The Woman at the Docks - Jessica Gadziala Page 0,41

had no way of doing anything.

What was my other option? To go to the police? That would sign my death warrant for sure.

I could feel hopelessness tightening around my throat.

And then the first text came in.

- I never would have left Matteo or Lucky in charge if I thought one of them would accuse or threaten you. I understand why you ran under those circumstances. But they do not have the power to make that call, to follow through with those orders. I believe you, and that is all that matters right now. Come back. I give you my word that you're safe. And I don't give people my word, Romy, so you can put your faith to rest in that. - Luca

Of course, my gut instinct was to say he was lying, that he would say anything he could to get me to come back, to question me, to see if I was telling the truth, to punish me if I wasn't.

Family over everything, that was what I'd been told.

That said, there was another voice inside my head, one that said Luca was an honorable man, that he wouldn't offer his word if he didn't mean it. Even if that went against rules and traditions. Even if he might pay the consequences for disobeying them.

I sat there for a long time listening to the waves crash, smelling the salt water and the slight, but unmistakable, fishy smell to the water, trying to decide which option would be the least likely to have me dead in a ditch somewhere.

And then the second text came in.

Different.

Less formal.

Less tame.

More raw and real and vulnerable.

- I never responded to your text to me. A part of me was worried I'd overstepped a line, taken advantage of a situation, that you regretted it. For the record, I didn't. And if my brother hadn't interrupted, I would have liked to show you how much I wanted that, how much more there could have been. I'm not saying this with future expectations, but in the interest of clearing the air. I was a chickenshit not to do so before. Come back. Future or no future, come back. Let's fix this together.

I couldn't imagine men such as Luca—with powerful positions, with all the money and influence, who lived a fearless lifestyle—often found a reason to be vulnerable, to open up. They didn't need to. And if they didn't need to, when they did it, it had a lot more impact, it rang a lot more true.

I didn't immediately respond, though, doing battle with the two lanes of thought until they collided at some point around sunup.

Yes, it was dangerous to go back.

No, it was not a good idea to do any more kissing—or anything else—with Luca Grassi.

But despite all that, I decided the only option was to go back.

And that if things did progress with Luca, then I was going to go ahead and let them.

Eventually, if all things panned out, I would likely be back in Venezuela with my sister for a while. And then back in California. A whole country away.

It would be over.

I would have no connections to the New Jersey mob anymore.

It seemed relatively low risk.

If it came to that.

Taking a deep breath, I shot off a text with my location, asking him to come alone.

From my position, I would be able to see him before he saw me, would know if he honored his word or not. And would have just enough time to slip away if I saw Lucky or Matteo tagging along.

And then I waited.

I didn't have to wait long, though.

I saw Luca's car driving up about half an hour later, and pulled into a spot. He climbed out looking as flawless as ever in one of his dark gray suits, his face even scruffier than the day before.

I waited as he looked around and tried to find me, staying in the shadow of a boat waiting to go in the water while I made sure no one else followed.

Confident he was true to his word, I took a step out, waiting for Luca's gaze to find me.

When it did, I saw genuine relief there, something that made a weight drop from his shoulders, that made his jaw loosen.

"I was worried about you," he admitted, both of us walking toward one another.

"Likely not as worried as I was that Matteo and Lucky were going to execute me."

"I've talked to them."

"Talked," I repeated, hand raising, sliding across a bruise on his