"You need clothes," Alberto said the next morning, looking at the single outfit he'd provided. "Real clothes. Not safehouse basics."
"I don't need—"
"Yes, you do." He grabbed his keys. "You're not hiding anymore, Morry. You're going to stand beside me. That means you need to look the part."
Twenty minutes later, we pulled up to an exclusive boutique in the diamond district. The kind of place I'd only window-shopped at, even as Tyron's wife.
"Mr. Barella," the owner greeted us immediately, her eyes widening when she saw me. "And guest. Welcome."
"Close the shop," Alberto said simply. "We'll take our time."
The owner didn't hesitate. She flipped the sign to closed and dismissed her staff.
"Everything," Alberto told her, gesturing to me. "Dresses, casual wear, shoes, jewelry. Whatever she wants."
"Alberto, this is too much—"
"It's not." He turned to me, his dark eyes intense. "Tyron kept you in a basement. Starved you. Treated you like garbage. I'm going to show you what it's like to be treated like a queen."
Something in his voice made my breath catch.
For the next two hours, I tried on clothes I'd only dreamed of. Silk dresses that hugged my curves. Leather jackets that made me feel powerful. Heels that added inches to my height and confidence to my stride.
Alberto sat in a velvet chair, watching every outfit change. His eyes never left me.
"That one," he said when I emerged in a black dress that was elegant and dangerous at the same time. "That's the one."
"For what?"
"For tonight. We're going out."
"Out? You said it wasn't safe—"
"It's not. That's the point." Alberto stood and walked over to me. "Tyron thinks you're my prisoner. Let's show him exactly what kind of prisoner you are."
That evening, I stood in front of the mirror, barely recognizing myself.
The black dress fit perfectly. Diamond earrings Alberto had insisted on sparkled at my ears. My hair was styled in soft waves, and my makeup was flawless.
I looked like power.
Alberto appeared in the doorway, wearing a tailored black suit. He stopped when he saw me.
"Dio mio," he breathed. "You're stunning."
Heat rose to my cheeks. "Where are we going?"
"The Elysium. It's neutral territory. All the families go there." He offered his arm. "Including Tyron's people."
"You want him to know I'm with you."
"I want him to see that you're not broken. That you're not his victim anymore." Alberto's smile was dangerous. "I want him to lose sleep over it."
The Elysium was everything I'd heard and more. Crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and in every corner, the most powerful criminals in the city.
Every head turned when we entered.
Alberto kept his hand on the small of my back, possessive and protective at once.
"Barella," a man called from a nearby table. "Is that really Mrs. Poltort?"
"Vaslus," Alberto corrected smoothly. "Ms. Vaslus is under my protection now."
Whispers rippled through the room.
We were seated at the best table, overlooking the entire restaurant. Alberto ordered wine—sparkling water for me—and the finest food on the menu.
"You're making a statement," I said quietly.
"We're making a statement," he corrected. "You're not hiding anymore. You're not ashamed. You're here, alive, and more powerful than Tyron ever let you be."
As if summoned by his name, the restaurant doors opened.
Marcus Delroy walked in, followed by three of Tyron's men.
His eyes found us immediately.
Alberto's hand covered mine on the table. "Don't react. Just smile."
So I did. I smiled at Marcus like I didn't have a care in the world.
Marcus approached our table slowly. "Mr. Barella. Mrs. Polt—"
"Ms. Vaslus," I corrected coldly.
"My apologies." Marcus's eyes flicked between us. "I wasn't aware you two were... acquainted."
"Ms. Vaslus and I have developed a mutually beneficial relationship," Alberto said smoothly. "She's been quite helpful with certain... information."
Marcus's face paled slightly. "I see."
"Do you?" Alberto's smile didn't reach his eyes. "I hope you do. Because things are about to change in this city. Power is shifting. And those who don't shift with it tend to get crushed."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's a forecast." Alberto lifted his wine glass. "Tell Tyron his wife sends her regards."
"Ex-wife," I added softly.
Marcus nodded stiffly and walked away.
The moment he was gone, I exhaled. "That was risky."
"That was necessary." Alberto squeezed my hand. "Now Tyron knows you're not just alive. You're thriving. With me."
"He'll want to kill us both."
"Let him try." Alberto's eyes burned with intensity. "I have twenty men in this restaurant right now. Thirty more outside. If Tyron wants a war, he can have one."
The rest of dinner passed in a blur of exquisite food and dangerous conversation. Other families sent representatives to our table, offering greetings, fishing for information.
Each time, Alberto introduced me not as Tyron's wife, but as Morry Vaslus. His associate. His partner.
By the end of the night, everyone in the underworld would know.
Back at the safehouse, I kicked off my heels with a sigh of relief.
"You did well tonight," Alberto said, pouring himself a drink. "You didn't flinch once."
"I wanted to." I sank onto the couch. "When Marcus looked at me, I wanted to run."
"But you didn't. You smiled. You showed strength." He sat beside me, close enough that I could feel his warmth. "That's what makes you dangerous now."
"Is that what I am to you? Dangerous?"
"You're a lot of things to me, Morry." His voice dropped lower. "Dangerous is just one of them."
"What are the others?"
He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered on my cheek.
"Beautiful. Brave. Brilliant." His eyes met mine. "And completely off-limits."
"Why?"
"Because you're pregnant with another man's child. Because you're vulnerable, even if you don't want to admit it. Because taking advantage of you now would make me no better than Tyron."
His words should have been a relief. Instead, they made my chest ache.
"And if I wasn't pregnant?" I whispered. "If I wasn't vulnerable?"
Alberto's jaw clenched. "Then I'd already have kissed you."
The air between us crackled with tension.
His phone buzzed, shattering the moment.
He glanced at it and stood abruptly. "It's Marcus. He wants to move the meeting up. Tomorrow night instead of next week."
"Because of tonight."
"Because we rattled him." Alberto's smile returned. "Good. Rattled people make mistakes."
He extended his hand to help me up. "Get some rest. Tomorrow, we prepare. And tomorrow night, we see exactly whose side Marcus is really on."
I took his hand, letting him pull me to my feet.
"Alberto?" I said as he turned to leave.
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For tonight. For making me feel human again."
He looked at me for a long moment.
"You were always human, Morry. Tyron just tried to make you forget."
He left me standing there, my heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with revenge.
I touched my lips, imagining what his kiss would feel like.
Then I pressed my hand to my stomach, reminding myself why I was here.
Revenge first.
Everything else after.
But as I lay in bed that night, I couldn't stop thinking about the way Alberto had looked at me.
Like I was worth protecting.
Like I was worth everything.
