Chapter 1 - The Blood Wasn’t Mine
Blood covered my dress when Luca Valenti found me crying on the edge of his bed, and for one terrifying second, the most feared mafia boss in Manhattan looked more frightened than I was.
He had ordered men to disappear without raising his voice, but when he saw the red staining my hands, he dropped to his knees and demanded, “Tell me where he hurt you.” My name is Elena Russo, and I had never seen Luca kneel for anyone.
Not priests.
Not judges.
Not politicians.
Yet there he was, ruining custom-tailored trousers in the blood beneath me while his hands searched my shoulders, ribs, throat, and arms for a wound.
“Elena, look at me.” I finally forced myself to meet his eyes.
“He didn’t cut me.” Luca froze.
There were no bullet holes, no torn flesh, no blood coming from me.
Only a red handprint around my wrist where Derek Shaw had grabbed me.
“Whose blood is this?” “Derek Shaw’s.” Luca knew exactly who that was.
Shaw worked for Adrian Mercer, Luca’s rival, a former prizefighter built like a wall and known for enjoying the people he hurt.
Hours earlier, Mercer had offered Luca peace during a private meeting in Brooklyn.
Apparently, peace had meant sending Shaw after me.
“Where is he now?” Luca asked.
“The coatroom at the Hawthorne Foundation gala.” “Alive?” My mouth trembled.
“No.” Luca shut the bedroom door.
Then he looked at me and said, “Tell me everything.” I explained how I had gone for my coat after the charity auction ended.
The attendant was gone, Shaw followed me inside, locked the door, and demanded passwords to Luca’s real financial accounts.
I knew those accounts because for two years I had been helping turn pieces of Luca’s criminal empire into legitimate companies.
Shaw knew that too.
“He grabbed my wrist,” I whispered.
“He said no one would hear me scream.” Something changed in Luca’s face.
“He threatened to drag me through the service elevator.
Then he laughed and said Mercer told him I was weak.” That was the mistake men often made about me.
They saw soft dresses, a quiet voice, and a woman who remembered birthdays.
They didn’t see the metal hairpin hidden in my hair.
“When he pulled me toward him, I drove it into his neck.” Luca said nothing.
“He came after me anyway, so I shoved a coat rack into him.
He slipped.
The pin went deeper.” My breathing broke.
“There was so much blood.” I told Luca the part that hurt most.
“I tried to save him.” His eyes narrowed.
“I pressed the wound.
I called emergency services from his phone.” Then Shaw grabbed me again.
“He told me if he died, Mercer would kill my sister.
He knew Caroline’s address.
He knew her son’s school.” The air around Luca seemed to turn cold.
“Then he reached inside his jacket.” “For a gun?” I nodded.
“So I stopped holding the wound.” Silence filled the room.
“I watched him die.” My voice cracked.
“He looked at me like I had betrayed him by surviving.” I expected Luca to recoil.
Instead, he took my bloodstained hands.
“I’m horrified,” he said.
My face crumpled.
Then his grip tightened gently.
“I’m horrified that he touched you.
That Mercer knew enough to threaten your family.
That you had to make that choice alone.” His thumb wiped away one of my tears.
“But I am not horrified by you.” I looked toward the black phone lying on the bed.
“I took Shaw’s phone.” Luca’s gaze sharpened.
“I unlocked it with his face before I left.” For the first time that night, something almost like pride flickered across Luca’s expression.
“I found messages from Mercer.” I reached for the phone.
Luca stopped my hand.
“First, we get you out of that dress.” Heat rushed into my face.
He brought me a robe, stepped behind me, and rested his fingers near the zipper without touching it.
“May I?” Before I could answer, Shaw’s phone lit up.
A new message appeared from Mercer.
And the first line made Luca’s entire expression change.
May you like
The message contained six words.
SHE WAS NEVER THE REAL TARGET.
