dead, holding out his ruined arms to her. Those dreams had been terrifying. She had wondered if she was losing her mind.
Annie flicked on the bedside light. Light flooded the room and drove back the shadows. Nothing sinister here, she reassured herself, looking around and sternly getting a grip on her wayward imagination. There was no mouldering remnant of a man she had once loved, come back to haunt her.
And Max? What about him?
Annie frowned, her guts tightening with tension. Max was off in Europe on business. He’d taken off a week ago, without any real explanation. What business, he had refused to discuss with her, even though she had asked. He had just said he had stuff to do, and left.
Max was a law unto himself. He never explained, never apologized, never kept her in the loop. He had things to do, that was all he’d said, and he’d just… gone.
Leaving her here, alone.
Which was OK. She was fine on her own, usually. But not this time.
Because you think he’s having an affair, don’t you? You don’t think he’s doing business at all, you think he’s doing some tart.
It was true that Max had been cold, distant to her before he left. That had worried her. Usually, if Max had something to say to you, he’d say it to your face, get it off his chest. Not this time, though. This felt different. And now she wasn’t sleeping well, and she was having these fucking dreams. Somehow they made her feel almost that she was the unfaithful one. The one who cheated. The very thought made her frown, made a shaft of uneasiness pierce her gut, hard. She had lost Max once, but found him again, and she was so lucky to have done that, so incredibly lucky to have him back in her life after all they had been through. She knew it. She didn’t want to lose him again.
But these dreams.
They were so vivid, so colourful, so convincing in their reality, that when she was asleep she was actually there, once again. In her dreams she was once again Annie Carter-Barolli, a Mafia queen, cosseted and powerful, married to a man whose word was life and death, whose name struck fear in everyone on the streets of New York.
Sighing restlessly, Annie glanced at the alarm clock. Two in the morning, and she was wide awake. There was no chance she’d get back to sleep. She never did, not after one of the dreams. They churned her up, made her think: What the hell is this, have I got a problem here?
Do I need to see a shrink or something?
