Page 2

Cecily

CHAPTER TWO

Months later

MANHATTAN ISLAND — NEW YORK

I squeeze the handle of my suitcase tightly to try to calm myself, but my heart is beating so fast that I feel sick.

Manhattan looks even scarier in person than in the movies. Cars pass by on all sides, honking their horns and perhaps showing their owners' temperament.

The entire island screams impatience and haste. Totally contrary to the peaceful life I led until recently.

I rest my luggage at my feet as I look around. I'm surrounded by skyscrapers. That's what they call buildings that are so tall that they make it impossible to see the sun. The city, even in the morning, is partially hidden in the shadows of the buildings, and I wonder how anyone can be happy living in this jungle of concrete and steel.

I place my fingers on my forehead and feel the cold sweat that covers it.

God, I want to go home.

There's no chance that this is going to work. Anyone who looks at me will know I'm a country bumpkin from Kansas before I even open my mouth.

People in Manhattan dress so well! There isn't anyone here in the city's financial center wearing worn-out jeans and an All Star T-shirt. If I didn't have such a huge sentimental attachment to it, it would have gone in the trash a long time ago.

Don't be a coward, Cici. Remember the conversation between the nurses. It was a miracle you survived, so maybe that story about having nine lives is true.

I'm probably going to need one more miracle today because I can't afford to die.

As if it heard my thoughts, a car approaches the sidewalk at high speed and almost gives me a heart attack. I get scared and stumble back.

Jesus, apparently everyone in this city enjoys the privilege of extra lives, otherwise how could they survive traffic that seems to be full of Formula 1 drivers?

Someone bumps into me, and I almost drop my backpack on the floor.

I can't stand on the sidewalk all day. I need to decide whether I have the courage to do what I planned.

“There is no alternative,” a voice warns. “ Today is the day.”

Bile rises in my throat, and I nervously head towards the Kostanidis bank building in a last desperate attempt to find a less drastic solution.

The headquarters of the family bank is where Mr. Dionysus, the third son of the banker clan and also the owner of a large TV station, comes every afternoon.

There are two entrances, I know. One that leads inside the commercial establishment and the other, next to it, which is the lobby of the offices. That's where I should head.

"Good afternoon," I say, putting on my best smile and greeting one of the security guards that is at the entrance.

"You can't pass if you don't have a badge, Miss. This entrance is exclusive to employees."

"I need to speak to Mr. Kostanidis." As soon as the words escape me, I know from the man's look that my approach was a mistake.

As if to confirm that, he asks, "Which of the four?"

I don't think he really wants an answer—he's just analyzing me. "Mr. Dionysus."

What the hell do you think you're doing, Cici? You won't be able to get in sounding that insecure.

"Did you make an appointment?" Now I'm sure that the man, in addition to being suspicious, is internally laughing at me. His expression makes it clear that he knows the answer: I don't have an appointment with the powerful Greek, because I'm a nobody.

"No, but it's important."

"Don't waste your time, Miss. Whatever your reason is, I can guarantee you that you won't be able to get to him. It would be easier to try to see God."

Isn't that what I'm doing? As far as I know, all four Kostanidis men, who were named after Greek gods by their parents, are practically gods in real life too. They have the money to live several lifetimes, drinking French champagne instead of water if they wanted.

He now looks me up and down and focuses on my suitcase. "I'll give you some free advice, girl. You look very young and clearly not from around here. Go home or the island will eat you alive."

"I can't. I have a promise to fulfill."

"If your promise has to do with Mr. Dionysus, you'd better tell the person you promised that you'll have to go back on it. The chance of you being able to talk to him is zero."

I think about what he's saying, and my heart sinks.

How could I have believed that the Greek tycoon would listen to me if I told him my story? Did I really think he would believe me? It's likely that he would send me to a psychiatric hospital.

No. Maybe, before, he would have sent me to a psychiatric hospital. Now, I would likely get myself arrested.

The man's gaze is no longer arrogant but supportive. Probably because he can see the despair on my face after what he said to me.

Any ray of hope I had was gone. I have no alternative. I'll have to take drastic action.

I remember the reports I read about the man I need to get closer to. In fact, I remember what I read about the entire family.

Ruthless businessmen. Billionaires. Inaccessible.

I could attest to that last part myself. The man remains inside a fortress. I've been coming every day for a week now, and I can't wait any longer. The money I used to pay for the hotel stay has run out, which is why I have my suitcase with me today.

If I don't achieve my goal, I'll have to go back to Kansas and start all over again.

God, help me not fail.

The Kostanidis are a kind of Royal Family—not only very rich but powerful as well.

I have no doubt that if Mr. Dionysus finds out who I am and why I'm in New York, even without knowing the full story, he'll send me away. He'll make sure I never come near him again, and then I'll have failed hopelessly, because once he finds out everything, I won't get a second chance.

I nod to the security guard in a kind of farewell. He is the nicest person I've met in New York since I arrived. Or rather, the least rude.

I take a few deep breaths, and little by little, my heartbeat begins to return to normal, but the false feeling of peace doesn't last at all, because as soon as I arrive at the back of the building, where the garage entrance is, I see the car that picks up Mr. Kostanidis every day.

It's now or never.

I'm going to need one of those eight remaining lives, God.

Don't abandon me.