I’ve been on edge all afternoon, barely able to focus on anything. Samuel walks into the office and drops a file in front of me.

“Figures from the bars,” he says.

“Thanks.”

“And uh, the guys on the door said they saw Anna and Lucas coming in about an hour ago.” I look at him impatiently. Why is this of any consequence? He smiles. “Apparently he had his hands full. She was drunk.”

I tighten my fist. “Thank you. That’ll be all.”

He laughs and walks out of the room. What the hell is wrong with her? I drag a hand over my face. Just when I think she’s getting so much better, she crashes and burns at my feet. I think you should fuck someone else. Shit, if I could, maybe this would be better for both of us. I can’t though. I would never do anything to hurt her because her pain is worse than my own. And it would be like trying to smoke a cigarette to cure a heroin craving. Pointless.

Pushing up from the desk, I take a cigar from my pocket and light it. I make my way through the house, drawing smoke into my lungs before releasing it. It’s become a habit of sorts, to smoke a cigar on the balcony while watching Anna sleep in my bed. I make my way up the stairs and along the hall, pushing my bedroom door open. It takes my eyes a second to adjust to the silvery moonlight in the room, but when they do, I see very clearly, the neatly made bed, absent of Anna. What the fuck?

Where the hell is Lucas? I storm down the hallway towards his room and shove the door open so hard that it bangs against the wall. A figure scrambles around on the floor, and my eyes zero in on Lucas, a blanket tossed casually over him and a pillow on the floor. A tiny figure is buried in the sheets of his bed. His bed. Not mine. The red mist is descending, the more rabid side of my nature threatening to consume me.

“Why the fuck is Anna in your bed?”

“I…she asked. She wouldn’t—”

“Enough.”

I walk over to the bed and scoop her up, pulling her against my chest. The heavy scent of wine drifts from her. Wordlessly, I walk from the room. Lucas and I will be having words tomorrow, but not now, not while Anna is trying to sleep in another man’s bed to hide from me. I walk her back to my room, and she barely stirs until I put her down on my bed.

“Rafe?” A little frown line sinks between her brows.

“Avecita,” I say through clenched teeth. My rage is a palpable thing, driven partly by the most selfish form of possession and partly by the absolute consuming fear that she’s trying to leave me.

She sits up, her hair wild and her eyes sleepy. “I don’t want to sleep here,” she mumbles.

I close my eyes for a beat, willing calm. “Why?”

Her hand lands on my face, fingers sloppily stroking over my cheek. “Because I love you, but I can’t love you.” She drops her gaze and sniffs. “And if you did have…sex with someone else, it’s okay.” Her voice breaks, and I pull her against my chest, wrapping my arms around her tiny form.

“Sweet Anna. So unaware,” I breathe into her hair.

I hold her until she stops trembling. She falls asleep in my arms, her soft breaths blowing rhythmically over my throat. Laying her down on the bed, I sweep her hair away from her face. The moonlight washes her features until her lashes cast shadows over her pale cheeks. I fall on my back on the bed next to her, releasing a long breath.

She’s right here next to me, but there might as well be a thousand miles between us because she doesn’t believe she’s enough.

I gave her freedom, and now she’s using it to run away.

* * *

Carlos’ fist collides with my jaw, and I stagger back a step. Dammit, the little fucker is fast. He cracks his knuckles and smirks at me.

“Size isn’t everything, Rafe.”

I snort. “Oh, it is.”

I sock him one in the gut. He dodges, missing the main bulk of the blow, but I still catch him in the side. He coughs, dragging a gasping breath into his lungs. “Fuck, you’re a bastard,” he chokes out.

The shrill ringing of my phone cuts through the gym, but I ignore it. It instantly starts ringing again. On a sigh, I walk over to where I tossed it on the mats and pick it up. Nero.

“Italian.”

“Rafael. How are things?”

“If by things you mean Anna, then she’s fine.”

He lets out a long sigh. “I have Una.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Is she alive?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?” I can’t work out Nero’s angle here. The Italians are the ones who put the hit on Una Ivanov. So is he in on it? Did he set her up to be the fall guy? Was he planning to use both the Vasiliev sisters?

“No one will touch Una. She’s under my protection.”

“Have you informed the rest of the mafia of that?”

“They won’t touch a woman.”

“I don’t think the Italians’ morals will apply to her somehow. She’s not exactly the average simpering housewife. And she’s Russian.” The Italians hate the Russians.

There’s a pause. “They won’t touch my woman.”

I groan. “Fuck, tell me you didn’t.”

“You’re hardly one to talk. I sent you a girl to protect, and you turn around and fuck her.”

“I haven’t fucked Anna,” I growl.

“Don’t give me that shit. You fucking want to.” He sighs. “Look, I have Una anyway. So she’s not coming for Anna. She’s got…bigger problems.”

“Clearly.”

“I’m keeping her locked up for now, but I’m going to have to let her out at some point.”

“You’ve got her…. imprisoned?” I shake my head. He’s fucked her, and now he’s keeping her prisoner. “You, my friend, have a death wish.”

“Yeah, well, at some point I’m going to have to offer her an olive branch.”

“You’re not using Anna.”

“Now who’s imprisoning girls?”

I growl. “Anna is free to leave whenever the fuck she wants, but only when she wants. Not because you demand it, and not because her psycho sister takes her.”

“Careful, Rafael.”

“No, Nero. You be careful. My debt to you is paid. I owe you nothing. Touch her, and you’ll find out just how fucking dangerous I can be.” In my periphery I see Carlos slide his hoody on, his entire body rigid and alert.

There’s a pause, the creak of an office chair, the snap of a lighter. “Calm down, Rafael. I assure you, our goals are aligned.”

“So, what is it you want?” I snap. My patience is running out, wearing thin.

“Una will want to at least speak to Anna on the phone.”

I think about it for a second. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” I’m not going to promise him anything. It’s Anna’s choice whether or not she speaks to her sister.

“Very well.”

“So, it’s safe to go back to the city now?”

“No,” he says quickly. “Not yet. Anna is an easy target for anyone wanting Una. She’s still vulnerable. Can I trust you to protect her?”

I hang up on him. I won’t even dignify that with an answer, and as I told him, I owe him nothing. I’ll protect Anna because she’s mine. Not for him or Una.

Carlos leans against the wall next to the window, a cigarette now pressed between his lips. “You getting into it with the Italian?”

I cock a brow. “I’ve owed him a favor for so long that he thinks he owns me. Sometimes he needs reminding otherwise.”

He nods and pushes off the wall, heading to the door. “Give me a shout if you need ground troops.”

“It won’t come to that.”

He pauses in the doorway and turns to face me. “Oh, and teach your girl to throw a punch will you?” I frown, and he smirks. “I had to rescue her from Lucas’ terrible self-defense lessons.”

“For fuck’s sake.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. What the hell is going on with her?

“Nothing wrong with teaching her to defend herself.”

I glare at him. “If you teach her to defend herself then she’ll try when some fucker attacks her. She’ll think she can handle herself.”

“You afraid she won’t need your macho ass anymore?” His eyebrows bounce, and his lips twitch in amusement.

I point at him. “You don’t teach Anna anything.”

He holds his hands up. “Someone’s got to. No one should learn to throw a punch from Lucas.”

My phone pings at the same time as his does, and that’s never good. I glance at the screen, seeing a picture message from Samuel. I open it and instantly my pulse ticks up.

It’s a picture of a woman: blonde, pretty. Or rather she was before her throat was slit. The Sinaloa slave tattoo is clear on the side of her neck. The phone starts ringing in my hand, and I answer it.

“Yeah?”

“Did you see the picture?”

“Yeah.”

“She was left at the mansion gate. Along with a note.”

“What kind of note?”

“It was addressed to Anna.”

I lower the phone for a second, grappling with the blind rage that’s crawling up my spine. I put the phone back to my ear. “Dominges?”

“Apparently, he is going to keep killing whores until Anna returns to him. I’ll send you a picture of the note.”

“Good, and Samuel?”

“Yeah.”

“Not a word of this near Anna.” The girl is a bleeding heart. It would be just like her to martyr herself, and of course, that’s why he’s doing it. He knows he can’t get to her so now he’s trying to flush her out. It’s stupid though. I would never let her actually see it. I hang up the phone and glance at the image of the dead girl one more time.

Anna can’t know about this.

Carlos stares at the screen of his phone. “This can’t be good.” I lift a brow. “It seems like a desperate last-ditch attempt to me.”

“It does.”

“Where is Anna anyway? I haven’t seen her this morning.” I know he’s asking out of concern. They all guard her like she’s royalty because they know, to me, she is.

“She’s not up yet.”

He smirks. “Hungover?”

I turn towards the door. “Something like that.” Or the fact that I locked her in my room.

Anna and I are going to talk, and she’s not leaving that room until we do.