I stumbled away from him. What if he called for help? What if someone saw what I’d done? I’d stabbed my own husband. They would kill me for that, and even if they didn’t, Benito surely would beat me to death if he survived the wound.
There was only one thing I could do, only one person who could help me and I wasn’t even sure if he still would after everything I’d put him through. After what I’d said and what he had to witness today. Maybe he wasn’t even in Chicago anymore. Maybe he’d already taken the next flight back to New York to get as far away from me as possible.
I rushed toward my bag, ripped it open and fumbled for my phone. With shaking fingers I keyed in the number I knew by heart. Benito seemed still dazed but he had gotten up on his elbows. He was gasping for breath, obviously trying to find his voice to scream for help. What if he came toward me? Could I finish what I’d started?
A new wave of panic hit me hard.
After the first ring, Romero’s familiar voice rang out. “Lily?”
I’d never felt more relieved in my life. He hadn’t ignored my call. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t hate me.
“Please help me,” I whispered, voice hoarse with tears. They were streaming down my face. It wasn’t because I’d just stabbed someone with a letter opener, I felt no regret over that.
“I’m coming. Where are you?”
“Bedroom.”
“Don’t hang up,” he ordered. I wouldn’t have. I could hear him moving, could hear his calm breathing, and it calmed me in turn. Romero would be here soon and then everything would be all right.
After everything that had happened, he still rushed to help me.
Less than two minutes later, there was a knock. He must have been close or it would have taken him much longer to reach the bedroom. For a couple of seconds, I wasn’t sure if I could even move. My legs felt numb.
“Lily, you have to open the door. It’s locked. If I break it down, people will be up here in no time.”
That was all it took. I crossed the room in a few steps and opened the door. My heart was beating in my throat, and only when I saw Romero’s worried face did I dare to lower the phone from my ear and hang up. I felt safe now, even though I knew I was far from it. We both were in grave danger if anyone found us like that. By calling Romero, I’d put him in harm’s way. How could I do that to someone I loved? Hadn’t I gone through with this marriage exactly to protect Romero?
Romero eyes wandered over my half-open corset, my disheveled hair and ripped skirt, and his face flashed with fury. He stepped into the room, closed the door and cupped my face. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
I shook my head, which I realized a moment later, could be taken as an answer to either question. “I stabbed him. I couldn’t bear his touch. I didn’t want his hands on me. I…” Romero pulled me against him, my cheek pressed against his strong chest. I listened to the sound of his pounding heart. Outside he looked calm but his heart betrayed him. “I didn’t sleep with him. I couldn’t.”
“He’s still alive,” he murmured after a moment before he pulled back. Deprived of his warmth, I wrapped my arms around myself. Romero advanced on my husband whose eyes were darting between Romero and me like he was watching a tennis match. His breathing rattled in his chest, but he’d dragged himself closer to the desk and was reaching for his phone. Romero stood over him, then calmly pushed his arm back down to the ground.
Benito fell onto his side with a pained gasp. He reminded me of a beetle who was trapped on his back, its legs helplessly pedaling above its body. I didn’t feel any pity though.
“You,” Benito snarled, then started coughing. Blood speckled his lips. “Did your Capo set this up? Chicago will make him pay tenfold. Dante won’t let you make a fool out of me and everyone else.”
“You aren’t important enough for Luca to give a shit about you,” Romero said coldly. He had the same expression I’d seen when he’d watched the Russians getting tortured in the basement.
I shivered.
Realization settled on Benito’s face as his eyes swiveled from Romero to me. “You and her.” His mouth pulled into a nasty grimace, spittle clinging to his lips. “You nasty whore let him fuck you. You--”
He never got the chance to finish his sentence. Romero stepped up to Benito, jerked him up by his collar and then in one practiced motion he pulled his knife and plunged it in an upward angle between my husband’s ribs, silencing his rattling breath. Without even blinking, Romero let go of Benito, who fell to his side, lifeless.CHAPTER SEVENTEENLiliana
Romero had just killed a member of the Outfit for me. Our eyes met, and cold fear spread in my chest like fog. Romero wiped his knife clean on my husband’s pant leg before he sheathed it in its holder.
My throat constricted as I walked toward him. “This means war.”
“We can come up with a story. I’ll pretend I’ve lost my mind. I’ve been lusting for you forever but you were never interested in me and today I snapped, and barged into your bedroom and attacked your husband, who tried to defend himself with the letter opener, which I then used to stab him. We can make it look like I tried to rape you so nobody suspects you were involved. Nobody would doubt it the way you look.” He stroked my cheek. “The bastard died too quickly for how he treated you.”
I couldn’t believe he was suggesting something like that. It was bad enough that I’d dragged him into this at all. I wouldn’t make him look like a disgusting rapist to save my own hide. “I won’t pretend you tried to rape me. You are the only man I want to be with.”