Black Skies Riviera: An Enemies To Lovers Mafia Romance

by Catherine Wiltcher

  She blinks at me slowly. “And you were willing to make this sacrifice?”

  “My parents were good people. Better people than I’ll ever be. They didn’t deserve what life threw at them. My father was a mechanic. My mother worked part-time in the local library. They should be in London right now, laughing at the TV and drinking cheap wine on a Friday night.”

  “Did you get the first name from Zaccaria?”

  “Yes.”

  She hesitates. “That’s where you went on our wedding night?”

  I nod.

  “And the second is in exchange for my sister’s whereabouts?”

  “I need that name, Issa…

  “No matter the cost?”

  I can't lose her. I can’t fucking lose her. Not when it’s taken me thirty years to find her.

  That certainty brings everything into sharp focus.

  “Not if we’re clever about it,” I say, as an idea starts to form.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Issa

  “You know you do this weird thing with your forehead when you’re thinking.”

  “You can’t think in your sleep,” he replies huskily, keeping his eyes shut.

  “You can't talk in your sleep either, so you must be awake.” I trace my name into his hard bicep.

  “Is this pillow talk?” He tuts in disgust. “I knew there was a good reason why I kicked women out once playtime was over.”

  “You can't kick me out. I’m your wife.”

  “You were asking me about a divorce yesterday.”

  “I’ve changed my mind. I think we should get a dog, instead.”

  He chuckles and slings a heavy arm around my waist, enticing me into his warmth. We’re lying side by side naked in his bed. The blinds are open and dawn is setting the walls of his cabin alight. We tore down our own walls with bloodied hands last night and now our light is constant. Last night I forced him to become undone, and he fell apart in the most beautiful way. We talked about a better time to come, about the ruin of his past… About pooling all our skills and resources into deceiving one of the most powerful crime bosses in the world.

  “And what would we call this dog?”

  “Madonna.”

  “Madonna?” This prompts one heavy eyelid to open and unleash a laser beam of disapproval. “No.”

  “No?”

  “Dogs should have proper dog names like Max and Rex. They shouldn’t be called after a pop star with a Botox problem.”

  I gasp in mock horror. “That’s blasphemy. And because you said no I’m definitely going to call her that now.”

  “Defy me at your peril,” he growls, tugging me closer.

  “Gladly.” My smile fades into his chest. “I’m so scared, Aiden.”

  “Stick to what we discussed and we’ll be sailing out of this port tonight and never returning.”

  “But your casino… your bars….”

  “I have money. I have you. I’ll have that second name, and hopefully the name of the man who ordered the hits. The rest is just noise.” Once he’d figured out a way to keep me and have his revenge, everything else fell by the wayside. “We need to keep MI6 on our side until your sister is transferred to a private facility. It shouldn't be too hard. All they care about is having enough evidence to bring down La Società Villefort so let’s give them what they want.”

  “And Interpol?”

  “Let me to worry about them. I have strings I can pull to make the law dance and the bodies disappear.” He drops a chaste kiss on the top of my head. “Are you going into Cannes today?”

  “I want to say goodbye to Eloise.”

  He’s silent for a moment. “Fine, but I want you back here by lunchtime. Zaccaria’s called the meeting for seven, although we don’t have the location yet. We need to get you wired up and ready.”

  I roll onto my front to watch him doze. “Tell me something, Aiden… Do you feel different this morning?”

  “I feel hung-over,” he rumbles. “I missed dinner, and I drank a shedload.”

  “I’m serious.”

  There’s a pause. “My chest feels looser.”

  “Mine, too.”

  “My knuckles hurt like a bitch from beating up a man.”

  He kills and maims to defend me, and I love him for it.

  “And my back hurts for fucking a woman so hard I lost my damn mind.”

  “Is she pretty?” I inquire innocently.

  “No, she’s not pretty.” He finally opens both eyes and blinds me with calm seas and clear horizons. “She’s so beautiful she’ll make a man forget why he was fighting so hard to push her away in the first place.”

  Our lips meet, and the next hour is a blur of skin and him.

  Steeling myself, I step under the showerhead, breathing calmly through my surges of panic. I count off each new second as a new milestone for success, before I’m pulling away gasping and spluttering.

  Forty.

  I’m elated. I’ve never managed more than thirty before.

  Walking back into the cabin, I discover some of the dresses Aiden bought for me the other day laid out on the comforter, along with a selection of underwear and shoes. The man in question is standing over by the window with a panoramic view of Monaco as his backdrop.

  It will never be as breathtaking as him, though.

  He’s barefoot and talking on his cell, dressed in blue jeans and a white V-neck T-shirt. He wears his Armani suits like black-plated armor, and his wears his ‘casuals’ like a golden God.

  I cast my mind back to the moment I first met him. Back then, he was all about the surface colors. This new range and depth are even more dazzling than Van Gogh’s The Red Vineyard.

  He’s giving up his businesses for me.

  He’s not betraying me.

  He’s risking his life for me.

  Somehow, he’s come up with a plan that’s going to free us all from the shackles of La Famiglia, appease MI6, and avenge his parents’ murder—and it frightens me more than he’ll ever know.

  There isn't an option to fail.

  Hanging up, he rakes a lazy, seductive stare over my body that has me instantly fidgeting.

  “No time for that, sweetheart,” he says, reading me like a book. “We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.” He gestures to the clothes on his bed. “The clean-up crew have finished, but you’re moving in here now. Your make-up and purses are next to the bed… Get dressed,” he orders, moving toward the door. “Frankie’s giving you a lift in today. He’s waiting on the top deck for you.”

  “Aiden?”

  “Yeah?” He pauses in the doorway, and I want to Polaroid the moment so I can shake it and stare at it, over and over again.

  “Can I get that number for Nina Sanders? I was hoping to send her some of my artwork.”

  “Sure. I’ll forward it on.”

  I fashion a smile for him, but it’s one of relief, too.

  That’s something else I haven’t shared with Aiden yet… I always have a back-up plan.

  I don’t have time to finish my make-up before we leave, so I’m sitting in the back of Frankie’s Escalade with a mascara wand in one hand and a mirror in the other. He’s a good driver, but the twists and turns of the mountainous Moyenne Corniche are making me curse at him under my breath. Fortunately, the swellings on my cheek and upper lip have gone down loads and my foundation is covering up the rest of it.

  I’m trying not to think about the man who did this to me, or what my husband did to him. Life in the underworld desensitizes you to the worst of crimes and plays havoc with your morals. It’s a constant switch to survival mode, where sin is the ultimate weapon.

  “I’ll try this again when we arrive,” I tell Frankie as we hit a dip in the road and a black streak goes shooting up into my hairline. Rubbing it away, I catch his eye in the rear-view mirror. “Thanks so much for driving me today.”

  He grunts and blasts me with a hostile missile of a glare.

  Have I driven a wedge between him
and Aiden? The Riviera has been Frankie’s home as much as his for the past four years. What happens tonight is going to impact Frankie’s life as much as our own.

  “Your husband asked me to hang around and drive you home again.”

  “I take it he told you about—”

  “Yeah, he told me.”

  There’s a pause. “Are you going to help us?”

  “Does it sound like I have a choice?” He switches the radio to mute. “Listen, I’ve known him a long time, Issa, and I’ve seen him make a lot of crazy decisions. I’ve never seen him make ones like he’s making today, though. He’s out of his mind if he thinks he can pull it off.”

  I choose my next words carefully. “You sound like you disapprove.”

  “Aiden does whatever the fuck he wants to, lady, and for twenty years I’ve been okay with that. This plan, though…” He trails off with a shake of his head.

  “I know how close you are. If you’re not on board—”

  “Oh, I’m on board,” he snaps back. “Aiden’s like a big brother to me. I’d never let him down, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  “He’ll find out who ordered the hits first,” I say, rushing to reassure him. “He won’t be leaving that meeting until he has answers.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see.”

  There’s a strange atmosphere in the car, like someone has sucked out all of the warm air and replaced it with chilly unease. Frankie shifts his massive frame and rakes his hand through his hair, and an involuntary shiver courses through me. The moment passes and he switches the radio back on. We don’t speak again until we’re pulling into the same side street where Aiden parked up yesterday.

  “Come and meet Eloise,” I say as we make our way up Rue Meynadier together.

  He shakes his head. “I’m good.”

  More silence.

  “Frankie, wait.” We’ve reached her store now and I can’t take the tension any longer. “Are you angry with me about this?”

  “I told you not to go and buy a shovel, Issa… I said you wouldn't like what you dug up.”

  “I’m trying to use that shovel to lay us a new foundation.”

  He hesitates. “You really mean that? Because Aiden deserves a shot at something better.”

  “We all do.”

  “Nah, not me.” I watch him glance up and down the street. “You two were sparks from the beginning. It was always going to happen, no matter what he told himself. I’m a part of tonight because he’s earned his happy ending. And so have you, by the sounds of it.” He stops and runs his hand across his jaw. “Whatever goes down later, I want you to promise me something: be the family he’s always wanted.”

  “Frankie, you’re scaring me. Is something wrong?”

  He blows out a heavy breath. “Secrets are like dogs,” he mutters. “Some are predictable. Others bite hard when you least expect it.” He swings back to find me staring. “Go.” He motions at the shop. “Say your goodbyes. I’ll be waiting here.”

  Giving him a worried look, I go to open the door but it doesn’t budge.

  Locked.

  That’s strange.

  Peering through the glass, I see that all the lights are off as well.

  “Everything okay?” he calls out.

  I check my cell, but there’s no message. “Opening time was half an hour ago… She should be here by now.”

  “Do you have a key?”

  “Yes.” I find the one that Eloise gave me yesterday at the bottom of my purse.

  Clicking the lock and stepping into the shop, I’m greeted by a sickly, metallic odor that makes me glance back at Frankie in concern. He’s by my side in an instant. I know he smells it, too, because he’s already pulling out his gun.

  “Get behind me,” he orders as fear explodes into every chamber of my heart.

  The place is dark and empty and bathed in shadow. All the vibrant colors have been stultified. The odor is growing stronger and stronger the more we move toward the back room.

  “Stay here.”

  I hover by the counter as he slowly pushes open the door, an inch at a time. When I hear him cursing, I rush forward. He swings his arm out to try and block my view, but it’s too late.

  Red.

  Why is everything red?

  He’s grabbing at my shoulders now and trying to push me backward, but I see everything: the twisted angle of her body, her glassy unstaring eyes, the crimson wound where her elegant throat used to be.

  On the wall above her brutal wreckage are the words La Società Villefort, painted in her blood.

  “Eloise,” I rasp.

  “There’s nothing more you can do for her,” says Frankie. “She’s gone, Issa.”

  “She can’t be dead! Help her! Call an ambulance, or something!” I’m hysterical as grief ties rocks around my heart and tosses me into a familiar pool of pain.

  “We need to get out of here.”

  “I’m not leaving her! I’m waiting for the police!”

  “You’re Knight’s wife,” he snarls, shaking me hard. “That’s not their favorite word around here. He has them in his pocket, but they’re always looking for ways to make holes in it.” Slamming the back room door, he drags me kicking and screaming to the front of the shop.

  “Let me go!”

  “Listen to me,” he says, shaking me again. “If anything happens to you, Aiden will start shooting up the Riviera and that’s not going to help anyone. I’ll call the teams on the way back to Monaco. They’ll treat her body with respect.”

  Body.

  Eloise is just a body.

  All that color… Gone.

  I choke on another suffocating wave of grief. Every way I look I see her designs, her creations, her life. I close my eyes and I see a gently lined face with laughter and patience in her eyes, sitting in a café in a jade dress with a thirteen old child so lost in the world she needed a stranger to give her direction.

  “Why would anyone want to kill her? She’s the sweetest, kindest—”

  “I don’t—Issa, watch out!”

  The first bullet passes so close to my face the breeze caresses my hair, and then I’m hitting the floor and coldness is slamming into my skin.

  Five more rounds are fired into Eloise’s shop after that. There’s glass flying everywhere and it’s anarchy on the narrow street outside. Everybody is screaming and running in different directions, as chaos and fear spread Chinese whispers up and down the narrow street.

  There’s a charged pause, and then the sound of five more deafening rounds as Frankie rears up and retaliates.

  “Is there a back way to this place?” he yells out, falling back to the floor.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then we’re going to have to run.”

  I gape at him in horror. “But what if the shooter is still out there?”

  “Let me get a closer look.” He crawls across the bed of broken glass toward the remains of the front window. “I can’t see him.”

  “What if he’s waiting for us?”

  “Nah, I don’t think that’s his game plan.” He rises to his feet and rams a fresh magazine into his gun. “They had a clear shot. He missed us on purpose. It’s a warning.” He glances down at me. “Jesus, you’re shaking.”

  “Please take me back to Aiden, Frankie.” I’m trying hard not to fall apart. I need his arms. I need his comfort.

  Cannes is a ghost town as we weave our way back to the Escalade. Bags of abandoned shopping litter the cobblestones and sidewalks like dead paper bodies bleeding their consumerism. The sound of sirens is bruising the summer air as we turn into the side street.

  We’re a hundred meters out when a black vehicle powers up the road alongside us and swerves to a halt in an ugly squeal of brakes.

  “Get in!” yells Maxim, ripping his sunglasses from his scarred face.

  “Fuck off, Lebedev.” Frankie pushes in front of me and reaches for his gun.

  “Ublyudok! Your car has been compromis
ed. It’s wired to blow in one minute, and I’m not hanging around to see the fireworks.”

  “Is this your Pakhan’s payback for last night? Is he feeling sore this morning?”

  “Frankie? What—?”

  “Just get in,” Maxim roars. “I’ll tell you once we’re out of here, and not when I’m picking shrapnel out of my hair.”

  With a frustrated growl, Frankie wrenches open the back door and pushes me inside before jumping in next to Maxim.

  I fumble for the seat, colliding with another hard body sat there. By the time I realize who it is, Maxim is screeching away from the curb and I’m flying forward into the empty space next to him.

  “You,” I cry in horror, seizing the grab rail.

  “Hello kotyono,” says my father dryly, taking in my wild state and the cuts on my arms and face. “What trouble have you found yourself in now?”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Issa

  “I have nothing to say to you!” I tell him, pouring all of this morning’s pain, shock and anger into my rebuke. “And don’t you dare call me that name. I haven’t been your ‘kitten’ since I was six years old.”

  Hearing the emotion in my voice, Frankie whips round and his expression blackens. “What the hell are you doing here, Dubov?” He pulls out his gun, and then braces himself against the door as Maxim takes another corner at top speed.

  “I needed to see you, kotyono,” my father says, ignoring my request.

  “Is there even a car bomb?” I say, glaring at him. It’s easier than looking at Maxim. He doesn’t know that Aiden holds the keys to the treasure trove as well now. He doesn’t know that all of our plans have changed. He’ll be angry with me. He’ll accuse me of putting Karina’s life in jeopardy, and that’s an unforgivable act in his eyes.

  Instead of answering, my father flicks his hand at Frankie’s gun. “Put that thing away.”

  “You’re not the one who gives me orders, Dubov… I’m keeping it right here where we can all see it.”

  My father grimaces, and I notice the tight, pale pallor beneath his tan.