The Enemy in My Bed

by LK Shaw

  “Oh, goodness, you two probably don’t know each other. Mila, this is Pierce’s sister, Francesca,” Brenna introduces us.

  Oh, god. This is a nightmare.

  Brenna’s gaze bounces awkwardly between us, and her mouth turns down, as though she can sense the tension in the air. Or maybe I’m just imagining it.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had company. I should have called before just coming over,” Francesca frets.

  “You know you’re welcome here anytime. Breakfast is almost ready.” Brenna moves to stand next to me. I can’t take my eyes off Pierce’s sister.

  “Mila? Are you okay?” Brenna steps directly in front of me, blocking my view.

  I blink and focus on her. My head feels woozy. “Huh? No. I mean, yes, sorry, I’m fine.”

  Francesca sucks in a breath. “You’re Russian.” It’s not a question.

  I’m going to be sick. This is the woman who was brutalized by Mikhail. By other Russians. I have to be a reminder of everything that happened to her. I need to get out of here.

  “I’m so sorry.” The apology spills from me, and I drop the spatula on the counter before bolting around the island, past Francesca, and through the living room.

  “Mila, wait. Please,” Brenna pleads.

  I make it out the front door and to the elevator. C’mon! c’mon! I beg, my finger stabbing repeatedly at the down button. The door opens and I jump inside. I slam my hand on the button labeled “G” and then the button to close me inside. It slides shut.

  “Mila!” Brenna’s face appears, and then just as quickly, disappears. The elevator jerks and makes a grinding noise, but it begins its descent. My chest heaves, and my breath is coming out in gasps. Will the security guard try and stop me? There’s a ding and the metal door slides open. I dash out, still breathless, and race across the marble lobby floor.

  “Miss, is everything okay?” The guard calls out, but doesn’t try to stop me.

  My palms slam against the exit, and I’m momentarily blinded by the bright sun reflecting off the black mirrored windows of the building opposite me. I look left and then right, and take off running in the opposite direction of the river. I don’t know where I am or where I’m going, but I can’t stay here.

  Chapter 24

  Pierce

  * * *

  “How’s Sal doing, anyway?” I ask Jacob on the drive to his father’s house.

  He shakes his head and takes another sip of whiskey. “Not well. Ever since the night Brenna was taken, he’s gotten worse. I’m not sure he’ll even make the three months the doctor gave him.”

  Sal had hidden his cancer from the entire syndicate since his diagnosis, but with all the families having sworn their loyalty to Jacob, it’s come out.

  “I’m sure everything that happened that night was a blow to him,” I say.

  “Marta has been doing her best to keep him comfortable. But I think it’s only a matter of time. Dr. Marino has been there twice in the last week. I don’t think Sal’s left his bed in days.”

  “Are you sure this is something he needs to be bothered with? There’s nothing he can do if we end up going up against the Polish.”

  “I have no intention of mentioning the current situation to him. You and I both know what he’ll say. We’re heading there because I want to see if he has any information on this Maksim. I’m not even sure my father knew Mikhail had a son,” Jacob says. “I also told Marta I’d stop by to check on him.”

  My uncle and cousin have never had the closest relationship, but with Sal dying, things have changed. Despite the distance between them, there has still always been, if not affection, than respect. I envy that.

  “My mother came to the house the other day.” Some compulsion makes me say it.

  “How is Sofia?” Jacob asks cautiously. He knows of my contentious relationship with her, but not the reason behind it. It’s the one secret I’ve never shared with him.

  “The same as she’s always been. Hateful. Upset Francesca by talking shit about Giovanni.” I take a healthy swallow of bourbon. “I’ve never understood how she could be Aunt Rosalie’s sister. They were complete opposites.”

  Jacob’s mother had been the kindest, most loving person. In our world, that’s rare. She was a friend to everyone in the syndicate. The entire organization mourned her death.

  “My mother was special.”

  I toss back the rest of my drink. “Mine used to beat me.”

  Without looking at Jacob, I reach across, grab the snifter, and pour myself another. I stare out the window for several minutes, sipping it, before finally meeting his gaze. He’s staring at me as though he didn’t understand what I said. “Jesus, Pierce. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  My laugh is bitter. “It wouldn’t have made any difference. We were kids. What were you going to do? Tell Sal? My father before he died? Fuck, that would have only proven to her that I was worthless. Weak. All the things she accused me of being. Still does. Because I wasn’t like you.”

  “Like me?”

  “Actually, because I wasn’t you. Did you know she was in love with Sal?” I don’t wait for an answer. “Of course, he ended up marrying Aunt Rosalie. Then, their parents arranged for her to marry my father. She turned bitter, because her sister had everything she wanted. The perfect husband. The perfect heir. She hated my father. In turn, she hated her children. But most especially me, because I looked exactly like Costantino De Luca. I was nothing more than a reminder of what she’d lost.”

  “Christ, I had no idea.”

  “Like I said, it was a long time ago.”

  Fuck. What’s wrong with me? I don’t share shit like this. I don’t do emotions. Feelings. Ever since I turned that fucking light on and saw Mila for the first time, I haven’t been the same. Thank god, Aurelio finally comes to a stop in front of Sal’s. I’m done talking.

  We take the stairs two at a time. Like always, the door opens before we have to knock. Marta, who normally is always well put together and wears a respectful smile, looks tired and rundown. Her perfectly maintained haircut appears disheveled, and there are dark circles under her eyes. Even the wrinkle-free pantsuit she favors is wilted.

  “Good morning, Emilio. Pierce. Please, come in.” There’s fatigue in her voice.

  I follow in behind my cousin, and she closes the door behind us.

  “How’s he doing today?” he asks.

  Marta shakes her head. “Not well. He had a rough night. The pain medicine doesn’t seem to be working.”

  She’s been a surprisingly good nursemaid to Sal over the last few months, considering that before this, she’d been the housewife widow of one of our captains. I’m sure it’s been difficult for her.

  “Is he awake? Or is this not a good time?” Jacob asks.

  “He’s awake, but I’m not sure for how much longer. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you, though.” Marta’s smile is faint, but sincere.

  I gesture toward the stairs. “Go. I’ll wait down here whenever you’re finished.”

  His nod is nearly imperceptible, but he turns and makes his way up to his father’s room. I wait until he disappears from view before I face Marta. “How much longer do you think he has?”

  She shrugs. “You know how stubborn Mr. Ricci is. But I also know the betrayal hit him hard. He’ll be lucky if he makes it another month.”

  I glance up the stairs. Cancer is a bitch. It took Aunt Rosalie, and its next victim will be Sal. My phone rings in my pocket. “Excuse me,” I say to Marta.

  She nods and disappears into the study off the entryway.

  “De Luca.”

  “Oh my god, Pierce, she’s gone.”

  My whole body goes rigid, and my heart stops before it begins racing. “What do you mean, she’s gone?” I snap at Francesca.

  “I showed up at Brenna’s. She introduced us, and I admit hearing the Russian accent threw me. She freaked and took off. Brenna tried stopping her.” There were tears in my sister’s voice.


  “Son of a bitch. I’ll be there shortly.” I disconnect the call and pocket my phone.

  As though anticipating I needed her, Marta steps back out. “Is everything all right?”

  “I have to go. Tell Jacob I’ll send another car for him.” I’m out the door and bounding down the steps before she can respond.

  I pound on the door of the townhouse, my foot tapping an impatient beat. Hurry up, Brenna. There’s a metallic click of the lock disengaging and it swings open. Her eyes are red and her face splotchy. Behind her, Francesca stands in the middle of the living room wringing her hands. I barrel past Brenna and round on her.

  “Tell me everything that happened? How long has she been gone? Why didn’t you have the security guard stop her?” I rattle off each question, my renowned patient hanging on by a thread.

  “It’s like Francesca told you. I let her in and we went into the kitchen. I introduced her to Mila. She just stared at your sister. I thought she was going to be sick, in fact. Mila mumbled an apology, and she bolted. She made it into the elevator before I could catch up to her. And I didn’t call the security guard, because she’s your prisoner, not mine,” Brenna adds with more than a tinge of sarcasm.

  “Prisoner?”

  I turn and face my sister. Goddamn it, Brenna.

  “It’s not what it sounds like.” I cringe at how pathetic that lie is.

  “Why would you do that to a woman, Pierce? Because she’s Russian?” Francesca yells.

  “I don’t have time to talk about this right now. I have to find Mila,” I say.

  Brenna clears her throat. “The security guard said she headed toward Division Street. She couldn’t have gotten far.”

  “Then I’ll start in that direction.” I move toward the door, desperate to begin the search.

  This entire area is owned by the syndicate. If she stops inside any business asking for help, there could be trouble. She isn’t safe by herself.

  I glance back at Francesca and Brenna. “If she happens to come back, call me immediately.”

  “Of course,” my sister says.

  No matter how long it takes, I have to find Mila. I can’t lose her.

  Chapter 25

  Mila

  * * *

  I run, until a shooting pain in my side makes me slow to a walk. My feet are killing me. Pierce had thrown away my old clothes, including my shoes. No doubt to deter me from trying to escape. My gaze darts around. Nothing looks familiar. Or rather, everything looks the same. I could be anywhere in Brooklyn. In Italian territory. I don’t dare ask anyone for help.

  To my right is an empty playground surrounded by a black wrought iron fence. I walk slowly through the opening and collapse onto a wooden bench near the twisting silver metal slide.

  Memories flood me of standing at the bottom of one similar to this and catching Anya as she raced down it, laughing and giggling without a care in the world. She used to look up at me with her gap-tooth smile and tell me how much she loved me. I don’t move from this spot or push away the images of better times.

  Throughout the day a few parents with their children ramble in and out. They play for a while, until the kids grow bored, or the parents do, and then they gather everyone up and go back to their homes and their lives. A few smile at me in greeting, and one even says hello. The evening sun dips in the sky, and still I sit here, as though waiting for something. Or someone.

  A heavy weight settles on the bench, jarring it slightly. That familiar, fresh, clean scent surrounds me, and I close my eyes, breathing it in. A single tear spills from my eye, and I swipe it away.

  “How did you find me?” I ask without looking at the man sitting next to me.

  “You didn’t make it very far from the townhouse,” Pierce says with a wry grin. “Plus, you’re not well hidden, mia piccola fata.”

  I release a small laugh. “Is Francesca all right?”

  “She’s fine. A little pissed at me. And a lot confused about what’s going on,” he tells me.

  “That makes two of us.”

  “Why did you run?”

  I lift my shoulder. “Panic, I guess. I saw your sister, and the only thing I thought of was that she was going to hate me. Because of who I am. Because of what had been done to her. I didn’t think. Just ran.”

  “I’ve been worried about you,” Pierce says softly.

  This makes me turn. God, this man is so beautiful with his warm brown eyes I’m not sure how I could have ever mistaken for being cold. He takes up so much space, but I don’t feel crowded. Even the skull tattoo with Death’s eyes captivates me.

  “Worried that your prey had finally gotten away?”

  A warm hand engulfs mine. I stare down at our entwined fingers, and my head jerks up to meet Pierce’s eyes.

  “I was worried about Mila, the person. About you.”

  There’s a giant knot growing at the back of my throat and my eyes burn. “No one has ever worried about me before. Not even Anya, I don’t think. I’ve always been the one who took care of her. Who fretted over her. Who made sure she had everything she needed, even if that meant me going without.”

  “Then it’s about time someone looked after you,” Pierce says. “I have no idea what this thing between us is. But I’d like to find out. No tricks. No mind games. Not anymore.”

  I want to trust him more than anything. To trust this, whatever it is. He brought me to Brenna’s house. That has to mean something. It can’t all be some elaborate game.

  “The only person I have ever trusted is Anya.” He opens his mouth, and I place my finger over it. “When you took me, I vowed I would never beg. Not for food. Not for Anya. Not for anything. This is me, begging. Please don’t make me regret trusting you.”

  Pierce presses a kiss to my fingertip. “I won’t.”

  I inhale a shaky breath. Please don’t let this be a mistake. “All right.”

  He rises and holds out his hand. I place mine in it, and he leads me to the town car parked at the curb. Once we’re enclosed inside, he turns to me. “Brenna was worried about you. I called her as soon as I found you. She wanted me to tell you that when you’re up for another visit, she’d love to have you.”

  “And your sister?” I ask softly.

  “Isn’t speaking to me at the moment. But,” Pierce begins. “She wants to apologize for how she reacted this morning. She really would like to meet you.”

  Nausea floods my belly. He threads his fingers through mine again. “Everything is going to be fine.”

  I hope he’s right.

  My gaze darts to the door for the hundredth time, and the small amount of food I’d managed to get down for dinner is threatening to come back up. After Pierce found me in the playground, we’d returned to this house. He’d fed me, or tried to. Then he’d called Francesca. I’ve been sitting here ever since, waiting for her to arrive.

  “I can tell her to come over another time,” Pierce says, yet again.

  “No,” I shake my head, not taking my eyes off the front door. “It’ll just make me more nervous having to postpone this.”

  He settles on the sofa next to me. “This isn’t an execution, Mila.”

  My gaze turns to his. “Then why does it feel like it? Your sister was brutalized by Russians, and here you are, fucking one.”

  Pierce’s expression turns fierce. I wave my hand around. “You know what I mean.”

  He snatches it from the air and brings it to his lap. I’ve never had someone touch me, especially hold my hand, as much as he does. I kind of like it. I like it a lot that he seems to always touch me in some way.

  “I do know what you mean. But you aren’t them. In fact, you’re just as much a victim as she is. I’m sorry I couldn’t see that.”

  Another piece of the barrier around my heart cracks and breaks off. If he keeps saying things like that, it’s going to shatter completely. I only hope the organ it protects stays intact. There’s a knock on the door and my head swings toward it. Pierce squeezes my hand a
nd ghosts another kiss across my forehead. He rises from the couch and heads to the door. I stand, too, wiping my sweaty palms down my thighs.

  Pierce glances over his shoulder, and before I can take another breath, he opens it and Francesca steps through. I swallow hard. She looks just like she did this morning, but with the two of them beside each other, the resemblance is striking. The longer I study her, the more things I notice. She looks as nervous as you feel. I’m not sure which of us moves first, but in seconds we’re standing face to face.

  “Hi.” Francesca breaks the silence with a small smile. It doesn’t seem forced. Only…cautious.

  I have to clear the rocks in my throat. “Um, hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You as well. I’m sorry,” she says. “About this morning, I mean.”

  “No, no,” I rush to correct her. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sure it came as quite a shock to find me at Brenna’s house.”

  She blows out a puff of laughter. “Just a little.”

  Pierce appears at my side, and I jump. My entire focus had been on his sister, who glares at him. “Maybe you guys would like to go out on the patio?”

  “Oh, shit, I mean, sorry, would you like to have a seat? I should have asked that first. Sorry,” I ramble.”

  “Hey, it’s all right.” Francesca reaches out and touches my arm. “Outside would be nice. It’s a lovely evening.”

  I lead her out to the table and we both sit. Pierce remains inside. Most likely to not piss off his sister any further. An awkward silence settles between us. What do you say to a woman in this kind of situation?

  “How is—”

  “Brenna tells me—”

  “Oh, sorry, go ahead,” I spit out.

  She laughs and gestures for me to talk. “No, it’s okay. What were you going to say?”

  “I was just going to ask how your friend is doing? The one in the hospital.”

  Her face flushes and she looks away shyly. “You mean Giovanni? He’s doing well. They discharged him from the hospital yesterday, actually.”