Chapter 4

I followed Frank back to his run-down apartment. The moment the door closed, his expression changed.

He ripped the veil off my head and stared at my face for a few seconds, his lips twisting in disgust.

“Jesus. You’re fucking ugly.”

Frank grabbed a bottle of liquor from a drawer and took a long swig.

Then he dropped into the couch. “Now that you’re in my bed,” he said, swirling the bottle, “the Corleone Family won’t dare touch me so easily.”

He lifted the bottle slightly and smirked. “As long as Richard’s alive, you’re the most valuable hostage I’ve got, sweetheart.”

He stood and walked toward me, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath.

His hand clamped around my wrist, painfully tight. “You’re my wife now,” he said. “Time to do your duty.”

His hand slid up to my face. His rough fingers brushed across the ridges of my scars.

My whole body locked up. The disgust I felt toward men rose like a tidal wave, choking the air out of my lungs.

“Don’t touch me,” I said, my voice shaking.

“Oh, please.” Frank sneered. “You think I want to touch that face? But we still gotta follow the procedure.”

He shoved me down onto the couch.

My fingers brushed against something hard in my pocket—The gun Richard had left me.

I pulled it out and pressed it against Frank’s stomach. Frank froze.

“Let go,” I said.

He stared down at the gun. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. The tension in his body faded.

“You gonna shoot?” he said casually. “Gun goes off, the whole building hears it. Cops show up. How you planning to explain that?”

Slowly, he loosened his grip. The contempt on his face never faded.

“Put the gun down, Matilda,” he said lazily. “Let’s talk like adults.”

I didn’t lower it. Instead, I pointed the gun straight at him. “The parole officer,” I said. “You lied to me, didn’t you?”

Frank’s eyes flickered, but he didn’t answer.

“The documents were fake.” I stared at the disgusting smile on his face. “You just wanted to use me to control Richard.”

He let out a short laugh, revealing his yellowed teeth.

“So what if I did? You already signed the marriage papers. That makes you my legal wife.” He leaned casually against the table. “And Richard? He’s barely hanging on. All I gotta do is call the cops and say he threatened me tonight. Boom, he’s back in prison.”

He set the bottle down and headed toward the bathroom.

“Put the gun down,” he said over his shoulder. “And get comfortable being my hostage.”

I held the gun in both hands. They wouldn’t stop shaking.

Outside the window, a distant train horn echoed through the night, long and low, fading slowly into the distance.

I thought about Richard. By now, he should be back at the family estate.

Stella would keep him there. For the moment, the name Valenti Family would serve as his shield.

And this whole lie had pulled me away from him.

I wouldn’t cling to him anymore. I wouldn’t drag him down.

That alone was enough.

When Frank came out of the shower, I had already hidden the gun.

He tossed a blanket at me.

“Sleep on the couch,” he said. “And keep that face out of my sight. It makes me sick.”

Then he walked into the bedroom and locked the door.

I sat on the couch, listening to the sound of his snoring through the wall.

I slipped the gun back into the lining of my wedding dress. Then I pulled out a small piece of paper. Richard’s handwriting. I didn’t know when he had slipped it in.

One word:

Live.

I clenched the note tightly in my hand.

Then I stood up, quietly opened the apartment door, and stepped into the night.

I have to survive.

At least tonight.