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Chapter Twenty-Two

Lux

I force myself to strut down the block with the confidence of a woman who’s completely in control of her life. The woman I was an hour ago, heading to a job interview that would change everything and not thinking about the man who broke her heart.

As soon as I turn the corner, I duck into an alley and slump against the brick wall. I search my purse for a stray cigarette and come up with nothing. Fucking Dominic.

How dare he show up on the first day of the rest of my new life and try to dredge up the hurt again?

I shut my eyes as his face flashes in my mind. The face he made before he almost told me that he was falling in…

Stop.

I shake the nerves out of my hands and pull in a deep breath. Not wanting to brave the cross-town bus, I step out of the alley and hail a taxi with my last couple of dollars.

Enzo told me he’d be depositing the relocation advance into my account tomorrow so I can start apartment hunting. It’s fine.

I lean back on the leather seat and force myself to enjoy this one tiny luxury as we head back to Lisa’s house.

Maybe I can convince her to have a celebratory dinner with me tonight before she goes to work. Or maybe I’ll dust off my ancient credit card, order takeout, and become one with the couch until Monday.

Before I know it, we’re pulling up to Lisa’s creepy mansion. I pay the taxi driver, feeling like royalty, even though people take cabs every day without a second thought. As I head up the stairs, a small group of men pass me.

They’re wearing dark suits and menacing scowls. I move out of their way, pressing myself up against the railing, but they pay no attention to me. Weird. I need to get out of this place as soon as possible.

A small convoy of SUVs with tinted windows waits for them in the circular driveway. I watch from the front door as they file inside and head out of the parking lot. Another man suddenly bursts out of the door, his phone pressed to his ear.

“Five, I said,” he growls into the phone. “They sent five, can you fucking believe it?”

He glances at me and shoots me a death glare. I shrug my shoulders and slip past him as he stomps down the stairs.

One thing I’ve learned living in big cities: don’t get involved with your neighbors and their drama. It can only end badly. So, I head up the stairs to Lisa’s room without a second thought.

I walk in the door to find Lisa running around like a chicken with its head cut off. She’s wearing one boot, her jeans halfway up her legs, and her hair is flying wildly as she races around the apartment.

“Lux!” she calls, finally noticing me. “Have you seen the other snakeskin boot? I can’t find it anywhere!”

“Try the bathroom,” I volunteer, dropping my purse on the table and sinking into the couch.

“You’re a blessing,” she calls from the bathroom and emerges wearing two boots. “I need to get to work early. Some emergency or something, blah blah blah. Did you get the job?”

“Yes!” I cheer from the couch, and she shoots me two thumbs up as she slides her shirt on.

“Celebratory dinner on Sunday,” she calls, rushing out the door. I sigh happily, settling onto the couch and turning on the TV.

***

I wake with a start in total darkness, the sunlight that was streaming across my face as I dozed off earlier long gone.

Shivering, I pull the cashmere throw across my shoulders and pad to the light switch across the room. The creepy mansion feels even more eerie tonight.

I stop in the middle of the room, trying to figure out why. It’s deadly silent. No TVs blaring from other units, no footsteps on the stairs—the only sound I hear is my own breathing. My feet are light as I creep to the light switch and I’m not sure why.

The air hums with electricity. It feels like a foreboding sense of anticipation, like something’s about to happen and I’m not sure why.

Goosebumps cover my body and I pull the throw tighter around me as I flip on the living room lights. Flooded with soft light, the space feels much safer and I take a breath to steady myself.

Pizza. I need pizza and maybe a bottle of wine. I wonder if Lisa has…oh wait, right. I’m pregnant.

I pause in the middle of the room, marveling yet again at the fact that I’m pregnant. It still just doesn’t feel quite real.

A bang makes me spin around wildly to the front door. I hear loud, heavy footsteps pound down the hallway—multiple sets of loud, heavy footsteps. I move toward the door, confusion and worry sending my body into autopilot.

Sounds of struggle come from the apartment across the hall. Glass crashes, things bang on the ground, and the yelling continues. I creep to the door, pressing myself against it, and look into the peephole. My hand automatically slides the security chain across the door, just in case.

I see the doorway across the hall, a man’s back taking up most of it. Suddenly the lights cut out and I’m left in complete darkness again. I stifle a scream, somehow knowing that I should keep quiet. Just as I force myself to move away from the door, I hear it.

A gunshot.

One, two, three. Silence.

I’m frozen in place, clutching the cashmere throw to my chest, staring at my door in open-mouthed horror. Someone was just shot five feet away from me.

I rack my brain trying to remember who lives across the hall, but my mind is blank. I sink to the floor, fear paralyzing my muscles. The heavy footsteps in the hallway are back but they sound like they’re leaving.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and click the first name I see: Lisa.

I think someone just got shot in the hallway.

My hands shake as I stare stupidly at the three dots on my screen that show she’s typing. Her response pops up three seconds later.

Do not call the police. I’ll be there in 15 minutes. Hang tight. Whatever you do, do NOT call the police.

Do not call the police. Do not call the police.

It plays on repeat in my mind and I’m in too much shock to ask why. I respond with an 'Okay', and curl up in a ball on the floor. Time passes slowly as I sit in a daze, focusing on my breathing.

The door flying open startles me from the fetal position.

“Lux, the damn chain!” Lisa yells, slamming the door closed again. Thinking I hear fear in her voice, I rush to the door, wondering if the shooters are still out there. When I throw the door open again, Lisa busts in, her eyes glowing with fury.

Wait, why is she mad? None of this makes sense.

“Did you see their faces?” she questions, her eyes glowing in the dark. Rob, the chef from The Velvet Room, trails in after her, shaking his head.

“Why is Rob here?” I ask, staring stupidly at them. Weird, I never noticed how similar they look.

She throws me a confused glance and repeats the question.

“No, I didn’t see anything,” I say meekly, pointing to the ceiling. “The power went out.”

“Fuck,” Rob growls and stomps out of the apartment.

“Lisa? What’s happening?”

“Oh Lux,” she brushes me off. “I don’t know why you’re so scared.”

I watch her hazy figure move to the kitchen and fling open the cupboard. She lights a big, fat candle and sets it on the counter. I move closer to the light, creeped out by the darkness and the dead person across the hall.

“I mean, you dated Rafael Romano,” she continues. “I thought you’d be used to the drama that comes with this life by now.”

She heads out the door again, shaking her head. Rafael Romano? Why does that name sound so familiar? I follow her into the hallway just as the lights flip back on and Rob emerges from around the corner.

“They cut the fucking power,” he scoffs. All three of us gaze through the open door across the hall. The man I saw earlier yelling into his phone, lies in a pool of his own blood on the floor.

“Well,” Lisa says, her voice finally taking on a tone of remorse. “They got Vito, may he rest in peace.”

Rafael Romano. You dated Rafael Romano. The memory finally clicks and I gasp.

“Carlo.”

Rob glances at me strangely, misunderstanding me, and nods. “She’s right, Lisa. You need to call Dad.”

Lisa sighs and glares at him, but pulls out her phone and wanders away down the stairs.

“Dad?” I ask, my voice cracking. He can’t possibly mean Carlo is Lisa’s dad…and his dad.

“Shit,” he whistles, shutting the door with the dead body. “Yeah, Dad’s going to be pissed.”

I spin around and hurry into Lisa’s place, searching for my duffle bag. Carlo is Lisa’s dad. A man just got shot and no one cares. Rob and Lisa are siblings. Rafael Romano.

My brain short circuits trying to make sense of it all, and I shove the rest of my things in the bag. I swing it over my shoulder and slip out the door. The hallway is clear, so I slink down the stairs. I should probably avoid everyone involved in this until I figure out what’s going on.

The common area is deserted, so I step outside onto the wide marble porch. I spot Lisa in the parking lot talking animatedly into her phone so I veer in the opposite direction. Cutting across the lawn, I make it to the gate and onto the street in record time.

I’m not sure why I’m running, but something within every fiber of my being is telling me to get the hell out of there. I jog for about two blocks before I get tired and slump onto a bus stop bench. I pull out my phone, not knowing what to do with myself.

I should just call the police.

But Lisa’s text message and the rage in her eyes when she came home, stops me. I might be making the wrong move, but I don’t want to involve myself in anything shady—not when I finally have a real job and a chance at a good life.

I look down at my phone and type 911, but I can’t bring myself to press dial. Instead, I scroll to Dominic’s name and call him instead. A dark thought lingers in the back of my mind, and I need to know if I’m right.

“Lux?” he answers, confused and pleased.

“Do you know Rafael Romano?”

Silence.

Finally, he coughs, clearing his throat. “Where are you?”

I glance up, reading the sign. “Bus stop at 33rd and Eastmore.”

“Stay there,” he says, his voice different than I’m used to. It’s darker, edgier, and it makes me shiver. “Are you safe?”

“I have no idea.”

“Fuck,” he growls. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I curl up in the seat, pulling my hood over my head and tugging it closed. My mind races with the possibilities of what everything means but I can’t ground myself enough to make any sense of it.

A dumpster slams shut in an alley nearby making me jump out of my skin, magnifying my paranoia.

I take a deep breath and pull out my phone again to distract myself. Slowly, I type Rafael Romano into the search bar. My eyes scan the page eagerly.

Entrepreneur. Mysterious billionaire. CEO of Ventura Inc. Sexy philanthropist billionaire donates millions for new children’s hospital.

What in the world?

A car horn interrupts my sleuthing and I glance up, spotting Dominic’s SUV speeding down the dark, empty street. I spring up and jump in as soon as he pulls up, locking the door immediately. I glance over and he’s staring at me, concern written all over his face.

“Tell me everything,” he says, pulling away from the curb and hurtling us down the road. My mind is too overwrought to ask questions, so I tell him the entire story—Lisa’s relationship to Carlo, the dead man in the mansion, the Rafael Romano remark.

He sighs deeply, staring at the road. I watch his knuckles turn white with the force of his grip on the steering wheel. Finally, he clears his throat and glances over. His eyes are full of apologies, deep enough to drown in.

“I’m sorry, Luxy,” he says softly. “I haven’t been honest.”

It hits me. The truth hits me so hard that I almost throw up in the passenger’s seat of his ridiculously expensive SUV. Too expensive for a screenwriter to be able to afford, honestly.

“You don’t know Rafael Romano,” I say slowly, my hand gripping the door handle, ready to run. “You are Rafael Romano.”