Page 5

A notification pulled me away from the contract I was perusing, and I listlessly reached to check my calendar.

I had dragged myself into the office instead of working from the apartment, meaning to use the little bit of free time I had that morning to spice up the drab, gray space, but had this paperwork thrust under my nose instead.

Something about a new supplier of cutting saws, and the opposite of riveting, so I was actually somewhat glad for the distraction.

My late afternoon meeting had been canceled, and it was difficult not to breathe a sigh of relief.

It would only end up being rescheduled; I wasn’t getting out of anything, and I still had one to get to in a little bit.

Only a few days had passed since the fashion show, and my enthusiasm for my new job was definitely taking a nosedive.

No, this wasn’t just a job. This was a career, my life.

Not helping at all. Things were running smoothly, and everyone was so nice to me that I was beginning to feel guilty for finding it all so uninspiring.

It was like being on the hands of a clock.

Very important indeed, but only spinning because of the finely honed and hidden mechanism underneath.

Nothing more than a figurehead, and even then, I was pretty sure people only agreed with whatever I said after they got Aleks’s go-ahead.

Of course, I understood that I had a pretty crappy track record. My one and only business had fizzled. It was my own fault for being so excited in the first place when I should have known all along that Aleks was just trying to get my mopey self out of his hair.

Well, I wasn’t moping too much about the trip down to Rome the next morning.

When Aleks first told me about the quarry, my mind immediately went to statues.

Beautiful, artistic, and expensive statues.

Aleks agreed it was a good idea but shoved it to the back burner, saying we’d get to it in a year or so when the new employees found their feet.

I was around those employees every day, and they had their feet under them just fine.

I’d gone ahead and made my pitch to a cutting-edge factory that specialized in custom statuary, and now it was all set up.

The downside was that Nat couldn’t go with me due to her class schedule, and I would have loved her artistic input.

However, I had been studying my butt off to prepare and felt confident I could make a good impression.

I was going to prove to myself and my brothers that I could run a business without dragging it under, and that I could make it thrive, even if it wasn’t my passion.

Maybe I could start another boutique when I was rolling in money from making this venture a huge success.

I could start sketching again and visiting designer showrooms for inspiration in my spare time.

Or I could just accept that my dream was dead and move on.

That was too sad of a thought, so my mind shifted to the one bright, sparkling thing I had to look forward to.

The scheme that Nat practically blackmailed me into silence over before she took me on board brought a true smile of anticipation to my face.

Neither one of us was sure we could really trust the handsome Russian who masterminded it.

Kolya Cheslov seemed to know everyone in the underground art world, and he was the one who brought the buyers, so we were stuck with him for now.

Apparently, there were plenty of people willing to pay big bucks for paintings as long as a reputable dealer or gallery owner vetted them.

It wasn’t like they were walking away empty- handed, so I didn’t consider it stealing.

They were just getting something that had been hyped more than it should, and the brilliant new, up-and-coming artist we were touting was really a group of college kids who splashed paint on canvases for a hundred euros a pop.

After I agreed I’d never breathe a word to Aleks, Nat confessed she’d already gone through one round of this at her gallery, and it went off without a hitch.

We even began giddy plans to start our own branch of the Bratva here in Italy if things took off, and then we’d cut out the middle man, of course.

It was just dangerous enough to give me the thrill I needed after endless hours of meetings, and keeping it secret from my brothers only made it that much more fun.

I scrolled back through the pictures Nat had sent me of some of the paintings she was putting up in the next “exclusive” sale.

And I certainly wasn’t an art expert by any means, but they looked good.

I would have happily put any of them on my wall—for the hundred euros, not the tens of thousands we hoped to squeeze out of unwitting millionaires.

It was time to head off to my first meeting of the day, in a glowing mood despite having to discuss countertops and sinks for the next few hours.

It was at a new showroom I’d never visited before, and my taxi ended up letting me off at the wrong corner.

He was already gone by the time I figured it out, but according to the map, I was only a few blocks away.

It was a gorgeous day, and so far, no Italian seemed too concerned with meeting times, so I decided to walk.

The neighborhood was mostly deserted, and the few shops were closed since it was technically still lunchtime. A jewelry shop had its shutters pulled down, with a sign saying they were on vacation until the end of summer, and the majority of the buildings were residential, but not a soul around.

“It’s like a ghost town,” I muttered, just to hear my own voice.

The situational awareness training my brothers had put me through since childhood sprang to life, and I picked up my pace, feeling the cold chill down my spine of being watched.

“Don’t be stupid,” I said, glancing left and right and even doing a twirl to see behind me.

No one. It was lunchtime in a small neighborhood in Milan, of course, no one was around.

They were all eating and drinking or taking their siesta before getting back to their jobs.

I was being ridiculous. I would have been at lunch myself if I didn’t want to get that contract sorted before this meeting.

At the next alley, I had to pass, I scuttled by in a hurry, looking down it to see that there was nothing but a dumpster pushed up against a chain link fence at the end.

According to my map, I was six minutes away from the showroom, and with no fear of being late, I forced myself to calm the heck down and pause at the next shop window, full of handmade toys.

I had more nieces and nephews now, and I loved spoiling them.

There was the cutest stuffed elephant wearing a patchwork dress that little Alina would go nuts for, so I took out my phone to snap a pic to remind me to stop by again after the meeting.

The price was eye-watering, but the look of joy on her face the next time I saw her would be worth it.

Everything went dark, the bright daylight snuffed out with a whoosh of black fabric. My instantaneous scream was stifled by a big hand slapping down over my mouth, grinding the rough bag into my skin. There was a bag over my head. How the hell did that happen?

So much for situational awareness. I should have trusted my gut that something was off.

It was too late now, because I was dragged away, my feet scrabbling for purchase.

I heard the clank of the chain link fence, the grunt of whoever had me in an unbreakable grip.

No chance of screaming, I could hardly breathe.

I clawed at the bag, desperate for air, and kicked at whatever I could.

My foot caught in the fence, and another hand grabbed it.

I was whisked off my feet, an arm locking across my throat, cutting off what little air I was getting.

Then nothing.