Chapter 2

Nora brought white roses when she visited me in the hospital. She fumbled with the flowers, accidentally tipping over the vase and spilling water everywhere.

"Oh, no. I'm so sorry, Natalie," she babbled, scrambling to clean up the mess. "I didn't mean to do that."

"It's fine," I said, even though nothing really was.

She sat down, nervously fiddling with the edge of her skirt. It was a fancy Chanel, a present from Francis, but I was the one who had picked it out. "Natalie, have you and Francis been at it again?"

"We're always arguing," I answered.

"However, this seems different," Nora said, her eyes filled with concern. "He's been in such a foul mood. He even trashed his study yesterday."

The thought of Francis breaking stuff was hard to picture. He was scary when mad, sure, but he usually kept his cool and did not wreck things.

"Why?" I asked, taken aback.

Nora hesitated, then whispered, "It's because of Mr. Collins."

Bernard Collins: heir to a rival family, Francis' supposed friend, but the man was really his competitor.

I had an idea of what Bernard had done.

More than once, Bernard had tried to charm me, telling Francis he would give up some turf if I joined the Collins family.

However, I knew it was not about romance. To guys like them, power was always more important than love.

Bernard must have made another play for me.

Francis, with his crazy need to keep me, would never let me go.

I knew how this would end.

"Mr. Collins has been kind to you," Nora murmured. "He even asked if you wanted help...help getting away."

I eyed her cautiously. "Did you tell Francis?"

"No!" Nora was quick to deny it. "I wouldn't rat you out. However, Natalie...if you really want out, I'm here for you."

I stared at her, at the innocence in her young face.

At the age of 20, she was supposed to be in college, experiencing first loves and lively parties, not caught up in the mafia's brutal power struggles. Yet there she was, having chosen this life, or more accurately, having been pulled into it by Francis.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked.

Nora looked down, her voice soft. "Because I know...you're unhappy."

She hesitated. "Just like me."

That night, Francis showed up with dinner in hand, my favorite spaghetti from the old downtown joint. He perched on the edge of the bed, flipped open the box, and twirled a forkful of noodles, offering it to me.

"Have a bite."

I turned my head away.

He set the fork down with a sigh. "Natalie, can't we just talk?"

"About what? How are you going to keep controlling me with drugs? Or about your upcoming wedding to Nora?"

"That wedding is just business," Francis explained. "Her dad owns the ports in Westcliff. I need access to those docks."

"So you're marrying her," I said flatly.

He reached for my hand, his grip firm. "It's all for show. You're the one I really want."

I tried to shake him off, but he would not let go. "You want a puppet who'll nod and smile. However, now the puppet's strings are cut, and you're freaking out."

Francis' expression turned icy. "I'm not freaking out."

"Then why switch my meds?" I asked, a challenge. "You're terrified. Terrified that without those drugs, I'll realize I don't love…"

His response was to kiss me, a fierce, angry kiss. I fought back, but he held me by the nape of my neck, deepening the kiss until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. He had bitten my lip.

It was a kiss unlike any other in the ten years I had known him, fueled by both lust and a need to punish.

When he finally released me, we were both panting.

"You love me," Francis said, locking eyes with me, each word deliberate as if willing it to be true. "You'll keep loving me. The drugs are irrelevant."

I could not help but laugh. "Francis, who are you kidding?"

Francis acted like he did not hear me. He just stood up and smoothed out his suit. "You're getting out tomorrow. Come stay at my place."

"That's not my home," I said.

"It's been your home since you were 15," he said, pausing at the door with a stern look. "Natalie, don't test my patience. You know what happens when you do."

With that, he was gone.

I sat there on the bed, wiping the blood that had trickled from my lip.

I knew the consequences all too well.