by Sunniva Dee
I drop it over my head and stick my arms out through the sleeves. They end mid-arm, with the rest of them being a rush of peacock-blue and turquoise strands. The dress slinks along my waist and accentuates my cleavage without being too daring. Why? I think. Why does he want me dressed like this?
John runs his eyes over me. Proud like a husband, he smiles down at me. “You look amazing. I like you like this. Now, let me get you the shoes. I’m going to let you choose between two pairs.”
Delighted with himself, he walks into the closet, leaving me to myself for all of five seconds. I wouldn’t have time to do anything about it, but the thought of him trusting me enough to leave me alone gives me an unexpected high.
When he returns, he holds up a pair of pumps that are entirely made of gold. They gleam, even in the low light in this room, and their shape is exactly what I would have chosen myself. He wiggles a second pair in front of me, playful like he is when I haven’t offended him.
“This pair was my mother’s. She bought them on a trip to Mallorca twenty years ago, but she’s only worn them a few times. I’m not sure if they’re in style now or not. What do you think?”
They’re all-gold sandals, wedges that are broken into horizontal bars. With thin straps that would go around the ankles, they must have hit the whoa! factor at the time. Now, they really don’t.
This feels wrong. Isn’t it clear which pair is the best choice? What if he’s testing me? If it is a test, what would happen to me if I chose the wrong pair?
My cousin Isaias flares into my mind. He’s an incredible negotiator. What would he have advised?
John’s smile shrinks into a smirk. Eyes narrowing as he studies me, he’s expecting me to make my choice.
Isaias would tell me to find out what John wants. I risk a glance at him right when his eyes stray to his mother’s shoes.
That’s it. John wants me to choose his mother’s shoes. What would it do to my status if I comply? Would he find me less interesting, or would he think that he needed to “break me in” more?
I take my chances and point at his mother’s shoes. “I love both pairs, but those are beautiful. I don’t know if they’re in style right now either, but they definitely go well with this dress.”
What do you do when someone you fear and detest walks toward you slowly, with a tenderness beyond anything you’d ever want to see in their eyes?
You stand still. You meet their stare, and you try to keep a smile on your face. Because if you can do that, you’ll live to see another day.
GIOELE
I’ve been outside Harmony Femme’s HQ for forty-five minutes, waiting for someone to arrive. It’s a quarter to ten in the morning, and from the opposite side of the street, I recognize Keegan’s assistant as she gets out of her car. She walks up the steps and unlocks the door.
Next arrives what must be more staff. All in all, about eight people enter, none of them John or Silvina.
He told me to be here at ten a.m. sharp, but the Santa Colombini love their ruses. Is this another one?
I call Isaias first. “You got someone on the way up to S.F. yet?”
“Yep. Where are you?”
“Ready to go in. John’s not here, though. I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Are you armed?”
“Of course.”
“All right, be careful. Bully and Fritz hit an accident on Highway 1, but they should be there within the hour. Felix’ guys are on the way too. He’ll have about ten flown in from jobs in Caracas and New York, but I doubt they’ll be of any use to you until the afternoon.”
“All right, man. Going in to see what this’s about,” I mutter.
“Gioele.”
“What?”
“You’ve got to keep your head clear. No matter what happens in there, don’t show any weaknesses. He likes to pull strings.”
“Takes one to know one,” I say.
“That means he’s studied you. He knows who you are, how you are, and he’ll want to make you lose your head. I don’t know what he wants to get out of this game, but don’t get impatient. You’ll want to wait with an attack until you’ve got your crew.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’ll wait, brother. Don’t let him win. If you don’t play your cards right, he will. All intel says dude’s fucking clever.”
As I hang up, another car parks, a green Infiniti QX80, a harmless luxury car. Out of it steps Keegan Cuevas, the former owner of Harmony Femme. He walks up the stairs like it’s any other work day. I wait until the door closes behind him. Then, I follow him up the stairs.
Inside, his assistant is hacking away on her keyboard, stare focused on her screen. When she sees me, her eyes darken with recognition before she clears them again, adding a professional smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Hi, Carrie,” I say. “I’m here to see John Ulrich Himmel.”
Her smile falters and dies.
“I’m his ten o’ clock.” I have no idea where Keegan and Carrie come into the picture with John. Clearly, they still work here, though, and they’re free to leave at the end of the day. The thought makes me less prone to smiles and insolent flirting than the last time I was here.
“We were expecting a call-back from you on the fifteenth. Mister Cuevas wanted you to audition for Dolls from Beggar’s Hole.”
“Wow. I missed out. How many dolls?” I cross my arms. “Just let John know I’m here.”
“One moment, Mister di Nascimbeni.”
Like the first time, she shows me to their waiting area. I’m jumpy with the urge to stalk through the locale, searching for Silvina behind every door. I have the convo with Isaias fresh in mind, though. If he says this John dude wants to get a rise out of me, I’ll try my hardest to not give it to him.
Assistant Carrie clops toward Keegan’s office on her heels. I frown, watching her knock, go in, and come back out again with him. He walks toward me, a hand stretched out to shake mine. I don’t remember us shaking hands the last time.
“Gioele. It’s nice to see you again.” He bows his head. It’s curt, to the point, and when he stares back at me, I don’t see the relaxed humor I liked the last time I met him.
“Good to see you too,” I say. “But I’m here to see John Himmel.”
“Right, come with me.” He waves me forward and into his office. I glue my stare to him, waiting for him to get to the point; this must be a part of John’s game, and I’m not going to flip out right off the bat.
“Something to drink?” he asks.
I shake my head, narrowing my eyes. “No, I’m good. I’m ready for that meeting.”
“All right. Carrie’s preparing a couple of Bloody Marys, though. You good with that?”
I shrug. “Where’s your boss, if that’s what he is? Harmony Femme was taken over, I heard.”
He cracks his knuckles, pointing at one of the chairs by a small, round table, and I take a seat while he lowers himself into the other chair. “You’ll be meeting with him in a minute.”
Carrie comes in, depositing the beverages on the table between us. I’m too restless to be interested.
“John will be on shortly, but first, he wanted me to discuss a few things with you. He’s watched your audition and likes what he saw. Now, he wants you to be prepared for a few jobs he has for you.”
My frown deepens. “What are you talking about? I’m not here for a gig.”
“He’s aware.” Keegan swallows, his Adam’s apple sharp against the bluish shade of his stubbles. I stare, trying to read his expression, but he averts his eyes. “You’re here for your cousin.”
My heart does a painful jump. “Where the fuck is she? Is she here?”
“No, she isn’t. I—” He suppresses the rest of the sentence. “You should have a drink.” He juts his chin toward my Bloody Mary.
“I don’t give a shit about John, okay? Enough bullshit. I need to see my girl.”
“And you will.” In black suit pants, an immaculate shirt that’s buttoned to the top, he leans forward in his chair without looking at me. And here he is, turning on his TV. His fucking TV?
The first thing I see is the content smile of John Ulrich Himmel.
21. STAR-CROSSED
SILVINA
“What do you think, pretty Silvina?” John’s voice is buttery, the way it’s been since I chose the right shoes. He’s removed my blindfold, and I blink, looking around. We’re in a large, circular room with a domed ceiling that feels a mile high.
The space is bathed in a blue darkness lit up by overhead stars. Behind us, three rows of theater-style auditorium seats create a half circle. At the front, a long, rectangular control desk projects outer space onto the ceiling.
Gentle, John’s hand remains on my lower back while he shows me the room with the other. His eyes gleam with pride. Two silhouettes approach. I look away when I realize they’re his leeches.
The exit is just a black hole at the bottom of the stairs we just climbed, too far away and not for me. My chest surges with the need to get my hands on a phone. I want to call la famiglia so badly, tell them what they’ve done to me. Gioele, Dad, Isaias, Il Lince—any Nascimbeni would cut the bastards’ testicles off and let them bleed to death without ceremony. Just you wait, assholes. I’ll watch it happen. Hell, I’ll do it myself. Gioele and Isaias can hold them down, and I can snip their balls clean off!
“Silvina!” I jump at the sound of my captor. He’s lost his buttery tone and added a razor’s edge to it. “I said, ‘What do you think?’”
“Amazing.” I look around me. “A planetarium?”
He gives me a tightlipped smile. “Yes. My father had it made for me when I was five. You seemed pretty jaded, there. You been to a lot of planetariums? You think I’d let you dress up like that if you weren’t going somewhere special?”
“No, of course not. And I’ve never been to one.”
“Not even the one in Los Angeles?” He hides his eagerness with a lazy twist to his pitch.
“Right, this is my first planetarium. It’s impressive,” I say.
“Good.” He slams his hands together. “Look right above you.”
I crane my neck; above us, a plethora of twinkling stars spreads across the ceiling.
“See the brightest star to your immediate left, the one with the blue-white color?”
“I do.” It’s hard to miss. Relieved that he doesn’t have my hands tied, I clench them, rubbing them anxiously while I wait for more.
“That’s Vega from the Summer Triangle. Altair is the next brightest star above it, slightly to the right. Can you see it?”
“Yes.”
“Vega and Altair are star-crossed lovers from the skylore. They’re separated by the Milky Way and only allowed to meet on the seventh night of the seventh moon, when a bridge is formed between their two constellations.” He lets out a reverent huff. “Sometimes the bridge isn’t strong enough to hold them. When that happens, Vega cries tears that fall as rain over Earth, and she doesn’t get to see her lover until a year later—if the bridge is strong enough then.”
John floats his eyes to me without blinking. This hobby of his, astrology, could have added depth to someone good. Coming from him, it makes him eerier.
I start to bob my head. I’m not sure what he wants me to say, though, so I go with, “That’s a good story.”
“Good? That’s all? You don’t find it poetic and fascinating how they think about each other all year even though they’re kept apart?” He tilts his head at me. “It’s almost like… hmm.” He taps his chin. “Oh, wow, it’s like you and your cousin, isn’t it? I’m keeping you apart.”
My heart launches into a sprint while he circles me. Once he stops in front of me, he lowers his head and holds my gaze with his. “I wonder how long it takes for a woman to forget her star-crossed lover. I mean, you’ve got to admit: you fit the bill. You’re fucking cousins.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I saw you outside the club. He didn’t exactly hug you like a relative, and you didn’t exactly hug him back like one. All that suppressed passion.”
“What club?” It’s a stupid question he doesn’t even acknowledge. Instead, he starts on a chuckle and lets it grow. All I can do is fold my arms around myself and wait for him to stop. When he does, it’s to set his eyes on me.
“A-a-nyways. I’ve got a little something for you that might keep you entertained until you see him. Which you will soon. It’ll be almost like you’re in the seventh day of the seventh month, and you’re so close to crossing that bridge to hang out together. Only you can’t, you know?”
He takes my hand, brings it to his mouth, and kisses the back of it. Then, he bows a little and brings me forward until I’m seated at the middle of the front row.
He thumps down next to me. Rocking the row with his body until he’s comfortable, he slings an arm over my backrest. “I’m about to show you a little something, and I don’t want you to get upset with me over it, okay? Keep in mind that it happened on your cousin’s own initiative a few weeks ago—we hadn’t even taken over Harmony Femme yet. He came, asking for work, and I guess he wasn’t thinking about you in that moment.”
Tipping a fake pout at me, he juts a small, silver remote at the wall in front of us. It slides open to reveal a theater screen. “You’re dying to see the crown prince of the Nascimbeni, correct? Here he is, pretty Silvina, doing his thing.”
The screen reveals a bed with simple sheets and a beautiful woman standing in a robe next to it. She’s staring toward a door, and when the focus shifts, my Gioele walks toward her. His intensity is singular. I remember him like this. I miss that look. I miss it on me.
I let out a sob as he crowds her without hesitation. John is right. Gioele isn’t thinking about me. All he thinks about is the girl whose robe he slides off delicate shoulders, the one he kisses, the one he whispers words to I can’t hear but know anyway.
He says she’s special.
He says she’s beautiful.
He says he’s missed her, loves her, will never let her go again. He devours her slowly, caressing her, loving her with everything in him—
Is this how he is with everyone? Is this how he loves when I’m not there? Can he love with every fiber in him—am I not special to him? I know I am. I am!
My tears burst free. It’s impossible to take your eyes off the love of your life. Did I drive him to this? Did I?
“When?” I choke out.
“Hmm?” John turns toward me while playfully keeping his eyes on the woman and my love on that bed a second longer.
“When did this happen?”
“I’d say he auditioned about two weeks ago.”
“Friday?”
He rolls his eyes. “What does it matter? Think the file says Thursday.”
My mind wants to appease my heart. It searches, searches, and finds. Gioele visited me on Wednesday. It was the day of the cold water in the kitchen sink. The day of Tracy’s interruptions. The day he said he wouldn’t pressure me anymore, when he said I knew where to find him.
“Aww, come here, pretty Silvina.” John puts his arms around me and hugs me close. I can’t look at him. I hate this man so much.
In front of us, Gioele’s buttocks jerk the way they do when he lets go with me. He’s giving her everything mine, all his attention, every cell of him is for this woman who’s not me.
John’s hand caresses the upper part of my arm like we’re at the theater watching a romantic movie. For each hour we spend together, I know him better. In his mind, we’re on a date he controls, and right now he’s loving my devastation.
I swallow. Swallow. Swallow. Know I should suppress as much of my ruin
as I can. The less he gets of it, the less he inflates.
“I’d never do that to you. My father owns Harmony Femme, and I’m the new general manager. All I have to do is snap my fingers, and shit happens. See?”
He does it. He snaps his fingers, and there he is—Gioele—he’s sitting in some office with a man I’ve never seen before. I suck in a sharp breath, unable to hold it back, because Gioele looks awful. His eyes are too dark when they glide from John to me and still.
“Ina mia! Can you hear me?”
“Yes! Baby! Oh, God.” I can’t help it—I say it against myself. “Where are you?”
John sniggers, deep and horse-like. The sound is simply despicable.
“I’m at Harmony Femme’s headquarters, in Keegan Cuevas’ office. I’m here to get you. Where are you?”
“I don’t know! I’m in a planetarium. He took me here blindfolded, so I have no idea where—”
“No-no-no. This isn’t how this is going down,” John says. In one quick move, he removes the armrest between us and pulls me deep under his arm. “Let’s all follow my rules, shall we?”
Gioele is so close. He opens his mouth, and I know he’s about to explode. He’s about to curse, shout, destroy the screen he’s watching, attack the man at his side, but it won’t help! Ah, it’s what John wants. He wants to watch us suffer.
Wordless, I plead, Don’t.
Gioele doesn’t ravage that office. He lets out a shaky breath, his stare searing into me, imploring, needing to know that I’m okay.
John leans in and nuzzles my cheek. I see how he’s pressing our buttons, toying with us, enjoying it. He wants more from us. Who knows how far he’s willing to go? Will he undress me, let his two leeches fondle me however they want, make Gioele watch firsthand what he puts me through?