“How do I look?”

I step into the bedroom to see Autumn standing there in a beautiful form-fitting black dress with elegant straps over the shoulders that seem to meld into the ruffles of the fabric down the front. She wore a thin choker around her flawless neck, and her heels gave her a few extra inches of height, yet still leaving her so short she has to look up at me.

My hand cups her chin, and I stroke it, wishing she weren’t wearing that lovely dark red shade of lipstick so I could plant a kiss on her mouth.

“Are you sure you’re not trying to seduce these gentlemen?” I tease, and she grins.

“Do you think I could?”

“If I didn’t know these Italians as personal friends, I would not trust them around you,” I say, and I am only half-joking.

She reaches up to straighten my tie, which is part of the modest yet clean-cut suit I have for the evening—all black, save for a red tie that adorns my chest like a streak of blood against sinful night. That sounds like something Autumn would describe it as, anyway.

“Okay, so, just so I don’t sound like an idiot, can you run everything by me one more time?” she asks, wringing her hands.

“Of course,” I say, pacing around to the window to peer out at the gorgeous view of the port of Syracuse, basked in the late afternoon light of the Sicilian sun. “The men who are on their way to meet us on this ship are Italian mafia. Under no circumstances should you bring this up. These are made men, and on the surface, people in the community refer to them as respectable businessmen.”

“And are they respectable businessmen?”

I crack a smile at Autumn’s reflection in the window.

“Every bit as respectable as me.”

“I’ll keep my guard up, then.”

“We’re going to treat them to a few drinks. Some of them smoke, but not the one we’ll be talking with most. His name is Adamo Russo. He’s the underboss of the mafia around here. I do not have to tell you why that makes him someone to be feared by most.”

“Is he a good man?”

“You don’t get to be the underboss of a mafia without getting your hands dirty.”

“You did.”

I glance over my shoulder with an expressionless face.

“Is that what you would say of me?”

“I believe so.”

I peer at her a long time before chuckling softly.

“We’re going to strike a deal. He owes me a favor for some help I gave him taking down a mutual enemy of ours about three years ago in Belarus. I contacted him about our situation, and he said he might happen to have a solution that works out for both parties. Neither of us are friends of the Russian mafia families. ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ That is the most important lesson in this world, Autumn.”

She nods, and just on time, I see two sleek black sedans pulling up to the dock.

“Our guests are here. Let us go… what’s the term? Schmooze?”

She giggles, and she slips her arm around mine as we head out to meet with the Italians at the gangplank.

Even in the winter, Sicily doesn’t get terribly cold. The air that blows around us is crisp, like early fall in America or late summer in Russia, and the salty air has that unmistakable undertone of citrus so unique that I know I could be nowhere else but Sicily.

We go to the edge of the deck, and I give a wave to the men approaching the ship, looking it over and murmuring to each other. The tallest man, and the one leading the pack, is wearing sunglasses, but his comrades are not, which makes it harder for them to conceal how impressed they are with the look of the yacht. I give them a warm yet cautious smile as they approach, and I incline my head to let them on as they wave back with their own broad smiles.

Friends or not, meetings between men in the same ‘line of business’ is always a careful game of courtesy. I want to seem friendly yet not desperate, strong yet not a showoff.

“Adamo, my friend,” I greet him in Italian as he steps onto the deck with open arms to embrace me. “It has been too long.”

“Too long? I’d think it was just yesterday—you look fabulous,” he laughs, and we exchange a brief hug before I lead him on board.

Behind him are men who carry themselves like enforcers. They’re soldiers of the mafia, made men who act as bodyguards and enforcers for men like Adamo. They all file on board while Adamo gives a respectful nod to Autumn.

“And you have a friend of your own?” he asks, turning to me.

“Yes, and she does not speak Italian, so you will pardon me for just a moment,” I say, turning to Autumn to introduce the two. “Autumn, this is Signore Adamo Russo, and Adamo, this is Autumn.”

“A true pleasure,” Adamo says, inclining his head respectfully, speaking in English. “And I would hate for either of you to feel excluded, so let us carry on in English, shall we? My men need to practice, anyway.”

“You’re too kind,” Autumn says politely, and she and I exchange a smile.

This is a good sign. Most Sicilians would be aghast at the idea of speaking English out of courtesy, but Adamo is a forward-thinking man, and this tells me he hasn’t changed. We make our way inside to the bar, and I’m pleased when the Italians are sufficiently awed by the luxury of the place. Over a little small talk, I move to start serving drinks, but Autumn puts a hand on my arm and gives me a knowing smile before she makes her way to the bar and starts filling that role seamlessly.

That was not in the plan, but the Italians seem to be impressed. She pours some stiff drinks for everyone as we chat, and soon, we all have a glass in hand before she returns to my side and hands me mine with a wink.

It is cunning of her. I would never ask her to play cocktail waitress for me, but she took the initiative and made me look more powerful as a host. I would rather have a different servant treating her like a queen, but that will have to wait.

“So,” Adamo says as we make our way idly around the bar, letting the men take in what they see around them. “I would love to catch up more, but I understand you are short on time.”

“Annoyingly so,” I chuckle. “I forget how much I miss Sicilian evenings like this.”

“Tell me about this wild flight across the sea you’ve been going on.”

“We have a Gregorovitch chasing us down,” I say plainly, swirling my drink around.

“Still good at making powerful enemies, Vladimir.”

“They might catch up to me one of these days, but not this one. The little prince Artur is coming for us. He might not be smart, but he is relentless when he sees something he wants.”

Autumn smiles as if on cue, and Adamo seems to understand, raising his eyebrows.

“Ahh…I see. I have heard a little of this young man. His father likes to keep him out of the way to break someone else’s toys, no?”

“Funny you should mention his toys, because we happen to be standing on one of them.”

The Italians pause, and their eyebrows go up collectively as the gears click in their minds. Adamo laughs from the belly, and he pats me on the shoulder.

“Vladimir, your balls are made of steel. Is that how they say it?” he asks Autumn, who covers her mouth to laugh and nods. “So, it makes sense now that you wish to get rid of this beautiful thing.”

“I know how you like to live fast, Adamo,” I say. “High risk, high reward.”

“It certainly makes the deal we discussed more interesting,” he admits, stroking his chin.

He thinks for a moment, then smiles.

“But as it happens, I heard someone hit the Gregorovitch leadership recently. Hard. Very hard. It just so happens that a few of my good friends don’t like how they do business, so it would be good to keep a symbolic win out of their hands, I think.”

Adamo gestures for one of his men to come forward, and he takes out a phone, showing it to me. On it is a series of pictures of a different yacht, one that I saw docked on the way into port. It’s a lovely vessel, not quite as grandiose as this one—no speedboat on board or BDSM bedroom, presumably—but it is actually more my style, and more importantly, it’s clean.

“This is the vessel I mentioned—for trade,” he says, his smile broadening. “I will admit, it is a little smaller than this palace at sea, but for your purposes, speed might be more valuable.”

“You read my mind,” I say, perusing the ship and showing it to Autumn, who looks impressed. “And considering the pressure, I think that makes this a fair trade. But I should say, I do not want the Gregorovitches breathing down your throat, either.”

“Where are you heading?”

“America,” I say vaguely.

“Good,” he says. “I know a manor and a dock in Marseilles, along the French coast, where this would be at home, and it just so happens that I would very much like a vacation right about now. Let us make this trade, leave together.”

“So you take this ship to France, while we take the other one out of the Mediterranean,” Autumn finishes, her eyes glittering with interest.

“Exactly,” I say, squeezing her to my side proudly.

“Bene,” Adamo says. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to take my men on a tour of the ship at our own pace. Would you feel good about that? I can offer you an escort to mine, if you’d like to do the same.”

“That will not be necessary right now,” I say, holding up a hand. “I want to have a word with Autumn in private while you take your time.”

He holds up his glass with a polite smile, and he gestures for his men to follow him as they tour the boat. Autumn gives me a confused look once they’re gone, and I gesture for her to sit with me at the bar.

“Before you say anything, there’s actually something I wanted to let you know too,” she says.

“Oh?”

She takes out a phone, of all things, and sets it on the bar between us, looking anxious.

“I found this early on, not long after you found me.”

“I see.”

“And I… I can’t lie to you, Vladimir, I wanted to use it at first.”

“Did you?”

“No,” she says, letting out a breath and closing her eyes. “No, I never did. I tried, at first, but I couldn’t get into it. And after a few days… I didn’t want to anymore.”

She slides the phone closer to me, looking at me honestly.

“I’m putting my cards on the table and giving you this. I was waiting for the right time, but I… I don’t want any secrets between us.”

I take the phone and look it over, raising my eyebrows. I have to admit, I am impressed. Not many people could hide something like this from me for so long, and I’m even more surprised that she didn’t use it.

“Thank you,” I say, pocketing the phone. “That means a lot, Autumn.”

“I-I’m sorry, I just-”

“Hush, girl,” I say, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing it. “You have been through a lot. Do you not think your Daddy is forgiving?”

She blushes furiously.

“And this, as it happens, ties in neatly with what I have to say to you.” I pause for a moment, watching her raise an eyebrow. “You have shown me what kind of woman you are, Autumn. You are driven, dedicated, and brilliant. You could be a wonderful scholar one day, and it is criminal that this all has ripped you from your studies.” I take out a large clip of cash and a credit card from my jacket and slide it across the bar to her. “This is enough money to put you up comfortably in Moscow. If you wish it, you may go with Adamo and the Italians to France and catch a plane from there back to Russia. I could ask about changing the deal, get you an armed escort home so there is no risk while I deal with Artur.”

She looks speechless, and I stand up before she has a chance to answer.

“I do not want to put you on the spot, so I will go catch up with our guests,” I say with a warm smile, trying to hide the feelings in my heart that are bursting to break free. “But in the spirit of openness, I want it to be clear that you are no longer my prisoner. I will not stand in your way if you wish to leave. I…”

I pause, thinking better of it, and I lean in to kiss her pale face on the cheek.

“The choice is yours,” I say, and I stride off to find my Italians.

And I hope I haven’t just made a dire mistake.