The Vincent Thomas Bridge. That is where Tristan and I thought we killed Vlad.
We were fighting on the bridge. Blow for blow, bullets flying. There were four of us in the end. Me and Tristan. Vlad and Aleksei, his right-hand man.
I stabbed Aleksei right in the eye and ended him. At the same time, Tristan shot Vlad. I saw it happen. They were paces away from me. That bullet went in his heart and he fell. He fell right over the bridge and even hit the panels before he went into the sea.
The bullet should have killed him instantly, but if that didn’t get him, the fall should have. The drop is three hundred and sixty-five feet. So, he should have been fucked either way. Yet Vlad is alive. Pierbo saw him and got caught.
I thought Riccardo had Pierbo killed. Now it makes sense. Pierbo was a force to be reckoned with. Only a man like Vlad Kuznetsov and the Circle of Shadows could take down a man like him. So, now I have more shit on my hands.
More things to get me dirty, and those close to me. Tristan said it well when he talked of rocking the nest. I would be doing exactly that. Rocking an ants’ nest. The thing about that, though, is that they don’t bother you until you disturb them.
When you do, they all come for you.
They come for you and wipe out whoever is with you.
Right now, we have the advantage. Vlad doesn’t know we know he’s alive. He must think he got us good with Pierbo’s death and destroying the camera.
There’s no way I’m going to be able to keep the fact that we know he’s alive quiet. To look for him, I’m gonna have to ask questions, meaning he’ll know we’re looking.
That’s the risk I’ll have to take.
I make my way home and walk into Emelia’s room. She’s asleep, and I don’t plan to wake her. The lights are out with just the moonlight spilling in onto her ethereal body.
She even looks like a princess in her sleep. Graceful with her dark locks flowing over the pillow and her hands rested at her sides.
The report on her today was that she was quiet. Priscilla said she barely spoke and did what she was told to do. She tried on her wedding dresses and didn’t like any. I don’t know if that means she was being difficult or if she genuinely didn’t like them.
The seamstress is coming back tomorrow. I don’t want to be a bastard and pick a dress for her. I already feel bad enough about the ring.
She stirs, as if she can sense me concocting shit. I back away quietly toward the door.
Emelia will be my wife in a few weeks.
Five years ago, I didn’t have anybody like that.
Now I do.
Rocking the nest to find Vlad means I’ll involve her too.
If I get it wrong, it won’t just be me I have to worry about.
I’ll have to worry about her too.
Chapter Thirteen
Emelia
I gaze ahead to the long mirror at my reflection. My heart squeezes.
This wedding dress is beautiful, very beautiful.
It looks like it was pulled from a fairytale. Definitely fit for a princess. Its sleeveless bodice hugs my frame, accentuating my breasts and the tiny curve of my waist. The endless length of fabric flowing from the body creates that magical effect flirting with my legs as I move.
I can imagine all eyes on me on the big day. I’ve tried on ten dresses today, and this one looks the best.
I really didn’t like the ones yesterday, but if I’m honest, I didn’t try all that hard. I always felt, though, when you see the dress you want, you wouldn’t have to try. You’d fall for it the same way you fell for the guy. He’d be the one, and the dress would be the one. That’s if it was real.
If it were real, I’d pick this dress. This morning, I thought I’d make things less difficult on myself by pretending it was real. I knew if I sent the seamstress away again today, Massimo would think I was being difficult and punish me for it, or some shit.