Alex kept a firm grip on my hand the moment we stepped off the plane, as if he were worried that I might lose my footing and worsen my injuries. It wasn't necessary, but I let him anyway just because his closeness was comforting.
Physically, though, I've been feeling better now after a thorough examination from his private doctor and a steady supply of painkillers. The pounding in my head had dulled into a faint ache, and my limbs felt lighter than they had in days. Even when I was warned to avoid anything too strenuous, I considered it a progress that I could move through the day without wincing every time I shifted or turned too quickly, even if the lingering soreness was beginning to irritate me.
Camilla walked behind us, with Sergio trailing a step or two after her.
The two of them hadn't spoken a single word since we left the villa hours ago.
In fact, they seemed perfectly content pretending the other didn't exist.
I tried not to dwell on it, though. After all, we had bigger problems that still needed solving.
Of course, my grandfather had fled to the far side of the Bianchis.
It made sense, in a twisted sort of way. My grandfather's ties to them ran deeper than most people realized. The Bianchis had been my grandmother's maternal side of the family before she married him. They had stood firmly behind him decades ago, back when he tried to seize control of his father's empire.
Back when the throne had been meant for his older brother instead.
"I forgot how cold New York can be," Camilla said the moment she slid into the car, tugging her coat tighter around herself. She shut the door behind her and settled into the seat directly behind us.
Alex glanced back at her from the driver's seat. "Why are you here?"
He had insisted on driving today, claiming he needed to clear his head. His usual driver had been sent to ride with the other men. With identical cars positioned in front and behind us, the convoy was secure enough that the three of us could travel together.
"Why wouldn't I be here?" Camilla shot back.
Alex rolled his eyes.
"You cannot seriously expect me to sit in a car packed with all those...men," she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "I'm important too, you know. Especially considering you're planning to marry me off soon."
I couldn't quite hide my smile.
"She's right," I said lightly.
Alex pulled away from the tarmac, muttering something sharp in Russian under his breath.
I ignored my husband's irritation and turned around in my seat to face my best friend.
Camilla already looked perfectly composed, her blonde hair pulled into a neat ponytail. She wore a black coat over tailored trousers, leather gloves covering her hands as she leaned back against the seat like she owned the car.
"I'm glad you're here," I told her. "Don't mind him."
"Oh, I never do," she replied, flashing a smirk at Alex through the rearview mirror. "It's refreshing to finally be in the company of women again after being surrounded by that much testosterone."
Alex sat stiffly as he drove, completely silent. But the way his jaw tightened suggested he wan't truly happy with her words, nor her presence.
"It is," I agreed, hoping to quell the tension between them.
Alex still wasn't truly happy with her, I can tell. And honestly, I couldn't blame him. Camilla had been the cause of more than half the injuries, especially the stitches I had to get in my head. Taking me hostage in the first place certainly hadn't helped her case either.
I should have spoken to him about it sooner, cleared the air between them, but I hadn't. Truthfully, I didn't think I had the mental capacity yet for that kind of conversation.
"So," Camilla said after a moment, shifting slightly in her seat, "are we meeting them now?"
She meant the Irish.
"Yes," Alex answered shortly.
"They want to see you first," I added, turning slightly in my seat so I could look at her properly. "They'd like you to meet the man they've chosen. If everything goes well, we'll sign the contract then and there."
Her lips parted, clearly about to say something, but I spoke before she could.
"I've already made it clear to them," I said, meeting her eyes, "no one outside our age group. And definitely no one younger."
"Who did they pick?" she asked.
"The son and heir of their lieutenant," Alex cut in, his voice calm but firm. "You have nothing to worry about."
Camilla leaned back slightly at that, considering the information.
"The son and heir," she repeated thoughtfully. "That sounds like someone important."
"The very son of their Capo," Alex replied. "They wouldn't insult us with anything less."
She hummed under her breath, though her eyes flicked briefly toward the window, watching as the city pass by.
"Sergio," Alex began.
Camilla's gaze snapped toward him. "What about him?" she asked sharply.
"He asked me to transfer him," Alex said. "To be assigned as your bodyguard."
For a moment, the only sound inside the car was the low hum of the engine.
Outside, New York's skyline was beginning to rise around us now. All that steel and glass towers slicing into the gray winter sky, the city stretching upward with the quiet arrogance of power.
"What did you tell him?" she asked.
The way she said it told me more than the words themselves. Beneath the sharpness in her voice was something else, something tighter. As if she had already assumed the answer.
As if she believed Sergio would want nothing to do with her after everything that had happened.
"We're leaving that decision to you," I said gently, turning in my seat to face her.
Her lips parted slightly.
For as long as I had known Camilla, she had never been anything but confident. Even at her worst, even when everything around her had been collapsing, she had carried herself like someone completely certain of her place in the world.
So seeing her like this uncertain, felt strangely unfamiliar.
She looked away toward the window.
Her throat moved as she swallowed, taking a moment before she finally spoke.
"I'll think about it," she said quietly.
The car fell quiet after that.
"What exactly is he like?" she asked after a moment, referring to the man she was about to marry.
Alex's grip tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
"I suppose," he said flatly, "we're about to find out."
Camilla leaned her head back against the seat, her gaze drifting to the window as the city swallowed us whole. Avenues stretching endlessly ahead, skyscrapers rising like cold monuments of power. Somewhere in this city, waited the men who would decide her future.
And somewhere among them, was the man she was expected to marry.
Beside me, Alex's hand found mine again, his fingers closing around it with quiet insistence.
No one spoke for the rest of the drive.
The car only slowed as we turned onto a quieter street, the convoy tightening around us as if the air itself had grown heavier.
Camilla straightened slightly in her seat.
Whatever uncertainty had crossed her face earlier was gone now, replaced by the same composed confidence she had always worn like armor.
By the time the car rolled to a stop, she looked ready for war.
And somehow, I had the feeling she might get exactly that.