Why Is the World’s Deadliest Assassin Calling Me Honey？

Three years ago, I started telling people the world’s No. 1 assassin was my husband. As a con artist with more enemies than money, I needed something to keep me alive. Luca Moretti made his name at fifteen. He’s the Moretti crime family’s best killer, feared throughout the underworld and known for being utterly ruthless. I’ve used his name from Georgia to Pennsylvania. Luckily, he’s never shown up to expose the lie. Until tonight. Nico Bellini, fifth on the assassin rankings, corners me in a narrow hallway at the Bellmont, one of Philadelphia’s most expensive hotels. His men block the way out, and there isn’t a window I can reach. With his knife inches from my throat, I squeeze my eyes shut and shout, “I’m Luca Moretti’s wife!” Nico stops and looks toward the staircase behind me. “Luca? Since when are you married?” I turn to find a tall man in black coming down the stairs. Of all the hotels in Philadelphia, I had to pick this one. “I’m not—” Luca catches sight of me, and the rest of his denial never comes. “Luca?” Nico prompts. “She’s my wife.” “You got married and didn’t tell me?” “Why would I need to tell you?” Luca steps beside me and takes my hand, his thumb brushing my fingers. “Did they scare you?” Yes, but you scare me more. I’ve never met you in my life. “So I should tell Bianca?” Nico asks. “You know how she feels about—” “There’s nothing between Bianca and me.” Luca squeezes my hand. “There’s no other woman, sweetheart.” Nico puts his knife away and offers me his hand. “My apologies, Mrs. Moretti.” I shake it before he can change his mind. “We came to collect a bounty on a con artist. A liar and a thief, according to the people offering it. Obviously, there’s been a mistake.” “Yes, definitely a mistake,” I agree. “We’ll leave you to it.” Luca nods, and Nico leads his men out through the lobby. Unfortunately, my supposed husband stays right beside me. “Listen, about what I said—” Luca reaches toward my face, and I flinch, expecting a blow. Instead, he plucks a dry leaf from my hair. “There’s something you should know,” he says seriously. “I’ve lost my memory. The last five years are gone. I didn’t want them hurting you. But what you said... Are we really married?” So he has amnesia. No wonder he’s being so gentle instead of killing me. I let my lower lip tremble. “Of course I am. My name is Ruby. Three years ago, you were badly hurt, and I took care of you. You promised to marry me if you survived.” Tears gather in my eyes as I warm to the story. “We fell in love while you were recovering. We exchanged vows in an abandoned chapel in Georgia, just the two of us.” “We’ve been married for three years? You really love me?” “Of course I love you! You’re my husband.” “I love you too,” he says with a smile. Thank God. He’s buying it. “Then why aren’t we together?” “Because you’re Luca Moretti,” I say through my tears. “And I’m just some girl from a small town. Everyone said I wasn’t good enough for you. I couldn’t bring myself to face you.” “I must have been a real bastard,” he says, drawing me closer. “I’ll take care of you from now on. You won’t have to worry about any of that.” I’m already calculating how soon I can leave town when he lifts my hand and leads me toward the stairs. “It’s late, sweetheart. You’ve had a rough night. Let’s go to bed.”

“Go to bed?” My voice comes out far too high. “Together?” I’m twenty-two, not twelve. I know what married people do in bed. I just haven’t done it, and I’m not about to start with a man I met ten minutes ago. A man who kills people for a living. Luca stops on the stairs. “We’re married. Why wouldn’t we?” “Well, yes, but you don’t remember me.” I tighten my grip on the railing. “We should take things slowly.” “All right. We’ll start by sharing a room.” That is not nearly as slow as I had in mind. He continues up the stairs, then turns when I don’t follow. “Coming?” I’ve never been inside a suite like his. One night here probably costs more than everything I own. Normally, I’d be checking what I could slip into my pockets. Tonight, I’m checking the exits. The door clicks shut behind us, and I stay pressed against the wall. “Still worried about Nico?” Luca asks. “I can have him come back tomorrow and apologize properly.” “No! Really. We’re fine.” He slips off his jacket, and for a moment I forget about the exits. He’s the best-looking man I’ve ever seen. Broad shoulders, a shirt that fits far too well, and hands I should not be admiring after seeing how quickly Nico put his knife away. Unfortunately, being gorgeous doesn’t make him safe to lie to. If he gets his memory back, I doubt there’ll be enough of me left to bury. The window is open. Outside, a narrow ledge runs along the wall toward a fire escape. I edge closer. “Where are you going?” “Just getting some fresh air.” “It’s cold out. Don’t stay there too long.” If he’d stop worrying about me for five minutes, I might actually get out of here. “I like sleeping by the window,” I add, taking another step. “So I can look at the moon.” “I’ll sleep beside you.” “No, I mean I sleep alone!” “Ruby.” He catches my hand before I can reach the sill. “Are you afraid of me?” “Of course not! Why would I be afraid of my own husband?” “Then why won’t you share a bed with me?” Because you could kill me before I got a foot out of it. “I’m a restless sleeper,” I tell him. “You’ll end up getting kicked.” He guides me to the bed and presses me gently down onto the mattress. “I’m the best in the world, sweetheart. I can dodge.” I lie on my back with my hands at my sides, like a corpse waiting for someone to close the lid. Luca lies beside me, eyes shut, breathing steadily. Once he’s asleep, I’ll leave. I wait until he hasn’t moved for a while, then inch toward the edge. My foot barely clears the mattress before he speaks. “Where are you going?” “The bathroom.” “I’ll come with you.” “No, thank you! I can manage.” He catches my wrist. “You’re not hiding something from me, are you?” I nearly confess everything. Then he sighs and pulls me back toward him. “You don’t have to pretend you’re not scared. There’s nothing wrong with being afraid of the dark. My mentor used to lock me up when I was a kid. I cried too.” His fingers settle over my trembling hand. “I can feel you shaking.” “Right. The dark. It terrifies me.” He draws me against his chest. “I’m here. You’re safe.” His arm settles around my waist, leaving me nowhere to go. “Honey? You’re holding me a little tight.” “Don’t want you running off.” “Run off? I love you. I can’t stand being away from you.” “Is that why you were halfway out the window?” “I was trying to get you the moon!” I blurt. “I’d do anything for you, honey.” He laughs softly against my hair. “Lucky me.” He believes that too? How much of his brain went missing with those memories? “Tomorrow, you can take me somewhere.” “Where?” “Georgia. That chapel where we got married. Since I don’t remember it, you can show me.” I’ve never set foot in an abandoned chapel in Georgia. I made the whole thing up. Before I can invent a reason we can’t go, he brushes my hair away from my ear. “Good night, sweetheart.” His breath is warm against my skin, and I’m suddenly grateful he can’t see my face. I need to find a chapel that doesn’t exist, and he’s making me blush. - Outside the window, two crows perch on a tree beside the Bellmont. The skinny one nudges his companion. “What’s wrong with him? Why’s he pretending to have amnesia? I thought he said relationships were a distraction. So much for staying single.” The other crow keeps his camera trained on the window. “Oh, let him live. He might finally stop moping around like a widower. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him flirt, and I’m getting every second.” “You’re filming this?” “Of course. And I’m posting it online.”

Luca wakes me at dawn. “Get dressed. We’re going to Georgia.” I pull the blanket over my head. “Honey, I just remembered. That chapel collapsed.” “We’ll find another one.” So much for that excuse. While he buttons his cuffs, I pocket a few stolen bills. If we pass the sandwich stand downstairs, I can leave them with the woman who runs it. Some local thugs wrecked her cart last week. Luca catches me counting the crumpled notes. “Is that all you have?” He pulls a thick stack of hundreds from his wallet. Normally, I’d take the money and run. Right now, I don’t dare touch it. “You don’t have to—” “You’re my wife.” He presses the cash into my hand. “You shouldn’t have to live like this.” I take it. At least I’ll die with money in my pocket. Before I can try another excuse to delay our trip, a woman shouts outside. “Where’s Luca?” The door flies open, and Bianca DeLuca points at the cash. “So you’re the fraud pretending to be his wife. Now you’re stealing his money too?” I start to put it down. “I gave it to her.” Luca takes my hand. “Watch your mouth.” “She’s been using your name to con people for three years. I checked!” I shrink behind him. “Look at her hiding! She knows she’s guilty.” “I’m hiding because you’re scaring me.” “Shut up.” Gladly. Staying alive comes first. Bianca turns back to Luca. “You know me. You know how I feel about you. You said—” “I’ve lost my memory. The last five years are gone.” “Then you should trust me, not her!” “She says she’s my wife. I believe her.” That’s it? That’s all it takes? Bianca jabs a finger toward the custom handgun on his nightstand. “If you’re his wife, what does he call that?” I’ve spent my life trying to stay away from guns. How would I know what he calls his? “Frost?” I venture. “Wrong.” “Frost,” Luca says. “That sounds right.” “Luca, that’s not—” “I told you I don’t remember. I’ll take my wife’s word for it.” He calls softly, “Frost.” A blue light blinks on the gun. I stare at it, my mouth still open. Bianca yanks a knife from beneath her jacket. “Let’s see if you live long enough to keep calling yourself his wife.” Steel flashes. Before I can move, Luca is in front of me. He catches her wrist, wrenches the knife free, and sends it clattering across the floor. “She’s my wife.” Bianca cradles her wrist against her chest. “Anyone who touches her,” he says, his voice dropping, “has to go through me.” “You’d turn on me for her?” Her voice shakes. “You attacked her.” He doesn’t raise his voice. Bianca backs away anyway. Luca turns to me and gently takes my hand. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.” I clutch his fingers before I can stop myself. The knife lies on the floor, and I’m still waiting for the pain. Bianca doesn’t scare me anymore. The man holding my hand does.

Bianca points at me with her good hand. “I’m telling Victor. You’re bringing a con artist into the family, and now you’re treating her like—” “My wife,” Luca supplies. “Good. Tell him we’re coming.” Her hand drops. Mine goes cold in his. “Coming where?” I ask. “Home. You said we exchanged vows in a chapel. This time, we’ll have a proper wedding. My mentor can be our witness.” Bianca storms out, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the mirror. I’d go after her if I thought she’d help me escape. “Honey,” I begin carefully, “were you serious?” “About what?” “The wedding.” “Of course.” “But we’re already married. We don’t need a big ceremony to prove we love each other.” “I don’t remember the first one.” “That doesn’t mean we need another—” “I want a wedding I can remember.” He draws me closer by the hand he still hasn’t released. “Unless you don’t want to marry me?” “No! I’d love to. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” “Good.” He kisses my knuckles. “Then we agree.” Apparently, we do. By the time we leave Philadelphia, I’ve gone from lying to strangers to preparing to lie to the entire Moretti crime family. I sit beside Luca while he drives, trying to decide whether jumping out at a red light would get me killed faster than meeting his mentor. He looks perfectly comfortable with all of this. Five years of his life are supposedly missing, and his biggest concern is giving his surprise wife a wedding. I’ve met enough liars to know when a story feels wrong. Then again, I’ve never met anyone like him. “What are you thinking about?” he asks. “Nothing.” “How to get away from me?” I grip the seat belt. He keeps his eyes on the road, one hand resting on the wheel. “You’re fast, sweetheart. I’m faster.” “I wasn’t thinking about running.” “Then we have nothing to worry about.” Easy for him to say. Nobody’s making him meet the man who taught the world’s best assassin how to kill. The estate gates open before Luca has to stop the car. Beyond them stand a sprawling stone house and enough armed guards to make me miss Nico. Luca comes around to open my door. I put one foot on the gravel, take a look at the men waiting by the entrance, and turn toward the gates. His fingers close around my wrist. “I told you, you’re safe with me.” Yes. It’s being safe from him that concerns me. He threads his fingers through mine and leads me up the steps. The men straighten. “Welcome back, Luca.” Then they turn to me. “Mrs. Moretti.” I nearly miss a step. Luca catches me around the waist, looking far too pleased. “Take the afternoon off training.” One of the men grins at me. “Come back anytime, Mrs. Moretti.” They’re already smiling like I’ve done them a favor. I’ve barely made it through the front door, and his entire family has accepted my lie. Now I just have to survive telling it to the man in charge.

Victor Moretti sits at the far end of the hall. Bianca stands beside his chair, her eyes red. Of course she got here first. Luca leads me straight up to the man who trained him. “Victor. This is my wife.” Victor sets down his glass. “Your wife?” “Yes.” I’d love to correct him. Preferably from another country. “She’s a con artist,” Bianca cuts in. “I told you—” “Enough.” One word, and she shuts her mouth. Victor beckons to me. “Come here.” Luca nudges me forward. “Go on.” I would, if he’d let go of my hand. He finally releases it, and I take the few steps toward Victor, trying not to trip. I’ve lied my way out of plenty of trouble. None of it involved this many people who could dispose of a body. “You’re married to Luca?” “Yes.” “When?” “Three years ago.” “Where?” “An abandoned chapel in Georgia.” “What was it called?” I’ve apparently picked the one abandoned building in America everyone expects me to know by name. “St. Mary’s,” I blurt. Bianca steps forward. “Ask her where in Georgia. She can’t even—” “I said enough.” She bites back the rest. Victor turns to Luca. “Quite a place you chose.” “She wanted something simple. I didn’t mind.” I’m going to need him to write these details down. He’s getting better at my story than I am. Victor rises and comes toward me. I brace myself as he reaches out, but he only rests a hand on my shoulder. He studies my face, then looks past me at Luca. “Ah. I see.” See what? How many years am I getting? Do I get years, or do we skip straight to the funeral? “Since you’re already married, we’ll arrange a proper ceremony.” Bianca grabs the back of his chair. “Victor!” “Do you have a problem with that?” “No.” I certainly do. Unfortunately, nobody asks me. Luca takes my hand again. “Thank you.” My knees nearly give out on the way to the door. He scoops me up before I fall and carries me out. I bury my face against his shirt. At least nobody can see how close I am to crying. The moment he sets me down in his rooms and shuts the door, I drop to my knees. “I’m sorry!” Luca stops with his hand still on the doorknob. “For what?” “For lying. For pretending to be your wife. For—” “Pretending?” I clutch the hem of his shirt. “Please. I was scared. I’m not really—” “My wife. I know.” I let go. “You’re a con artist, Ruby. You’ve been using my name for three years, from Georgia all the way to Pennsylvania.” He knows the route. “I can explain.” “Which part? Why you told people you were my wife, or why you kept running around conning them?” I can’t get a word out. Last night, I told this man I loved him while trying to work out how to climb out of his window. He bends toward me, smiling. “Did you really think I had amnesia?”