Chapter 1

1

Karma

"Michael!" I scream as his head disappears under the water, "Oh, my god, Michael!" I spring up, ready to dive into the water, but Luca catches me around my waist.

"Let me go," I yell. "Michael! No! I have to go to him."

"If you jump into the water now, you know what he's going to do to you, right? He'll not only imprison you, he's going to kill you, and then you'll never be able to see your sister again."

Summer. My breath hitches. Summer. I need to get out of here so I can return to her. It's what I want, right? It's why I had first stabbed Michael, then run away from him when he'd been occupied with fixing food in the kitchen. Michael… I swallow. What if he doesn't survive though? I stop struggling and Luca releases me. He focuses on steering the motorboat.

I stare back at the receding jetty as the boat pulls away. The wind whips my hair into my face and I shove it back.

"He needs help." I turn to Luca, "Please, call someone. We can't leave him alone."

He hesitates and I clutch at his sleeve, "Please Luca, please, he's your brother."

"It's too damn dangerous," he says through gritted teeth. "It'll place me squarely at the scene of the crime."

"If you don't call someone and have them help, then if he does recover, he'll never forgive you."

"He'll never forgive me anyway." Luca twists his lips, "Asshole will kill me… That is, if he does survive."

"He will survive," I say fiercely. "He has to. Please, Luca, please call somebody and have them send help. You know I am right in asking this."

He stares at me a second longer, then swears aloud. "Steer the boat, will you?" He jerks his chin toward the steering wheel. He steps back and I slide into the space in front of the steering wheel.

I grab it, and when he's sure that I have a firm grip, he releases his hold on it.

He pulls a phone out of his pocket, and presses a few buttons, before holding it to his ear. "Seb?" He snaps, "There's been an accident, at the island. Michael needs help."

He listens for a second, as the other man speaks, before interrupting, "I know because I was there, and now I am not. You'd better send someone before it's too late."

He disconnects, then tosses the phone overboard, before turning to me, "This call was a big mistake."

"It wasn't," I insist. "I don't want him to die, and neither do you."

He laughs, the sound bitter, "Asshole wouldn't die that easily. He's probably clambering onto the beach as we speak and walking toward the house."

"I hope so." I swallow as he crosses over to me and takes the wheel again. I shift to the side, sink down onto the seat next to him. "I didn't mean to…hurt him," I murmur. "I only did it out of instinct. I didn't mean for him to..." I can't say the word aloud. He's not going to die. He cannot die and yet, I can't take my gaze off of the island that's growing smaller by the second. What am I hoping to see? Michael emerging from the water and walking onto the shore? Michael standing there and watching me as I leave him? Michael with his dark gaze, his chiseled features, those massive shoulders, his wide chest… Michael with his edgy, dark scent that I will forever carry with me. Michael. Michael. Michael. A sob bubbles up and I don't stop the tears that run down my cheeks.

"I wish I could go back," I wrap my arms around myself. "I wish I could make sure that he's okay." I am mumbling to myself but Luca hears me.

"He has a harder head than you can imagine." He speaks in a loud enough voice that I can hear him above the sound of the breeze, "Look, I know it's unfortunate that you had to do what you did, but at least, you are free of him now."

"Am I?" I swallow, "He's going to come after me."

He has to come after me. He has to live. He has to survive what I did to him. Surely, he can't have drowned. I didn't hit him that hard, did I?

"You're right," Luca concedes, "it's the first thing he's going to do once he's back on his feet. You likely bought us a little time though."

I keep my gaze focused on the island until it recedes from sight. My heart stutters, a cold sensation stabbing at my chest. You'll see him again. You have to… I shake my head. What is wrong with me? I had spent the entire time I was on the island trying to get away from him. And now that I have managed to escape, I can't stop thinking about him.

This is for the best. I am leaving him behind and going to find my way back to my own life, to my home… That's what I want, right? Home… I swallow. Why does it feel like I left my home behind? That house on the island that belongs to Michael…isn't home. Not my home. It's his place. I am… His? No, no, no. I rub my fingers across the ring on my left hand. That…is his… The mark of his possession with which he branded me. Just as he imprinted his touch into every cell of my body, engraved his name into my soul, stamped the sensation of his thickness in between my legs. I squeeze my thighs together.

Shit, this is not the time to think about how brutally he had taken me that last time. How he had eaten me out, before positioning me on my hands and knees, then gripped my hips, holding me immobile as he had thrust into me from behind. Oh, my god, he had…taken me, owned me with the sureness of his movements. He had consumed me, imprinted himself into the most intimate parts of me. He had changed how I perceive myself… He had reached deep into the recesses of my soul and forced me to confront who I am. A woman whose tastes are extreme, someone who needs to be challenged, and subdued, someone whose spirit can only be matched by the lord of the underworld himself. A beauty who needs her beast, her master's hand upon her head as he calms her, his fingers around her neck as he chokes her, his tongue inside her soaking wet channel as he licks into her and—"Bloody hell," I swear aloud and Luca glances sideways at me.

"You okay?"

I chuckle. "What do you think? I may have murdered my husband, who I only married a few days ago, after he kidnapped me, by the way," I squeeze my fingers together, "so no, I am not okay."

I stare forward, into the wind that slaps my face. My eyes sting and a pressure knocks at the backs of my eyes. Shit, I've made a complete mess of this. Not only had I fallen for my kidnapper, aka my husband, but now I can't stop thinking that it was a mistake I managed to escape from him. What the hell am I going to do about this? I turn to Luca, "I need to call my sister as soon as possible."

"I am afraid that may not be a good idea."

"What do you mean?"

"It means if you call her, you'll only be putting her in danger."

"What danger?"

"As you said, he's going to come after you. No doubt about it… Unless…" He raises a shoulder, "Unless he didn't make it out of the water."

"He made it out of the water," I snap. "He is alive, dammit."

"Either way, it's best we lay low until we know for sure."

"Shit," I squeeze my eyes shut, "I'm so screwed if he's alive."

"And if he's dead?—"

"No," I open my eyes and turn to him, "don't you dare say that."

He blows out a breath, "As you wish. My saying it or not is not going to change the reality though."

"I am aware," I mutter, as I scan the shoreline that's coming up. "Where are we going, by the way?"

"To a safe house in Bagheria."

"Bagheria?" I turn to him, "Where's that?"

"It's the town to the east of Palermo."

"Shouldn't we, maybe, try to move further away from Palermo? I assume he is well known in town and must have contacts around the city. Besides, doesn't he know about all of your safe houses?"

"Not this one." He shoots me a sideways glance, "You're no pushover, are you?"

Only when it comes to him. Oh, Michael, what have I done? If you don't make it out alive I… I'll never forgive myself. My chest hurts and I rub at the space above my left breast.

"You okay?"

I shake my head. "Not really," I mutter. A trembling seizes me and I wrap my arms around myself. If he were here, he'd fold those massive arms around me, he'd pull me into his chest, tuck my head under his chin, and rub my back… Right before turning me over his knee and spanking me for what I did.

Luca shrugs off his coat, and hands it over to me. I glance at it and shake my head. It feels wrong. I shouldn't be wearing another man's jacket. If Michael saw it, he'd kill Luca… Or maybe not. Luca is his brother, after all. Although, after this incident… Yeah, not sure how Michael will treat Luca after this… And shit, why are my thoughts back on him?

"Take it." Luca, places it around my shoulders, "You don't want to catch a cold. Michael would never forgive me if anything happened to you."

He stiffens as if realizing what he's just said. "Not that you'd want to have anything to do with him, now that you've escaped him."

Right. I stare at the shore as Luca continues to steer the boat. Half an hour later we reach a jetty that juts out from the approaching beach. As soon as we draw up next to the wooden platform, he cuts the engine again. Then walks around to the far end of the boat—the end from where I'd raised the oar and brought it down on his forehead.

Shit. Unable to process my feelings, with tears welling up in my eyes, I press my face into my palms and feel my body convulse. What the hell have I done? How the hell am I going to live with myself if something happened to him? My heart feels like Michael used his dagger to cut it into pieces and now part of it is missing, and he has it. My belly twists itself up in knots. I gasp for breath as I allow the tears to flow down my cheeks… Until the sobs finally subside. The boat jerks, and I glance up to find Luca's tethered the boat to the jetty. He's watching me with a look of sympathy on his face.

He bends over, holds out his hand, "We need to move fast, Karma, before one of his guys finds us."

Right. I take his hand and he helps me onto the jetty.

Two hours later, we draw up in front of his safe house on the outskirts of Bagheria. Someone had been waiting for Luca with a car at the jetty.

He'd glanced at me, and had seemed surprised. Following a flurry of conversation in Italian with much gesturing from the other guy, he'd finally seemed pacified and had left. Luca had driven us here.

I glance at the small, single-story cottage. It has white-washed walls and a fence around it. It's no more than a cabin, really. In the distance, I can see the hills, but there is nothing else around the building on either side.

I follow him inside and he scans the space, then points me to one of the bedrooms at the end of the corridor. "That's yours. Why don't you shower and see if you can find some extra clothes in there, left by some of the other guests before us?" I glance at him and he shrugs. "May as well get comfortable; not sure how long we're going to have to stay here."

I strip off my clothes and the knife—Michael's knife that I had taken with me—falls to the ground. I stare at it and tears prick my eyes again. I pick up the knife, still in its sheath, press it to my cheek. The dark, edgy scent of him instantly fills my nostrils. My chest hurts and my heart, what's left of it, feels like it's going to burst. Oh, Mika, Mika, what have I done? Mika! Nothing I do will ever make up for what I did to you. How am I going to live with myself after what I did? How am I going to live without you, my darling? My one and only. My…other half. My soul.

My fingers tremble, the knife slips from my hold and I manage to catch it before it hits the floor. I straighten, place it on the small table near the window, then stagger to the bathroom. By the time I shower and change, my tears have dried up somewhat. There is a hollowness in my stomach and it's not only from hunger.

That's how it is…eh? Doesn't matter that you have committed a heinous crime. Your body still needs sustenance to live, apparently. Live for what though? And for whom? A pressure builds again at the backs of my eyes and I swallow down the ball of emotion that has lodged in my throat. I walk into the kitchen to find Luca is heating up something in a saucepan.

He turns when I walk in, "It's stew, the best I could do."

"It smells of…" I walk closer, then pause next to him and peek into the contents, "It has seafood?" I frown, "I'm allergic to it."

"Ah, well." He blows out a breath, "There should be some bread in the bread basket and cheese in the refrigerator."

"That works for me." I pull out the bread and cheese, and make myself a sandwich. By the time I sit down, he's served himself a bowl of stew and poured us both coffee from the moka coffee maker he'd had going on the flame.

We tuck into our food, and when I am done, I lean back in the chair. "Any word on…"

He shakes his head, "I put out some feelers earlier, reached out to some old contacts who are in touch with the Cosa Nostra. They've heard nothing."

I frown, "But you dumped your phone?—"

"I keep a few spare burners here."

"Right," I shuffle my feet, "so you were saying that they've heard nothing about Michael," I swallow. "Is that good or bad?"

He shakes his head, "I am not sure."

That familiar cold sensation stabs at my chest. My fingers tremble and I place my palms in my lap. "This doesn't feel right." I mutter, "Shit, if something has happened to him, I… I…" I jump up and begin to pace, "maybe I should go back and make sure he's okay. I'm his wife after all, aren't I?—"

"Do you think he's going to see you in that role after everything that happened?"

My shoulders slump. "I guess not…but I wish I could do something. Why did I have to hit him that hard? Why did I have to panic? Why couldn't I have just…pushed at him or something instead? Shit, this is not good. This is so not good." I wring my hands together in front of me, "There must be something I can do?"

"The best thing you can do is stay here, until things cool off."

I pause, turn to him, "Can I call my sister?"

He shakes his head, "It would be best not to."

"Maybe I could text her and let her know I am okay, just so she doesn't worry."

"Can you put that off for a little while longer? It's best for you not to communicate with anyone."

"You think Michael and your other brothers could track us?"

"They have access to some of the best hackers, so yeah, that would be correct." He places his spoon down in his bowl and leans back. "Thanks to me, the Sovrano clan is technologically the most advanced of all of the families."

"Why did you fall out with Michael?"

"Why didn't I fall out with him?" He chuckles without humor, "From the time I was born, I've known that he was the older brother, the heir, the man who would one day be the head of the clan, the one slated to take over from the Don, when the time comes. It's always been all about him… As long as I am in his shadow, I'll never be able to come into my own."

"So, you saw me trying to leave, and seized the opportunity—" I scowl. "What were you doing at the boathouse anyway? I thought Michael asked everyone to leave."

"I don't obey my brother in everything." He smirks.

"So, you stayed on after everyone left?" I tilt my head, "Why would you do that?"

"Let's just say, I had a hunch that not everything would be fine in paradise."

"You thought I'd make a run for it?"

"I thought…that you'd try something." He rubs the back of his neck, "To be honest, I didn't think you'd get as far as you did. Michael is way too sharp, too alert. I didn't think you'd get past him." He regards me with a shrewd gaze, "But then, I don't think he realized how smart you really are."

"Is that a compliment?"

"One-hundred percent." He grins and his face lights up. I blink. Shit, this man is truly handsome, in a very classical kind of way. He has the same kind of presence as Michael. To be fair, all of the Sovrano brothers do, as do their half-brothers. But in terms of charisma, Luca is the closest to Michael. Both fill up the room in a similar way. Both have that determined set to their features, the stubborn tilt to the jaw, that sense of dominance that rolls off of them in waves and which screams that they can be very persuasive and authoritative, and that once they set their minds on something, nothing can deter them. Only he isn't Michael.

I slip back into my seat at the table, and he tilts his head. "I am guessing my brother was so taken in with you, he lowered his guard. It's why you managed to slip by him."

I play with the ring on my left hand. I'd tried to remove it in the shower, but of course, the stupid thing is stuck. It refuses to come off. "I think you are wrong," I murmur. "Michael never lets his guard down. Not with anyone, and certainly, not with me. It was a lucky break that I found myself alone and decided to risk running out of there."

And the main reason I'd wanted to leave was because I'd thought that I could be pregnant. How had I forgotten about that? Shit, it's too early to test if I am. Probably… I could wait for a week or more at least, right?

And what if I am pregnant and he's dead? Does that mean I would bring up my child without a father? I am keeping the kid, of course. That's assuming I am pregnant. And if I am not… Well then… I'll still be on my own, after Michael… How could I ever be satisfied with anyone else?

Shit, he's the one, isn't he? Why have I taken so long to recognize that? But this doesn't change anything… Even if I had stayed… Even though it felt like he was changing his attitude toward me… Even then, he was a man on the wrong side of the law. He kills people for a living, for hell's sake. He's not the kind of man I'd want as the father of my child, or the type of person, I'd want to stay married to… Right?

And yet… I'll never be able to forget him, or how my body had responded to him. Shit, shit, shit. I lower my chin to my chest. If only things had been different. If only he weren't in the Mafia and I had met him in more normal circumstances. If only I'd had a chance to date him like a normal person, and...

Who am I kidding? Michael would never be a 'normal' anything. That man has too much dominance, too much self-assuredness, too much confidence… Too much everything. He'll always stand apart from others. He'll always be different… And fact is, the sense of danger that clings to him only adds to his allure. The darkness in him… It's what drew me to him. The sense of menace that hovers about him… It's a turn on. The fact he wields instruments of violence like other people employ pens…is what appeals to me.

So why is it that when I thought I was pregnant, my first instinct was to escape from him? Is it because I think I can't trust him when it comes to my child? Because I don't know how he would react when he finds out? Because I know he'll want the child… And then what? Would he forget about me completely after that? Would he want me to conform to the role of wife and mother and lose my individuality completely? Shit. What's wrong with me? A dull headache drums at the backs of my eyes and I draw in a breath. "I think I need to lie down," I murmur.

Luca glances up at me, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah." I swallow. "It's been a long day. I need to get some rest."

I am woken up by the sound of knocking on the door. "Karma," Luca calls out, "you awake?"

I clear my throat, "I am now." I glance around to find the sun's rays slanting through the open window. I reach for the lamp near the bed and turn it on.

"Can I come in?" he calls through the door.

I sit up in bed, glad I had worn all of my clothes when I'd gone to sleep. "You can come in now," I reply.

Luca enters, and his features are set.

"What happened?"

"I'm afraid it's not good news," he murmurs, as he leans a hip by the doorway.

My heart begins to thud and my throat closes. "Wh…what do you mean?"

"I managed to connect with one of my team and…"

"And…?" My voice cracks. I fold my fingers together, narrow my gaze on him, "Tell me, please, what did you find out?"

"It's Michael, he…" Luca swallows, "he didn't make it."