Chapter 3

THREE

Laura

T he zip slid neatly closed on my final suitcase, and I couldn't help but smile. Four sleek black cases, each with the designer's name embroidered on the front, stood at the end of my bed. Looking at them made me feel grown up and ready for the next chapter in my life. With polished nails, hair perfectly coiffed in waves over my shoulders, and a brand-new wardrobe suitable for a woman who belonged at his side, I'd liberally spent on Massimo's credit card to transform myself into his perfect wife.

Butterflies flitted in my stomach as I spotted the time. Only a few hours until Massimo arrived for the pre-wedding dinner. Mother had set it to be an intimate, family-only affair, with a bigger party to follow at the wedding venue later in the night. I wondered if he would kiss me. I hoped he would. Despite the tornado of nerves making my belly swim, I was ready to embrace my new life fully. The four cases held everything I was taking to my new home. Whatever was left was unneeded or replaceable.

Plopping down on the edge of my bed, I pulled Massimo's bundle of letters from one of the case's front pockets. I didn't even need to open them, though. I'd read them so many times I knew each one practically word for word. However, with each passing day, I realised more and more how much I enjoyed not only his words, but his attention. For the first time in forever, I felt desired, just as I was. Like someone out there had seen beauty in my many flaws and wanted me despite them. I only hoped his passion for me would remain stoked when we wed and began living together. I'd be on my best behaviour and try to instil all the etiquette my mother had pestered me with my whole life. Massimo deserved the very best wife, and he'd chosen me.

I wouldn't let him down.

Pulling off my leggings and hoodie, I slipped into a modest, yet pretty, dress that had cost an eye-watering amount. It was delicate and feminine, with soft layers of sheer white silk floating down from the fitted waist. As I topped up my lipstick with trembling fingers, I kept glancing at the wall clock through the (full length/large) mirror, half-wondering if it was faulty because time seemed to drag on so slowly. Drawing in a steeling breath, I finish the outfit with a set of understated pearl earrings my grandmother had left me. I'd treasured them for years as a lasting memento of her, and perhaps they'd be my lucky token as I ventured into my new life. In a way, she might even be there to guide me through it.

Inhaling deeply, I took one last glance at the reflection of a me I barely recognised in the mirror.

I bore a resemblance to my mother's friends' daughters, who had already accomplished a lot in their roles as wives or career women. My abandoned leggings lay rumpled on the floor, like the shed skin of the person I was before Massimo.

Smoothing my skirt, I headed to the dining room.

My father leaned against the in-home bar, pouring himself a rather large whisky before reaching over for my brother's glass, topping it up.

'Hey,' I said, smiling awkwardly as both sets of eyes grazed over my appearance. 'I'll have one of those too, please.'

'Sure thing, kid.' Dad pulled a glass forward and dropped a generous measure into it.

'Still can't believe our little dumplin' has secured Massimo fuckin' Ricci,' Elijah said, his voice dripping with scorn.

I fucking detested the nickname he had always inflicted upon me. It had been a thing as long as I could remember. Little dumpling. Fat little pudding. My cheeks pricked with heat when he sipped his whisky with a smug grin.

'It's not my fault that not even Daddy can find someone who would marry you,' I replied, reaching past him to grab my glass.

Before I had the chance to take a swig of the fiery liquid, my mother plucked the glass clean out of my fingers and replaced it with a long-stemmed champagne glass.

'Don't use that tone with your brother. No one likes a bitter woman, Laura.' My mother handed the whisky glass over to my father and gave me a look of displeasure.

'He called me?—'

'I don't care what he called you. It's your job to be sweet, darling, not right.'

I sipped at the extra-dry champagne and tried not to pull a face. At least it was alcohol.

'George, please don't give her whisky. Massimo doesn't need to come in here and smell that foul stuff on her breath.' My father shrugged and drank down the whisky in question. Elijah took a sip of his while holding my gaze, smacking his lips in a dramatic display of delight.

Rolling my eyes, I made my way to the window that overlooked our driveway. The sooner I got out of here, the better.

If only time could go faster.

M assimo Ricci was in my house.

Holy shit.

My skin was sticky as I tried to hold my body still in one spot. I fought the urge to pace as I heard the accented timber of his voice in the hallway. Using my hand to fan my fiery face, I pleaded with the gods to return my heart rate to a human level. I feared it would burst straight from my chest and land at my fiance's feet as he graced the room.

After a few moments, that felt an awful lot like a million years, the dining-room door opened at last.

‘Laura!' Massimo's beautiful face broke into a grin as soon as his eyes roved over me.

I didn't know whether to kiss him or fucking curtsy. My body felt like jelly stuffed into a sausage casing as I awkwardly made my way toward him.

'Massimo, it's so lovely to see you again.' Stretching up on my tiptoes, I placed a kiss on his cheek, just left of his mouth. His body tensed as I did. Was he as affected as I?

'Indeed,' he said, giving me a tight smile before turning away as my mother and father walked in behind him.

'Shall we get dinner started?' my mother said. 'The chef has prepared us quite the feast.'

When I tried to take a seat next to Massimo, my mother tutted and directed me to one on the far side of the table, putting my brother and father next to my intended instead.

'Mum,' I hissed under my breath, 'Surely I should sit next to my soon-to-be-husband?'

'You've already secured your part of the deal, Sweetie. All you need to do is say I do and spread those thighs for him. Your brother and father still have potential connections to make.' She brushed past me, a fake smile plastered on her face as always.

Fury made my cheeks flame as I took my seat, idle chatter bubbling between the men while the entrees were served.

Massimo looked almost regal next to my brother. He sat straighter and spoke with a calculated ease. He was also just as handsome as I remembered. Imagining myself wrapped up in his toned arms in less than twenty-four hours had me near writhing in my spot. Would he be romantic and gentle with me? Or would he be passionate? Would he push me to my knees and...

Jesus, Laura. Not with your family in the room.

I shifted my focus back to the babble of conversation. The words were far more heated than I'd been expecting as I tuned in.

'You see, George, we had a deal, but it turns out that you have been lying to me for months,' Massimo said, his eyes glittering dangerously.

My mother's eyebrows creased as she tried to follow the exchange.

'It's not like that.' My father's voice was strained, high-pitched and laced with fear. 'There were a few snags.'

'You call losing your connections through Belgium a fucking snag?' Massimo snarled, ‘We had a deal. I marry your daughter, and you ensure the smooth passage of goods via the Belgian port.'

I'd known there was a business agreement behind our union, but to have it so blatantly said in front of me was like being punched in the gut.

No , I told myself, his letters showed how he really feels.

'And worse than that, I find out you and your son have been undercutting me for months. Taking my stock and selling it out beneath me while pretending everything's been fine. Did you think I wouldn't fucking find out?' Massimo's face had twisted into a truly frightening mask. Anger replaced any sign of the man I'd briefly met before.

'George,' my mother gasped. 'Is this true?'

Elijah rolled his eyes. 'Don't act as if you didn't know, mother. It was your idea.'

My brain felt like it was seeping out of my ears as I looked from one face to another. They had all been lying to my fiance and me for months? They'd undercut him in business? What the hell?

My head pounded as I stood, a wave of nausea sweeping over me.

'I need to use the bathroom,' I blurted out, heading for the door.

'It's too late for talk,' Massimo continued, talking over whatever my father was saying. 'There is no room for rats.'

An ear-splitting bang rang out behind me. I whipped my head around to see a large spray of red across the wall behind where my mother sat. She slumped over into her venison, gravy dripping down her front and mingling with the blood flowing from the hole in her head.

A scream tore from my throat, and another gunshot cracked like thunder.

I needed to get to my phone, but I'd already packed it in my case. Kicking off my heels, I raced toward the kitchen, hoping to send the chef to get help.

Chef was laying in a pool of crimson.

Backing out of the room, I dashed for the doors. I needed to get out. My feet slid on the tiled flooring as I raced for the door, but two men were visible through the frosted glass, guarding the exit.

Fuck.

A third shot cracked, and I crashed up the stairs, my heart beating as hard as my feet against the wood. Sobs wracking my body. Footsteps crashed behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder as I reached the top of the stairs. Massimo pursued, gaining on me. A bullet splintered the wall behind my head as I careened toward my bedroom.

Slamming the door closed, I locked it and grabbed my phone from my bag before going into the bathroom and locking that door, too.

My hands shook as I pressed my finger against the on button, waiting for my phone to kick into life. I heard my bedroom door crash open and Massimo tearing open my cupboards.

'Come on,' I pleaded with my phone. 'Please?'

A loud kick made the bathroom door shudder and tore another startled scream from my throat. At last, my phone's home screen lit up. I hastily punched in nine-nine-nine, my fingers slipping in my frantic rush to summon help.

The door gave way and Massimo burst into the room, a dark gun pointed directly at my forehead. Tears blurred my vision as I compressed myself back into the corner.

'P-please,' I choked on a sob.

Reaching down, he snatched the phone from my hand and hung up the call before dropping it to the floor and crashing his heel down on top of it.

'Please, Massimo. I had no idea.'

His breathing was hoarse as he let out a laugh. 'I don't doubt that.'

'Don't hurt me.'

'I don't have a choice. Your family is dead. I can hardly marry you tomorrow without raising some serious questions, can I?' Blood speckled his tanned skin, and the realisation that they were all dead hit me like a tonne-weight.

'I thought you loved me,' I whispered as he ran a hand through his blood-slicked hair.

'I don't even know you.'

'But the letters...'

He laughed again before shaking his head. 'Do you think I have time for penning love letters to stupid little English girls? Your mother arranged them to keep you sweet.'

'Don't kill me,' I begged, tears washing down over my cheeks. I'd gone from the promise of everything to pleading for my life in what felt like a matter of minutes. 'Please, I'll do anything. '

'You hardly had anything I wanted, even with everything your father offered me. Without it, you're barely worth the bullet.'

Before I could take a breath, pain bloomed in my chest as my ears rattled with the sound of the gunshot. Looking down, my pretty white dress had a hole above my left breast, red petals of blood growing out from the torn point.

'Massimo,' I whispered.

He was already gone by the time I hit the floor.