Page 143 of Dirty Mafia Sinner

“Sebastiano Beneventi?”

“The one and only. Poor girl.”

The kitchen closes in on me. “Not Alessandro? You certain?”

She gives me a puzzled look. “There was a rumor … but I’m positive. The announcement was made the day after Don Lucchese’s funeral.”

I’m overwhelmed by it all. He’s the most terrifying man I know, yet a dutiful son caught in an arranged marriage. He’s engaged but in love with me. And now, for reasons I can’t comprehend, Fate has spared us.

Alessandro isn’t getting married—his father is.

What does that mean for us?

Luna glances at the small decorative clock on the wall. “Shit, I’m late. We don’t need my father asking questions about where I’ve been.”

“Thank you for risking so much for me,” I tell her.

She flashes me a smile, looking like a girl on the verge of womanhood. “Women must always stick together, don’t you think?”

I consider everything I’ve been through, dead canaries and all. How much easier life would have been if this had been the case. “Absolutely.”

“See you tomorrow,” she says, and races off in a flurry of movement.

The apartment feels empty without her presence.

I move to the window and sip my wine, watching her step onto the street and quickly disappear toward the bus stop. She’s carefree in a way I’ll never be yet, like me, in love with a mafioso she never should have encouraged.

As I turn, my elbow hits the window frame, spilling wine onto the floor. Sighing, I perch the glass on the sill, grab a dish towelfrom the sink, and clean up the mess. After rinsing my hands, I return to the window.

I lift my glass, but movement below catches my eye—a man stepping out of an expensive car. He pauses and looks up toward the window.

And in that moment, my entire world turns upside down.

He doesn’t have to say the word this time.

I’m already on it.

Run.

He’s come for me.

Did he see me? Does it even matter? He’s here, outside the apartment, miles from where he should be. I don’t need to ask why—I’ve been preparing for this moment.

I grab my prepacked bag, containing clothes, essentials, and the money Renzo gave me, then dash to the bedroom at the back of the apartment. Climbing out onto the slate overhang, I carefully inch sideways along its pitch, wary of the long drop below. Reaching a flattened rooftop, I scramble to my feet and break into a run.

Questions race through my mind. How did he find me? What does he want? Can I ever forgive him? His distrust led to my kidnapping, yet he was the one who deceived me all along. I had confided my darkest secret to him—how my father’s secret engagement devastated me almost as much as his murder. Knowing this, why would Alessandro keep me in the dark about his own engagement?

Because he’s a possessive control freak who never wanted to let you go.

Because he knew he’d lose you.

I reach the edge of a neighboring balcony. Unlike the villa’s balcony, this one is built from stone with a flat granite floor. More importantly, a winding staircase of the same material descends to the backstreet below.

Pausing, I glance over my shoulder, but there’s no sign of him. I frown. Chasing me used to be one of his favorite games. Did I misread the situation? Has he not come for me?

Disappointment weighs heavily on me, but I shake it off. No, Riley, that’s not the right way to think about this. I push aside the swirling emotions and focus on making my way to the street.

Once there, I head left and follow the side street parallel to the one leading to the bus stop. As I draw closer, I turn the corner and slip into the shadows, waiting for the next bus to arrive.