Page 2

CHAPTER TWO

GIA

“Nobody is going to be able to tell the painting is a forgery,” I say, tone sharp as I hand the replica of Monet’s Woman with a Parasol to Jace. “And I swear to all that is right with this world that if you damage this painting on the way to the buyer, I’ll have Noah skin you alive.”

My stomach twists as he puts his grubby hands on the delicate canvas, snatching away yet another piece of my freedom.

Noah’s cut would take more, leaving me with nothing but the scraps he saw fit to give. Again.

Jace chuckles and shakes his head. “You really think you’re intimidating? I’ve known you since you were in diapers.”

“Don’t remind me.” I glare at him as he takes the canvas, nearly ripping the brown kraft paper that’s wrapped around the rectangular frame. “That painting is worth over eighty million dollars.”

His bushy eyebrows pull together, making the scar that cuts through the right side of his browbone stand out. “It would be, if it were the real painting.”

I plant my hands on my hips, glaring at him. He knows as well as I do that the painting is a work of art. Modern technology makes it harder to pass off forged artworks, but I’m good at what I do. I’ve been able to trick the several dealers Noah employs.

And Jace wouldn’t know the difference between the real painting and the forged one even if I were standing there and telling him which one I painted.

This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about snatching the palette knife from my back pocket and plunging it into his jugular. It would be an easy way to end him.

Word would get back to Noah before I could escape, though. He would be waiting for me no matter what way I turned. He would take his time killing me for dispatching his best solider.

It’s not a risk I’m willing to take.

Not yet. Not until I have a plan to escape.

Jace turns and loads the painting in the back of the black van, the door sliding shut with a low groan against the rusty track. “You really think this is going to go for eighty million?”

“If not that much, then very close.” I lean back against the brick wall, the rough edges of the warehouse biting into my back. “Which means that if you don’t take care of that, Noah is going to have your head. Now, personally I won’t be bothered by that, but you know how he gets.”

“I liked it better when you were in diapers and didn’t talk.”

“Well, sadly, I’m twenty-six now and I talk.” I pull my hands out of the pockets of my jeans, picking at a random spot of white paint. “Look, just promise me that you’re going to make sure this painting gets to the dealer.”

“How much of a cut do you take?” Jace asks, curiosity in his gaze as he looks between me and the painting. “Seeing as you’re the one doing the work, the cut has to be pretty large, right?”

“You would think so.” Even I can hear the bitterness in my own voice.

Though I know I should be making a lot more money than I am, it’s hard to establish yourself when your older brother is the leader of the mafia and demands a ninety percent cut of the money coming in after the dealer takes nearly sixty percent to being with.

Jace doesn’t need to know that, though.

I still make more than enough money to support my lifestyle and to take care of my family if anything were to happen, but it’s not enough to feel comfortable.

Jace hums before getting in the van and taking off. My shoulders slump as I watch the chance at freedom disappear once more. If I had kept that painting—sold it myself without Noah knowing—I could move to some island in the middle of nowhere. I could spend the rest of my days forging paintings instead of looking over my shoulder, wondering when I’m going to die because I’m no longer useful to him.

I head over to the car waiting for me and get in, staring out the window as we pass by the other run-down warehouses in the area. It’s exactly the kind of place that’s been forgotten by the rest of society.

The walls are crumbling at the corners and the metal doors are rusting. Most of the windows are covered with bars or broken, shards of glass scattered on the ground.

The driver glances at me in the mirror as we head into a small suburb outside the city, curving down the road to a little brownstone house with a yard the size of a stamp.

Kat leans against the stone fence covered in ivy that surrounds it all, a manila envelope in her hands.

I get out of the car and the driver takes off, honking to me before turning the corner and disappearing from sight.

Kat sighs, tucking her auburn curls behind one ear. “One of these days, I think I’m going to have to get my own driver. Trying to take the subway is hell these days.”

“Wouldn’t that ruin the whole starving artist thing you keep up?” I chuckle and hop over the low fence and into the yard, grinning when Kat’s duck toller runs up to me, her tail going wild. “Margritte, look at you.”

Margritte jumps up, paws hitting me in the stomach as her pink tongue lolls out of the side of her mouth.

I run my fingers through her fur before nodding to the envelope in Kat’s hands. “Are those the pictures of the Rembrandt?”

She glances around like she thinks we’re being watched before handing it over. “I wish that you would find another way to get the pictures you need. We’re going to get caught one of these days.”

“You restore paintings for museums all over the world. Who else am I going to get that’s close enough to the paintings to take the kind of pictures I need?”s

The corner of her mouth twitches. “You know, sometimes I think you might be using me for my access.”

Smirking, I slide my finger beneath the flap of the envelope, loosening the seal. “I’m friends with you because you’re the greatest person I’ve ever met. Your job just benefits us both.”

She shrugs one shoulder. “My cut isn’t too bad.”

“Noah’s cut could be lower,” I say, my voice a low grumble as I flip through the images to make sure they’re of all the angles I need. “One of these days, I’m going to cut him out of the deal completely.”

“You should have done that a long time ago.” Kat pushes off the fence, bending down to grab the blue squeaky ball Margritte spits out at her feet.

She tosses the ball to the other end of the yard, grinning when the dog takes off at a sprint to get the ball before it rolls beneath the rosebushes.

Kat’s attention drifts back to me, her eyes narrowing with the stern look she’s been giving me since high school when she used to drag me home from parties. “I think you should put some more thought into opening your own studio. I know you have more than enough money hidden away.”

“Sure, I’ll just tell Noah that he no longer controls my life, Zoe’s, or my mother’s.” I give her a flat look, putting the pictures back into the envelope. “You know that’s never going to happen. He’s been nothing but a control freak since my father died, and now that he’s finally crawled back out to keep up with this damned war, I really can’t pull away.”

“Gia, I know you have no problem with living in the Rinaldo shadow for the rest of your life, but that’s not you. Your father hid you away for years.”

“He did. Noah decided that we weren’t going to be doing that anymore, which means that I need to keep playing my part until I can make a name for myself one of these days.”

“I only want what’s best for you.” She stoops to grab the ball and toss it again.

“I know.” I tug her into a side hug before letting her go as Margritte comes crashing back into my legs. “And I appreciate that, but for right now, I need to play nice with Noah. I need his connection to the dealers and the money launderers.”

“I know. I really do think you should still consider striking out on your own despite that. You could open your own gallery and sell your own paintings instead of spending hours a day recreating others’.”

My chest tightens.

Kat has a point. I have more than enough money squirreled away to open my own gallery and spend the rest of my life painting what I want, but there’s always a worry in the back of my mind that life is going to fall apart.

It has before, and it will again.

Even if I could get away without Noah noticing, he would hunt me down. I know too much about his work to let me slip through his fingers. I know about the connections he has and the way his entire organization could be brought to its knees.

I have the power to ruin him and he isn’t going to allow me to walk away.

“Noah has an entire life behind him. He’s forty-three. You’re still young and you have a future to think about, but you keep giving in to what he wants. It’s the same thing your mother does.”

The words are sharp like a butcher knife, slicing through me with their weight, though they leave me with jagged edges.

I scowl at her, tucking the envelope beneath one arm. “Mom does what she can. You know that she had to rely on Noah a lot after Dad was killed. Noah was the one keeping the family together.”

“And you complain all the time that you wish she would just turn her back on him and live her own life.”

“There are a thousand different circumstances that differ between me and Mom. She could happily go live on some island in the Caribbean or South America and never have to worry about anything again. I still need him.”

“You don’t, though.” Kat’s tone is pleading as she takes the ball from Margritte, tossing it in the air before throwing it to the other side of the yard.

“Kat, you know what this life is.” I tilt my face to the sun, blinking back the tears that prick the corners of my eyes.

As much as I love Kat, I hate having this conversation with her. My best friend has been with me through thick and thin, and she’s always pushing me to want more for my life.

And I do want more.

So much more.

What she fails to understand is that I am exceptional at ruining things for myself.

“Gia Sophia Esposito, you are going to get your shit together, and you’re not going to play that self-pity game with yourself today,” she says as if she can read my mind.

A small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I look at her. “Come on. One small pity party, and then I can move on with my life.”

She rolls her eyes, pulling herself up to sit on the low stone wall as Margritte flops in the shade beneath the rosebush. “I know that you could move on with your life if you really wanted to.”

“Yeah, I know that too.” I pin the envelope between my thighs before reaching back to tie my hair into a loose bun at the nape of my neck as the wind picks up. “I just have to think about the bigger picture. If I keep working for Noah, I keep making a few million dollars a painting and that’s nothing to sneeze at.”

“You’ve been doing paintings for him for years. You have to have some money saved.”

“I do, but I bought Mom that house in Australia and another one in Costa Rica last year.”

“Noah could have bought those for her.”

I give Kat a flat look. “You know that he wouldn’t do that for her. He may treat her with kindness most of the time, but she wasn’t his mother. He’s not going to provide for her or keep her safe and he takes every opportunity he can to remind me of that.”

In the last week alone, he’s threatened to kill her twice when I spoke out of turn. He dangles her above my head and for the time being, it’s fine. I can handle it. I just have to play nice and do his paintings.

One day, I’ll get my chance to save us.

“Your mom is a grown woman. She could take care of herself if she wanted to.” Kat presses her lips together, looking away from me and keeping her next thought to herself.

I sigh and push off the stone wall, turning for the little gate. “I have to get going. Mom is expecting me soon.”

“Gia, I really wish you would think about this more. Sit down and actually work it out on a piece of paper. Think about what your life would look like if you lived for you instead of trying to keep your family happy all the time.”

“At the end of the day, the mafia, my family, and you are all I have.” I give her a sad smile as the driver pulls around the corner, rolling to a stop at the curb beside me.

As I get in the car, I know this isn’t the last time she’s going to urge me to leave everything behind and move on with my life.

However, growing up in the mafia is one of the things she’s never going to understand.

* * *

Mom looks up with a broad smile as I walk through the door. She leans over and grabs the remote from the coffee table, muting the black-and-white movie she’s watching.

“You’re home early. I didn’t think you were going to be here for another hour or two.”

“Manhattan traffic isn’t that bad today, surprisingly.” I toe off my shoes and take off my purse, hanging it in the closet and shutting the mirrored door to hide the disaster that is the interior.

She hums and crosses one leg over the other, her black paisley skirt ballooning out slightly. “You were out painting again, weren’t you?”

“No.”

Her gray eyes narrow. “You’re lying to me again. Gia, I wish you would just tell me the truth instead of trying to hide the things you know I’m not going to like.”

“Well, if I tell you and you don’t like it, then I’m going to get a lecture.” I give her a teasing smile and lean in to kiss her cheek. “And I think I’m a little old to be getting lectures.”

Mom stands up and moves into the kitchen, swiping the empty bottle off the counter and loading it into the top rack of the dishwasher. “One day, you’re going to be giving lectures constantly too. Bianca’s only eighteen months now, but she’s going to be a teenager just like you.”

“Not just like me.” I grab the baby monitor from the television stand, glancing down at the image of Bianca sleeping peacefully in her crib, her inky-black hair standing up in every direction.

Mom scoffs. “That little girl is just starting to talk, and she already sounds like a teenager. You wouldn’t believe the dirty look I got when I forgot to warm her applesauce earlier.”

Laughing, I set the monitor back down and walk Mom to the door. “Thanks again for watching her.”

Mom’s gaze flickers past me, landing on a picture of me and Zoe with Noah when we were little. “He came by. Wanted to talk to you about moving back to the family mansion. He’s asked me to move back.”

My spine stiffens as I stare at her. “Are you going to?”

“I’m considering it. Your brother wouldn’t ask me back unless there was something big happening. I heard about that mess with Aiden Lynde a few months ago.” She bites the inside of her cheek, worry creasing the corners of her eyes. “I think it might be a good thing for you to think about. You have Bianca now.”

“Mom, I’m not going to move back to the family house. I moved out when I had Bianca. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life trapped beneath Noah’s thumb, especially when I have a daughter. The benefits are good right now, but walking back into that house means that he has total control.”

“And what happens if someone comes for you?”

“The Lyndes don’t know that I’m his sister.” I lean against the door, holding it open as she grabs her purse and pulls on sandals with straps that climb up her calves.

There’s a lot the Lyndes don’t know about the Rinaldo organization. Their ignorance is going to be their downfall one of these days. But then again, they have secrets of their own too.

Royce taught me that. He was always good at keeping secrets until telling the truth benefitted him.

“One of these days they’re going to figure it out. Your name is only a name, but you and Noah share blood. That’s harder to hide.” Mom’s eyes water as she looks at me, putting her hand to my cheek. “I just want you to be safe and happy, Gia, and if Noah is going to be the one to keep you safe, then I think you should be staying with him.”

Sighing, I take my hair down from the bun, running my fingers through the strands at my temples to ease the headache forming there. “I know you think that, but a bit of distance is better. Noah will still protect me, but I’m not going to be running at his beck and call.”

Mom hauls her purse high on her shoulder. “I think I’m going to move back into the house. At least for the time being.”

“Please, just go to your place in Costa Rica if you want to be safe. Don’t move into that house. The first place the Lyndes are going to go is to the house.”

She purses her lips and for a moment, I’m sure she’s going to tell me to mind my own business. It’s a phrase I’ve heard plenty while growing up, and I know it’s one I’ll hear for as long as she’s alive.

Finally, Mom nods. “A trip to Costa Rica might be a good idea.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, hugging her tight before she leaves. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Gia. Stay safe, and you call me if there’s anything you need.”

Mom leaves and the moment she’s gone, I lock the door and slide the painting beside the door to the side, revealing the security panel Noah had installed when I first insisted on living alone.

I pull up the camera feed, watching Mom cross the parking lot and head down the street, off to catch the subway.

When I’m sure that she’s safe, I hide the system again and double-check the lock on the door before heading to Bianca’s room.

She’s standing up in her crib, her black curls sticking up on end. “Mama!”

When she smiles, the little dimples in her cheeks pop, making her look angelic. Her deep-emerald eyes make my heart melt as I lift her out of the crib and take her to the changing table.

“We’re going to have a good afternoon today, aren’t we?” I ask as I change her dirty diaper. “We’re going to go to the park and play on the swings. And then we’re going to have some ice cream.”

Bianca laughs as I tickle her stomach, her little feet flailing. “Buba!”

“Yes, we’re going to go get you a buba.” I slide her into a dusty-pink onesie, wrestling with her flailing limbs until she’s dressed and ready to get her bottle.

Balancing her on my hip, I head back down the hall before turning and checking the locks one last time.

No matter how many precautions I take, it will never be enough. Someone is out there, watching, waiting.

It will only be a matter of time before my past rears its ugly head, ready to burn down the already-scorched remainder of my life.