My cheeks heat. "So, you saw us on the pond?"
"You mean, did I see you fall into the ice hole and watch lover boy rush to save you?" He smirks, or at least I think he does behind the mask. "I did." He raises his shoulder. "Now that we've cleared that up," he tilts his head, "what information do you have for me?"
"I… I’ve changed my mind."
His expression remains unchanged. "Have you, now?" he drawls.
"Y-yes." I shift my weight from foot to foot. "I can't tell you what you want to know. I can't betray Christian."
"Afraid it doesn’t work like that." The wrinkles at the edges of his eyes tighten, but his eyes themselves stay dead. In the few times I’ve met him, I’ve never seen any hint of life in them. They are dark holes in a face that is otherwise so classically handsome, you’d think he were a fairy tale prince. Only this man is everyone’s worst nightmare come to life. But because of the way he looks, the way he speaks with that cultured British accent, the way he is dressed in that fitted coat which emphasizes the width of his shoulders, and boots that cost more than the economy of a third world country, you’d never call him that, and that’s what makes it worse.
"What do you mean?" I tip my chin up. "I agreed to share information with you then, but I’m not going to do so now."
"So, you'd risk the lives of your father and sister, for that of your fiancé?"
"Fake fiancé," I correct him out of habit, then bite my lip. Shit, he isn’t my fake anything, but how the hell do I explain that when I’m not sure myself when things changed?
"I see." He nods. "So it’s like that?"
"What do you mean?" I scowl. "There’s nothing ‘like that’ about it; I’ve simply decided I’m not going to let you dictate what I do."
"You’re in love with him; it happens." He raises a shoulder. "That’s why human relationships are so messy." He slides his hand into the pocket of his coat. "It’s why I prefer to keep things on a strictly business basis. It’s why, if you don't tell me what you know, I’m going to put a hit out on his head."
"Don’t do that," I cry out. "Please, don't hurt him."
"That’s entirely up to you, if you tell me what you know about the dealings of the Sovranos."
"I... I can't…" My shoulder's slump. "I can't do that."
"Then, I don't have a choice." He raises a shoulder. "He’s going to die, and you'll still owe me information."
"Don’t do this. Please…" I take a step forward. "It's not like I know much anyway. The Sovranos don’t discuss anything of consequence in front of me."
His lips draw up in the semblance of a smile. "You are about to marry one of their brothers. Clearly, you are in their inner circle. And you expect me to believe that you haven't heard anything?"
"You know the Mafia." I raise a shoulder. "The men don't discuss anything in front of the women."
"That may be so, but you are also their doctor. Chances are good, you have heard or seen things in passing which are bound to add up to something."
"It won't." I shake my head. "I really just focus on doing my job when they call me in as a doctor. I tend not to hear or see anything else when I’m concentrating on a patient."
He looks me up and down. "I don't have time for this." He pulls his hand out of his pocket and aims a gun at me.
"Wha … what are you doing?" My heart slams against my ribcage.
"If you’re not going to help me, then I have no choice but to kill you."
"I don’t understand." I take a step back. “How is killing me going to help?”
He shakes his head, ignoring my question. "Don’t move, or you’ll make this worse on yourself."
"What do you mean?" Shit, why did I decide to take a walk? Why didn’t I stay back in the house, in that comfy bed with Christian? Better still, why haven’t I told Christian about the deal I made with this stranger? Because if you had, he would hate you. And he’s just professed his love for you.
No, no way could I have told him; which leaves me at the mercy of this man who’s walking toward me, the gun held in his gloved hand. He reaches me and stares into my face. Something in those soulless eyes, that look of intent, laced with an indifference… Shit! This man would shoot me in a heartbeat, and he’d still go after Christian. Jesus Christ, how could I have gotten myself into this situation?
His gaze narrows. I sense him getting ready to shoot. Adrenaline laces my blood. I lunge toward him, grab his hand, shove it up just as he depresses the trigger. The sound of the gun shot echoes around the space. The bullet whizzes past me so close that the breeze raises the hair on my head.
A scream boils up. I swallow it down as I stumble back, then lunge away from him and into the forest. My ears are ringing from the gunshot fired so close to me, but I’m sure he's following me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.