He puts the basket down, seemingly satisfied with her answer. “Get your things. I am parked outside.”

She stands motionless, her heart racing.

“Go. Now. I don’t want to wait for him to return. I don’t want a scene.” He undoes his coat, slips his hand inside his jacket, and pulls out a pistol. “I am serious.”

Alessia blanches at the sight of the gun, and her breathing shallows with panic. He’ll kill Maxim, of that she has no doubt. Her head begins to swim. Silently she begs her grandmother’s God to keep Maxim away.

“I came here to rescue you. I don’t know why you are here. We can talk about that later. But right now I want you to pack your things. We are leaving.”

Her fate is sealed. She will go with Anatoli. She must, to protect the man she loves. She has no choice. How did she think she could escape her father’s besa?

Tears of helpless anger pool in Alessia’s eyes as she heads into the spare bedroom. She packs quietly and efficiently, her hands shaking as rage and terror war within her. She wants to go before Maxim returns. She has to—to protect him.

Anatoli appears on the threshold. His eyes sweep over her and the empty room. “You look very…different. Western. I like it.”

Alessia says nothing as she zips up the duffel, but for some reason she’s grateful she’s still wearing her coat.

“I don’t know why you are crying.” He sounds genuinely perplexed.

“I like England. I would like to stay. I have been happy here.”

“You have had your fun. It is time to come home and accept your responsibilities, carissima.” Slipping the gun into his overcoat pocket, he grabs her bag.

“I have to leave a note,” she blurts.

“Why?”

“Because it is the right thing to do. My employer will worry. He has been good to me.” She almost chokes on her words.

Anatoli gazes at her, and she has no idea what he’s thinking. Perhaps he’s weighing what she’s said. “Okay,” he says eventually. He follows her into the kitchen, where a notepad and pen lie beside the phone. Alessia scribbles quickly, careful with her choice of words, hoping desperately that Maxim will read between them. She doesn’t know how well Anatoli speaks or reads English. She cannot take the chance—she cannot write what she really wants to say.

Thank you for protecting me.

Thank you for showing me what love means.

But I cannot escape my destiny.

I love you. I will always love you. Until the day I die.

Maxim. My love.

“What does it say?”

She shows him and watches as his eyes scan the words. He nods. “Good. Let’s go.” She lays her new keys on top of the note. They’d been hers for only a few precious hours.

* * *

It’s a still, cold night, and frost is beginning to form, sparkling ice-white under the light from the streetlamps. When I turn the corner, the road is quiet except in the distance a man is closing the door of a black Mercedes S-Class that’s parked in front of my building.

“Maxim!”

I turn to see Caroline running down the street toward me.

Caroline? What on earth?

But something about the man with the Mercedes pulls my attention back. The scene is odd, because he’s walking around to the near side of the car. It’s wrong. I’m missing something. My senses are suddenly on high alert: I can hear the crisp clip of Caroline’s heels as she gets closer, I can smell winter and the Thames on the chilly breeze, and I strain my eyes to stare at the license number of the car. Even from this distance, I can tell that it has foreign plates.

The man opens what must be the driver’s door.

“Maxim!” Caroline calls again. I turn, and she runs up to me and throws her arms around my neck with such force that I have to put my arms around her to balance us both and stop us from falling to the ground. “I’m so sorry,” she sobs.

I say nothing as my focus is drawn back to the car. The driver climbs in and slams the door while Caroline offers more apologies, but I ignore her as the indicator light starts blinking and the car pulls away from the curb into the light of a streetlamp.

And then I see it. The small red-and-black flag of Albania on the number plate.

* * *

Alessia hears Maxim’s name shouted down the street. She turns around in the passenger seat as Anatoli opens his door. Maxim is standing at the end of the block—and a fair-haired woman runs into his arms, hugging him.

Who is she?

He cradles her head.

No!

He holds her waist.

And she remembers—the woman wearing his shirt, standing in his kitchen.

Alessia, this is my friend and sister-in-law, Caroline.

Anatoli slams the door shut, making Alessia jump and forcing her to look ahead.

His sister-in-law? His married sister-in-law—and his brother is dead.

Caroline is his widow.

Alessia chokes back a sob.

This is where he has been. With Caroline. And now they are hugging in the street and he’s holding her. The betrayal is swift and cruel, slicing Alessia into tiny pieces and shattering her faith in herself—and in him.

Him. Her Mister.

A tear oozes down her cheek as Anatoli starts the engine. Smoothly he maneuvers the car out of the parking space and drives away from the only happiness Alessia has ever known.

* * *

“Fuck!” I shout as dread spawns dark and deadly in my gut.

Caroline startles. “What is it?”

“Alessia!” Abandoning Caroline, I race up the street, only to see the car disappear into the distance.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Not again!” I grab my hair with both hands, helpless. Completely helpless.

“Maxim, what is it?” Caroline is now standing beside me outside the entrance to my building.

“They’ve got her!” I fumble for my keys to open the front door.

“Who? What are you talking about?”

“Alessia.” I crash through the front door and don’t bother with the lift. Leaving Caroline at the foot of the stairs, I race up all six flights to my flat. When I unlock the door, the alarm starts beeping, confirming the worst of my fears.

Alessia is not here.

I silence the alarm and listen, hoping beyond hope that I have this wrong. Of course I hear nothing except the wind rattling the skylight in the hallway and my blood pulsing through my ears.

Frantically I start running through each room, my imagination shifting into overdrive. They have her. They have her again. My sweet, brave woman. What will those monsters do to her? Her clothes are not in my bedroom. Nor the spare room…

In the kitchen I find her keys and the note.

Mister Maxim

My betrothed is here and he is taking me to my home in Albania.

Thank you for everything.

Alessia

“No!” I scream, overwhelmed by my despair. Picking up the phone, I hurl it at the wall. It shatters into pieces as I sink to the floor, my head in my hands.

For the second time in less than a week, I want to cry.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Maxim, what the fuck is going on?”

I take my head out of my hands, and Caroline is standing at the doorway. She looks windswept and unkempt, but calmer than she did a few minutes ago.

“He’s taken her.” My voice is hoarse as I struggle to control my rage and despair.

“Who has?”

“Her fiancé.”

“Alessia has a fiancé?”

“It’s complicated.”

She folds her arms and frowns, with what seems like genuine concern. “You look shattered.”

I turn blazing eyes at her. “I am.” Slowly I get to my feet. “I think the woman I want to marry has just been kidnapped.”

“Marry?” Caroline blanches.

“Yes. Fucking marry!” My voice booms off the walls, and we glare at each other, the words hanging between us, ripe with regret and recrimination. Caroline closes her eyes and tucks her hair behind her ear. When she opens them, they are steely blue with resolve.

“Well, you’d better go after her, then,” she says.

* * *

Alessia stares unseeing out the car window, drowning in tears she cannot stop. They flow freely as grief shrouds her misery.

Maxim and Caroline.

Caroline and Maxim.

Was what she experienced with him all a lie?

No! She can’t bring herself to think that. He said he loved her—and she had believed him. She still wants to believe him, but of course it doesn’t matter anymore. She’ll never see him again.

“Why are you crying?” Anatoli asks, but she ignores him. She doesn’t care what he does to her now. Her heart is in shreds, and she knows that it will never heal. He switches on the radio, and an upbeat pop song blasts over the speakers, jarring Alessia’s nerves. She suspects he’s done it to distract himself from her silent sobbing. Anatoli turns the volume down and hands her a box of tissues. “Here. Dry your eyes. Enough of this nonsense, or I’ll give you something to cry about.”

She takes out a wad of tissues and continues to stare listlessly out the window. She can’t even bring herself to look at him.

She knows that she will die at his hands.

And there’s nothing she can do.

Maybe she can escape. In Europe. Maybe she can choose how she dies….She closes her eyes and drifts into her own version of hell.

* * *