Beautiful Assassin

by Skyla Madi

  “I’m not. I mean, I was, but I quit.”

  She smiles, exposing her white teeth. “Stressful times, then?”

  I laugh once. “You have no idea.”

  Cammie bends low and dabs the cigarette out on the floor at her feet. When she straightens, she flicks her head toward the door and I follow her back inside, where she dumps the rest of the cigarette into the bin in the kitchen. Tossing the packet of cigarettes into the bin, I lean against the bench, folding my arms against my chest while she washes her hands and rinses out her mouth.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket over and over, but I ignore it. I need to make my decision now. Turn on Moretti, take Cammie, and get the hell out of here or…do what’s best for my business and give her back to her fiancé and pretend like none of this happened.

  I can’t keep her. Even if I did manage to convince her to come back to the U.S. with me she wouldn’t be able to work, and I know she loves what she does. Not to mention there are dangerous people that are after me in the States. I have more enemies than I do friends.

  “Cammie…” The words I was going to say are trapped in my throat when her stare meets mine. The glistening in her eyes fades when she looks at me, her light smile straightening out. I see dread roll across her face and she presses a gentle hand to her stomach.

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” she says, chuckling nervously.

  “I have to take you back to Christiano. Tonight.”

  Blood drains from her face and it’s a punch to my gut. She looks away from me, turning her wide eyes on the bench. “Oh.”

  I can’t help myself. I grab her. Her small body is tense and I hold her tightly, but she still feels as though she’s slipping away. “I don’t want to, Cammie. You know I don’t, but—”

  “Moretti,” she mutters, managing to wedge her arms between us.

  Cammie pushes against my chest and I cringe at the feeling of hurt deep down inside me. Despite myself, despite how tightly I want to hold her, I let her go. She turns away from me, focusing on something in the sink, and blinks her long lashes, as if she’s holding back tears.

  “What happens if you don’t take me back?” She lifts her head in my direction and her watery eyes fucking slay me.

  “If I don’t…we’re both as good as dead.”

  I’m not scared of the Russos, but Franco Moretti has some contacts that just might make me sweat.

  Cammie searches my face for something. I don’t know what. I try hard to transfer the frantic state of my emotions to my face so she can see just how difficult this is for me too. I must fail, because her face pinches in confusion.

  “Last night you said I could stay here with you.” She swipes at her slender nose. “Did you know what Moretti wanted when you said that to me?”

  I can see it in her face, the hope that I didn’t lie to her when she was most vulnerable.

  I did lie.

  “I want to stay here,” she says and the way her beautiful, light tones swirl around my ears as she speaks fills me with a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time. Happiness. True happiness. “I want to stay here with you.”

  Cammie drags her hands down my sides, touching and appreciating every sliver of flesh her fingertips touch. I shouldn’t encourage it. I shouldn’t encourage her, but I’ve never wanted anything so bad in my life.

  I’m going to regret the next words to come out of my mouth because they’re lies. Each and every one.

  “So stay.” I lick her pouty lower lip. “With me.”

  I force the memory from my head and lean back against the bench. “Yes. I knew.”

  “Why did you say it if it wasn’t true?”

  I push off the bench with a frustrated huff. What does she want me to say? “Because I was caught up in the moment.”

  Cammie swallows with a gentle nod and I witness her heart break in her face. She’s good at holding it back, I must admit, but I can’t decide if that makes this easier or harder.

  “Okay,” she simply says as she steps around me.

  I frown at the back of her head as she walks away. “Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Cammie stalks from the room and I wait in the silence until she closes her bedroom door. Just like that? Our time spent together is over? With a heavy heart, I pull my phone from my pocket and call Moretti back.

  He answers, but doesn’t speak. I can sense his rage. I can imagine he’s already plotted my death.

  “I’ll bring her,” I say to him, pinching the bridge of my nose. “She’ll be at your house by midnight.”

  “You’re lucky,” he growls. I hear him grind his teeth. “Hang up on me again, Valentino, and I’ll feed your balls to your dogs. Got it?”

  “Yeah. Got it.”

  He hangs up, drowning me in silence. How did I let this get this far? It’s my fault. I’m the one who couldn’t kill her. I’m the one who brought her back here and convinced Moretti it was a good idea. What did I think was going to happen? I’ve been infatuated with Cammie since the damn beginning. This path was inevitable and I still fucking took it. Do I like to torture myself that much?

  I push off the bench with a heavy exhale and make my way through the house, stopping at Cammie’s door. In the silence, I hear a sniffle, and my fingers twitch toward the handle, but I stop myself. What would I say to her? Sorry? Like that’s gonna cut it.

  Cursing under my breath, I storm down the hall and slam my bedroom door behind me. I won’t be talked out of this.

  I work alone.

  I live alone.

  I exist alone.

  That has never bothered me before and I’m not going to let it bother me now despite how accustomed I’ve become to having someone here, besides my dogs, who greets me when I get home.

  I make meals for one.

  I pour drinks for one.

  I am one.

  Not two.

  One.

  My life is cultivated for me and only me. Adding another to the mix is catastrophic, especially when she’s a woman I stole from someone else in the first place. It’s no wonder Christiano wants to lock her up and keep her for himself. She’s unforgettable. She’s the epitome of beauty, strength, and intelligence. What I want to know is, how can he bring himself to be with other women when the finest is waiting at home? I will say that to want women other than Cammie, to indulge in women other than Cammie, is a testament to his mental strength. How does he switch his brain off? How does he not think about her? How do other women stir desire in him when Cammie’s charm is so fucking spellbinding?

  I drop against my bed. It smells of her. And me.

  Us.

  Christiano Russo is an idiot.

  I don’t think I can lay with another woman for as long as I live.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ∞ Cammie Connors ∞

  I smooth my hands over my knees, over the simple dress that feels like it’s hanging off of my bones. Stefan had to dirty it up a little to make it look convincing. The beige coloured fabric is covered in various stains and torn a little along my ribs. I don’t look half as tortured as I have to claim I was, but the healing scars help a little, I suppose.

  I peer sideways at Stefan as he drives. His hands squeeze the wheel to the point of his knuckles turning white. His hair is neatly in place, his black suit crisp and clean. Subtly, I inhale his cologne. It’s a smell I’m really going to miss.

  We’re on the outskirts of the city now, about forty minutes from the Moretti household. Every bump in the road threatens to send tears out of my eyes.

  Today was a mess. I spent most of it crying in my room. Stefan didn’t bother me until it was time for me to get dressed. By then, my tears had dried up and it was easy to pretend I didn’t care.

  I’m going back to Christiano for Stefan’s sake, not mine. I couldn’t give two shits if Moretti and Christiano came after me…but Stefan doesn’t deserve it. I put all of the pressure onto him. It’s not his fault our wires crossed somewhere along the line.
>
  I should have known better than to let myself get so comfortable with Stefan. These men…it’s always business with them. It’s the most important thing in their lives. We could run away together, but he doesn’t want to upset Moretti.

  Priorities.

  “Do you know the story?” Stefan asks, glancing sideways at me.

  His question sends my blood prickling under my skin.

  “I’m not an idiot,” I snap, folding my arms across my chest. “I know the story. You don’t have to worry about me throwing you under the bus.”

  Stefan pushes his fingers through his hair, messing it up. “It’s not about me. It’s about—”

  “Moretti. Yeah. I know.”

  “No, not Moretti,” he bites out, slapping the wheel. “I made my decision based solely on the fact that this is the safest option for you.”

  I laugh once. “You’re so full of shit, Stefan.”

  He cuts his eyes at me and it’d be a lie if I said his angry, volcanic irises didn’t light me up like a damn Christmas tree.

  “I’m glad we happened. I learned a lot. I learned a lot about myself and I learned that men like you and Chr—”

  He eases his foot onto the brake. “You better think twice before finishing your sentence.”

  I scoff. “Is that a threat?”

  “You’re damn right that’s a threat.” His booming voice sends my heart into overdrive.

  “What are you going to do? Pull the car over?” I swipe my messy hair out of my face. “I wish you would!”

  “Don’t push me, Cammie.”

  I level my voice. “Men like you and Christiano are angry, egotistical man-children.”

  Stefan slams the brakes and pulls off the road without indicating. The seatbelt bites into me and I gasp as the car pulls to an abrupt stop. Stefan whips toward me, his nose an inch from mine.

  “Put me in the same sentence as that piece of shit again. I dare you.” His voice is low and full of warning, but I don’t care.

  I’m not scared of Stefan anymore. I haven’t been for a while.

  “Are you afraid of hearing how similar you are to Christiano?”

  His angry eyes soften, making my heart stutter. His face is full of pain and suffering, much more than I expected. With a gentle touch, he pulls on my seatbelt and drags a finger down my neck where the seatbelt caught me. His touch soothes it. His touch soothes everything.

  “I’m afraid of being compared and you realising that you’re better off with him than you are with me.”

  Oh. Silence devours us and it’s a sad silence, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Christiano and I have never shared anything this real before. With Chris, I don’t feel like I matter…I don’t even feel like I’m a real person…

  …but Stefan…he makes me feel important.

  I swallow hard. “I was held captive by Brian Murray. He wanted to know about a heroin shipment. He kept me drugged and tortured me for days.”

  Relief curves his eyebrows as our argument ends. “And how did I save you?”

  “It was all a blur.” Tears well in my eyes as my heart breaks. This really is it. “Shots were fired. People were killed. Stefan pulled me through the subway, along the tracks. He stole a car and drove me to a hotel where I was able rest, eat, and wash up. I passed out from exhaustion and don’t remember much after that.”

  “Perfect.”

  A sad smile pulls at the corners of Stefan’s lips as a single tear rolls down my cheek. He sits back in his seat and grabs the wheel. Without thought, I snatch his thick wrist in my hand and he flinches, pinching his face.

  “Don’t take me back, Stefan. Please. I don’t want to go back,” I plead, pulling on him.

  With his other hand, he pulls onto the road, ignoring my sulking. When I realise he’s not going to budge, I release him, sink into myself, and turn my attention out the window.

  T-minus thirty-three minutes to Moretti’s house and counting.

  Here’s hoping I die before then.

  ∞ Stefan Valentino ∞

  There are too many cars in Moretti’s driveway for my liking. They’re all gathered outside, waiting for Cammie’s arrival. I shouldn’t have brought her. I should have taken her and run for the hills.

  I drive slowly, so slow we’re barely moving, but it gives Cammie time to pull herself together. She’s still crying. She cried most of the way here and I don’t blame her, even though I can’t stand the sound of it. Lucky for her, crying will help us in this situation.

  As I round the large water fountain, I pull up by the steps and turn the car off. Her door is pulled open before either of us can unclip our seatbelts.

  “Bye, Stefan,” she mutters as she’s tugged from the car with a sharp wince.

  I sit for a little while until the ruckus moves from my vehicle to the porch. When there’s space, I open my door and step out into the warm, night air. Closing it behind me, I catch a glimpse of Christiano in a white silk shirt and black slacks shaking Moretti’s hand, who offers it with a smile. The sight leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Even if it is fake, how can he smile like that knowing this asshole killed his wife? He gives Marco a handshake and kisses Gabriella on the cheek.

  It’s sickening.

  With a simple hand gesture from Moretti, the small crowd parts like the Red Sea, creating a direct path up the steps toward them…toward Cammie, who Christiano holds tightly against his side. She can’t bring herself to lift her stare from the ground. Why would she? I just signed her life away to the man she hates more than anyone.

  I lower my gaze to the floor. I’m so not in the mood for faux heroics. I climb the stairs and brush past them, entering the house without a single glance over my shoulder. I hear Moretti dismiss my behaviour as unremarkable for a guy like me and it grinds my gears. He says it like I’m not capable of feeling. Like I’m not capable of becoming fond of someone.

  I storm through the house in the direction of the bar. Once I’m there, I pour myself shot after shot of his finest whiskey, uncaring that it was previously opened.

  I don’t know how long I sit on this uncomfortable stool. Long enough for Moretti to come looking for me.

  “I thought they’d never leave.” He chuckles, sliding onto the stool next to me. “Parassiti.”

  Scowling, I tip back another shot and slam the glass onto the bar. I’m done with Moretti. I’m done with Sydney. I plant my hands on the bar and attempt to push away from it, but Moretti clamps his hand around my wrist. Tensing, I glare into his beady, black eyes.

  “Stay,” he demands, applying pressure. “I’m not done.”

  “I am.”

  I shrug him off and my head spins. Christ. I haven’t eaten today and the whiskey is going straight to my head. I turn and stalk away from Moretti. I make it three steps before he calls out after me.

  “You can see her at the party tomorrow night,” he says. “From a distance.”

  I turn around as he shrugs out of his navy sports jacket and tosses it on the bar. Cautiously, I approach him.

  “Did you say party?”

  “Yep.” Franco reaches over the bar and grabs a clean shot glass. He pours himself a drink from the same bottle I used. “Gabriella Russo’s idea.”

  “I’m not going,” I tell him and he chuckles.

  “Gabriella personally requested you on the invite.” He downs his shot. “It’d be disrespectful if you didn’t.”

  I walk back to the bar. “I don’t give a shit.”

  Moretti keeps his attention straight ahead, toying with his shot glass. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Valentino?”

  Yes. “No.”

  He fills his shot glass with more whiskey. “So if I ever asked you if you’ve caught feelings for the girl, you’d tell me the truth?”

  No. “Yes.”

  Turning his head, Moretti stares at me and it is so fucking off-putting, I can’t even begin to explain it. I feel like he can see right through me. Somehow, I manage to keep my composure.
>
  “If you’re going to ask me the question, ask it. I don’t have all night.” I snap.

  “Do you have feelings for the girl?"

  “No,” I say without hesitation and it’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told.

  “Good.” He fills my shot glass. “Because if you did, I’d have to kill you to protect the business. You understand?”

  I take the shot and tip it down my throat, gritting my teeth against the taste. “Of course.”

  Slipping from the stool, Moretti grabs his jacket. “Spare rooms are down that hall. Sleep it off. We’ve got work to do tomorrow.”

  He leaves me alone and I don’t know why I’m still standing here. I contemplate sleeping in one of the spare rooms. It’s convenient, that’s for sure, but I don’t trust anyone here enough for me to close my eyes longer than a blink.

  I swipe at my tired face and stalk back the way I came.

  I know where I can sleep.

  I slap myself in the face as I drive toward her apartment. A part of me hopes she’s not there. The other part of me wishes she is. The chances of her being in her own house are slim to none. I don’t see Christiano letting her out of his sight.

  “Stronzo!” I shout, raking my hand through my hair.

  I grimace as jealousy turns my stomach and my blood begins to boil. I shake my head, desperate to rid myself of the thoughts of his greasy hands all over her, taking without asking.

  I clench the wheel as hard as I can as I pull my car into a side street, thirty metres from her building. Muttering to myself, I stumble across the quiet road and up to the security pin pad. I hit the numbers that only the residents of this building are supposed to know and I go inside.

  As quietly as I can, I enter the elevator, ride it up to her floor, and break into her apartment.

  It smells like her. I stumble through the sitting room and up the hall. Her large, white bed is untouched. The perfect place for me to sleep off this mood. Cammie is back where she belongs and I’m finally alone again.

  How depressing.