’s another flash of black and then the door rattles with a loud thump from the other side. I fall backward with a cry, and Giovanni comes running.

“What is it?” Rafaela calls out from the kitchen.

“Cazzo,” Giovanni says under his breath. He reaches out and yanks me to my feet, pushing me behind him and gesturing for me to get out of the way. “Run! Hide!” he hisses.

I take off for the kitchen, grab Rafaela around the waist, and the two of us bolt for her bedroom. “I think they’ve found us,” I whisper, hastily locking the bedroom door before we run into the en suite bathroom and lock ourselves in there.

“Mierda,” she mumbles, her face going ashen gray. “What are we gonna do?”

“Be quiet and hide and hope Giovanni can keep them out, I guess,” I reply, feeling totally helpless. Out of the corner of my eye I see my jacket lying on the bathroom counter and I reach for it to take the knife out of its pocket. Rafaela looks at it wide-eyed.

“What the fuck are you planning to do with that?” she mutters, clearly terrified.

“Whatever’s necessary,” I answer shortly. “Now hush.”

We climb into the tub and pull the shower curtain closed, sitting in the dark, waiting for the inevitable battle to ensue. There’s a short silence, and then several earsplitting bangs. Rafaela starts to scream and I clap a hand over her mouth, shielding her with my arms as we huddle in the bathtub. There’s the unmistakable crack of the front door being kicked in, and the shouts of angry male voices out in the apartment. Next we hear the sound of breaking glass, the grunts and thumps of men fighting, and my heart aches for Giovanni, worrying that he might already be dead by now. From the sound of it, he’s definitely outnumbered, and it’s only a matter of time.

Suddenly, more silence.

All I can hear is Rafaela’s shallow, panicked breathing beside me in the darkness. And then a horrible voice cracking across the apartment, a familiar one I hoped to never hear again.

“Miss De Laurentis!” Lorenzo calls out, his heavy footsteps thumping the floor as he approaches the bedroom. I can hear him clearly, even through the two locked entrances. “I did tell you I’d be back to see you again, didn’t I? I have to admit, it hurts to see that you’re shacking up with other men, having a real party here tonight. Maybe my invitation got lost in the mail. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt one more time, bella. But my patience is wearing very, very thin. Come out and see me.”

Tears pulse down Rafaela’s cheeks as she struggles to keep quiet. My heart sinks. This can’t be how this goes down. It can’t happen like this. Where is Bruno? What happened to Giovanni?

“Knock, knock!” Lorenzo shouts, banging on the bedroom door. “Come out and play!”

He tries the lock for a moment and then I hear him bark an order in Italian. A moment later, there’s a resounding crash and I just know they’ve kicked the bedroom door down.

Lorenzo laughs, a terrible, nasally sound. “Oh, these cheap apartments in the city are so shoddily made. Just fall apart all over the place. Now, those houses out in Riverdale are much better quality, aren’t they, Serena? Your daddy kept you up there in that damn mansion of his, guarding you just like all the good fortune that didn’t rightly belong to him.”

There’s a sharp rap at the bathroom door and Rafaela squeals in fear, burrowing into my side and sobbing. Lorenzo laughs again. “I wonder what your daddy would think now, hmm? His precious virginal little daughter caught up in the same shit that killed him. I doubt he’d be very proud.”

I grit my teeth, closing my eyes and tightening my grip on the knife. He’s wrong. Maybe I have made some big mistakes, but I’ll be damned if I go down without a battle. My father would’ve wanted me to fight for my life. I’ve always had to fight, ever since the day he died, and I won’t stop now.

“Last chance,” Lorenzo continues, his voice sharp and low. “Open the door and we won’t kill your Costa side piece here. We’re not after him or your little friend in there. I want you. I think we both know it’s in everybody’s best interest if you just come quietly.”

I sit there for a moment, soaking in his words. On the one hand, I don’t want to give up. It goes against my nature entirely to just surrender now. It’s what Lorenzo wants, and I would hate to ever give him the satisfaction of beating me down. And I don’t trust him to just completely let Rafaela and Giovanni go free. Lorenzo is a lying, scamming, treacherous piece of shit. I can’t take his word.

On the other hand, maybe if I give myself up without a fight he’ll take pity on me. I don’t want to risk pissing him off further and putting Rafaela and Giovanni in any more danger than they’re already in. My heart thumps away in my chest as my mind races in every direction. What the hell can I do? I’m caged here, cornered like a wild animal.

“I’m giving you a chance here, Miss De Laurentis. Give yourself up and save your friends. Or my associate here can kick the door down and kill both of them. It’s up to you. Will you sell out your friends to benefit yourself? Like your good-for-nothing daddy did?” Lorenzo snarls.

Sneering, I sit up and pull the shower curtain to one side.

“No,” Rafaela breathes. “Don’t.”

“I have to. If it gives you any chance of survival, I have to,” I reply simply, climbing out of the tub to unlock the door and deliver myself to the devil. I turn the lock and open the door, letting the light stream into the darkened bathroom. Lorenzo takes me by my knife arm and pulls me close, looking me up and down with rakish glee. One of his henchmen runs into the bathroom and grabs hold of Rafaela. Giovanni is slumped over the combined shoulders of two henchmen, looking void of life.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt them!” I shout, slapping Lorenzo across the face. He grabs my hand and wrenches it behind my back, his eyes flashing with fury.

“No, I said I would not kill them. Your guard dog here will catch a nice ransom from the Costa family. And as for you and your pretty friend, I have my own plans,” he says, smirking cruelly. Remembering my training, I manage to quickly wiggle free of Lorenzo’s grasp, using his own weight against him to pin him in the doorway with my knife pressed against his throat. I can tell the only reason I’m able to get the upper hand is by the element of surprise, but regardless I’m grateful. Two henchmen come barreling toward us to presumably free Lorenzo from me, but he shakes his head ever so slightly.

He raises an eyebrow and says, “No, no, boys. Leave us be. Miss Serena, if you kill me it will be your friend’s blood on your hands.”

I glance over to see a man holding the barrel of a gun to Rafaela’s head and my stomach turns.

Shit.

There’s nothing I can do.

“Now, let’s all just calm down and walk out of here like nothing is wrong,” Lorenzo orders.

Reluctantly, I lower my knife and allow one of the henchmen to wrest my arms behind my back, confiscating my blade in the process. Lorenzo rubs at his neck gingerly and gestures for everyone to leave, leading the way through Rafaela’s ravaged apartment. Then he falls back to walk beside me, the henchman handing me over. Lorenzo holds my wrists tightly at the small of my back, leaning in to perversely sniff at my neck.

“Smells like a glorious addition to my collection,” he says quietly as we file out of the apartment and down the hallway. “Don’t worry, there’s room enough for you and your Spanish friend in my bedroom. I think you’ll be very happy there.”