It takes a while to absorb the shock waves from the bomb Luca dropped on me.

"But, but... Amber?" I wish he'd fucked her because he's a Catholic. When they sacrifice, they expect the Kingdom of Heaven in return. And, he wants me to deliver this payment.

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Vividly." We had to buy all new dishes. I wince remembering how unhinged I've acted, driven by the worst instincts and shame.

But that's not the memory that haunts Luca, apparently. "You forgave me, but not whole-heartedly. We've settled into this on-trial-basis cohabitation, without the marriage. If it was just me, I would have waited. I don't lack patience."

Despite the gravity of the situation, I smile. "An understatement of the year."

"But it wasn't just me, Mila."

"I'm aware." Others worried about us tying the knot. Papa even recruited Mom to talk sense into me once. Spoiler alert: it didn't end well for either of us.

Luca shakes his head. "No. Or, at least, not like they made me aware."

"Oh?"

"The entire old boys' club took turns to spit in my face. Look at Luca, he can't talk a girl into marrying him, what a joke he is! What does he hide between his legs?" He waves his elegant hand through the air, but the corners of his mouth tighten.

I scrunch my face: "My poor Luca. It was high school all over again."

"Nobody likes to admit it, but adult life is not that different from a high school, particularly where a family is concerned."

"I'm sorry they gave you a hard time." I do pity him, as much as I hate to admit it.

His lips relax in a small smile. "Ilya told me that Jora was getting mad enough to push you, if you acted out. He said, your Papa has a long patience, but in the end he always snaps, comes down heavy. Apparently, it's a Russian thing. Plus, he won't let the deal slip away from your family."

"Ilya?" I can't breathe. Ilya giving Luca relationship advice? Giving him advice on how to handle me?

I know he sold me out with this trip, but I figured it was to stop things from going sideways, maybe even to protect me in some warped way. What an idiot I've been to think that it was the extent of it! He undermined me from the first. And it wasn't for money. His betrayal feels personal, and it hurts so much more.

Papa is old-school. He doesn't get me, but Ilya? We grew up together, Ilya and I, sparred together, rivaled each other in everything. He was my little brother! Of all people in the world, he knows my worth the best.

And that's why... I was good enough to play with while he was young. Now I'm on the way, so my time is up. Better marry me into a powerful family to cement an alliance, leaving the son as the only heir apparent.

Out of habit, I wonder who they wanted to move on together with the Tangorellos. Or if my wedding to Luca was a sufficient statement to frighten someone into inaction. But neither Ilya nor Papa deemed it necessary to broach the plan with me. Nazarevich family no longer needed women like my great-grandma Sonya. We had men to take care of business. To marry and breed was what they left for me.

Suffocating, I make a tiny, strangled sound.

"Mila?" Luca's hands shake as he rummages through his pockets for the keys from the handcuffs. "Are you alright?"

It barely registers in my consciousness. My whole world, everything I've done, what would have earned any man respect, earned me a condescending smile. Not even a pat on the back... not even from Ilya.

The room blurs around me, darkening at the edges. Laughter, worthy of the Phantom of the Opera, rings in my ears. The fake diamonds reflect in the mirrors. But time dares to go on.

No, I'm not alright. I slip into Luca's arms once the cuffs fall off my wrists. For a second, I want to snap out of his embrace, but why? Why? So, at the last moment, I just... don't. Instead, I collapse against his chest to draw shallow, rapid breaths.

According to them, I'm only pretending to be strong. Maybe I can do something with that. If I jerk away, slap Luca, yell my denial and outrage... even if kill him, then what?

More people would die, and Ryan will be among the first to be killed. This trip isn't about Luca's manhood. They already found him lacking. That's why they let Scali to tag along and clean his messes.

This trip is about my stubbornness and a trap for Ryan.

"Breathe," Luca urges me, ever the softie. "Breathe."

I do as he advises, arms around his neck, shuddering breaths shaking the core of my body. I do not know what part of it is an act, and what part of it is real. "So, you followed Ilya's good advice, Luca?"

Ilya's good advice... good advice...echoes through my head.

If the echo in the cavern of my skull mocks me ten more times, I'll cackle hysterically.

"I was doing what you wanted, and you didn't care," Luca says, threading his fingers through my hair with a contented sigh. Why wouldn't he be content? His world is inching back to normal. It's my world that is crushing around my ears.

"It sounds petty in hindsight, Mila, but what did I have to lose? And I was angry."

"Angry? You?"

"Furious."

I lift my face to search his liquid eyes for any sign of it remaining. They're warm. The fold by his mouth makes him look tired and kindly. And loving. Achingly so. And I don't give a fuck.

"I wanted you to feel the same pressure I was under all my life," he says.

I'm glad he has such a rosy picture of my life in the Nazarevich clan, but whatever. "That's candid."

"What did I have to lose?"

I slant my eyes from his chest to the box of jewelry. "This too was a ruse? That's why you weren't surprised it was fake?"

"To tell you the truth?" He shrugs comfortably. "I didn't care then, and I don't care now. I was too busy talking everyone and their uncle's dog from skinning your stooge alive in front of you. Since I'm not man enough to do it myself."

Chill touches the nape of my neck at the thought of Ryan walking around for weeks with a target painted on his forehead. With a terrifying clarity, I remember Ilya laughing while he tried to talk me out of looking Ryan up. Laughing, because he was sure even then that Ryan, in a pinch, was expandable. Letting me play with my girly toys for a little longer to see how it pans out. Maybe to prank his best pal Luca. What's the harm?

Why didn't I see it?

The answer brings up a new wave of nausea into my throat.

Because you're a self-involved bitch, that's why.

This sucker-punches me in the stomach. I lurch up from Luca, to sway from the waist and gasp for air. Once. Twice. There... I'm not so bad. I can fix this. I cleave to him again, so the heart of my only—and the least expected—ally beats under my ear.

Because I'll recruit anyone, at any price, to keep Ryan alive. If I don't... I know what happens if I don't.

Dead bodies are so vacant. I don't want to see the light in Ryan's eyes go out, replaced by an empty stare. Yeah, I'm a self-involved bitch. Ryan knows it, even hates me for it. But I'll be damned, if I let him die. My whole life's just crumbled before my eyes, and the only good piece was with him. The only real thing worth saving. So, he gets to live. Period.

The stitch in my side releases, allowing me to breathe deeper.

"Thank you," I tell Luca, and it's heartfelt. Nobody can fix death: not the rich, nor the kind, nor the wise. One can only prevent it, and he did. Now, he'll help me extricate Ryan from the deadly mess I dragged him into.

Luca's arms turn from supportive to gentle. I don't know how he does it, what infinitesimal pressure change it takes, but they're lover's perfect arms around me.

"Mila, I let them hoodwink me into baiting you. In response, you swerved into a curve that took you in the direction nobody expected, as far away from me as could be..."

Luca is warm, looming large, and very obviously hungry, pressing into my hip harder and harder.

"But now I'm closer to you as ever. I want it to stay that way. I won't let them screw with us again. I just want you back."

A tear trickles out of the corner of my eye, and slips, unchecked, down my cheek. He dabs it away with his shirt's sleeve.

"If the charade with the jewels at the end of the world is what brings us together, I'm game."

He sounds hoarse. Raw.

The heavy, pleasant warmth weighs me south of the stomach even before his hand finds a familiar spot through the thick fabrics of my pants and strokes it. Even before he nuzzles inside the collar of my shirt and his tongue treks down from my throat.

"Mila?"

Right. I'm usually not wooden when he fondles me. My eyes close to everything. Why should I look in the mirrors? This room is almost empty, and so is my past, my present, and my future. I'm out of options, save for one.

I owe Ryan, and he hates everything I am.

Luca loves everything I am.

Luca and I, we've always made sense together. Always. We make even more sense as a couple now, so long as Ryan goes free.

"You didn't sleep with him," Luca whispers into my ear before nibbling it. It isn't a question. He just wants confirmation out of my mouth, so I give it to him.

"No, of course not.″

Things men with unlimited power do to men who stepped on their devil-tail ain't pretty... and in the lawless mountains Luca holds unlimited power over Ryan. There could be a complication down the road with this lie, but I'll figure it out when and if it comes to it. When Ryan is out of Luca's reach. Safe from retribution. When I have more tools at my disposal to protect those I care about.

The zipper hisses, leaving only the coy modesty of lace in Luca's way.

"I love lace on you," he murmurs.

"You have impeccable taste."

I cry out to his caresses, thankful that he had asked me about Ryan too early. With his fingers playing underneath my panties, but neither taking them off, nor ripping the skimpy fabric... and his tongue in the hollow between my breasts... and him grinding against me... I would have told him out of spite. But it isn't unpleasant.

Sex with Luca is a drug, and I inhale it until I can't hear Ilya's laughter any longer; can't see disgust in Ryan's eyes; can't feel Papa's heavy hand moving me like a pawn on the chessboard. It's a drug that numbs me into a soulless state where I can go through the motions of what needs to be done. What needs to be said.

Like the girl Alice who fell down the deep hole for a long, long time, I don't hit the rock-bottom for a while. Some minutes I'm weightless in the dark, like when I take Luca's clothes off. The others, I throw myself into the black pit with all my might, like when I pin him to the bed with my hips. No escape, no teasing, no nothing. I sweat and pant, to slow down the fall, because we can fall forever.

Almost forever.

Luca rolls off of me. He cradles me to his side, while another satisfied sigh lifts his chest. Yup, he would be happy. It was perfect. Perfectly soulless sex, just how he likes it and he now has all the pieces, all the tesserae he wants for his mosaic. All but one, and it's up to me to provide it. And I will, so long as he makes one concession.

"I'll marry you as soon as the divorce is finalized," I promise groggily into Luca's neck.

Sure, Ryan said he wouldn't give me a divorce, but from this dead end he'd be happy to break free. The second I tell him that I slept with Luca, he'll be running for the hills, his worst suspicions about me confirmed.

Then I can become precisely what they all want me to be. I won't call being a mafia wife respectable, but I'll stay in a nicely furnished house, attend my mom's parties and make friends with every Tangorello woman. Maybe, I'll get a legal aid certificate and come to work with Luca as his assistant, since he's becoming so progressive. Probably not right away though, because he'd want me to make babies... God knows how many.

My arm wraps around my abdomen. This world is so fucked up that a man you despise could get you pregnant as easily as the man you love. It's so, so, so fucked up...

Luca's breathing slows down into half-doze. "Widowhood's cleaner," he mumbles, before dropping off to sleep. "Far less potential complications..."