That’s okay. I fully plan on being caught. Myrealconcern is finding somewhere private for Leo to catch up to me.
Jogging down the cobbled street, I suck in deep breaths that smell like salt and lemon trees, then I hear it: thehush, hushof the sea.
The beach! Perfect. And even better, I can kick off these stupid shoes. Scrambling down a stone staircase to the warm, golden sand, I’ve never been gladder to go barefoot. The breeze tickles at my raw heels, and my toes are sinking into the ground, but this is good.
Leo likes following my clues.
And I’ve never felt lighter, never felt freer than scribbling that note for him on the cafe counter. Who cares if I swore I’d never beg him for anything? Who cares about leaving power behind, and about my dented pride?
What did that life ever do for either of us?
Screw it. Screw ‘em all. I’m going to marry Leo Palladino and we’re going to disappear like smoke, and it’s nobody’s goddamn business.
My shins ache with every bounding step across the sand, and my wedding hair is finally coming undone. Hairpins drop behind me one by one, their pearls returning to the beach, and my scalp prickles as my hair finally streams behind me, whipped by the breeze.
It smells good here. Citrusy and fresh, like Leo.
He’ll come for me, right?
I couldn’t blame him if he didn’t. If he finally got tired of my games, of being pushed away and kept at arm’s length. A lump forms in my throat at the thought, but I keep jogging, leggings rustling as my thighs brush together.
The beach is long and narrow: a strip of golden sand, dotted with white fragments of shell and clumps of dark green seaweed. The waves spill up the beach, foamy and rhythmic, and the craggy cliff face looms up on one side.
There are hidden caves and rocky alcoves. Places to slip away when my kingpin finally catches me.
Speaking of which—
“Gotcha.” Leo slams into me from behind, and I give a shocked laugh as I tumble forward. How the hell does he move so quietly? He’sbig, and he’s still dressed in wedding finery, and as he snatches me up and crushes me against his chest, the buttons of his waistcoat dig into my back.
“You’re not supposed to touch me,” I wheeze, though I don’t really mind. I hated that stupid rule almost as soon as I made it.
Leo squeezes me tighter, pressing his words into my tangled hair. “We have a new agreement, princess. I catch you and you beg me, remember? I’m just cashing in early.”
I wriggle in his hold, but I’m not really fighting. I’m grinning, wide and goofy, and windblown hairs are sticking to my teeth. I spit them out.
“What are you doing?” Leo’s face looms over my shoulder, frowning at me. “Why are you spitting? Are you having a fit?”
“Hairs in my mouth,” I murmur, face heating. Because what if he only wants the perfect mafia princess? The put-together, tightly controlled Mia Serpico?
But Leo grunts, and then he nudges my shoulder with his chin. “Go on, then. Beg me. Beg your fiance.”
My fiance.Thank god.
He still wants me. He still wantsallof this. Marriage and power games and forever.
I clear my throat. I want to say the words, Ido, but they still come out raspy. Forced out between my lips. “Please, Leo. Touch me whenever you want. Touch me and s-stay with me.”
“Here?” Leo’s so relaxed now that he knows he’s won. He rocks me back and forth, chin resting on my shoulder. “Or do you want to go back? You could rule the city. You could be my queen.”
I bite my lip, heart thumping.
“I’d rather stay here,” I confess quietly. The sound of the waves nearly swallows my words. “Or somewhere else, you know, a different fresh start, but… I don’t want to go back.”
It’s a lot to ask of him. As the Palladino kingpin, Leo holds the kind of power most men only ever dream of, and if he walks away, we’ll lose all that. We’ll be left with our wits and our personal funds but not much more.
My fiance shrugs. “Okay.”
I wait for a long moment, but that’s it, apparently. I elbow him in the ribs. “Okay?”