DECEPTION

FRACTURED DIAMONDS SAGA

BOOK 1

LISA CULLEN

© Copyright 2025, by Author Lisa Cullen .

All Rights Reserved.

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This book is intended for adult readers only. Any sexual activity portrayed in these pages occurs between consenting adults over the age of 18 who are not related by blood.

ALSO BY LISA CULLEN

Check out my entire catalogue available on KindleUnlimited.

Fractured Diamonds Saga

Deception | Dominance | Devotion | Descent

Dangerous Gambit

Brazen King | Relentless Knight | Untouchable Queen

The Bratva

Season of Malice | Season of Desire | Season of Wrath | The Lazarov Bratva

Sinister Alliances

Unlikely Protector | Unlikely Avenger

The Forbidden Reverse Harem Collection

Boss Daddies | Good Girl | A Nanny for Christmas | Brother’s Best Friends for Christmas | Christmas with Daddy’s Best Friends | Lie No More | Thin Ice | Cardinal Whispers | Stepping Up | Office Affairs | Shadowvale Secrets | The Nanny Next Door | Classroom Confessions | Lords of the Campus | Her Holiday Heartthrobs |Santa’s Pucking Hattrick | Snowed In with the Bosses | Twins for the Silver Foxes

Sanctum Harbor Sinners

Hell to Pay | Hell and High Water | Hell Breaks Loose

DESCRIPTION

FRACTURED DIAMONDS SAGA BOOK 1

I had one job:

Expose a mafia king.

But I made one critical mistake.

I got pregnant with his baby.

The blizzard wasn't just snow—it was fate trapping me with Alessandro Diamante.

The most dangerous man in Italy.

Thirteen years my senior with hands that knew exactly how to make me surrender.

I came to his mountain fortress hunting evidence he murdered my brother.

I stayed because his touch became my darkest addiction.

"You think you can lie to me, Isabella?" he whispers, pinning my wrists above my head. "I own every inch of this body now."

Each night I spread my legs for the enemy.

Each day I search for his secrets.

Every moment a dangerous game where pleasure and betrayal blur into one.

I tell myself it's for justice. For vengeance.

But the truth burns hotter than his claiming kisses.

I’m falling for the devil himself.

When my real identity is exposed, so is the heir growing inside me.

The look in his eyes promises both punishment and possession as he grips my throat.

"A Diamante grows in your belly," he growls, something primal claiming his features. "You think I'll let either of you go?"

Now rival families close in, bullets fly, and blood stains the snow crimson.

The man who should want me dead becomes my only chance at survival.

As his brother whispers warnings and enemies hunt us both,

I face an impossible choice:

Flee the father of my child and the hands that have marked me as his?

Or surrender everything to the monster whose darkness matches my own?

Book 1 in the Fractured Diamonds Saga.

Age gap, forced proximity, secret pregnancy, and steam that will leave you breathless.

HEA guaranteed.

PROLOGUE: ALESSANDRO

“You ready, Aless?” Domenico smacks my chest with the back of his hand.

“Says the guy whose palms are sweating,” I scratch my jaw, the stubble itching. The older guys say it makes me look tough, though.

“Shut the fuck up, Alessandro! You know I get nerves. I’m just excited.”

Nerves. Yeah.

I just hide mine better.

It’s a cliché, the way we’re sitting in the car, waiting for our mark. Two kids, about to pass a test, become made men.

Papa will be proud. Mamma will be relieved I survived. Catalina will ask when she’s getting the diamond ring I promised her.

As soon as we’re initiated, I can start making real money.

It’s a massive load off that they’re on a boat somewhere in the Mediterranean right now. No one waiting for me back at the house or breathing down my neck.

Helicopter parents are the worst.

The only thing I gotta remember to do when this is done is take a shower and tuck the babies in. Adriano’s gonna be waiting up like he does. He’s a grumpy-ass old grandpa stuck in a ten-year-old’s body. The twins will be asleep, but I promised mamma I’d check on them every night.

Shivers shudder through me and I roll my shoulders.

I need to move. I’m ready. Been ready for a long time.

Yes, that’s pretty fucked up. Seventeen and primed for violence. That’s just the life.

That’s what it means to be a Diamante.

“There they are. Right on time.”

“Should we wait, see if they leave an opening, or just go in guns blazing?” Domenico’s finicky, twitching in his seat.

“Your call, Dom, Uncle said you lead.” He’s two years older than me, so he’s supposed to be in charge. Even if our great-uncle Giancarlo thinks I’d be a better captain someday. I disagree. I’ve always deferred to Dom. He’s my best friend. He’s my cousin, but we’re brothers.

He’s brazen, doesn’t hold back like I do. Sometimes that means he doesn’t think things through. That’s why we work so well together.

Tonight, he’s deferring to me, though, something that rarely happens. “We can’t afford to mess this up. These pezzi di merda have been smuggling girls through our fucking territory.”

“I agree.”

“Fuck it. You take the left side. Don’t let them make it to the truck.”

We’re sprinting through the dark, two shadows of death in the night.

My blood is on fire by the time I reach the side of the building. Two leather-jacketed weasel-looking fucks are guarding the door when it opens and their captain stumbles out, drunk, a lit cigarette hanging from his lip.

“Le’s get dis fucking delivery over with, eh?” He laughs, slapping one of his boys on the back.

It’s the kind of moment that sears itself into your brain. I’ll never forget it.

Dom is the blur of motion I see bolting toward them from the alley. He rails one of the guards across the head with rebar, splashing the wall with the guy's brains.

All at once they’re panicking, reaching for their guns.

My legs are kicking off and pushing me forward before I can think. Slow motion. Fast forward. Weird how your mind works when the adrenaline hits.

Dom fires a shot, the one on my right goes down.

Then it’s just the boss standing like a mook in the doorway, holding his piece in a limp grip, staring right at me like I’m the angel of death. I plant my heel into his chest plowing him back into the room, smashing the table.

Everything goes real quiet.

I should be excited. But there’s this sinking feeling in my stomach.

He’s bumbling, shouting, crying. I really want him to stop. To face this like a man.

Dom’s yelling my name, far off, like in another world. I should go.

So I point my gun right into the piss-soaked thug’s face.

I don’t really even remember pulling the trigger. Just the blood. So much blood all over me.

The next thing I know, I’m back in the car, we’re rocketing down the 6. “Fucking movie shit, the way you came at them Aless, you’re a goddamn terror! I have never seen anybody so scared.”

His hyena cackle raises the hairs on the back of my neck.

“How many we get?” It’s an empty question, but the only thing I can think of.

“I took the two guards, the driver. You got the leader. Fuck!” He hammers the steering wheel with his hand, bouncing in his seat. “We finally did it, boy. You and me.”

“You and me, damn straight,” I try to match his enthusiasm, but something doesn’t sit right. I shake it off, put on a smile.

Dom takes us out to the docks, we sit on the hood of the car, and he opens a bottle of scotch that he probably stole from one of our uncles. “A toast. To you, Alessandro!”

“Ha! And to you, Domenico. You’re gonna be the king one day.”

“You’ll be right there by my side, brother. With your beautiful bride. I only hope I get so lucky one day!”

“What woman could resist you, Dom?”

“That’s the problem, every old guido’s daughter wants to shack up with me. I need a queen, Aless!”

“You need to get your head out of the clouds, man.”

“Nah. One day … I’m gonna have it all.”

We sit there like that for hours. The scotch stops burning after the fourth or tenth swig. Dom’s six sheets to the wind by the time we turn in, so I drive us home in the early hours before dawn.

That nagging feeling chases me all the way.

It’s not the kill. It’s not the lack of thrill I feel for something I’ve waited so long for.

It’s not until we reach the compound, the estate, that I realize what I’m feeling.

My nonna always called it il cruccio. Her trial.

The worry she always felt when a loved one was in danger. Or worse. She said she could die for the ache of not knowing.

We come in the back like always, in the dark. I let Dom run off to the clubhouse, tell him I’ll be right there. He’ll want to get the notoriety, the pats on the back from the big guys, Lito and Tony, his cousins. They’ll still be up playing cards.

I need to check in on the boys. Make sure they’re safe.

That’s when I see that the lights are on in the house. Everyone is up. Noise. Voices.

Adriano’s standing in the doorway of the sunroom, at the back door when I cross the lawn. He looks so small, especially with a six-year-old in his arms. Ciro is fast asleep. Adriano stares right at me, doesn’t even flinch when he sees my shirt, spattered in gore. Fiero’s standing right next to him, sucking his thumb. He’s been crying.

“Come on, Ero.” I pick him up, pulling Adriano close to my side.

The kitchen door hangs open, ajar.

“What do we tell him, Gian?” My great-aunt Eva’s voice trembles. “How do we tell him?!”

“Tell me what?” My voice rings hollow in my head, and I draw my little brothers closer to me. The elders are all there, gathered around the table like some holiday meeting.

Every face is grim.

“Ay! Mio bambino …” Aunt Eva hides her face, sobbing into her handkerchief.

Uncle Giancarlo nods, the way he does when he’s got a decision to make. Solemn. Whether it’s a call to end a life, or which meat he wants on his sandwich. Always thoughtful. Always careful. Always stern.

“Mio figlio,” he mumbles, opening his arms to me. It means everything for him to make that gesture. In this way, on this night.

It means I’m a man.

But tonight …

It’s an apology, as well. I feel his arms encircle me, pull me close as I start to shake.

“Mamma? Papa?” It’s all I manage past the raw panic choking me.

“And Catalina, buon anima.”

God rest their souls.

1

ALESSANDRO

“Idon’t like this.”

“You don’t like anything, Adri!” Ciro snorts, flipping one of his knives over in his palm.

“Seriously. Everybody calls me the hateful one …” Fiero paces, like he does. It’s not nervous, it’s feral. Sometimes he scares me. “You could kill a guy just staring at him like that, Adri.”

Adriano runs his tongue over his teeth. He hates when the twins call him that.

“Someone has to make sure we all stay on task, Ero. Otherwise, you two would just murder everything in sight.”

“And then go catch a movie, or maybe hit the club!” Ciro quips. Ma always called him her little giullare. Jester. Quick with a joke. Always smiling.

Not like he’s any less violent than Ero. Who hasn’t smiled since the day our parents died.

I suppose that’s my fault.

Raising the three of them while coming up in the family nearly broke me. They saw blood on my shirt and on my hands from my first hit and on. Their own hands were stained far too soon after.

“Are you gonna fucking torture me or what?” The man strapped to the chair coughs out a gout of blood and spittle.

“He makes a valid point. Finish beating the answers out of him and be done with it,” Adriano orders.

“Patience and pain, my friend. Both like wine. Let it rest. Savor the taste.” Ciro kisses his fingertips. “Not my best work, but you get the idea.”

“You do your best work in your sleep. Only time you stop talking,” Ero deadpans, clacking the pliers in his hands.

The bloodied and swollen assassin shivers, his bluster gone.

He knows who he’s dealing with. Everyone breaks for the Diamantes.

“Get it done. Now.” That's all I have to say to snap them back to attention, crossing my arms and turning away.

Adriano usually keeps them on task for me, but I am in charge. Even if I’ve only been the boss for a few years now, in practice. It’s official, now that Uncle Giancarlo kicked it last week. Well, now that someone killed him.

Which also marked the start of shit going downhill.

Truth be told, it started when Aunt Eva died. Dom’s great-aunt, married to my grandfather’s brother. The ties holding the age-old families of the Diamantes and the Viperas together.

Tensions are rising in the family and with our allies and our rivals. Several prominent members of our “community” have gone missing, disappeared. All of it reeks of an inside job.

Intimate knowledge of our business, the way we move our people.

And Dom? Gone without a trace.

It all seems to be aimed at one thing: making me look incompetent. Weakening my rule. So naturally, I suspect him.

“Who killed Don Giancarlo, Griko? Did someone hire your people to do it?” Adriano asks again.

“Fuck yo—Ahh!” A sickening pop marks another finger pulled out of the socket. “D-doesn’t matter. You’re all screwed. Nobody crosses the Lysis!”

“Oh well, in that case …” Ciro rises, rolling his eyes. He spins unbelievably fast, his hand lashing out. The poor bastard doesn’t even have a chance to scream, can’t make a sound when he sees his own eyeball bounce off the floor ahead of him.

The screams start a second later.

We picked him up trying to recruit on our turf. It’s out of place for one of the Greeks, the Lysi hitmen. The Greek order is supposed to be neutral, weapons for hire.

If they’ve taken a side, it’s a real fucking problem.

Fiero is convinced every infraction lately has been made by the same group. A new gang.

If he’s right, they’re subtle. They’ve got good leadership, too.

These new gangbangers are scraping away at our flanks, wearing us down. Like it’s their mission to see us fall.

“All we need is a name. Who took him out? Or should I sic my little brother on you; he’s not nearly as nice as I am.” Ciro flicks little splatters of blood into the guy’s face. We’ve always called Fiero the youngest, even though they’re the same age.

I’m pretty sure Ciro came out last, actually. He’s been trying to make up for it ever since.

“I-I’ll tell you … just please⁠—”

“Maybe he can’t see what I’m tryin’ to say, Ero. Should we feed him back his eye, maybe then he can digest the situation?”

“Your jokes are the real torture,” Ero grumbles.

“How about this … we’ll let you go if you promise to take a message back to the shitbag who killed our uncle. Tell him we’re gonna find him and chop his fucking head off,” Ciro sings, flipping his knife.

“O-okay …” He raises his head, a sliver of defiance, hope.

“Just make sure you leave us a forwarding address when you go.” Ero is deadpan, ice-cold.

“W-why?” The man is delirious.

“So we can mail you back all your body parts.” Ero takes the guy’s middle finger off at the knuckle, the pliers clacking in a sickening squelch. “Shit. he blacked out.”

I inhale, trying to keep my cool. My hands twitch, eager to do the deed myself. My brothers should see what a real master can do to get information. But I need to let them do their jobs.

“Wake him up,” I snap.

There are flaws to torture, though it’s absolutely necessary. The problem is, it doesn't always get you the answers you want, but it gets you something.

Thing is, when they start begging to stop, when they start promising to tell you answers; it usually means that they're full of shit. They're not really at their breaking point yet. So that’s when I step out of the room for an hour or two. Smoke a cigarette. Take a walk.

“Take your time, get him to come around. Adriano, with me. You two, keep working him over when he’s up. But do not kill him, understood?”

“Yes, Don Alessandro,” Ciro mocks, saluting me. Ero just stares at me.

“I need to know who killed Giancarlo. Tonight.”

I take a deep breath as soon as we reach the top of the stairs to the old, stone basement.

Fresh air clears my head. The docks this time of night are chilly, refreshing. My breath fogs as I light a cigarette.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do even if we get a name? We get revenge, sure. Still leaves us looking weak for not protecting our own, for allowing a hit on an elder.”

“The family wants reassurances. With intel, you can take action. Or at least say you’re going to.” Adriano is all facts. Useful. Sometimes annoyingly frank.

“Empty promises so far.”

“Everyone trusts you, Alessandro.” Adriano is a solid second. He’s always been levelheaded. Not to say he’s above putting his fist through some guy’s teeth for mouthing off.

He’s no Dom, though. Not that I hold that against him. Adriano didn’t want his job any more than I wanted mine, initially.

Giancarlo chose me, though. And Domenico accepted it.

At first.

It never sat well with him getting second prize. I guess that’s why he left. Just up and vanished one day, a few months after Eva’s funeral. Heard he was last seen in Italy, near his family’s old estate in Veneto a few months back.

Only recently has it started to itch at me, all these coincidences.

But Dom is family, practically my own blood.

Another muffled scream echoes up from the basement of the warehouse. Again, I’m tempted to go down there and do the work myself. I’ve never been afraid of getting my hands dirty. God knows Dom and I did our fair share of ruthless shit to get answers.

Adriano would say that I need to project authority, let my people do their jobs. Like I don’t know that.

But they’re still my little brothers.

Fucking sentimental bullshit.

“Call Tomas and see if they released the body. We need to hold the funeral. Make a show of family unity.”

“Already on it. The wives have the preparations for the reception in hand.” Adriano ticks his head to the right, cracking his neck.

“Sorry,” I chuckle at his discomfort.

“For what?”

“For having to deal with that rabble. No doubt they let you have it about how you don’t have a wife yet yourself. Who’d they promise to set you up with this time?” I smirk, imagining him facing down the wives’ club.

“Giuseppe's youngest daughter. And her older sister, for you!” Adriano spits, shaking his head.

“Fuck me.” The girl is a neurotic nightmare. Just like her dad. Good accountant, though.

“The family’s a lot more worried about you taking a bride and cranking out some bambinos than me, you know.” Adriano’s sly smile makes me want to punch him.

“Don’t fucking remind me. Come on. If he’s not talking by now, I’m going to end this.” I snuff the embers of my cigarette on the ground and head back in.

The scent in the room has changed. A sickly stench lingers from stress and sweat. All threaded with that metallic, coppery scent of blood. Gets my heart pumping.

“So.” I crack my knuckles.

“So, he said he knows who killed our great-zio. Wanted to tell you himself.” Ciro’s got a ring of sweat around his collar, his knuckles nicked, bruised.

Leaning down, I get right in what’s left of the street thug’s face. Fucker soiled himself at some point. “Well, Griko? Tell me, and this stops. You can go home. Which one of your men did it? And who hired them?” I drop my tone to a gravelly bass. It’s not an ask, it’s a command.

My greatest talent has always been my words. My voice.

When I say something, people believe it. Even if it’s a bold-faced lie.

I can almost feel Adriano’s discomfort. He hates when I use that tone. Ciro clams up, losing his permanent grin.

Calm. Quiet. Smooth.

Deadly.

“No hit. No hire. He did it himself. Just came to us for advice.” I can barely make out the words through the gurgle of blood.

“Who?”

“D-Domenico Vipera. He killed Giancarlo.”

A chill snakes down my spine at the words. Even though I suspected it. I hoped it wasn’t true.

The boys are cleaning up, packing their shit. We’ve got work to do.

“What do you want me to do with him?” Ciro cocks his gun meaningfully.

“Cut him loose, like I said.” I back off, uncuffing my sleeves and putting on my coat.

“Seriously?” Ciro gives me that look.

“Yes. He gave up a client. He’s as good as dead the minute he leaves here.”

I have no idea how right I am. We’re halfway to the car, shoving the beaten, wasted and bloody wreck of a man ahead of us when the shot rings out over the water, taking the Greek assassin in the head.

And we’re in the car speeding back to the compound before I can process the fact that someone knew where we were, and they were waiting for us.

The Diamantes aren’t safe.

My family is in danger.

2

ISABELLA

“Come on, Vitelli. Where the hell are you?” Sitting at this cafe all morning is making my back ache. The white metal chairs aren't meant for long-term comfort, apparently.

And the way my day is going, it’s looking like a huge waste of time.

The guy might not even be staying at the luxurious hotel across the street. But my gut is rarely wrong.

It's what would make me an incredible reporter if I could do something other than this vapid tabloid garbage that I currently do for a living.

At least it pays the bills.

My apartment in Rome is not cheap. Fortunately, my editor pays top dollar for photos of lewd public acts by celebrities, scandals, and the like. Politicians, musicians, and in this case, sports stars. Their dalliances are all the rage for our readers, the typical crap you see on the newsstand.

Which is another problem altogether. I’m stuck in a dying medium. One I fell in love with when I was younger, thinking I could be a real journalist—a reporter, traveling the world.

The only real truth I’ve uncovered so far is that the average movie star likes to cheat on their spouse. That and the fact that my dream was a little misguided.

And the truth shall … set you up for disappointment.

At my core, though, I am a sleuth. And I am so very passionate about my work, any work I set my mind to. I love to uncover the hidden facts, hunt down leads, and solve mysteries.

Which is why I almost became a cop like my brother and my father.

“There you are, Arturo … who were you visiting at such a fancy hotel in the middle of the day?”

I snap a few photos, catching him looking around, checking to see if he’s recognized in his hat and sunglasses. Nothing to see, Vitelli. Your secret’s safe with me. Not Mario, though. My boss is going to roast you on the front page.

Especially if he was hooking up with who I think he was.

Only a moment later, a woman exits the building in much the same way, almost laughably goose-necking, a nervous tension to her pose. She spots him and hustles down the street in her high heels to catch him a block later, pulling him into an alley, pushing him up against the wall, and kissing him.

No one notices the woman standing across the street, just a tourist, snapping shots of the architecture. I zoom in, catching him smiling, laughing, and protesting her being so bold in public.

Her identity isn’t exactly important to the scoop, but I am curious. Her scarf, glasses, and her hand blocking the sun's rays have kept me from getting a good look.

All that aside, what is most important is that Arturo Vitelli, a world-famous soccer player slated to be heading to the World Cup in a few weeks, is running around on his pregnant wife.

It makes me feel like just as much of a sleazebag for hunting him down for juicy gossip.

She drops her hand, letting him pull off her glasses, and I almost gasp.

Her name isn’t particularly important, her last name is.

Mira Petrona.

Her husband owns half the banks in the country. And he is rumored to be highly influential in parliament. As in, he is best friends with our prime minister.

His young trophy wife is clearly interested in more than just politics. She’s also flaunting herself out here for anyone to see, for the papers to snap a photo.

My investigative brain goes wild, wondering if she’s doing it on purpose or out of blind passion. I’ve found that most people are either calculating, hyper-aware of how their actions might be seen, or they’re oblivious—so self-centered that they don’t think it matters.

Either way, she’ll be in the news for this in no time.

Spilling the story first will get me a bonus. More papers sold and more site subs means I get to keep my job too.

They split up after another long, sloppy kiss, all caught on my DSLR.

“Where are you headed, Mira?” I mutter, losing interest in Vitelli. He’s no use to me without a secret lover. But she’s tied to even more interesting people, bigger fish with bigger dirt.

She’s clearly up to something, so I follow, keeping enough distance to stay out of sight. Mira stays oblivious, however, clearly engrossed in her own thoughts and where she’s headed.

Three blocks along, I start to doubt that this tail will turn up anything until she turns into a bar—a seedy-looking place that has seen better days. And the type of place she wouldn’t normally be caught dead in.

Slipping my camera into my bag, I alter my tourist get-up a bit, losing my scarf and accessories to better blend in on the back streets of Rome. These are the streets I grew up playing on, a cop’s daughter on a government salary. We did okay, but I was always rambunctious, wanting to play soccer with the boys, or do anything outdoors that I could.

Inside the bar I catch a glimpse of the mogul’s wife, walking through the place toward the back door.

I know the area well enough to circle around to the alleyway out back where I see her look around nervously and shake hands with a nicely dressed, older man. A man well known in some circles of business as a shark.

They exchange words, tense and professional.

I manage a quick snap of them, then another as she passes a file folder to him. Just inside the edge of the papers I zoom in on, I can see the corner of her husband’s company logo.

“Porca vacca,” I whisper, snapping a few more shots.

She’s selling insider info!

My mother would throw a fit if she heard me using that language. But most news channels would pay a pretty penny for a story like this. Not mine, but maybe Mario will put me in touch with one of his contacts …

I jot down my notes, the names and locations on my way back to the office, excitement putting a bounce in my step. This could be something, a little boost to get me on the right track to actual reporting.

“Isabella! You get me those photos I asked for?” His tone catches me off guard as I cross the bullpen, souring my high a little.

“Don’t I always?” I brush off Mario’s surly nature and bushy mustached scowl.

I slip into his office, taking a seat across from him as he sits back down.

“I’ll Dropbox the rest for you as soon as I get back to my desk, but here are the roughs.” I slide the photos to him.

“Oh si, cavolo! This is the good stuff! You’ve got the front page again, Isa. Not only the proof of an affair, but a smooch too? You’re a champion!”

“Thanks, boss, but that’s not all. You’re not going to believe what happened after this.”

He perks up, looking intrigued. “Please tell me they have a third in their relationship! A three-way would practically sell us right off the shelf!”

“Um … no. I followed Mira Petrona.”

“Oh, really?” I’ve got him, he raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Yeah, she went to another meeting right after she hooked up with Vitelli.”

“Are you telling me she has another lover? She's sleeping around with two celebrities? Who's the other guy? Is he a famous movie star? Musician?”

“No. It’s even juicier than that. She met with Valdo Anders, from Enco Financial. She's selling insider information to her husband’s rivals. The wife of the CEO!”

Mario's wide-eyed expression goes vacant right before he flaps his lips, sifting through the photos and throwing them right in the trash.

“Nope. No way. Not this crap again.” He shakes his head, scowling. “Isabella, how many times do I have to tell you to stop digging up dirt that doesn't sell papers?”

“It does sell papers. This is groundbreaking stuff. This is headline news.”

“Sorry, I meant our papers. We don't sell headline news, Isabella. We sell shit.”

“Maybe I don't want to sell shit.”

“Too bad. That's what I pay you for. You give me dirt on people. But not this kind of dirt. Give me the juicy stuff. The kissing and fucking in dark corners. Give me topless girls closing the hotel curtains on an affair, get me models having nip slips at the beach.” He crosses his arms and gives me that flat stare I hate.

“Come on, Mario, it wouldn't be that far off base for us to publish this.”

“You know what I'm gonna say. I'm happy to have you around. You take great photos. You do good work, you make deadlines. What you do on your own time is your business. But when you keep spending company time doing this shit, it's hard to justify that to my superiors.”

“Mario, come on! Just look at the pictures. This is insider trading! Collusion or industrial sabotage. Don’t you know the editor of the Corriere della Sera? This could be a front-page story in the actual paper.”

“Oh, so you’re too good for our little enterprise now?”

“Don’t give me that crap Mario. Help me out.”

“No can do, Isa. You gotta quit pushing the envelope here.”

“What are you saying?” 

“I’m saying, give me a nasty scoop. I’ll keep the good photos of Mira and Vitelli and pretend the others don’t exist. Now get out of my office and find me some alien abduction wack job or Frank Sinatra's back from the dead type story to put on page four!”

I try not to storm out like a prima donna, but I'm about to explode. I am so sick and tired of this tabloid shithole.

I scoot into the tiny office I share with Galo, one of our writers, cramming myself behind my desk. May as well be a broom closet.

But at least I can close the door and shut everybody out. Half of the bullpen is a bunch of high-strung assholes gossiping and talking as much trash about each other as they do about the celebrities that we take pictures of.

“One of these days I swear I'm gonna find a story that matters. One of these days …”

“Yeah, and maybe I'll become the next Italy's Top Model.” Galo giggles, rolling his eyes as he ticktacks away on his computer.

“They’d be lucky to have you on the catwalk, Galo,” I laugh, worrying over the disaster that is my desk. 

“Someone’s a hot mess, today.”

“Shut up, Galo.”

“I swear, you just set yourself up for this shit, little miss Bella. Expectations, expectations. Just give into the gossip and be a media whore like the rest of us!”

“You’re such a bitch, Galo.”

“Says the grumpiest hen in the henhouse,” he pouts.

“You’re welcome to go ‘cluck’ yourself.”

“I’d love to, but I have work to do. That is, if you got the scoop on Vitelli? Give me your notes and hush.”

Galo writes the bulk of my work, the stories I track down. He's the best we have. I don't understand how he cranks out the word count that he does. The articles he writes are actually readable, funny even.

But he wants to be doing this for a living.

“Ragazza, one of these days you're gonna get fired. Or maybe you should give it up, quit, and try something else before that happens. Pursue your passion.”

“You know it’s not that easy.”

“Isn’t it? Didn’t your uncle leave you some money? Take a year off and get your shit together.”

“I need to break into real journalism to pursue my passion, Galo. Break open a real case about something that matters.”

“Right, because journalism is thriving in the world today. I meant the other passion.”

He's right. Journalism's going right down the toilet.

And he’s right about my real passion, my dreams that seem to have taken a back seat the past few years. I want to help people.

My father was a police officer. My brother was a police officer. I imagined as a little girl that I would make my way into law enforcement. Until losing both of them just about killed my mamma.

So I promised her I wouldn’t go to the academy.

It’s a boys’ club, anyway.

It doesn’t mean that I can’t use my talents and my skills to do something along those lines, however. Papa taught me how to investigate, fostering my interest in mysteries. I was always focused, never letting anything go until I got to the bottom of it. In my studies, at school, with my friends.

They used to call me Detective Isabella.

What I’d really like to be is a private investigator. I am trying to become one.

It’s just that starting my own business is daunting. Overwhelming. That and people don’t trust someone without a resume. I’ve even developed a pretty good rapport with some informants, shady guys that move info on the streets. It’s taking a long time, but it’s helped me keep this job in the meantime.

I'm tapping my pen on the desk when I notice Galo staring at me. His head cocked to the side, that annoyed look in his eyes.

“Sorry.”

“Oh no, don't mind me.” He turns back around. “Oh, yeah, you had a phone call earlier.” He keeps typing, leaving the announcement hanging.

“From … ?”

“I don't know. Some shady sounding motherfucker. He said he had a ‘tip for you.’ I almost laughed, since I know you haven’t had a date in months.”

“Ugh, you’re a pig! Did he tell you what the ‘tip’ was?”

Galo snickers. “Yes. He told me what it was.” Sifting through the notes stuck to his screen, he plucks one off. “Um … found a lead on the guy you were looking for.” I asked him who and he told me to mind my business and tell you that ‘he was spotted.’”

“Spotted where?”

“Like I know? God, you’re such a nag. No wonder you don’t have a man.” He grins, clearly savoring this torture.

“Galo.” I shoot daggers at him. “Give me the damn note.”

He tosses it at me and spins around, slipping up and out the door. “Ugh. I need coffee.”

Found a lead on the guy you were looking for. He was spotted in Spain. Train station. Left a photo at the usual spot. Do not call me again.

A lead.

A real lead on something I’ve been working on in my free time. A project that has left me at dead ends over and over again.

It’s been my mission ever since my brother died.

To find the man who took his life. Alessandro Diamante, an elusive and mysterious criminal and suspected head of one of the most infamous crime families in history.

Twenty minutes and a couple of bus stops later, I have the photo in my hand, a slightly blurry print of a CCTV camera shot. A tall, broad-shouldered man in sunglasses and a long coat. He’s incredibly handsome. And he’s boarding a train.

The only clue.

It lights a fire in my belly, igniting my anger and drive to act.

Galo is right. It’s time for me to make a move. To go for it.

I’m going after Diamante, exposing him for the criminal he is. I’m going to nail that piece of shit to the wall.

3

ALESSANDRO

The old world has always enchanted me.

The way the architecture persists, the old ways, the culture, and the slow pace of the people. They treasure their history, their roots. None of this “toss out the old for the new.”

Maybe that makes me old-fashioned.

Sentimental.

The older I get, the more I appreciate the artistry, style, consistency, and quality. This new school of thugs, gangsters, and criminals doesn’t have a clue what it’s really about.

To be part of something like our family.

An institution.

A force to be reckoned with.

“For fuck’s sake, Alessandro, you sound like a maudlin old man …” I mutter to myself, turning away from the view from my luxurious hotel suite window.

It’s one of ours, this and so many other hotels across Europe. It’s a source of revenue, and handy for when I need to travel. Especially when I need to stay undetected, untraced.

My ping-ponging retreat across the globe on my way to my temporary hiding spot is exhausting.

All so I can go hide my head in the sand like a fucking coward. A necessary evil.

It goes against every fiber of my being.

As does the act of pampering and reassuring our allies in every city along the way. Coddling these so-called leaders of industry, these made men serving our enterprise, who need me to hold their hands and tell them everything will be alright.

Many, however, are distant relatives, true members of our family from generations back. Sworn to the Diamantes and our way of life.

Meeting with them cements our ties and ensures support. Like my meeting today, with my aunt’s cousin. Or maybe he’s my cousin’s uncle-in-law?

Regardless, it serves two purposes, meeting with Beto Salvatori and his daughter.

At 39, I’m the oldest single don to take over the family. I couldn’t really care less about it, and age shouldn’t matter to do my job as our leader.

Except that it’s also part of my job to appease the elders.

To wed, produce an heir, continue the Diamante bloodline.

It’s tradition. It’s our legacy.

And it’s fucking annoying.

Uncle Giancarlo hammered our culture and traditions into us growing up—the importance of maintaining our way of life. I understand all too well the significance of family, surrounding yourself with your blood.

Nothing can touch you when you’re shielded with that kind of loyalty.

Unless one of them turns.

A knock at the door pulls me back to the issues at hand, away from my seething rage toward Domenico Vipera. My fingertips press into the bridge of my nose, relieving the headache already forming behind my eyes.

“Come.”

"Alessandro Diamante, my boy! My friend, mio fratello, my cousin, how are you?”

Beto Salvatori storms into the room, his girth and presence warm and boisterous. He was always a jolly man, making all of us kids laugh growing up.

“Zietto, so good to see you again.” We shake hands, hug, then he bows to kiss my ring.

“Too long, my friend, too long. Not since you were just a little bambino, I have not seen you.”

“And since you had far less gray hair!” I prod, and he claps me on the back, chortling.

“You used to be such a jokester, a little pagliaccio. Teasing your father, your mother, Dio rest their souls.”

Some of these traditions, like meeting with family I haven’t seen in years, still sting. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t speak of my parents ever again.

Mamma, Papa. Catalina.

Just scars that fester. But they give me anger and drive me to do what must be done.

“Let us go sit in the parlor, have some espresso, and get down to business,” I deflect, gesturing.

“Ah, there’s the stern, serious Don Alessandro I’ve heard so much about.” Beto settles down on one of the love seats, taking up most of the couch by himself. “Business, business, but what of the matters of love? I think you will be very impressed with my daughter. She is a true beauty. One that will captivate your heart.”

“I'm sure she's lovely, Beto. How old is she?” I try to keep my voice casual, almost disinterested.

“She has but 20 years, but that is a beneficio! That many more years of her staying like a pretty jewel, and so many years to give you heirs.” He winks conspiratorially.

“Hmm. You make a good point.” The same point every one of my potential brides’ families try to hammer home.

“You must make sons, daughters, a family of your own, then you will understand! Grow the family, enjoy it. It’s the lifeblood, nephew, the joy of the world.

I keep my expression schooled, as pleasant as possible.

The thought of kids makes me want to toss Beto out the fucking window into the canal. Raising my three brothers was a trial; one I didn’t take lightly or refuse. But it changed me. Aged me inside.

Not to mention the horrible things I’ve done contrasted with the idea of a baby, that innocence tarnished by my blood-stained hands.

It’s my duty, though.

“I would be honored for you to introduce me to your daughter.”

We both stand as he hollers for one of his men to see her in. Beto has always been laid back on rules and hierarchy, much to Giancarlo’s dismay. It doesn’t bother me, the way he dismisses protocol and defers to me.

He’s my elder after all.

Even if I am his don, it pays to show respect, especially since he’s essentially trying to marry off his daughter to me. Better to behave as if he’s already my father-in-law.

Hell, who knows? Maybe I’ll settle for this one and be done with it.

She's exactly what I expected. Same as so many others.

Slender, generous curves complimented in current fashion—high-waisted dress pants and a top that shows off her midriff. She clearly cares about her appearance more than anything, her long black hair done up professionally for the occasion.

“Tesoro!” Beto hugs her as if they didn’t arrive together. He leans in close and I catch him muttering to her, “You really should have worn the dress.”

“Daddy, I’m a modern woman. Stop embarrassing me,” she hisses under her breath, preening under my gaze.

She is beautiful. Full lips. Long lashes. And a “fuck me” stare that has my cock hardening in my pants. She’s exactly the type of woman I’d take home from the club for a night of fun.

Which is about all I've been able to manage in the last twenty or so years since I lost Cata. One-night stands. Flirting and fucking and getting the hell out in the morning.

I enjoy a beautiful woman's presence. But it's always short lived.

I get sick of them. I have too much to do, and none of them are worth letting in.

“Veronica Salvatori, may introduce you to the infamous Don Alessandro Diamante.” He tilts his head meaningfully, as if to make the introduction official, to seal the deal.

Veronica looks me up and down, blatantly checking me out, lingering on my tight slacks, my crotch. Checking to see if Beto is watching, I flick my eyebrows up once, taunting.

Her lips curl ever so slightly, sensual and alluring. More likely ambitious for power and money hungry.

Veronica’s eyes flare as I stare her down. She likes what she sees.

“Don Diamante, it is so very nice to meet you.” Her every move is coy, smooth. As well as overly practiced and utterly vacant. Just like her stare. “I've heard so much about you. I'm very honored to meet you.”

She kisses my hand, lingering with her lips over my knuckles, dragging the bottom lip over my skin. It’s an invitation for later, the look in her eyes.

Tempting. At least for a night.

A smile pulls at those dark red lips as I look down her shirt, the edges of her nipples just barely showing over her push-up bra. She slowly raises back up, trying hard to catch my attention with her eyes.

We exchanged pleasantries for a while. I have some food brought up. Tea, espresso. She knows all the routines, the rituals, the proper seating posture. Which is a lot better than some of the women I've met with.

Most of them are vapid and social media obsessed.

Not to say Veronica isn’t like them in every other way. Every other reference out of her mouth has to do with some current celebrity. People that I couldn't give two shits about, most of whom I’ve never heard of.

Beto laughs at her anecdotes anyway, trying to ingratiate her to me through his own delight in his daughter.

It serves a purpose, at least, to keep her occupied if she winds up being my bride.

Something to keep her occupied. She’ll be obligated to mingle with the wives as well and handle organizing events and dinners too.

All of which will keep her out of my hair most of the time. Until we have three or four children to take up the rest of her time.

That’s just the way things have always been.

My mother was primarily tasked with providing children for my father, too. They loved each other, sure. But I know they were set up to be married, pressured and guided. She always spent the bulk of her time with us, especially once the twins were born.

Catalina joining the family was like giving her a gift: the daughter she never had.

And my father wanted them to have some time to get to know her better. I was supposed to go with them, until I got my orders to join Dom on that hit.

“Um … Don Diamante?” Veronica is looking at me expectantly.

“I'm sorry I was lost in thought. Forgive my distraction.”

“Always been a thinker, this one!” Beto teases me, covering for my lapse. “He's a smart man. Just like my Veronica. You are two peas in a pod, I can see it. She's so very intelligent. Tell him, tell him about your marks at the university. My daughter's getting the best education in the world. She will make a fine wife, a smart wife. Clever, too!”

“Thank you, Daddy.” She blushes.

That is good news, that she’s well educated. “Fascinating. What are you studying?”

“Fashion design for now. It piqued my interest last year when I went to Milan,” she brags, outright.

I can tell it’s a fickle thing, her interests change from moment to moment. Just like the boys that she probably hangs out with at the club, the guys she sucks off in the bathroom that her father never finds out about.

Sleeps around with her father’s men, too, probably.

I guess that’s not fair, but Adriano does his research and always gives me the lowdown on everyone I meet. Which is why I had already made up my mind about this meeting.

It doesn't do to piss off members of the family, however, so I still meet with them.

I just have to find the right moment to call them out, to find something wrong with the potential bride and send them on their way—maybe feeling cowed and a little chastised for wasting my time.

Just have to wait for an excuse …

“So, why don't you tell me a little more about yourself, Veronica?”

“Well, I travel a lot …”

I stop listening after two sentences.

She hits the hottest clubs in Rome. She stays at the nicest hotels. She clearly thinks that I care about class or whatever her daddy's money can buy her.

I catch bits and pieces, trying to keep my face looking interested as my mind wanders. All I can think is how vapid and hollow she is. Just like the rest of them.

I can't blame her. She's grown up a spoiled brat. The daughter of a banker, a mob banker, no less. Meaning she's never wanted for anything, and she's been sheltered her entire life.

My attention slips back to her as her tone shifts suddenly, like she’s telling me some juicy secret.

“My daddy's boys beat up the last guy I dated. He was running around on me, cheating. So we showed him. Not that I would mind if you had other girls when we’re married, but no low-class fuck-boy should dare to cross me, you know?”

It doesn’t shock me that Salvatori would order his men to do it. I’d probably send some guys to scare my daughter's boyfriend, too.

But as the way she says it. The way she brags. I lean into it, egging her on. “Oh, yeah? What else does your daddy do for you?”

“Oh, he takes care of everything. He sometimes even lets me tag along on raids or hits as long as I stay in the car.” Her eyes are as wide as saucers as she says it.

“Tell me more. What's, what's the craziest thing you've ever done?”

“One time, I tagged along with Vito, Daddy’s right-hand guy. He let me hold the gun and everything. I couldn't stop bragging about it to my girlfriends.”

“I’ll bet. Your girlfriends are going to freak out when they hear you met me, huh?” I’m being so obvious that she has to know I’m fucking with her.

Instead, her eyes light up like I just asked her to tell me what she got for Christmas.

“Absolutely. They're going to shit their pants when they find out. My girlfriend Rita, she's already jealous. Bitching to everybody about how I'm going to be a don's wife. You know?”

“Very interesting,” I mutter, right before my tone shifts to ice cold. “So, your father approves of you sharing family secrets with people outside the organization?”

Beto locks up, his back straightening.

His lips twitch in a nervous smile as he looks at his daughter, warning her with his eyes. She's oblivious.

“What do you mean? I tell whoever I want whatever the fuck I want and I’ll do even more once I'm married to you. Nobody will fuck with you, right? Or your wife!”

“That's right. Nobody fucks with me. Least of all some spoiled brat rich girl who can't keep her fucking mouth shut.”

Beto breaks out in a sheen of sweat and his daughter’s smile drops, realization hitting her like a punch to the gut.

“I've heard enough. I appreciate you coming by, Salvatori. You've always been a good friend of the family, but I suggest that you send your daughter somewhere where she can get some proper training before she gets married off. Running her mouth like that will get someone killed. Probably you.”

Beto melts, fumbling over himself and kneeling before me. “I'm so sorry. Please, please give us another chance! My daughter she's—she can be careless with her words, b-but she's a good, um a good⁠—”

“A good what? Child?”

“Yes …” He looks confused.

“Yes, she is absolutely that. A child. See yourselves out.”

And like that, it's over. Beto begs my forgiveness and promises the moon, his unwavering loyalty.

“You know, she would have fallen in line with very little effort. Had a spectacular set of tits.” Adriano’s voice startles me.

“Fucking asshole. Don’t sneak up on me. I don't have the time or energy to put towards training a wife.” I pound back the shot of espresso and head to my room to finish packing.

“You’re going to have to pick one eventually.”

“Maybe once we’re not trying to prevent a war.”

“So, never?”

“Shut the fuck up. You have the tickets?”

“Flight leaves in an hour. No rush, though. We’ll drive straight onto the tarmac.”

The car is waiting out front and does just as Adriano said. He’s always spot-on with the details, making sure everyone falls in and gets their job done. He’d make one hell of a replacement for me someday. Tight ship. Our men adore him, even though he’s relatively quiet.

It’s the kind of presence that makes people underestimate him.

Until he follows through, until they see how consistent and fair he is. And deadly.

Unlike me. I’m a lion prowling. I rarely roar, but I don’t have to.

I’ve earned my place and their respect time and again.

Adriano’s a panther—cool, calculating.

“How the fuck do you do that?” I elbow him as we exit the car in the open hangar. He blends in instantly with the people around us. He's almost my height, broader build. Yet, I stand out like a sore thumb everywhere I go.

Mostly because women can't stop looking at me. Curse my father’s good looks.

“How the fuck do I do what?” A hint of a smile plays at the edges of his lips.

“Never mind. Let’s get this over with.”

The flight is a short one. Followed by a drive, another flight.

I hate every second of it. Leaving my people in the trenches, like bait to draw out our enemies.

“Relax. You know we have to do this.” Adriano scans the tarmac, constantly taking notes in his head.

“I don’t have to like it. Looks like I’m running, hiding.” I crack my neck side to side.

“Do I need to remind you what happened at the compound?” Adriano never raises his voice, but he has a way of getting under my skin, making the things he says matter with just the slightest inflection.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You're lucky your decoy was wearing his vest.”

“Send him a bonus check when we get through this,” I snap.

“Will do, but that’s not the point. It’s the optics on everything. Ero tracked down the shooter. Backlash is that too many people know about the threat on your life. Gives us a good excuse for you to take a trip, though.”

“And making an example of anyone who makes a play on my life buys us time. No one will make a move after Ciro and Ero are done with them.” A shiver slips down my spine at the thought. Not for the piece of shit they’ll go to work on. Just the idea of being on the receiving end of their vengeance.

“For those who think he shot you, it also muddies the waters. The more time we buy the better. That’s the goal.”

“Hope they don’t make too much of a show of it.”

Adriano just shrugs. “I blame the asshole who raised them.”

“Not funny. Those boys are a fucking menace.”

“Just keep your head down for a little while, Aless. Next time we might not be so lucky.”

4

ALESSANDRO

“I'm not wearing them.”

“You damn well better!” Adriano shouts from the other room.

“The hat’s bad enough, but the glasses? I look like the fucking nutty professor.”

Adriano glances in, giving me that sly look like he's about to crack a joke, eyeing my waistline.

“Not that one, you jackass. The old one that Uncle G made us watch.”

“I don't know, Alessandro. I think it makes you look almost intelligent.”

“Oh, gee, thanks because that's what I'm going for. I want to look real smart. Like your smart ass.”

Adriano chuckles, throwing on his jacket and heading for the door. He knows I’ll put up a fight, but ultimately he’ll win this argument. There’s no leaving the lodge unless I’m disguised to his satisfaction.

“Nobody in the village has seen one of our immediate family for twenty fucking years, Adriano.”

“Doesn’t matter. We can’t risk anyone knowing you’re here. It’s the only location no one inside or outside of the family knows about.”

“I’m sure there are hit men waiting right outside as we speak.”

“Throw a tantrum, fight it all you want. If you or I get made we’re fucked. News could get back to Dom or whoever is making a play on our turf and this is all for nothing.”

He’s right, of course.

“Melodramatic prima donna.”

“Unbearable man-child brat.”

“I’m seven years older than you.”

“Then act like it.”

“I’m only wearing this because I’m dying for a drink and bite to eat out somewhere.” Not that we don’t have an amazing cook at the lodge. Carla is incredible.

But I want to get out.

“Nothing fancy,” Adriano asserts as we bump down the mountain road toward the town.

“Hell no. I want some pub food and a beer or six.” My mouth is watering at the prospect of crap food and getting hammered.

“I saw a place like that on our way in.”

“Always lookin’ out. That’s why I keep you around.”

Our conversion drifts to silence as he takes the zigzagging turns that take us down the mountain. It’s a short drive, but treacherous even on a clear day, and today the wind is picking up.

“Looks like snow,” I murmur as we get out of the SUV in front of a quaint, mountain chalet-style pub.

“A little out of season this late. But the forecast says it could turn into a full-blown whiteout.”

“Great. I’ll just hibernate up in my den,” I grumble. The idea of days with nothing but free time feels oddly daunting. Most people would jump at the chance, but I haven’t had a real day off in years.

A few drinks later, I’m far less concerned, leaning back in my chair and laughing. The calzones and a glass of wine were just what I needed to feel warm, relaxed. Not thinking about our situation.

I’m even less worried by my fifth beer.

“Tha’s what I needed,” I declare, slamming my mug down. “Fucking stressful, lately, you know?”

“You don’t say? It’s definitely starting to show … all that gray at your temples.” Adriano runs his hand through his hair, the dark mess not showing a hint of change.

“What gray?! You shut your fucking mouth, little brother.” I point at him, glaring.

“Don’t worry, you only look a few years over forty.”

“I’ll show you forty! I’m thirty-nine, asshole.” I hop up striding toward the pool table. “You sound just like Ciro, always busting my ass, trying to get me riled.”

“Ciro wishes he was as funny as me. And maybe it’s for your own good. You’re too wound up. You barely let loose anymore.”

Like he has room to talk. Adriano is more business-minded than any of us.

“You are not wrong there. As always, you are the wise old seer of my court, Adri.”

He frowns at my comparison. And the nickname. 

“Come on, stregone! Show me your magic. Bet you can’t beat me.” He also hates when I call him that.

“I am going to teach you a lesson, and then I’m going to kick your sorry ass back to the lodge.”

I can tell he’s a little buzzed, showing just a hint of irritation. As much as he ever does.

He takes everything in stride most of the time.

“Oh wise Adriano, tell me what we will do to keep from going completely fucking nuts in the lodge for the next few weeks?” I rack the balls, choose a pool cue.

“I've got plenty to do. Reading, music. The lodge has a gym, too.” Adriano’s one of those guys who looks fit, until he takes his shirt off. Then he looks like fucking superhero movie.

“Good point. Seems like we never have enough time back home.”

“Exactly. I’m going to do some things that I never have time for because I'm always babysitting.” Adriano breaks, sinking two stripes.

“Speaking of the twins … how do you think they’re doing?”

“You need to give them a little more credit. They’re smarter than they let on.”

“I’ll give them more credit when they stop burning down nightclubs and getting arrested for public intoxication.” I take a shot, missing horribly.

“Says the guy who used to get wasted and fist fight for cash down at the docks.”

“That was only five or six times.” That he knows about. Dom and I must have fought half the city’s muscle over the years for a buck.

“It’s your own damn fault they keep doing it. You bought the first three nightclubs they trashed.”

“Better than dealing with the cops. But you’re right. I indulged them too much. Too bad they couldn’t join us up here.”

“Can you imagine the four of us cooped up for a week?”

“I think I’d murder the lot of you.”

A chuckle finds its way out, a real grin spreading on my face. I haven’t spent time with Adriano like this in so long.

Of course, three games in, I’m losing badly and cussing up a storm. “When did you get so fucking good?”

“You’re just out of practice.” Adriano shrugs, taking another shot of whiskey.

“I need another beer, then I’ll kick your ass.” I head toward the bar. More folks come in as I wait for my order, some shaking off fresh snowflakes from their coats. Wind rips in every time the door opens, frosty and bitter.

“Just my fucking luck. It has to start tonight, huh?”

“Supposed to go all night, maybe longer. You have a place to stay?” the bartender asks as he slides me my drink. “We have rooms upstairs.”

“Yeah. No, we’re up the mountain,” I answer offhandedly, leaning my arms on the worn wood bar.

He gives me a look of disbelief before setting down my drink and moving on.

Oh yeah. Nobody’s been there in years.

Except the staff that lives here in town most of the time. They’ve worked for my family for generations. And they’re sworn to secrecy about all of it. Can’t beat that kind of loyalty.

An older woman passes me on her way out with her husband. “You boys be careful tonight. Temperature’s dropping.”

She pats me on the back like she knows me, like I’ve lived here my entire life. That’s just Italy and small towns.

It’s charming.

Or I’m just too drunk to mind.

So many of our elders grew up here or have stories about it. It’s my culture.

And it’s nice not to be recognized as a powerful leader of a worldwide organization for a change.

“What are the odds that we get stuck at the lodge?” I ask Adriano, settling back down at our table.

“Hard to say. But we should head back pretty soon. Once I’m sober enough to drive, that is.”

“This place. It’s so laid back. Have you heard a single bit of news about us, the family, anything about our lives since we got here?”

“No. That’s a good thing. This is as removed from our world as it gets.”

Before long, it’s just the two of us, alone in the pool table room. Adriano usually waits for me bring up touchy subjects, but we’re drinking. It’s just the two of us.

“What do you think Domenico is trying to pull?” he asks.

“Knowing Dom? He wants it all. He's gonna try to take us for everything.”

“You really think so? I thought family would be worth more to him than that.”

“He's always been this way, impulsive. If he’s got it in his head that he wants what's mine, he's gonna do everything in his power to take it away from me.”

“I just find it hard to believe that he would turn on us like that.”

“I don't. Not after what happened. I was given his birthright. After everything the boss put us through, after all the hard work he did to prove himself. Giancarlo just pulled the rug out from under him. He took it too well at the time. Made me nervous.”

“Why did he put up with it at all?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he thought he’d try to play ball. Realized he couldn’t. If I could talk to him …” I take my shot, letting my thoughts wander.

“We could always try to send him a message,” Adriano offers.

“No. The only message that we're going to send him will be a bullet through the brain. He’s gone too far. He killed our uncle for fuck’s sake.”

“I say we sic the twins on him.” Adriano grins uncharacteristically.

I throw my head back, laughing. I'm buzzed enough that it gets to me. “Yeah, just let them annoy him to death. They come up with anything so far?”

“Ero will root him out. So far, though, nothing. It’s like chasing a ghost.”

“Like I said, when Dom wants to do something, when he puts his mind to it, there's nothing in the whole world that can stop him.”

Except for me. And I am going to stop him.

For now, we bide our time.

And before I know what I'm doing, I'm ordering us two more rounds of shots. The night blurs on, getting hazy. We play darts, another round of pool, challenge a couple of tourists to a card game and drink them under the table.

Feels like a life I was never allowed to have. Low stakes. No tomorrow.

Adriano starts to get antsy near closing time. We should have left hours ago, but he wanted me to have a good time. And boy, did I.

“Hurry up and piss, then put your disguise back on.”

I give him a shaky thumbs up as I cram my hat back on and stumble toward the head. The guy in the mirror looking back at me as I wash my hands is barely recognizable. No suit. Disheveled hair and three days of stubble.

The glasses really do make me look smart. Ha!

Stepping into the cramped hallway I almost run into someone, excusing myself before I get a good look at her. When I do, it stops me dead.

Long, silky black curls fall to the middle of her back. Her skin is that perfect shade of ivory, and her cheeks flush as she looks up at me.

Instantly, I’m transported back in time twenty years.

Standing on a rooftop in Florence, taking a knee. Asking Catalina to make me the happiest man in the world. Of course, it’s not her, and I’m fucking drunk.

But man, is this girl a stunner …

“Sorry,” I mumble, stepping out of her way. She nods, continuing out to the bar.

Then she flicks me a look over her shoulder like she can see right through me, right into my fucking soul.

Our eyes lock.

And I realize how hard my dick is, my whole body tight and clenched. I can't tell if she's looking at me like she wants to tell me to fuck off or ask me for a romp in the bathroom. Both?

Faint guilt rises up at the thought. I look away before I can do something stupid.

Out in the taproom, Adriano's waiting by the door.

“Did you see that girl?”

“The one who looked like she wanted to tear you a new one?”

“Yeah. That one. Does she look out of place to you?”

“There’s pretty girls in every town, Aless. Keep it in your pants.” He chuckles, offering me an arm as I miss a step on the way out.

“I can walk on my own,” I slur.

“Sure. Let's see how that works out. I’d love to see you face-plant out here in the snow.”

“Damn … where’d all this snow come from?” It looks like Christmastime outside.

And the car is completely covered.

After a finger-numbing few minutes of scraping, we’re on our way. The drive is tense, slow going. It takes us twice as long to get up the mountain. But Adriano keeps us safe, so much so that I doze off a few times.

The staff’s asleep when we arrive.

I manage to only make half a ruckus, crashing into the entryway table and knocking a pot over. Adriano is doubled over, silently laughing his ass off all the way to his room in the east wing.

The drive and the winter chill got me amped up. My body feels restless, so I head to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of wine, some cheese and bread and head back to the den to sit by the fire.

An hour slips by and my eyes are drooping, fading.

Images of the woman at the bar flit through my head, snapping me back awake. Who was she? Probably some tourist. She'll likely be gone by the time I head back to the village.

“Go to bed, Aless,” I mumble, dragging myself up.

I’m crossing the foyer when I hear something, a bump at the door.

Pausing, I wait, then it comes again, louder.

Then again. Definitely knocking.

Who the fuck would be knocking on our door at 4:00 a.m.?

In the middle of the mountains. In the middle of a blizzard.

Grabbing a shard of the broken pot on the floor as a weapon, I creep toward the door, every muscle poised and ready to strike. At least, as well as I can with enough booze in me to knock out a horse.

The house tips slightly as I reach for the frame.

One more knock bangs against the wood, startling me. I yank it open a crack.

And there she is.

Standing on our porch with her arms wrapped around herself, shivering.

The beauty from the bar.

5

ISABELLA

“Adrink for the lovely lady?”

“No thank you, I'm fine.” I smile, shaking my head.

Another bar, another small town. This is the last one on my trip. Not only is it getting old, my funds are getting low.

Bankrolling my own private vendetta against the Diamantes is wearing me thin, but with the last tip I got placing Alessandro Diamante at that private airport in France, I couldn't resist. I pulled out all the stops, called in every favor I could.

My brother had contacts at Interpol, and his best friend Lucius was able to send me the photo of him at the airport. They’ve apparently been monitoring the Diamantes for a while, but without any real evidence, that’s all they can do.

Watch.

But an independent contractor, well, I can do things they can’t. Or won’t.

It only took a relatively heavy amount of guilt-tripping Lucius to give me the info.

Still, the trail kept running cold after I made it back into Italy, to a little town where I found clues in the public record of a holding dating back three generations to a cousin of Quinto Diamante, Alessandro’s great grandfather.

Two other little villages were contenders for my last-ditch effort, but this one seemed the most likely.

Now, it’s a matter of thinking I see him every time a tall, broad-shouldered, or remotely good-looking Italian man walks by me.

The two photos I have are decent but leave a lot to be desired for IDing someone.

How this guy has managed to go nearly his entire thirty-something years of life in the digital age without a fingerprint or current photo online somewhere is beyond me. I guess that’s one of the benefits of being a member of one of the most powerful families in the world.

And a mob boss.

That little tidbit is still tied to a lot of speculation.

Lucius dropped another hint that a war is brewing between various players in the criminal underworld, and that they are on high alert. Mostly I think he was trying to warn me to steer clear of this situation, and to quit bugging him for info.

He’s not wrong.

I’m poking around in dangerous places, looking for dangerous people.

And I only have a vague idea of what I am going to do when I find him. My mother would absolutely kill me if she knew.

But the fact that my brother was killed by these men, by this family, makes it all the more crucial that I do this. My mother lost everything when Giorgio died. Dad was already gone, years of stress and a bad diet leading to a heart attack.

So I am all that’s left.

The only one who can do something to stop them.

It sounds ridiculous when I put it that way, I know. One woman against a mafia family.

Yet I am capable. Driven.

I can and will make sure that at least one of them, hopefully Alessandro himself, never sees the outside of a jail cell again.

The pub I chose to stay at in the mountain town is cheap, but cozy. Good thing, too. It just started snowing when I got into town.

My cover is that I am here visiting my family’s old hometown. I did my research, providing a good enough story to fool even the Diamantes. A very distant relative of theirs, a great-step-aunt-in-law used to live here, near the town on an old estate.

She had children who have all passed away now, and their kids are all scattered and out of touch with their past. I was able to learn enough to sound plausible.

Just like the Diamante’s distant properties listed under names most people wouldn't recognize, I incorporate details no one would bother looking for. It sells the persona without having to try and pretend and lie too much.

It’s a trick my dad taught me about going undercover.

Thanks, Dad.

“Come on, bellissima! You better order something, it’s cold out there.” An older man chuckles, nudging my elbow with his.

Normally, in Rome, I would give him a much colder response. A clear indication that I am not interested in talking or his advances.

But out here, everyone knows each other, and the people have been nothing but warm and kind to me since my arrival.

“Let me buy you a glass of wine, eh?”

“I suppose. Thank you. And may I order a bowl of soup as well, Mr. Polis” I ask the man behind the bar who pauses to smile my way. He’s the owner who checked me in.

“Should I add it to your bill?”

“May as well. Should I also plan to stay for a few more nights?” I joke, looking over my shoulder at the crowd making their way inside, dusting flakes off their coats.

“Not to worry. With a blizzard coming, I doubt your room will be in demand. I won’t kick you out if you need an extra night or two.”

“In that case, I’ll take a shot and a glass of wine.”

Which turns into another glass. I make a pass around the pub, eyeing its patrons. A few of them are younger and could fit the bill. The place is busier than I would have expected on a weeknight, or for a small town in general.

It’s also a gamble to linger too long and stare. More than a few of the younger men, and the older, give me a wag of their eyebrows, an inviting smile.

I do not want to invite their attention too much. Especially if I have to head upstairs for the night. Mr. Polis would probably see to my safety, but it would sour the mood and throw off my search.

I’m about to call it a night and start fresh in the morning when I spot them, two men in their thirties sitting in the back room behind the pool tables.

“Another game?” I hear one of them ask.

“So you can make an ass of me again? No thanks. Let me have a few more drinks.”

“Then you can just make an ass of yourself!”

“Exactly.”

They’re already pretty inebriated, barely noticing when I meander into the corner of the room and take a stool to keep an eye on them.

That has to be them.

Even with the hat and glasses on, the older one—the incredibly good-looking one—matches my photos. As best as anyone could from a distance.

Both have that attitude, like they own the place. They’re clearly related, and while their clothing suits both of their muscular figures, something about it seems off. Not worn in enough.

Listening is easy from here, and there’s a soccer game playing on the TV near me, giving me an excuse to be where I am. So I sit quietly, unnoticed as they get wasted in the back corner. Right up to closing time, when the taller one, wearing that absurd newsboy hat and fidgeting with his glasses, heads to the bathroom.

I wait in the hallway, trying to catch a glimpse of his face when he exits the restroom, pretending to exit the ladies’ room myself.

Our eyes meet and my heart stops.

They are dark, deep.

I’m instantly drawn to him, his presence. And I hate how good-looking he is and how it makes my pulse beat quicker.

His face, that jawline, and the muscles bulging under his button-up. He’s incredibly tall in the small space, easing back against the wall to let me pass.

I try to ignore the shape of him in his tight pants so near me.

Why am I thinking about that right now?

Must be the wine.

He stares blatantly, and it simultaneously makes my body temperature rise and makes my skin crawl. Thoughts sprout out of the intense look in his eyes; thoughts of him throwing me up against the wall right here in the hall, kissing me.

Taking me.

Get your head out of the gutter, girl!

This guy is the worst of the worst. A crime lord. A murderer.

I linger near the stairs to the rooms, waiting to see them leave. The younger brother helps Alessandro out the door and they spend some time clearing their car. Sneaking out after them is a simple thing. I blend in with the few others leaving and the crowd heading home.

My own rental car is fairly buried, but I manage to slip in, start the engine, and warm it up while they laugh and stumble around in the snow.

“This is it. Just need to follow them to where they’re staying, and then I can go back tomorrow to see what I can find,” I mumble, needing to bolster my courage. The snow is pouring down now.

Their vehicle is way better equipped for the weather, but I manage to keep up, the taillights guiding me through the whiteout.

Soon, we’re ascending right up the mountain, and I clench the steering wheel in a death grip, regretting my decision. It’s all I can do to keep up, keep my wheels from spinning out on the road. There’s no way I can turn back now, or even turn around on this narrow road.

“Merda, merda, merda!” I yelp as I lose sight of the red lights ahead of me.

The next turn levels off onto a drive, and I nearly cry with relief. Warm, orange lights glow faintly ahead. Windows.

I kill my headlights and ease to a stop once I spot the SUV across the way. A few minutes pass, and I hope they’ve made their way inside.

“What the hell am I going to do now?”

The blizzard is blowing snow sideways, piling against the car, the front of the house. It’s so cold that the heater in my car can’t keep up. My feet are freezing. My hands are numb.

This was a huge mistake.

I’m trapped up on this mountain. I’m going to die in this stupid economy car.

Panic threatens to choke me, making it hard to breathe. I have to do something, or I’m in big trouble. There’s only one thing to do.

I stumble out into the blasting winds, clutching tight to my scarf and coat. The house looms across the drive, feeling so far away. More like a mansion. I can barely make out the profile of the building, but I can tell it’s huge.

It takes me several minutes just to tromp through the drifts, taking care not to slip and checking frequently if I’m still heading the right way. I’ve never been in weather like this before. Terror and bitter cold rip away all my reason. Only self-preservation matters.

My knuckles feel like they’re going to split when I knock the first time.

By the third attempt, I’m pounding on the door with both hands.

“P-please …” I chatter out.

The door opens a sliver and I feel blessed warmth seep out.

“M-may I—” is all I manage before a gust hits me, nearly bowling me over. In an instant I feel a hand at my back, steadying me, guiding me inside.

Instantly, I’m jarred by how hot it feels inside, so perfectly, life-savingly hot.

Shivers still wrack my whole body, and I take a few moments to just stand there catching my breath. I realize after a second or two that whoever opened the door is standing in front of me, watching me.

“Th-thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” His voice is gravelly, deep and dark. Despite the warm relief to my aching bones, fear claws at my spine, making me clench my fists. Compose myself.

I raise my eyes to meet his. 

And what I find is shocking. Stunning.

He’s only wearing a robe and some warm, comfy pants.

The crease of his chest peeks out from the split in the soft garment, right at my eye level. Above that, he’s steady, intently gazing with narrowed eyes.

Like a predator deciding how to bring down his prey.

“What are you doing here?” It’s a simple question. One he shouldn’t even have to ask me, I should be offering him excuses, an explanation.

“Um, I …” Every story I planned flutters away, my mouth going dry. “Got lost in the blizzard, followed the only set of lights I saw.”

“So you followed us a half hour up the mountain?”

My mind is trying to catch up, the flickering fire in the next room thawing my thoughts out, beckoning me to find a way to stay and get warm. “I couldn’t turn back once I realized I was going the wrong way.”

“Hmm.” His posture relaxes slightly and he cocks his head to the side, a sharpness to his expression making me second guess how drunk he seemed just an hour ago. “What’s your name?”

“Isabella Bianchi.”

“I’m Alessandro,” he offers hesitantly. “Bianchi? Like the Cortino Bianchis?”

Recognition sparks in his eyes.

“Um. Yes. Distantly. I’ve been traveling through several mountain towns, researching my heritage on vacation.”

Hopefully it doesn’t sound too rehearsed.

His stance is relaxed, but there’s a tension to the air. He’s suspicious.

“I’m so sorry to intrude; I feel so foolish. Thank you for letting me in. If you’ll let me warm up for just a moment, I’ll be on my way.”

A part of me truly wants that, to run, get back to my hotel room and hide.

Alessandro takes a deep breath, crossing the distance between us. He looks angry, put out. His shirtless, chiseled muscles flex in the shadowy firelight cast on him through the doorway.

My entire body locks up, my mouth bone dry as he looms over me. Instinct is screaming at me to flee.

He’s going to throw me out.

Or snap my neck.

He's inches away, looking down at me.

And I just know that I'm done for.

6

ALESSANDRO

My gut warns me to be careful, wary. An intruder to my sanctum, in the middle of the night? Alarms go off in my head.

But she’s standing here, so close.

Shivering.

I reach out, slipping out of my robe and pulling her soaked scarf from her in one motion, wrapping her in the soft fabric. She looks terrified for a split second, then confused.

“Come. Sorry I made you wait here for so long.” I gesture toward the den, the roaring fire.

After a few moments, she peels out of her wet coat, settling onto the couch and huddling closer to the fireplace.

“Isabella Bianchi. What is it you do for a living?” I feel odd, awkward in my own skin. I’m not used to small talk or offering comfort to others.

Her eyes light up as she turns to me, her guard dropping slightly. “I’m a photographer. At least, some of the time. I haven’t quite found my true calling yet.”

She’s clever. Answering with some vagueness, not offering me more information than I ask. Always play your cards close to your chest …

Or I am reading into the situation the wrong way? It’s hard for me not to react like an interrogator. She’s probably just some woman, like she said.

“I’ve always loved photography. Not that I’ve ever really indulged in creating art myself.”

“And why not? What do you do with your time, Alessandro?” Her question is leading, loaded.

“Exports.”

Her expression goes blank after a few seconds, and I realize she was expecting some elaboration. “My family owns several exportation enterprises. International shipping, precious metals, specialty engineering, tech, pharmaceuticals. Cargo yards and such.” A pretty way of saying I move guns and drugs.

“Fascinating. I take it your family goes back a long way in Italy?”

“You could say that.”

“Mine too.” She gazes into the fire, lost in thought for a moment. I find myself waiting to hear her speak again, eager to learn more about her.

“Would you like something to drink?” The words are out of my mouth before the thought is fully formed.

“Something hot, please.” A little smile pulls at her full, rosebud lips, making me swallow. It’s the booze. Definitely the booze.

“I think Carla left some mulled wine on the stove. I’ll be right back.” The trip to the kitchen gives me a chance to cool down, clear my head.

The fire and seeing this captivating woman again have my mind wandering, wishing.

Fool.

When I return, she’s wrapped in a blanket, and several of her clothing items and boots are set out in the entryway. She’s sitting on the fur rug, her toes practically in the fire and her smooth, silken legs stretched out beneath my robe.

“Comfortable?”

“Sorry. My clothes were damp and cold.”

“Don’t apologize. Here.” I pass her the steaming mug.

Isabella inhales deeply before taking a sip. “Oh, it tastes just like home.”

“Home?”

“I was born in Trieste. You?”

“We moved around a lot. ‘Home’ was never really part of my vocabulary.”

“We did too. My father moved for work.”

Crackling wood fills the space and the silence in the room for several minutes before she speaks again. “Tell me something about yourself, Alessandro.”

“Sharing isn’t really in my wheelhouse.”

“Really? I would have never guessed,” she snickers. “What is in your wheelhouse?

“I’m good at dealing with people.”

“You don't strike me as a man of many words.”

“No. Not many. But every single word I say has meaning and purpose. My father taught me never to speak flippantly, out of turn. When I speak, it matters.”

Isabella’s gaze clouds, simmering with a shadow of her thoughts. Something I said resonated with her, or she’s taunting me.

“That tells me something, but not much.” She’s fishing.

“Who I am and how I am are more of a tell than what I do.”

“Ah, you are good with words. This will be a challenge,” she says, eyeing me with a smirk.

“Challenge?”

“To get you to reveal your secrets.”

“Hmm. Good luck. I might find it equally challenging to get you to answer me honestly.”

“I've been honest with you thus far.”

“About as honest as I have been with you thus far.” Something about her showing up here in the middle of the night, after our run-in at the bar, itches at my sense of caution.

I find I can’t bring myself to get after her, really demand answers. Our banter is intriguing.

Distracting.

If she is lying, trying to fool me, or con me, she’ll eventually talk herself into a corner and hang herself.

“So, what brings a brooding export magnate up into the mountains to his castle in the Alps this time of year? Isn’t there work to be done?”

“There’s always work to be done. I simply wanted to get away for a bit.”

“Get away from what? Mistresses?”

“I don’t have mistresses,” I snap.

“Your wife nagging you, driving you insane?”

“I’m not married.”

“Hmm. Me neither.”

She’s starting to piss me off, the way she’s rapid-firing her questions at me. Like she’s a fucking reporter.

“Didn’t plan on the blizzard, though?” she asks.

“No. You clearly didn’t either. Or any mountain weather. Almost like you came here on a whim. Or in a hurry.”

She looks away smoothly, making it look natural, not like I hit the nail on the head. I really can’t tell. She’s treating this like she’s a fox and I’m the hound. Poking me, nipping at me, then springing away, leaving me chasing. Wanting more.

I hate how much I like it.

“Who else is here with you?” she asks.

“Staff.”

“And?”

“And none of your business.”

“All alone on a vacation? That seems so lonely.”

“Says the woman traveling alone.”

“The man at the pub, was he your brother?” A flash passes through her eyes, like she bested me.

“Yes. Everyone says we look alike, at least in the eyes.” I won’t give her an inch.

“What’s his name?”

“You won’t meet him, so it hardly matters. He keeps to himself.”

The encounter is wearing thin, trying my patience. I’m getting too tired to play this back and forth, as much as I want to find out more. She’s going to make me slip, say too much.

“Then your shipping company name? I’m sure I would have heard of it?”

“Probably.”

“A hint?”

“Not a chance.” My hackles rise and I see her back off, visibly shrinking at my irritation. “Do you always grill your host when you stay somewhere uninvited?”

“Only when they wear disguises to go out in public and slip away to a mountain hideaway.”

“You sit so close to the fire, you’ll get burned.”

“I’ve always had a tolerance for heat,” she snipes back. I can tell she sees me as a threat. Which means there’s a chance she knows exactly who I am.

Or am I just drunk and imagining things?

She's a woman alone at night in a strange place at some guy's house she had no choice but to stay at or die in the cold. I’d be cautious too.

I could be a psychopath killer for all she knows.

Little does she know …

It makes sense she would want to feel me out. I’d certainly like to feel her writhing underneath me.

She meets my gaze. Her eyes unflinching, like she can read my thoughts. Woman’s got balls bigger than some of my men.

And it riles up something deep inside me, turning me on like few things can.

She's asked me questions that nobody else would dare ask, just based on my demeanor and attitude. Probably because she really has no clue who I am.

But she can clearly tell how dangerous I am. Not that I would hurt her for no reason.

As if in response to my thoughts, she lets the blanket slip open, displaying just a hint more of her skin, the edge of her bra.

I catch myself gaping, staring openly. Gazing right there between those perfect, creamy smooth orbs of her breasts.

She's only wearing her slip under that robe and blanket.

I could tear it off in a heartbeat. Have my way with her. The look in her eyes tells me she’d let me. There’s a heat there, behind the guarded, searching expression.

She’s trapped here, though.

And I’m trapped with her, at least until tomorrow. The thought has me backpedaling, retreating.

Maybe it's just the fact that she's trapped here in my house.

Standing, I clear our glasses and the cutting board of snacks from earlier.

“It’s late. I need to get to bed.”

“What’s wrong? Missing your girlfriend?” The implication is there, too. That I was eye fucking her right here in the den, and she noticed. She’s calling me out.

“No girlfriend.”

“Oh, I see. You’re one of those rich guys. Hopping from girl to girl.”

“Enough. It’s time for bed. I’ll show you to your room.”

I wait until she’s standing before I stomp off across the foyer toward the hallway where my bedroom and the guestrooms are located. She follows closely through the dark lodge, staying silent behind me as we pass the east wing door.

“Do not go up to the attic. Do not go down into my office on the landing below. And do not under any circumstances go into the east wing. My brother is far less inviting than me.”

“I’ll be sure and abide by your rules as long as I’m here. Why would I go wandering around in the dark anyway?”

“True. You won’t be wandering anywhere. If you need anything, use the intercom to call one of the maids for assistance. They’ll have breakfast ready whenever you wake up.”

“And where will you be?”

“There. My room. Knock if you need me. And do not⁠—”

“Go into your room under any circumstances. I get it.” I can practically hear her eye roll. Years of living with Ciro have trained me to notice that tone.

“This is your room.” Flicking on the lamp, I point to the linen closet, the bathroom. “Make yourself at home.”

“Alessandro …” She follows me to the doorway, her arm slipping up the frame. The blanket slips off her shoulders as she looks up at me. “Thank you.”

Light, hazel eyes bore into me, just like they did back at the pub.

Our bodies are painfully close together, her body heat mingling with mine.

“Good night, Isabella.”

“Good night.”

Before I can second guess myself, I shut the door in her face, locking it from the outside.

7

ISABELLA

For a while, I just sit there on the edge of the bed, wired and more than a little irritated.

He locked me in here.

Like I’m a freaking prisoner.

The sensation that I’m trapped, caged, in the house of a madman, immediately rises in my chest like a tide of panic.

Despite our conversation and his relaxed demeanor the past few hours, it confirms everything I knew Alessandro Diamante would be. At least to my sense of fight or flight.

What I never expected is how my body would react to him, a complete betrayal of what I know and what I am here for. He’s magnetic. Domineering, but in a way that draws me in, wants to test the limits of his patience, taunt him into showing me who he really is.

It’s absolutely foolish.

Like dangling myself as a hunk of meat over a lion’s den.

I think back through the conversation; the questions I asked, the way I kept prodding him. “Way to throw caution to the wind …” I mutter, standing to walk off some of my nerves.

And what did it earn me?

A night locked in my room.

But I am here. I made it this far, and he didn’t throw me out or murder me. So I pace my room for a bit, drying my hair and trying to settle down enough to sleep. I’m still wired so I try the door, consider picking the lock. Another door appears to lead to the other guest room, but it too is locked.

The only way out of the bathroom is through the high, small window—my last resort if he decides to keep me a prisoner here for days.

The idea of getting caught sneaking around the house in the middle of the night makes me even more nervous, so I eventually make myself lay down, try to organize my thoughts and plan for tomorrow, reviewing my conversation with Alessandro.

“I’m not married.”

He said it too fast. A flash of something behind his eyes.

Pain, deep sadness. I know that look when someone is hiding it. My mother’s had it for years, living alone without my father, without my brother. The thought makes me miss her, wondering how she’s doing at the apartment I help her pay for in our small hometown.

I miss her dearly.

Except with Alessandro, I know that whatever pain he feels must be of his own making. He hurts people.

And yet I still fell for it, ached for him. The monster that I am certain killed my brother.

Any pain that man feels he has coming to him.

That anger riles me up nearly as much as taunting him did, matching his own powerful wrath which I only got a hint of when I pushed too hard.

Well, fuck him.

I’m going to keep pushing.

I just have to ride the line, walk a tightrope for the next few days to keep him from doing away with me, find an excuse to stay and dig deeper. Even if this is a trap that I walked straight into. The thought offers me a tiny bit of comfort as I ease down into the bed, letting the feeling of the fresh sheets and warm blankets distract me.

If this place belonged to anyone else, I would be ecstatic to be here. It’s so cozy, picturesque. A classic wood lodge with all of the appeal and trimmings of a vacation heaven.

Exhaustion eventually wins out, dropping me into a restless sleep, filled with uneasy dreams and disturbing images and feelings.

In the dark a creature prowls, watching me, waiting for me to stumble. It’s harrowing, indistinct, irrational, and fully stressful.

Several times I wake from it, briefly, only to fall back into another variation of fear and anxiety.

It feels like only minutes pass and a knock sounds at the door, startling me awake.

It’s light out, although dim and gray through the storm.

“Miss? I’ve brought your breakfast, if you please?” a warm, matronly voice croons from the other side of the door, the Italian accent rural and thick.

“Uh … I can’t open the door,” I answer, not bothering to get out of bed. “I’m locked in.”

I don’t bother hiding the scorn in my tone. My anger from the night before rekindles, the fact that I’m shamefully locked away.

I’m going to give him a piece of my mind about ground rules and my freedoms if I’m going to stay here any longer. If nothing else, logic says this is no way to treat a guest.

“Oh dear. I'm so sorry!” I hear her mutter as she fumbles with jingling keys. An audible click precedes her entry. “However did that happen! You poor thing. I’ll make sure you have the key so this can’t happen again. ”

“Thank you…”

“Carla, dear. I am the head maid in charge of the lodge.” Her gray hair is smartly styled, framing a round, dark-skinned face. Smile lines crinkle the corners of her mouth and eyes as she sets the tray of steaming food down on the edge of my bed.

“I wasn’t sure what you preferred, so you let me know if you have a favorite beverage to drink with your meals. I brought espresso, if that’s alright?”

The scent of the rich, concentrated coffee rejuvenates me, filling my nostrils and making my stomach growl. “I love espresso, thank you Carla. You don’t need to bring me breakfast in bed, though. I can come down to the kitchen and prepare my own meals …”

“Nonsense. You are our guest! It’s my job to make sure all of your needs and desires are met. The master of the house wouldn’t have it any other way. And as far as breakfast in bed, you are welcome to come to the dining room, but Alessandro told me you came in late last night, frozen to the bone. So forgive me if I wanted to provide a bit of extra care.” She winks, uncovering the plate of fresh bread, butter, and homemade jam. Yogurt and fruit complement the plate. It’s almost exactly what my mother would make us growing up, albeit with a gourmet touch.

“This looks wonderful.”

“I’m relieved. If you have any other favorites, do let me know. I’ll go get your bath ready while you eat.”

“I can⁠—”

“Shush! What else am I to do? We haven’t had guests in far too long, let alone a lady in this house. Frankly, we’ve been bored to tears for ages.”

The spread before me overwhelms any misgivings I have and I dig in wholeheartedly. Before long I catch myself humming along with Carla as she sings an old folk tune over the splash of the bathtub filling.

Again, I’m drawn back to thoughts of my mother, living alone, and thoughts of my brother and his widow. I never got the chance to meet Angelica. She moved back to the United States after he was killed. I was supposed to visit, but never managed to get it together.

My appetite fades away as I think about it, forcing my mind back to my mission.

“Come now, my dear, the bath is ready for you!” Carla sings, stepping into the doorway. “I’ll have your things brought in while you bathe. Vincenzo retrieved your luggage from your car this morning.”

“You’re too kind, Signora Carla, you’ve gone to such trouble for me.”

“No trouble at all. We will all see to it that you have a wonderful stay with us. No blizzard will ruin a relaxing stay at our lodge, no ma’am.”

Her attitude and demeanor warm my heart, allowing me to relax a bit. At least Alessandro’s staff seem to be kind, working folk.

I wonder what they do when no one is visiting the lodge as I ease out of my slip and test the piping hot water.

“Oh … perfect,” I practically purr as I slide into the tub. Prickles tingle all over me, loosening my muscles.

After a moment, I open my eyes, running my hands through the water. Along one side of the tub, I’m delighted to find soaps, bubble bath, a fresh pumice stone, and several options for body wash and shampoo. All of them are brand new, as if they knew I was coming.

The thought of my stay being anticipated sends a shiver through me.

“Silly. They’re probably just very demanding of their staff.”

I let all of my worries fade away for a time, soaking in the bubbles and sharp herbal scents of the bath bomb. If I am to stay for the duration of the blizzard, I may as well enjoy some of it.

And I need time to gather my courage. Steel my resolve.

I need to spend as much time with Alessandro as possible, to find out anything I can. Likely, I’ll encounter his brother as well.

But which brother did he bring?

Rumors and gossip all agree that there are four Diamante brothers. Not much is known about any of them.

Aside from the fact that they are dangerous, and notoriously secretive.

The few articles and stories I was able to dig up suggest that two of them are twins, both of whom have gotten into loads of trouble with the law. Each offense conveniently swept under the rug, every charge dropped.

Even the alleged burning down of a nightclub in Turin.

Outside of that, fleeting gossip says one is completely insane, a globe-trotting fighter. The other is a daredevil. Fast cars, women, a nonstop party animal.

Leaving the other brother, who no one seems to know anything about. I’ve speculated that he might be Alessandro’s right-hand man, in charge of assets, numbers. Behind the scenes.

If he’s here …

I might actually find some evidence, documented accounting, names.

After drying off and draining the tub, I step into my room to find all of my things set out on the bed. My heart stutters at the idea of Carla, or worse, one of the Diamantes going through my bags.

“Please, don’t let them have found …” I unclip the secret compartment at the base of the suitcase. A sigh of relief slips out; it appears undisturbed.

Micro cameras, voice recording devices, and a backup laptop and hard drive.

My very own spy and surveillance kit.

I almost laugh at the spread of gear as I pack it carefully back into the case. Isabella Rossi—I mean Bianchi—international woman of mystery. Not so foolish now that I'm neck-deep in a dangerous situation.

If nothing else, maybe gathering intel will buy my way through this, or at least someone will figure out what happened to me if they decide to do away with me.

I'm dressed, patting down the front of my outfit when I hear Alessandro in the hall, slamming his door and walking out into the main room. I crack the door to voices.

“Any washing, Signore Alessandro?”

“Please. I left the basket by my door. Grazie, Ava.”

Another one of the maids shuffles toward me, nodding as I ease the door open to avoid looking like I’m snooping.

“Buongiorno,” I say softly, heading out to see what the day holds for me.

Immediately, a deep-voiced, hushed conversation perks my ears up. Slowing down, I try to catch what they’re saying from just outside the den we sat in last night.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn't thinking. It was late and I was drunk as fuck.”

“Great excuse. I told you not to drink that last shot.”

“Probably shouldn’t have had more wine after we got home.”

“Fucking idi—” He stops short, to a growl from Alessandro. “You let a stranger into our safe house.”

“Not like we could’ve known she was following us. Couldn’t see shit in that blizzard.”

“Merda!” the brother hisses.

“What would you have done, Adriano? Let her freeze to death?”

Adriano, huh? Good to know.

“Yes! I would have said tough shit. She had no business coming here.”

My excitement at finding out which sibling is in the other room is cut short by the statement. I swallow hard.

“She got lost. It was an accident.”

“Ha! You sound as gullible as Ciro. You believe her?”

“I do. At least about that.”

“You should have consulted me, should have woken me up.”

“I locked her in the guest room. And I’m consulting you now,” Alessandro huffs and I hear him slump into a chair. “Take her back to town.”

“Oh, sure. I’ll just go hop in the truck and drop her off. Never mind the piles of snow.”

“You’re being a fucking drama queen.”

“You’re being a scemo, fool,” Adriano snaps.

“Gah, you’re an old grandmother trapped in a grown man’s body.”

“Fine. You want me to be Nonna? She doesn’t wander around. Give her the rules. Make sure she follows them.”

“I already did.”

“Do it again!” Adriano intones, sounding put upon, more annoyed than mad. “I hate this.”

“You hate everything.”

“No, just you destroying my peace! You’re worse than⁠—”

“The twins?” Alessandro mocks.

“A thousand times, yes.”

I hear a deep, rumbling chuckle from Alessandro, a shocking sound that curls my toes. Their brotherly banter humanizes them, as if they were any other siblings. It’s an odd contrast to my imagination, the idea that they should only be scheming criminals.

It makes me blush, realizing that I’m openly eavesdropping.

My logic brain argues that I have to do whatever I can to listen in.

Still.

I let my footsteps announce my presence in the foyer, drawing them up short.

Adriano whispers a final warning, “You take too many chances, Aless. No talking in front of her. Deal with this.”

He storms out of the den, barely giving me a second glance as he barrels through the east wing door and slams it behind him.

“Sorry about that.”

I look back to find Alessandro leaning in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. He looks like a cologne ad. Button-up left open haphazardly, linen pants, his hair styled but casual.

He shaved, and the result is breathtaking.

“Sorry for what?”

“My brother is a worrywart.” He smiles charmingly, disarming.

“Is he your only family?” I skirt the issue.

“The only family with me. My other brothers are back home.” He waves dismissively. “You'll meet him eventually, if he cools down and stops being a nag.”

So far, it seems that Alessandro has accepted that I’m staying. Or decided that I am.

“Only if he wants to. I feel bad, intruding.”

“Don’t. As of now, you’re our guest.” I notice he doesn’t apologize for locking me up last night. “Come to the kitchen. I'll introduce you to the staff, give you a tour of the house.”

I follow along in his wake, eyeing the wall hangings as we head down the stairs to the landing. “Library is upstairs, and the theater room is down there. Other door is the gym and sauna.” He gestures vaguely.

“And that one?” I point to the only other door off the lower landing.

“My office.” The way he says the words is clipped. Unwavering.

“Ah. Off-limits. Right.”

He lets out a soft sound that might be a laugh. “I’m not used to entertaining guests.”

It’s as close to an admission of anything as he’ll likely give. The man comes across like a stoic, marble statue.

“I understand. And you don’t need to entertain me. I can look after myself.” The last thing I want to do is invite scrutiny. I need them to let me wander freely, let their guards down.

“Noted.” He looks back, those deep, hazel eyes seeing through me. I hate how much I like how it makes me feel. I hate how much I like looking at his face.

The staff is lined up in the kitchen when we enter, like we’re royalty. I feel my face flush with embarrassment at the presentation.

“Too formal?” Alessandro smirks at my expression. “You’ve met Carla. Ava is her niece. Vincenzo is Carla’s husband and our groundskeeper.”

The older man chuckles at the announcement. “When there are grounds to keep! I guess I’ll be a glorified snow shoveler for now.”

The mood is calm, familiar. “They’ve taken care of this place for my family for years.”

“Do you all live here year round?” I find my curiosity getting the better of me.

“No, no, signorina. We live in the village.”

“Oh.” I try desperately not to continue the line of questioning.

Alessandro picks up on my direction, however. “They are on retainer for when we need them.”

Carla winks at me as they go about their business, an unspoken dismissal happening somewhere in the interchange.

“Now that is …”

“A bit ridiculous?” Aless mutters softly.

“I mean, most people don’t have servants waiting for them at their mountain getaway homes.”

“You’re right. I am not most people.”

Something about the way he says it makes my hackles go up. The audacity of this man. Not to mention the arrogance and the smile that make my blood boil in all the right ways.

“Think of it this way,” he offers over his shoulder, heading back upstairs, “You’re on vacation, and for as long as you are here, this is your home. Treat it as such. When in Rome, as they say, right?”

“Minus the strict rules and off-limits areas,” I mutter under my breath.

If he hears me, he lets it slide. “I have some things to take care of. Do you think you can occupy yourself for the rest of the day?”

“I’m sure I’ll manage.”

“Good.” He turns back to me at his office door, standing far too close for comfort. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight.”

It’s a statement, but something in the way he says it makes my stomach flip, like he’s asking me out on a date.

“I-I’d like that. I mean, I would love to have dinner with you.”

And I'm kicking myself. Idiot!

Flirting with the enemy.

And just like that, he's gone into his office, shutting the door and I'm left on the landing feeling out of place.

The dining hall extends off the main entryway of the lodge near the stairs leading down to the landing and the kitchen. It’s clearly meant for large gatherings.

“Will the staff or your brother be joining us?” I ask, raising my voice just a bit to make sure Alessandro can hear me from the other end of the table.

“No. It’s just us tonight. Adriano is … private. And rather sour at the moment.”

“He’s still mad that I’m here?”

Alessandro gives me a look, trying to decide how I figured that out. “He always takes a while to accept things he can’t do anything about, or things I insist on that he doesn’t agree with.”

“So … he stays mad all the time?”

The loud scoff of laughter that pops out of him is surprising and endearing. “You have no idea.”

“I’m sure he’s just protective of you. I assume his primary duty is doing that, keeping you safe, right?”

“And offering me sage advice. Or at least questioning my decisions, tempering my choices.”

“I’ll try to impress on him that I mean you no harm.”

“He's right about one thing: you certainly present a certain amount of danger.” He eyes me, tilting his head in a way that’s both flirtatious and cunning.

“In what way?”

“You’ve already gotten me to let my guard down better than anyone has in a long while.”

“‘Better than’ makes it sound like a good thing.”

“That has yet to be seen.” His eyes smolder.

“Well, I hope you like what you see. And Adriano can keep his eyes to himself.” I smirk, taking a bite of the appetizer, a rich balsamic bruschetta on crisp toast.

“Don’t worry too much about him. He’s just protective. Sometimes, I think he believes he’s the elder brother.”

“I know what you mean.”

“You have a brother, too?”

“I did.” It slips out, softly, but loud enough to carry.

“I'm sorry, Isabella. I didn't mean to⁠—”

“No, it's okay.” I shove down the rage and anguish that bubbles up thinking of Giorgio. It’s a force of will to make myself remember that Alessandro has no idea, and that I can’t let him know.

It’s getting easier to be around him. To forget in the moment.

And yet, if I asked him, point-blank, would he even remember killing my brother? Or would it just be another faceless law enforcement officer who got in his way? Would it even matter to someone like him?

I paste on a smile. Press the emotions down.

I can’t let anything ruin our dinner together. Compartmentalize.

Gazing across the table, I let my own guard down, allowing myself to enjoy the company of a beautiful man, candlelight, and an amazing meal.

It's truly amazing what the mind can do when forced into a corner.

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

“I’d love one. Red, preferably.”

“I thought we might try this vintage port I’ve been saving, but now I'm thinking I’m in the mood for a cabernet. Something a little drier, a little sharper.” His eyes flare when he says it, approaching my side of the table with a bottle in hand. His swagger is bold, seductive.

Any woman would melt at the sight of him in his dark, navy slacks and white button down. The way his sleeves stretch over his biceps, the pull of the fabric across his broad, sculpted chest.

The tight fit of his pants over muscular legs and a taut, perky ass.

Dammit, Isabella. I haven’t even had anything to drink yet and I’m feeling hot and bothered.

The splash of wine he pours fills my nostrils with a rich, smoky aroma—tobacco, and a hint of chocolate.

“Mmm …” I hum as I swirl it, sip it, letting it linger on my tongue. The taste is remarkable.

Alessandro watches me lick my lips, leaning on the edge of the table, his posture relaxed. He’s truly a king in his domain.

“Do you like it?”

“I do. It’s bold.” I pin him with a stare as I say it.

“An unforgettable body, to be sure.”

“It almost bites, but the finish is smooth.”

The little game we’re playing makes my legs tighten, my core heating.

He sips his own glass, easing off the table and sauntering back to his side. “So. What will you do to pass the time, Isabella?”

“I’m not sure. It’s only the first day. Maybe the storm will clear.” I try to sound nonchalant.

“Unlikely, from all reports. What would you normally do, if you were on your own. At home, or on vacation?” It’s hard to decide if he’s actually interested or indulging me. He’s impossible to read.

“I love to read. Sightsee. Learn about historic locales,” I admit, finding the truth easier to divulge than making up a lie. “And you? If I hadn’t invaded your respite, what would you do to pass the hours?”

“Hmm. I love to read, too. A bit of Sartre. Something dark, stimulating. Anything that makes me question my way of life, way of thinking.” It’s a provocation as much as a confession. Like he wants me to challenge him.

“Since I am here, what do you have planned?”

His eyes flare like they have before, but the intense heat in his gaze has me nearly sweating. Foolish girl.

“Well, I suppose I have to think of things for us to do. There’s bound to be plenty to keep us busy.” The implication hangs in the air for a split second before he snatches it back, shifting gears and grinning at the flush in my cheeks.

“We have a theater room, just about any movie you can think of. Maybe you’d care to watch a double feature with me?” His smile is disarming; straight, white teeth and pure arrogance. Worst of all, his lips are way too kissable.

“As long as you have a popcorn maker to go along with it. I’d love to catch a show with you sometime.” I laugh softly into my glass, playing along with his diversion.

“Otherwise, we have a game room. Pool. Darts. The gym. And of course, there’s the library. One of my favorite places in the house. I’ll show you after dinner.”

“Please … I’m very curious what sorts of books you have.”

“Oh, it’s extensive. Decades of titles gifted by generations of my family. What do you like to read?”

“Romance, mostly. Classics, too.”

“I haven’t had much use for romance in a long time.” It almost sounds like a mistake, like he didn’t mean to say it.

“Well, perhaps you can indulge in a bit of romance while I’m here,” I say before I can stop myself, rising to cross the room, mimicking his stance from a moment before. A little grin and a raised eyebrow grace Alessandro’s face at the comment as he looks up at me. “Books, I mean.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t even know where to start romancing a woman like you.” He winks.

“Somehow, I find that completely impossible to believe.”

“I haven’t had that sort of relationship since …” He slips up, the sentence soft and distant.

I see his gaze falter, drifting through memories. “What was her name?

Alessandro freezes.

“I shouldn't have asked that. I'm sorry.”

“No. That's fine, I shouldn’t have said that. Her name was Catalina. We were young. She was lost at sea with both of my parents.”

“Oh …”

My hand is at his cheek before I realize what I’ve done, the ache on his face is more than I can bear to see. Maybe it’s the wine, the candlelight. Or maybe I’ve lost my damn mind. But I feel the pain written all over his face, practically radiating off of him.

He looks up at me from under those dark, bold eyebrows.

Not quite a glare. Not quite a scowl.

It’s … longing.

A sigh escapes my lips as my hand grazes down along his jaw, my thumb caressing the corner of his mouth. His eyes slide closed, his jaw clenching softly beneath my touch.

My fingertips pull just under his chin, raising his face to look at me.

The moment slows to a halt.

Quiet. Tense, but in a way that makes my blood heat.

It shatters in an instant as his face contorts, his mood shifting. He snatches my hand with his, rising faster than I can blink, shoving me across the space to the wall. His entire body shakes, his palm gripped at my throat, pinning me with unbelievable force.

I barely manage a gasp of protest, my eyes bulging in terror.

Alessandro stops dead, dread clouding his expression, like he just processed what happened, the way he snapped. Those raging eyes soften, dropping from my eyes to my lips. His hand loosens, letting me slip back down the wall from my tiptoes.

My breath is short, fast.

My heart is pounding.

He’s horrifyingly, exquisitely close, our bodies inches apart.

I’m terrified, yet my entire body is on fire. Torn between fear and longing, the need to flee, and the need for comfort.

I can barely breathe as he dips his head, catching his breath. His lips are right there, so close that our breath mingles. With a subtle shift he drags his bottom lip along mine, not quite a kiss. I almost lose myself, give in to the moment and kiss him.

But he stops short as he feels the prick below his chin, the knife I instinctively grabbed, pressed right into his throat.

And then he has the audacity to smile, just slightly, before stepping back.

The opening has me staggering, glancing one last time at his smoldering eyes before taking my chance and dashing from the room. I don’t stop until I’m across the foyer, down the hall and into my room, slamming the door and locking it.

8

ALESSANDRO

An entire day slips by without seeing Isabella.

After our encounter at dinner, she's been avoiding me. I’ll admit I’ve been avoiding her, too.

We passed each other in the hall a few times, both of us unsure how to approach the other. She eats in her room.

Carla is giving me questioning glances after breakfast when once again, Isabella was a no show.

I’m heading back upstairs, debating how to broach talking to Isabella, when I bump right into her, catching her arms to keep her from falling.

“Apologies, didn’t hear you coming,” she mutters.

She looks away, tucking a strand of her silky black mane behind her ear. The motion is smooth, drawing my eyes down her neck.

It was that neck, leading down to her full, perky tits that had me gripping my cock in bed the last two nights just to release some tension. I can’t let this go on or I’ll fucking lose it.

She’s already gotten under my skin.

“Isabella …” I have no clue what I want to say, but I want to say something. The thought of spending the rest of our stay here like this doesn’t sit well with me.

She’s seconds from running and I’ll lose my chance.

Say anything!

“Would you like to see the library?”

“I would like that.”

I turn quickly, heading up the stairs. The top level of the lodge only has two doors, the other leading to a small rooftop veranda that we definitely don’t want to open. “In the summer, we used to eat out there when Adriano and I were kids. The view is breathtaking.”

“I don’t think we’d see a lot right now,” she snickers, following me to the end of the hall.

I turn to look back at her as I open the door, catching the sunlight of her smile. Standing so close, I’m taken back to the other night. I shouldn’t want what happened to happen again so badly.

For her safety.

No one should get close to me. And yet, she’s right there across the hall every night …

“Alessandro…” I click back to the moment and she’s passing me, walking into the library with wide eyes. “This is beautiful. And incredible.”

All I can do is smile at her wonder. I felt the same way as a child visiting our vacation home. The library was and still is my favorite room.

A huge, exotic rug dominates the center of the room, encircled by old, but comfortable couches in a deep green. It matches the overall look of the room, the dark wood, the paintings of famous literary scenes highlighting the spaces between the floor to ceiling shelves.

And the whole room is brightly lit, even in the midst of the blizzard, by skylights and windows strategically placed to let in as much natural light as possible.

Isabella gives me a side eye as she scurries past me again, this time with a book in hand. She looks mischievous, like she’s getting away with something by being here, exploring erratically, jumping from one shelf to the next.

“There’s no rush,” I laugh.

“Of course there is! How am I supposed to read all of these?” Her exasperated stare has my guard slipping again, falling into my own perusal of the titles along one wall.

“There really are more books here than one person could hope to read in a lifetime.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t try …” There she is, that tenacious, relentless interrogator from our first night here.

And just like that, we’re seemingly back to normal.

The knife to my throat and my violent outburst forgotten. Not wanting to lose the progress I’ve made, I head towards the door as she settles down on a chair, already engrossed in a book.

“I’ll leave you to your literary adventures. I need to get a few things done. And feel free to take anything you want back to your room, of course.”

The proximity to her and her vibrant spirit have me riding high. It’s foolish, dangerous, and silly of me.

So I head straight to my room to change and hit the gym.

An hour later, I’m pouring sweat and gasping for breath. Just what I needed.

Until she walks through the door wearing a sports bra and yoga pants, her cleavage peeking out the top of the bright purple material.

She looks positively mouthwatering. I can’t help following the line of her stomach from the base of her ribcage, down to the tight waistband of her ass-hugging black pants.

She's fit as hell and clearly takes good care of her body. Every inch of her exposed skin is a searing brand to my eyes, to my mind, instantly getting me rock-hard in my shorts.

With a little smile and a raising of her eyebrows she passes me, heading toward the treadmill. I almost choke when I see the way her ass is cupped by the fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination.

“You all done?” she asks, looking from the settings on the panel back toward me. Her long ponytail flips as she does, two perfect curls of black hair framing her flawless face.

God dammit, I need to get my head straight.

“Uh. Yeah. She’s all yours.” I watch her for a few minutes, jogging easily while I do a set of curls.

“You should have told me you were going to work out. We could do sets together, pass the time,” she says a bit breathlessly, hopping down off the treadmill.

And challenge each other. I see the thought flash through her eyes as she traces a bead of sweat running down my neck into my tank top.

“Pshh, I doubt you could keep up with me.”

“Oh really?” She cocks her hip to the side, and I have to tense my neck not to look down.

I shrug. “I go really hard.”

“Hmph. I see that.” She flicks her gaze down.

I’ve never been one to embarrass easily, and she’s got me riled up. So, I crack my neck and stand straighter, letting her see all of me.

Tonguing the inside of her cheek she bends low into a stretch, watching me in the mirror. From there, she shifts from one side to the other, dipping one leg and dragging the other, side to side, bobbing that bubble butt up and down.

With a soft shake of my head, I fall into the movement myself, matching her.

“What are you working on today?” I ask.

“I thought I would do some yoga, calisthenics.”

I gesture to the mats by the wall. We have everything imaginable down here, I had Adriano make sure of that before our stay. Nothing keeps my stress levels manageable like lifting weights.

She tosses me a mat as she unrolls hers, nodding for me to follow suit.

“You want me to do yoga?” I scoff.

“Should be easy for a big strong man like you.”

Six squat-holds in, I'm gasping, my legs shaking.

“You’ve never done yoga, huh?” She swoops up into what she calls downward dog.

“Nope.” I grit through my teeth, struggling with the stretch and not gaping openly at her ass up in the air.

“Harder than it sounds,” Isabella teases, easing her knees down and pushing back.

“It's not as hard as some things I've done.” I can’t let her win.

“Not as hard as some things I’d like to do …” she mutters under her breath and I almost fall on my face.

Until she arches into a backbend and I slump to my knees, watching every curve and line of her body stretched to the limit.

“Fuck me …” I whisper.

“Give up?”

“You win. But to be fair, I already did a full workout before you got here.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” She winks.

Jerking off to her doing yoga is going to help me sleep tonight.

I might or might not grumble something about needing a cold shower as I get up, toweling my neck and head. Isabella looks up at me, sticking out her hand for me to help her up.

Then she’s standing way too close, the heat of her body and scent of her perfume mixed with her sweat makes my head spin.

“What’s next?” She bites her lip. Does she know how fucking sexy she is?

Or how fucking hot she makes me?

“Next?” I ask, nonchalantly, resisting the urge to bend her over the bench right here and now. “We could play a game. In the study. After we shower.”

I have no clue where the thought came from, I all but blurt it out.

“You definitely need a shower.” She spins, dragging her eyes down my body quickly as she does. Just like that she’s gone, leaving me fully erect and standing there like an idiot.

“Fucking. Unbelievable.”

One ice cold shower later. I'm waiting in the study sitting in my chair, flipping through an old book. Isabella strolls in wearing a lightweight sweater, leggings, and fuzzy socks.

She plops down on the couch across from me. “What are you reading?”

“I'm not. I was just passing the time.”

“So, what are we playing?”

“Check the trunk over in the corner. Bound to be something we can try.”

I join her as she digs through the old board games, naming off several as she does. “Oh. My. Goodness. Clue.” She holds up the worn and beaten box.

“Ha! I hardly even remember how to play the game,” I laugh.

“It’s not too hard. Although, I’ve never lost a game. No one has ever beaten me.”

“We’ll see about that. I always liked a good mystery.”

An hour later I'm pulling out my hair, slamming my fists on the table. “You've gotta be fucking kidding me. How do you do that?”

“It's simple deduction, my dear Watson.” Isabella strokes an imaginary mustache. “You have to put the clues together and take a guess.”

“No shit. Every time I’m about to, you beat me to it!” I’m imagining the razzing Ciro would give me if he saw me losing a board game. Hell, he’d give me shit for playing one at all.

“Don’t be a sore loser.”

“Says the woman who wins every goddamn round.”

“Shall we play again?”

“I think not. Another loss and I’ll throw the whole damn board out into the snow.” I lean back onto my hands as she packs up the game. “What now?”

“You’re not sick of me yet?”

Not even a little. I don’t want this to end, not that I’d tell her that.

“How about a movie?”

“I was thinking about that earlier. That theater room is ridiculous.”

Crossing the foyer toward the stairs we both pause when the east wing door opens, Adriano stepping out and stopping as he spots us. He looks at me, then Isabella, then back at me.

“What?”

One eyebrow cocks upward, his expression vacant.

Isabella widens her eyes at me and heads down the stairs with a nod to Adriano.

“Don’t give me that look,” I snap.

“What look?” Adriano schools his smile.

“The judgy one. She’s our guest.”

“What’s to judge? You can spend as much time with our guest as you want.”

“Against better judgment, right?”

“I clearly have no say in the matter,” he sniffs, turning to go back to his room.

“Wait, what have you been up to? I haven’t seen you in two days.”

“Just in my room. Keeping busy.”

“You're just in there jerking off to porn.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. It's not like I want to be out here playing a third wheel.”

“She's actually very charming. You might like chatting with her.”

“I'll take your word for it. Just be careful Alessandro.”

“Careful? I’m always careful.”

“I mean … don't fall in love.” His mocking tone is offset by the stern look in his eyes.

“Go back to your cave, Adriano,” I growl. “And ask Ava to make us some popcorn!”

He snickers, rolling his eyes a final time before he heads down the kitchen.

The enormous TV is already on when I get to the theater room. “What are we watching?”

“Well,” Isabella says, “It’s one of my favorites. We used to watch it all the time growing up.”

“That does not answer my question.”

Her eyes dart to the side, like she’s avoiding my question. “Don’t make fun …”

“I won’t!”

“It’s Death on the Nile.”

“What’s to make fun of? That’s a classic.”

“Some people think old movies are corny.” She shrugs, plopping down onto the recliner love seat. I guess we’re sitting together …

Watching a detective movie where the bad guys are a lot like me makes me wonder what her reaction would be if I just told her. Who I am, what I do.

“I love old movies. Reminds me of my childhood.” I leave it at that, and she doesn’t pursue it, giving me space. Like she learned her lesson from the other night.

A twinge of guilt shocks me as I settle in beside her, but I hit play to shift through it.

I know it's only a matter of time before she's questioning me again, probably pissing me off, putting the screws to me.

But for now, we can just watch this movie.

We’re sitting so close to one another, Isabella curled up in a blanket.

“What's your favorite old movie?” She whispers as the opening credits roll.

“Hard to pick. I love this, though. The long intros. The ambiance. The music. I love the way they took their time to set up the mood.” Tone. Style. Patience. The same things I pride myself on in my own life.

“I know what you mean. It feels more like going to a live theater show.” She slides a little closer to me. “You didn’t tell me your favorite, though.”

“I mean, I love the classics. Casablanca, Singing in the Rain.”

“You’re hedging …” she sings, narrowing her eyes at me.

“I really like The Sound of Music.”

The look of shock on her face makes me want to laugh. Or leave the room. “Seriously?”

“What’s wrong with it? It’s an amazing film. Great music.”

She stares at me like she's never seen me before. “No, there’s nothing wrong with it. I like it too. I just⁠—”

“Didn’t expect someone like me to like it?”

“Something like that.” Isabella frowns, lost in her thoughts. “I’m more curious about why you like it.”

“It’s a family run out of town. They have to stick together and sing their way out of a jam. I wish things could be that way in real life.”

“You wish that you and your family had to run from Nazis?”

“No!” I nudge her in the ribs. “I just mean the importance of family. Sticking together, especially when you are on the run.”

I can hear Adriano's voice in the back of my head shouting for me to shut the fuck up, that I’m going to slip up and tell her too much.

She takes my explanation in stride and our attention drifts back to the movie.

I find myself drawn towards her. The warmth of her body.

Maybe it's the snow outside. Maybe it's been so long since I've been intimate with anyone.

But I find myself relaxing around her and her presence.

At the same time, every fiber of my body is extremely aware of exactly how close she is to me.

She leans in closer about halfway through, resting against my arm.

“I always wanted to be a detective, you now? Like Poirot.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Just like my father.” It’s offhanded, distracted. Until she realizes what she said, throwing me a look like she slipped up.

The hairs on the back of my neck shoot up, a warning. Why would she be nervous to tell me that?

Unless …

“My family’s been in law enforcement for as far back as I know. So I always thought I would too.”

“Like an obligation?” I ask, not wanting to give away my suspicions, and not wanting her to stop sharing with me.

“To honor them.”

“I know what you mean. I went into my family business, too. Not that I had much choice,” I admit.

“Mine was a choice. And the fact that my mother forbade it …” Her brow furrows for just a second. “Oh, I love this part!”

And just like that she’s back to her snappy, controlled self, the vulnerability and hesitance gone.

I let it lie for a few moments before I scoot a little closer, adjusting in my seat.

“You know, you're clever enough to be a detective.”

“Oh, am I now?”

“Too clever. I’ll bet you could even guess my favorite movie.”

“I noticed you still didn’t tell me.”

“So?”

“Hmm. I suppose I should list the clues …”

“Indeed, detective.”

“Well, you're secretive,” she says and my eyes narrow at her.

“Your family is very important to you.”

“True.”

“Business rules your life, so to speak. And you value loyalty above all else. Rules dominate everything in your life.” Isabella is gaining steam, her tone matter of fact. “And you have passion, anger, rage all bottled up inside, ready to spring forth at a moment's notice.”

I've completely forgotten about the movie, caught up in her words.

She's turned in her seat, studying me.

My arm on the back of the couch brushes her shoulder and she leans into it.

“And you never let anyone in.” It's almost an accusation the way she says it.

“Supposing you’re correct about all of the above …” Her fingers brush against my hand.

“I am.”

Her leg presses up against mine.

“What does that have to do with my favorite movie?” Her body is right up against me, my heart is pounding.

“Just like the rest of your privacy, it’s something you keep hidden. I doubt anyone knows the answer.”

“So, you give up?”

“No. Because you also told me you love musicals. And the first book you picked off the shelf upstairs, the one you were reading in the den …” Her eyes lock with mine, our faces inches apart. “It was by Victor Hugo.”

“Those could all be coincidences.”

“True. There are too many movies to choose from, but I know I’m right. Are you going to admit it, or do I have to say it?”

“Are you going to laugh at me?”

A smile pulls at the edges of her lips. “Absolutely not. Anyone would be far too scared to laugh at you.”

“I wish my brothers felt the same way.”

And at that she laughs, her nose crinkling, making it hard to think of anything else. “Ah, the trials of a man beset on all sides by his little brothers. Truly comparable to Les Misérables.”

“You’re incredible,” I mutter, and suddenly I realize how close we are, our bodies completely pressed together, her curves nestled into me perfectly.

Our lips are an inch apart, her eyes wide and inviting.

When Ava walks in with a refill of popcorn and drinks. “Mi scusi …”

We both sit back immediately, like we just got caught.

Still, Isabella stays pressed against me, taking the bowl of popcorn and biting her lip, trying not to laugh. The rest of the movie, neither of us say a word.

Even as I turn off the system and walk her to her room, we stay close to one another, unable to make a move, but equally unable to resist staying near.

Finally, at her door, I manage to speak.

“Goodnight, Isabella.”

“Goodnight, Alessandro.”

I lay in the dark for hours, replaying the sensation of her against me, the thought of kissing her. It riles me up, turns me on like nothing has in a long time.

Until other, darker memories invade, smothering my arousal.

What would Catalina think?

Would she want me to finally move on?

More importantly, can I allow myself the idea of such a thing when my family comes first? And when death follows me wherever I go, waiting to take everything away before finally taking me.

9

ISABELLA

Itug my brush through my hair, pulling a little too hard.

Pent up energy, frustration of two very different flavors, has me wound up tight. Stupid girly crap. Stupid buff, god-bodied, strong-jawed stronzo! Stupid movies and stupid romantic lodge!

First off, I shouldn’t be fraternizing so openly with my enemy. I shouldn’t like him as much as I do.

He’s becoming too real, too human.

And too irresistible.

The more time we spend together, the more likable he is, more charming. It’s completely unfair.

Making it all too difficult to keep focusing on the fact that I am here to take him down. And confusing, because it gets harder to reconcile the man I am getting to know with someone who could have killed my brother.

Not to mention, from what little I’ve dug up, the time frames don’t necessarily line up. It’s becoming apparent that there’s almost no way to know for sure if Alessandro was in Italy when Gio was killed.

They keep some records, but clearly he has people clean up after him.

I got a brief peek of his laptop when I was certain that he and Adriano were occupied—a rare occurrence that both of them would be showering around the same time. But all I've turned up is a handful of paperwork, some snapshots of dummy corporations, and possible money laundering.

I need more time to look, and better places to look in.

Alessandro’s desk drawers are still an option, as well as the east wing, where I am sure Adriano has to have some files or a computer I can get something from.

Or I could just ask Alessandro.

Yeah. Right.

So I wait for a phone call to the land line, the phones I was able to bug. Not a single call has come through in my stay here, so far.

And Adriano is really tight-lipped even when they talk. Listening through conversations I’ve recorded between them in the gym, the office, and the study, have turned up very little.

It helps me contextualize their lives and puts perspective on some of my research.

But that’s a far cry from incriminating evidence.

So, leaving my room, I time my venture down to the landing with Alessandro’s morning run, checking to see that Adriano isn’t around, and head to the office.

It’s horribly dangerous, trying this during the day.

The drawers are unlocked, and I quickly rifle through the files, papers, assorted junk.

Everything is relatively organized, leading me to a series of files folders with a few documents.

And one photo.

It immediately grabs my attention because Alessandro doesn’t have a single picture of anyone in the house. No family. No friends. Almost nothing to show that he has any close relationship with anybody.

But this photo, it seems to be some sort of inner circle, Alessandro and Adriano maybe a few years younger. I easily pick out the twins, although they look fairly different from one another, the family resemblance to the older two is uncanny.

With no other findings, I snap a shot with my phone and sneak back to my room, letting my heart rate drop.

One more spot checked. Not caught.

It’s a bit disappointing to check another search off my list with nothing to show for it. Until I study the photo I took. Despite the crinkled edges, it’s still in good condition.

Most of the faces are strangers, run of the mill men and women, all dressed nicely.

But there in the back row, almost unnoticeable …

That hairline. Those eyes. That nose.

I realize I haven’t taken a breath and gasp.

It couldn’t be my brother. Not Giorgio. It must be someone else.

My brain can't reconcile that he would be anywhere with these men, with these terrible people.

Shaken, I close my phone and pace my room for a few minutes, wringing my hands.

There has to be an explanation.

And I need to know right now if Giorgio knew Alessandro. I need to know if the man I am staying with—the man I am developing feelings for—killed my sibling.

“There’s gotta be something. Some evidence here, dammit!” I hiss, running my fingers through my hair.

The simplicity of my plan, trailing them to a vacation home seems so foolish, now.

Plus, all this sneaking around is wearing thin, making my time here stressful. I have to rise early, go to bed late, sneak around in the dark of night and hope that the staff doesn't catch me doing so.

Something snaps inside of me.

I have to get into Adriano’s room.

Two steps down toward the landing I get a thrill, hearing two male voices coming from the game room.

“You keep practicing and maybe one day you'll beat me, Alessandro.”

“Bullshit. I was drunk and I want a rematch.”

“Fine. I’ll even let you break.” The pool balls clack, echoing up through the house.

“Thanks, I was going to.”

The pop of the balls breaking sends me scurrying toward the east wing door. It’s now or never.

I slow as I reach for the doorknob and to my surprise, it’s not closed all the way.

“Deep breaths, Isa,” I whisper, praying the door doesn’t creak. “Calm. Get in, get out.”

Slipping inside, I push the door closed in case Carla or Ava pass by.

Inside it’s dim, light coming into the hallway from a window at the end of the walk. Two doors on each side are closed, except for the far door.

Otherwise, it's like a time capsule from more than twenty years ago.

Photos of a family, more than two generations in some, decorate the walls. An old buffet houses frames filled with pictures of couples, children.

Alessandro is front and center, his beaming smile catching me off guard.

He was adorable.

They all were.

The first and second door lead to rooms swathed in old sheets, covering the furniture. Rooms that have clearly been unoccupied since the Diamantes came here as a family.

Two sets of bunk beds line the walls of the third room, an old toy chest and colorful wallpaper and rugs visible in the faint light glowing around the closed curtains.

Shaking myself and making sure that my footfalls are silent, I get back on task, heading to the last room.

It’s stark, simple.

This was probably their parent’s room. A queen bed. A desk, TV, and its own bathroom.

Frames that once hung on the walls form a lean-to against the far wall, and I’m tempted to inspect them.

No. Focus.

Assessing the rest of the room, the only things out of place are the suitcase that Adriano is clearly still living out of and his leather laptop bag sitting by the desk. A quick search reveals the drawers are empty, except for some dust and old pencils and paper.

My fingers shake as I lift the briefcase, unzipping it carefully.

His laptop would be ideal, likely full of work-related files.

Assuming he’s an idiot and doesn’t have it password protected.

In the other pocket, I find what I’m looking for.

Spreadsheets. Accounting.

Dock numbers and manifestos.

Most of those are worded in what must be code, but I can tell immediately from terms my brother and father taught me to look for that it’s all illicit materials. Guns. Drugs.

The last packet is full of names, dollar amounts tracked down a list beside them.

Pay outs?

Or debts?

I start to snap a few shots of the pages, trying to keep my hands from quivering. This is it. Everything I need to break them wide open. Or at least enough to get the cops involved properly.

On the last page of the spreadsheet, I stop short.

Rossi, Giorgio/$765,000.

What the hell?

Was he in debt to the Diamantes?

My speculation stutters to a halt when I hear the thump of feet on the stairs.

“Shit!” I choke, setting the briefcase back by the desk and hustling from the room. In a panic I realize I still have the packet of names in one hand, so I dash to the room with the old furniture and boxes, cramming the papers into a box on the bottom of a stack just inside the door.

No sooner do I turn back—patting down the front of my shirt nervously—than Adriano pushes open the door to the wing. He slows as he notices me standing in the hallway, looking guilty as sin.

“Hi.”

“Uh, hi, Adriano.”

“What are you doing in here?” His tone is cool, quiet. Deadly.

My knees almost give out at the implication of murder in his blank stare.

Adriano's voice is huskier than his brother’s. Less smooth and baritone, but still deep. It would be attractive in any other circumstance.

I inhale, acting as innocent as I can. “I’m so sorry. I just really, really wanted to see what was back here. The door was open and I …”

The shrug that pulls at my shoulders is real, apologetic.

I really am sorry.

That I got caught.

“Don’t worry about it. Alessandro just didn’t want you to disturb me. He’s sensitive about … this stuff, too.” He waves toward the photos, the rooms. “Just where our parents and the cousins stayed when we came here.”

“I hope it doesn’t make him mad.”

“He's a little sentimental sometimes. I won’t say anything.”

Adriano is so different from Alessandro. He’s cool and collected, doesn’t appear to be tense and poised to attack like his older sibling. There’s a looseness to his stance that puts me at ease, even though I know I shouldn’t fool myself.

He’s still a Diamante.

There’s that same intensity in his gaze, but even more thoughtful than Aless.

More calculating.

“Isabella, right? We haven’t really had a chance to speak since you arrived. I’m Adriano.”

“It’s nice to be formally introduced.” I shake his hand, begging my body to stay calm, to not shake. “You’re one of his brothers, right?”

He smiles tightly, nodding.

Pleasant and polite. As if he hadn’t been outright avoiding us this entire time.

“Yes, our younger brothers are back home.”

“What’s the age gap, if you don’t mind me asking?” I can’t seem to keep my damn mouth shut to save my life.

“Seven years. Another four between me and the twins. Aless raised us.”

“That’s what I gathered. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It was a long time ago.”

He's candid, upfront, but he's careful about what he says, gauging my reactions just as carefully. His eyes take note of everything, they remind me of my dad, of me. Always taking stock of every detail in a situation.

Which tells me Adriano might very well be more dangerous than Alessandro.

“So, Isabella, what brings you up to the mountains anyway?”

“Didn't Alessandro tell you?” I skirt around the question.

“He mentioned it a bit in passing.”

“I was researching my family. Visiting old homesteads. My distant relatives lived near here.”

“Hmm. Getting in touch with your roots. I get it. Good to get back to the old country, too.”

“Yes, it was foolish of me to come on holiday at this time of year, apparently.” I gesture toward the window and he nods again, waiting for me to say more. “And then I was out a little too late and tried to drive back to where I was staying. I got lost on the road. Followed your taillights and …”

“Just lucky you found your way here. And that your little rental car made it.” Adriano smirks.

“I'm grateful. I have no clue how I’ll get it back to town.”

“Oh, I'm sure we'll find a way.” Something about the way he says it makes me tense up.

“I do appreciate everything the two of you have done for me. It's definitely something that I don't know how I'll ever repay.” I glance to the side, the sentiment feeling as hollow as my excuses. I mean, I am thankful they let me stay.

“Well, I'm sure you’ll think of something.” He looks at me, watches me lock up. “I’m kidding, of course.”

I join him laughing, even if mine is a lot more nervous.

“Well, I’ll see you around, I guess,” I offer.

“Likewise. I’m sure we’ll talk again.” I can’t decide if it’s a statement of goodwill or a threat.

“I understand if not, you like your privacy. And I don't blame you. We're kind of in close quarters here, unable to escape.”

“Right. Still, I suppose I should’ve been a better host in my own home. Even so, if you wouldn’t mind?” He points toward the door, inviting me to leave.

“Ah, um, yes. Sorry again.” I shuffle awkwardly toward the entryway.

“I don’t want Aless to get upset with you, that’s all.”

It’s an excuse for getting me to go and I take it gladly.

“Right. Thank you, Adriano.” This time, I mean it. The last thing I want to do is piss off Alessandro Diamante.

“No worries. It will be our little secret.”

And like that, he ushers me out and shuts the door. A strangled sigh escapes me as I hurry back down the stairs toward the landing, turning the corner.

Where I run smack dab into Alessandro.

10

ALESSANDRO

Ibite my lip to avoid making a sound as Isabella turns the corner, looking back over her shoulder. She yelps as she runs right into my chest, bouncing back.

I catch her, gripping her arms to keep her from falling back.

“Alessandro! You scared the shit out of me.”

“What were you up to?” The shocked and nervous expression almost makes me think she just got caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing.

“I was just …” Her eyes narrow, catching the smirk on my lips. “You’re messing with me.”

“Maybe a little.”

Her gaze turns heated, a little anger, a little sass.

“You are⁠—”

“What?” I love the way her lips stay parted, ready to snap back at me with a scathing remark.

Our eyes lock, our bodies inching closer to one another.

I almost lose myself, leaning down, tilting her head up with the crook of one finger just below her chin.

How bad would it be? To just give into this, to let it happen.

Never mind that she's so much younger than me, and that she’s practically a stranger. Something about her breaks through all of my defenses.

“Hey, Aless …”

She tenses in my arms, going stiff at the sound of my brother’s voice at the top of the stairs. He can’t see us, but I let go, letting her step back. I want to ignore him, pull her back toward me.

“Alessandro.” Adriano’s voice is more insistent. His business tone.

“Yes? What do you want?” I don’t bother hiding my irritation.

“For you to come here. I need to tell you something. Now.”

Isabella backs away slowly, eyeing the stairs, then me. I give her a questioning glance, tilting my head.

What’s got her so nervous? She shakes her head, the thought instantly slipping away.

I leave her standing there and join my brother upstairs. “What’s so urgent, fratellino?”

Adriano gives me a flat look at calling him “little brother.” His eyes flick back toward the stairs, leaving the question unasked.

A lesser man might blush or make excuses.

Not me. It’s none of his business.

“Got a message from town.”

Immediately my mood shifts, the words promising action and an update to our situation. This is important.

I nod for us to step into the east wing, closing the door behind us. “News? Did Ciro call?”

“I told the twins never to call here. I set up a relay. Lorenzo hit me up on the radio from town. He got a message from Ero. One that he wouldn’t relay over the comm. I need to get down there to check it personally.”

“You sure you can’t just call home, get the message that way?” I’m getting desperate for some contact with the outside world.

“Have you checked your cell lately? No bars. The storm has us cut off. Landline isn’t working either.”

“Fuck. You can’t go in this.”

“Lorenzo can get the plow halfway up if I can meet him. With Vincenzo’s truck we should be able to plow through far enough to get out.”

“Too risky.”

“It’s too risky for me not to. Besides, didn’t you want to get Carla and them out of here? This is the best option. Lorenzo said it’s as light as it’s going to get. More snow’s coming.”

“You’re right. I should have sent them home days ago.” I’ve never been one to hesitate to make hard choices, but I’ve been distracted.

Adriano withholds commentary but I can see it in his eyes.

The critique.

“Maybe I should come, too. Get Isabella out.”

“No. Stay put. This could just as easily be a trap to draw you out of hiding.”

“Then take her with you and I’ll stay,” I say, begrudging the thought of losing her as soon as I say it.

“I’m not leaving you up here alone. She stays for now.” A look flashes through his eyes as he says it.

There’s more to that than he’s telling me. He wants to keep her here for a reason.

And not just to keep me company.

“Dammit. This is dangerous. You radio me as soon as you get there, you hear me?” I’m rarely emotional, but I pull him into a hug.

Adriano claps me on the back after a squeeze. “I’ll be fine. This is nothing. Remember our visit to meet with the Bratva three years ago?”

His smile has me grinning along with him.

“We almost froze to death because Yuri left us stranded.”

“Yeah, because you insulted his mother.”

“Father, mother, who could tell? She had a beard.” I chuckle, feeling a little lighter. Adriano will be fine. He’s tough, and Vincenzo is an expert at navigating the mountains in snow. “You get ready. I’ll go tell them the news.”

“More like give them the order. You know Carla isn’t going to want to leave.”

“That’s why I’m going to go tell Vincenzo and Ava, and let them force her hand.”

“Ah, ever the diplomat, Don Alessandro.”

After delivering the order to my staff, I head back upstairs to see Adriano off, help in any way I can. The next hour is a hustle of quick packing, checking the truck, and helping Vincenzo get it out of the garage, clearing a path to the road before pulling it back in to load everything up.

By the time we get everything set, Isabella has joined us, standing in the doorway to the house, a confused look on her face.

“Where are they going?” she asks as I pull down my gator and goggles. Worry hides behind her neutral expression.

“I should have sent them away sooner. We need to get the staff home before it gets worse. Otherwise, we’ll have to start rationing with five of us here.” I try to sound light, jovial.

She’s not buying it.

“Did something happen?”

“Adriano needs to get back to town, as well. Let my company know everything is fine, check for news, you know.”

“Right. Leaving you and I … ?”

Oh. Shit.

The realization hits me that I didn’t explain any of this to her or ask her what she wants to do. A normal host would offer to get her out of here, too.

“Did you want to⁠—”

“No. Not a chance,” she answers too fast.

“I apologize, I just assumed with your car here and all⁠—”

“Exactly. I’m fine waiting it out. Honestly, I’d rather stay here than being stuck alone in my hotel room for days.”

“Oh. Good.” I expected more of a fight, or some pushback. Odd.

“Food’s better here, too,” she deflects, smiling and turning back into the house. “I’m going to say goodbye to Carla and Ava. Shut the door, it’s freezing!”

She’s right. Even bundled up in arctic gear, the cold is leeching away my body heat.

Adriano steps out of the truck, checking through his things one last time. “Stay near the radio for me. I’ll call as soon as we make it back.”

“I will. Don’t freeze to death out there.”

“And give the twins the satisfaction of making fun of me for dying in such a lame way? Not a chance.”

“You know what to do if there’s important news? Or the worst-case scenario.”

“I know. I’ll code it back to you, make the necessary calls.”

“Andare con Dio, Adriano.”

The ladies shuffle out in their warmest gear, Carla fussing over the entire situation, Ava, and her husband. She’s rattling off a barrage of scoldings at me in Italian, wagging her finger.

“Carla, go home to your grandbabies. You can come back and fuss over me when this blows over.”

I wait until they reach the road before closing the garage door and rushing inside to strip out of my snow-covered coat, boots, and pants. The fire in the den beckons me, its heat reviving me.

Isabella leans in the doorway, watching me.

“I hope they’ll be okay.”

“They will,” I shudder, cupping my hands toward the flames. “Will you be alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She shivers, catching a taste of the outside air and pulling back.

“It’s all too easy to get used to someone waiting on you hand and foot. We’ll have to fend for ourselves. Cook. Clean.” If anything, I may struggle with it more than her.

“Oh, the horror! Are you sure you can handle it, Mr. CEO?”

“I’ll have you know that I am one hell of a cook. The twins were extremely picky growing up. Had to get really good at making the one meal they would eat.”

“Which was?”

“Spaghetti.”

“And meatballs?”

“Never got that far.”

“Well then, I’m glad my mamma taught me how to make a few more things than that!” She shakes her head, heading toward the kitchen.

After I warm up enough, I track her down, finding her washing a few dishes and tidying up. “You really don’t need to do that, not yet anyway.”

“Who else is going to do it? And it’s nice to feel productive. This holiday is nice, but relaxing all day and having someone tend to your needs has its drawbacks. I’m used to taking care of myself.”

“I can relate. Feels like you never really have time to yourself when there’s a house staff.”

“Present company excluded.”

“Of course. I’ll admit, it’s been really nice having you here,” I nearly bite my tongue as the words slip out. Not because I don’t mean them. But the look she gives me is smug, like she just won another competition I didn’t know we were having.

A gust of wind hammers against the house, rattling the windows.

The storm is getting worse again.

By nightfall, we can’t see more than a few feet outside the front door, nothing through the windows. I’ve taken to pacing the landing, my fists clenching and unclenching.

“Alessandro?” Isabella asks tentatively, looking up at me from the kitchen.

“I’m fine. Just … I shouldn’t have sent them out in this.”

“It’s alright to worry. I’m sure they’re fine. It probably took them a while to get down.”

No sooner does she offer consolation than I hear static from my office, the radio warbling.

“Hello? Adriano?” I grip the receiver.

“zzz-Alessandro! We made it.-zzz”

“Thank goodness.”

“zzz-Yeah, we made it, but it’s a mess out there.-zzz-I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere for a while.-zzz-Staying at Vincenzo’s.-zzz”

“Don’t worry about it. Radio me tomorrow, once you’ve had a rest and checked the post, alright?”

“zzz-Good, will do. You have plenty of food and gas for the generator if need be.-zzz”

“Thanks, Nonna, we’ll be fine.”

“zzz-You do remember how to turn the thing on, right?-zzz”

“I’ll figure it out, smartass. Goodnight. Over and out.”

“zzz-Goodnight, Aless. Over and out.-zzz”

I sit back in my chair, looking up to see Isabella standing in the doorway to my office. She looks around, appraising my little sanctum.

“Any chance that thing can call Rome? I was going to let my boss know I was okay.” She holds up her cell phone uselessly.

“Not so much. Landline isn’t working either right now. Must have knocked down the line.”

“Looks like we're extra stranded,” she muses, biting her lip nervously.

“Seems that way.”

We stay that way for a minute, staring at each other.

Being truly alone with her sends a thrill through me. It also makes my mouth go a little dry. “Wine?”

“Definitely.” She leads the way to the kitchen. “And food.”

“I’ll get something started⁠—”

“Why don’t we do it together?” she counters.

“Deal.”

Fortunately, the fridge is full of leftovers and prepped food, dishes Carla was getting ready for the evening, for breakfast. As confident as I am in my ability to cook, the discovery is a relief.

Setting the spread out on the counter, Isabella sidles up close to me, our hips brushing.

It’s quiet, the hiss of the wind the only real sound other than the clatter of knives and plates.

“You know, we may be stranded for days.”

“Just the two of us.”

“Just the two of us.”

I see her pulse quicken, beating in the line of her neck as she gazes up at me.

My own heart is pounding out of control.

Her hand slides over mine, the touch soft, seeking.

Our meal is forgotten as I reach for her, rushing in for a kiss⁠—

And the room goes dark with a loud pop.

Pitch black.

11

ISABELLA

The initial shock of the lights going out fades as I take a deep breath. I realize I’m gripping Alessandro’s hand tightly.

“Sorry.”

“For what? And why are you whispering?” There’s a chuckle in his words. “Should be a flashlight right … here.”

He clicks it on, shining it up to illuminate the room better.

“I thought I saw some candles when I was looking for silverware,” I mutter, feeling a little silly for freaking out.

In moments, we have a fair share of light and manage to get the older stove lit and heating our meal. The rich, creamy soup and garlic bread fill the kitchen with a mouthwatering aroma. Even more so, since the temperature has already started to drop in the house.

Alessandro heads upstairs to get the fire going in the den hearth while I finish getting everything ready, traying up our feast.

By the time I get upstairs, Alessandro has a roaring fire rekindled in the fireplace and several candles shine merrily, making the room glow almost romantically. The blazing fireplace is a bright and happy welcome as I set out the meal and settle down onto the fur rug.

“Here …” Aless wraps me in a fleece throw and I bite my lip to keep from giggling at his awkward shrug.

“Thank you.”

We dig in eagerly, the minestrone and bread tasting far better than it probably would have otherwise. Something about the weather, the dark, the firelight. It reminds me of camping with Papa as a little girl.

Alessandro seems to share the sentiment, making a few pleasant hums as he starts eating. We sit quietly, in companionable silence, enjoying our bread and soup, staring into the flames.

“I guess I’ll have to see if I can get the generator on. Or brave the blizzard to check the transformer.” Alessandro sits on the floor, wrapped in his own blanket, his back to the couch.

“You’re not going out there in the dark.”

“Then we’re both going to have to sleep on the floor in here tonight. It’s going to get really cold.”

The thought of sleeping near him sends a thrill through my legs down into my toes. “I can live with that.”

The lack of power sets a mood, like we’re both dancing around each other. It also punctuates the fact that I am stranded, alone, with the most intense man I’ve ever met.

It sets my heart pounding.

And I’m not sure if it’s in a good way or a bad way.

I just have to get through tonight, and things can go back to normal tomorrow once we get the power back on. Whatever normal is.

My stomach full, I curl up on the couch, feeling fairly sleepy and deliciously toasty. Giving in to a whim, I pat the couch cushion next to me, inviting Alessandro to join me. His body heat washes over me the instant he sits down and I can’t help scooting a bit closer.

“We used to have nights like this on purpose as kids. Dad would turn all the lights off, light candles. We would all gather in this room, have a big camp out. Tell stories.”

“Ghost stories?”

He huffs a little laugh. “Sometimes. My best friend was always trying to scare all of us with monsters and ghouls. He was a terrible storyteller, though.”

“Are you still friends?”

A stillness settles over him, and for a bit I think he’s not going to answer.

“No. And yes. Domenico will always be one of the most important people in my life.”

An edge to his words sends a shiver down my back.

“I take it you aren’t exactly friends anymore.”

“He made a choice that there’s no coming back from.”

Every word Alessandro says is so carefully chosen, and there’s hidden meaning in every sentence, a history that I find myself wanting to understand. Everything Alessandro does, he does with the same level of intensity and wholehearted drive.

“You don't do anything in halves, do you?” I tease, trying to draw him back away from those dark thoughts.

“I’ve always felt that if you're going to do anything, that you might as well do it entirely. Give everything to it.”

“I agree.” If only he knew. I quit my job to track him down. “Your career, the company. Is it what you always wanted to do?”

“Not quite. I've always had an investigative mind. I've always asked hard questions, demanded answers. Oddly enough, I never really did the same with myself.”

“It’s easier to ask others questions than figure out what we really want sometimes.”

“Exactly. And there’s never a shortage of demands on my time—distractions, obligations. So there was never much time to think about what I wanted.”

“You have time now,” I murmur.

Alessandro locks eyes with me, the friction between us filling the air. Despite the freezing chill encroaching from all sides, the room feels so warm, the heat from his body filling me.

I shouldn't want him to be closer to me.

I shouldn’t want to ask him deeper questions about himself. To unlock the puzzle that has me all too intrigued. In the deep darkness surrounding us, I want to draw him into the light. I want him to open up to me.

I want to hate him. I want to stop falling for him.

And yet, I want to let go.

Looking up, I realize he’s been staring intently at me, watching me. I swallow hard, looking from his eyes to his lips.

“I’ll make us a couple of makeshift beds.”

He rises, leaving me hanging, lost in my thoughts.

“Good idea.” Another thrill zips through me at the idea of curling up next to him in the dark.

Lying on the floor, just a few feet away from him, the roar of the fire matching the heat I feel building inside me.

I’m already bundled in my pile of blankets when he settles into his, grunting out a sigh behind me. “Goodnight Isabella.”

“Goodnight Alessandro.”

I stare at the wall, practically holding my breath for several minutes, listening for any sound of him behind me. After a while, I must doze off, just for a bit. When I open my eyes, the embers in the fire are dying down, getting darker.

The wind howls distantly out in the storm.

My entire body is aching, longing to roll over and find him, to be near him. A buzzing, sensuous feeling tingles through me, imagining his hands sliding over my skin in the dark.

I nearly jump when I hear him say, “Are you still awake?”

“Yes.”

“Are you cold?”

“A little.”

I hear more than see him rise in the darkness. Moving towards the fire, adding wood and stoking the flames. Shadows cut him in stone, every muscle of his shirtless back rippling.

He’s easing back down to the floor when I realize he’s only wearing underwear, my eyes tracing down the muscles of his abs, then lower. His hand braces right next to me as he adjusts the blankets and I reach out, my fingers brushing his knuckles.

“Alessandro …”

I'm pulling him towards me before I can stop myself.

A swelling need overtakes me, consumes everything.

There’s no hesitance in his movements as he lifts the covers and slides over, scooping an arm under me and pulling me up. Our lips graze once, twice, and he inhales, taking me in, right before claiming my mouth with his.

His kiss is desperate, firm.

Our tongues lash out, dancing between our teeth, testing and teasing each other.

Just like our conversations, it’s a back and forth, a fencing match. He dives in, exploring with his tongue, then darts back. I follow, biting his lower lip, dragging it out until neither of us can resist and we’re kissing deeply again.

Strong hands grip me, running down my thigh, up under me, cupping my ass and squeezing.

My legs twine around him, pulling him where I really want him, on top of me, grinding lightly, feeling the staggering length and thickness of him press through my panties.

His kisses wander up my jawline, nibbling my earlobe, sighing a growling breath into my ear, my name faintly lost in the rumble. The sensation washes down my entire body, pebbling my skin in goosebumps from head to toe.

Like he can read my mind, he slips his hands under my nightgown touching every inch of my taught, tingling skin. In one swift, powerful movement, he whips my gown up and over my head, tossing it aside.

In the flickering light he pauses, drinking in the sight of my exposed breasts, my heaving chest, and down the line of my stomach.

“My God …” he whispers, his voice husky and dark, “you’re the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”

He dives back in, devouring my lips, and just like that, I completely lose myself in him. We roll through a sea of blankets and furs, skin on skin, our soft moans and gasps accenting the popping crackle of the fire.

Alessandro leans over me, resting on his forearms as he drags his tongue around my nipple, then the other, shooting quivers of ecstasy down my spine. Until I press into his chest, flipping him to his back, and rising on top of him.

There are only two strips of fabric between us, my lacy thong and his boxer briefs.

Both doing little to hide what I've done to him—his immense, rigid cock looking like it might burst through the fabric any second—or what he’s doing to me; my core already soaked and slick.

The first rotation of my hips has him groaning, the second growling, his hands clamping down around my hips to clutch my ass cheeks. Friction zips electricity along my hips and into my groin as my clit presses into his bulge, making me bite down on my lip.

In response, he slides one hand up along my abdomen, cupping my breast and tweaking my nipple.

I almost chuckle at the sheer torture, and I can tell he won’t put up with this much longer.

His eyes are already tearing my underwear off before his hands get to it and I let him roll me onto my back, stripping them down my legs with a long, dragging pull.

Then his fingers are scraping up the inside of my thigh, while mine scrape up the back of his neck, twining into his hair, those sandy curls.

He slips one finger along me, gasping at the feel of the slickness he finds there. I can tell he’s about to slide it in when I shake my head, locking him with a stare.

It makes one side of his mouth curl in a little smile.

In one motion, he slips out of his boxers and lifts me, powerfully sitting up and resting me across his lap, my knees settling into the furs around us.

He’s still holding back, I can tell.

A caged animal.

And I want to unleash him on me.

I rest my arms across his shoulders, hovering over him, straddling him.

I reach down between us, wrapping my fingers around him, gripping tightly. The growl that forms deep in his chest rumbles through me as I guide him right to my entrance, holding him fast, keeping him right there.

A flash of animal lust flares in his eyes and I feel him flex every muscle below me.

He pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me and I lean down, right next to his ear.

“Promise me one thing …”

“Anything.”

“Don’t hold back.”

There’s no foreplay.

I don’t want foreplay tonight.

So I sink down over him, taking him entirely inside me.

I need him all around me, filling me, scorching me with his desire. Making the bonfires of my soul rage and blaze into the dark. I need the storm of him, of us, to consume me, while the storm rages outside.

My long, deep moan accents his as I adjust to the size of him, relaxing to fit all of his impressive size into me. He grips me tight, holding me close to him right before we both slowly begin to rock, Alessandro rolling his hips and me bucking mine back and forth along him.

Each thrust drives any doubt from my thoughts, erases any thought but him.

All I need is Alessandro.

This.

And I want him to take whatever he wants from me.

Give me everything in return.

His fingers spear into my hair, down my back. Every movement is a need, an unraveling of years of pent-up frustration and denial. I can tell it’s only the tip of the iceberg, a well of passion miles deep inside him.

He’s not holding back, but the floodgates are just beginning to open.

I cannot wait for more, to see him let loose on me.

We’re pressed tightly together, grinding, our gasps and moans syncing in the sweetest rhythm.

I’m building up, heading toward a peak when he lays me onto my back, throwing my legs up over his shoulders. He lifts me effortlessly, powerful muscles flexing in the firelight.

When he slides back into me, its deeper, harder.

His girth is stretching me to my limit, filling me completely, my inner walls hugging him so snuggly.

And just as overwhelming is his presence, that pure dominance and strength.

Every time he slides out I’m desperate for him to thrust back in, bucking my hips toward him, demanding that he fill me deeper, rougher.

My first wave of pleasure begins, coiling in a spiral down to my toes, back up through my calves, and trembling up through my thighs. Shivers ripple up my back, caressed by the soft fur rug beneath me, adding to the stimulation as I reach the edge.

The first one is a slow, cascading wave breaking over me, and I inhale deeply to let out a low, long cry, echoing through the dark house.

My fingers curl into the fur, bunching and clenching, holding on for dear life as he drives into me again and again.

I luxuriate in the glow, watching Alessandro above me, his hands clamped around my thighs. He kisses and nibbles at my legs, sending more shivers of ecstasy through me.

His eyes are half closed, holding his own eruption in reserve, slowing every time he starts to throb inside me.

In response, I clench softly, flexing my walls around him and he growls out a low rumble, half laugh, half warning.

The rhythm slows for just a moment as he explores my body with his eyes, dragging the entire length of his manhood out of me achingly slow. “Don’t you dare stop,” I beg, my voice husky.

“This is just an intermission,” he explains, circling one finger around my nipple, pinching it softly.

“Good … because I know you’re not done.”

“I’m just getting warmed up.” The words are gravelly, a promise that I won’t forget this night as long as I live.

Our fingers clasp as I reach out and he pulls me up, rolling back, laying me over him. I straddle him, seating him back as deep as he’ll go and we both savor the feeling, my back arching in a sensual stretch.

I roll my hips once, twice, finding our rhythm again, grinding the head of his rock-hard erection into the bundle of nerves just inside, and Alessandro presses his palm to my lower abdomen, like he can read my thoughts. The pressure is intense, like a quake deep in my core.

I buck my ass back, then forward, and feel him sigh in surprise, his cock swelling inside me as he flexes his buttocks instinctively. I do it again and he locks his hands onto my hips, riding out each thrust with a deep groan.

“Isabella, you’re going to …”

“Yes …Yes!”

His eyes are practically rolling back in his head, the velvet of my inner walls, flexing and squeezing around him. This is the most aroused I’ve ever felt, the most free.

Even though there is a present, very real danger in the man inside me.

It’s a thrill that I can’t deny.

I’ve never come so completely undone with anyone, our bodies intertwining, becoming one like the roaring flame in the hearth.

Every buck of my hips gets me hotter, higher.

I’m slamming down on him, my ass slapping his thighs, his perfect, sculpted ass flexing to drive his massive cock as far inside me as he can.

I hear my own voice, far away, crying out his name, screaming.

“Aless, come for me, come with me!” His name is on my lips, in my head, he’s everything.

It only grows more intense as I feel his thumb press into my clit, sending an explosion of stars erupting behind my closed eyelids.

My fingers dig into his chest. This is it.

The motion of my gyrating hips does the work for him, his thumb pressing into me, his rock-hard girth completing me. A low growl issues from his lips as he watches me. Shooting thrills, a shock of electricity rocketing through my entire body.

I know he won’t be able to hold out this time.

I feel him tensing, clenching, building.

The pulse inside me, the swell of him, sends me over the edge; a roaring conflagration spilling out of him, filling me up in its entirety, lighting my very soul on fire.

We’re both screaming, his back arching off the carpet, my nails digging into his pecs.

It lasts for seconds, minutes. I lose track, lost in wave after wave of bliss crashing over me.

My legs quiver, shaking through my frame, sapping every last bit of strength I have left.

Alessandro roars to a finish, his body relaxing under me as I slump down onto his chest, my hair spilling across his shoulders.

I feel him inhale deeply, my scent. Our essence.

I breathe him in, the faint cologne of his skin.

The last thing I remember is Aless pulling a blanket over us as I fall helplessly, hopelessly into the deepest, most satisfying sleep of my life.

12

ALESSANDRO

The howling moan outside the house has become a white noise almost forgotten like a lullaby in the background of our sleep.

Inside, the house is utterly silent. Like a bastion, a safe haven for us in the midst of turmoil. Just like the quiet inside my mind lying next to Isabella.

A strange, forgotten sense of peace that I haven't felt in years—maybe my entire life—holds its breath to see what happens next. In the midst of the chaos of my life, it’s a faint hope.

The release that I found with her unlocked something inside me. Something I’ve kept locked in the basement of my soul, the door long forgotten, the key lost.

Like a spark igniting a flame, she caused a fundamental shift.

The door isn’t flung wide open, no.

I won't allow that.

Still, it’s strange. New.

She's lying in my arms. Still fast asleep, the scent of her hair lingering in my nostrils.

The sensation of her skin against my skin makes my entire body ache, but most of all, my heart.

I wish this could go on forever.

But I won’t hold out for that.

I can’t be sure that this wasn’t simply a single night of passion, giving into the nature of the darkness and the firelight, the wine, and the good company. It was a perfect scenario for such a thing to happen between us.

But it's something that I'll never forget for as long as I live.

I feel her breathe deeply, stirring.

It triggers a little moment of doubt, debating whether I should just get up. Leave the room. Pretend this was what it probably was. A one-night stand.

But I can't bear to remove myself.

The cold outside the blankets is as good an excuse as any to stay right here with her for as long as I can. Although, a roaring fire would be a nice way to wake up.

I slip out from under her, laying her head gently on the pillow and stoke the ashes. Soon, the fire is crackling back to life.

When I look back, she’s propped up on her elbow watching me. Eyeing my naked body.

I didn't bother to cover myself.

Mostly because I want her again. I want to take her again right here, right now.

And I want her to see me in the daylight. I want her to want me like I want her.

The thought of possible rejection, however, leaves me feeling a bit raw, annoyed. More annoyed for how much this is all getting to me.

Warmth fills the room quickly, radiating out and prickling my exposed skin. I rise, snatching a blanket to wrap around myself and head to the kitchen, leaving Isabella lying there, curled up in the blankets.

She watches me leave, a little smirk on her face.

It makes my heart race.

Mostly because I have no clue what she’s thinking.

When I return with plates full of steaming hot porridge and bread, she watches me like a hawk, her expression unreadable. That indifference tugs at something deep in my heart.

Despite the chill in the room, she remains naked, only wrapped in a blanket, seemingly unfazed by her nudity in front of me. We eat in silence, sharing a few glances and appreciative sounds of good food.

A little hum escapes her lips as she finishes her last bite of bread and jam, licking her thumb with her eyes closed. It’s unbelievably adorable.

A little laugh slips between my lips and she looks at me, narrowing her eyes. “What?”

“You're just …”

“I'm just what?”

“You're cute when you eat.” It sounds odd coming out of my mouth. I don't say things like that.

“You’re cute when you walk around naked,” she snips back.

We finish our coffee in silence, both of us clearly reluctant to move or get up. Isabella keeps an eye on me the whole time. Like she’s waiting for something. “So. What do we do now?”

“We take cold showers from the looks of it, unless we can get the power back on.”

“You look like you might need a cold shower,” she remarks, dragging her eyes down my body, seeing how I react to her flirting.

“I wouldn’t need to if you’d share your blanket with me.”

She crawls towards me, running a hand along my arm as she covers us. “Better?”

“Almost.”

I take the chance, leaning over and cupping the side of her face gently. Her cheeks are so soft, even more so when they flush, pink and hot to my touch. Her eyelids flutter slightly and she bites her lip, her gaze dropping to mine.

I kiss her, grazing against her lips, tentatively, softly. Exploring her mouth with my tongue, hers caressing mine in return.

It lasts for minutes, simply sitting there, running my hands over her shoulders, her neck. I haven’t just kissed a woman like this for as long as I can remember.

It’s intimate, sensual.

And it gets me rock-hard, throbbing under our blanket.

We continue like this for a while. Feeling the soft silk of her hair between my fingers. Her naked body pressed against mine. I graze my fingers up along her thigh, finding that she’s more than ready for another round.

Just as she's about to crawl into my lap, the radio crackles from my office.

“Fucking Adri …” I grumble, rising. “I guess I should go get that.”

Isabella laughs softly, pinching her bottom lip with her fingers.

“I'll. Be. Right. Back.” I trot from the room naked, immediately regretting it as I step into the freezing foyer, the tile floor making me hop from foot to foot.

“Merda!” I manage to make it to my office, sliding into my chair and grabbing the receiver. “Ay!” I yelp as the leather of my chair chills my ass cheeks. “Adriano?”

“zzz-Good morning to you too.-zzz”

“It was …” I grumble.

“Aless, what the hell? I’ve tried to reach you three times.”

“I was sleeping.”

“Yeah, I bet you were.”

Slipping a spare robe off the coat rack in my office, I wrap myself, shivering. “What’s the news, little brother?”

“zzz-It's gonna be a few days before we can make it up the mountain. The storm is still going strong. But I wanted to check in on you. Power went out in town for a few hours last night.”

“Yeah. Here too. We started a fire in the fireplace, stayed in the den.”

There's a little pause on the other end of the line.

“Good idea, keep each other warm.”

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t need color commentary from you.”

If it were Ciro, he'd be busting up laughing right now, but Adriano is cool, dry.

“Touchy, touchy. I’ll chalk it up to the cold. You sure you know how to turn on the generator?”

“I’ll be fine. You don't have to ‘manage’ me all the time you know?”

“Fine, fine.” Pause. “But you do remember how to do it, right?”

“Yes, dammit. Turn the fuel valve on, put the choke on, ignition.”

“Right. But then you have to pull the recoil cord and set it to ‘run.’”

“I know.”

“I know you know. Just reminding you.” I hear the sly tone in his voice.

“Thanks, Nonna. We’ll manage just fine.”

“You know, I wouldn’t have to manage you if you just⁠—”

“Yeah yeah. Maybe you can manage to pull your head out of your ass before you come back,” I snap at him.

“You should try that yourself, unless it’s warm in there. Go get the generator running before you freeze to death. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Hey, great idea. I was craving a hot shower.” The idea of a hot shower with Isabella sends shivers down my back that have nothing to do with the cold.

“I don’t need the sordid details …”

“Ha, ha. Did you have a chance to check the mail yet?”

“Oh, yeah. The twins filled me in on what’s been brewing. Some gang called the Serpent’s Head is behind all of the hits on our turf. Sounds like⁠—”

“Like Domenico Vipera’s bad idea of a joke.” My best friend never could grasp the concept of subtlety.

“Well, whether it’s him or not, the group is targeting specific members of our organization. Heads of old families, allies. They’re putting pressure on them to break ties with us, but it’s not clear what the reasoning behind it is, yet. I should have more info for you in a few days.”

“Fuck. I hate this. What the hell am I supposed to do in the meantime? I’m guessing you took your laptop with you, so there’s nothing for me to look over numbers-wise.”

“Here’s an idea. Try taking a break, Aless. Let us handle the investigation for now. Ciro’s got our business assets in hand, the shipments are still flowing. Ero is moving in the shadows, undercover where he can.”

“Great,” I droll, “good to know the empire can get by without me.”

“Hardly. If anything happens to you Alessandro, we lose everyone. Everything.”

“I know. I’m just being a grouch.”

“Just a little longer, Aless. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay. You too.”

“Stay safe up there and stay warm.”

“No shit. I’m hanging up now.”

“Is everything all right?” Isabella peaks into my office.

“Yeah, everything's fine,” I grunt, stretching out fully in my chair. “Looks like we’ve got a few days to ourselves. Which means we need power. I'll have to go check the breaker outside. See if snow knocked out a wire or something. And if that doesn't work …”

“You have a generator, right?”

“Vincenzo usually took care of this stuff, so I'll have to figure out how to turn it on. It's been a little while.”

“Seems like you know how to turn things on just fine,” she mutters.

I swoop in, catching her in the doorway, wrapping my arms around her. “And you know just how to get my motor running, too. Hold that thought until I get back.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Are you kidding? It’s blasting snow outside.”

“Alessandro, I am perfectly capable of handling myself, and it’s safer if we stick together. Besides, you may need an extra set of hands.” She's right. As much as I don't want to admit it.

“Hmm. Fine. But we need to find something for you to wear. There might be some old ski gear laying around. I’ll go check the closets in the east wing.”

“Sounds good. I’ll stack the fire for when we come back in.”

Isabella heads up to the den while I dig through the old wardrobes. Several items should fit, including a newer coat that must belong to Ava or Carla.

A quick trip to my room has me layered, bundled, and waiting by the door. A few minutes later, Isabella comes waddling out into the foyer. “Bold fashion statement.”

“Yes, brown and hot pink are so in this year,” she grumbles, fidgeting with the scarf wrapped around her face. “Let’s do this.”

I nod, opening the door. We’re both knocked back by the gust of frozen wind and the pattering of flakes. “You sure you want to do this?”

“Try and stop me!” Isa yells over the din.

We’ll see if you’re singing the same tune when I have to drag your frozen ass back into the house.”

“You should be so lucky …”

The first few steps out are shocking, and I check over my shoulder to make sure Isabella gets the door closed. Even with my goggles, I can barely see a few feet in front of me.

Every step is a huge effort, dragging one foot out of the snowpack, clomping it down, waiting to find my footing, and so on. Within a few steps I’m huffing and puffing, sweating under my gear.

Isabella has it only slightly easier, following carefully in my footsteps.

We reach the side of the house, the pole where the wiring meets the house. The entire thing is frosted over, icicles crusting the outside. I try for several seconds to knock some of it loose, but to no avail. My face is aching, my nose feeling like it might blister.

Turning back, I give a thumbs down and Isabella nods, her arms wrapped around herself. “Back inside!” I shout, but she shakes her head. “Why not?!”

I realize the second time she shakes her head that she can’t hear a word I’m saying. Pointing back to the house, I start the grueling trudge back, reaching out for her hand.

It takes us twice as long moving uphill and into the wind.

By the time we make it back inside we’re both gasping for breath, sloughing off a thick layer of snow from our outfits.

“Fucking altitude,” I heave, my hands on my knees.

She laughs, stripping off another layer. “Well, that was pointless.”

“Valuable lesson, though.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the lesson? Snow is cold?”

I shake my head, making my way down through the kitchen still wearing several layers. The boiler room is out through a covered, but uninsulated hallway, in a separate building.

By the time we get all the way to the boiler room my fingers are numb.

Three tries later the thing finally kicks on, rattling to life.

“Oooh, fuel, then choke,” Isabella stifles a laugh.

“You’re worse than Adriano.” I clench my hands, thankful that I didn’t punch a hole right through the fuel tank.

I check the wiring, making sure everything is plugged in properly and selecting only a few of the breakers. We don’t need power to the whole house.

“I’m only giving us power to the furnace, some lights, and the hot water heater. It’ll conserve gas, that way.”

“As long as we have hot water. A shower sounds incredible.”

“Definitely.”

Stripping down as we go, we make our way through the house. We’re both shivering as I crank on the hot water in my shower.

The rest of our clothes pile against the door as steam starts to billow out of the spout and Isabella wraps her arms around me, our bodies reflecting warmth immediately. Without a thought, I pull her into a kiss, rubbing the skin of her back.

The water feels like needles when we step into the shower. Even before it heats all the way, it’s glorious, spraying from my overhead rain spout.

I feel Isabella’s nipples press into my chest, peaked and pebbled.

Rumbling softly at the feel of her naked body against me, I lick the edge of her ear, murmuring her name softly. The shiver and inhale of her breath tells me she’s just as eager as I am to get warm in another way.

She shoves me back into the wall of the shower, reaching down to grip my aching, erect cock. I immediately gasp, flexing and she pauses.

“Your hand is freezing,” I hiss.

A little smile curls her perfect, pink lips as Isabella drops to her knees in front of me, the steaming water trickling down through her hair, cascading over her tits.

She looks up, licking her lips and my heart skips a beat.

13

ISABELLA

The water scalds my skin, prickling, tingling.

It doesn’t compare to the fire of Alessandro’s skin, hot under my chilled hands. He's in my grip as soon as we get in the shower, gasping as I shove him back against the shower wall. Those deep, dark eyes light up, igniting something deep inside me again, stoking the already raging desire that he’s drawn out of me.

“Your hand is freezing!” He laughs. I raise my eyebrows.

“My mouth isn’t though.” I drop to my knees.

He’s utterly irresistible, even as my body shivers uncontrollably from the frozen venture into the blizzard. Heat floods through me at the sight of every stiff inch of him, the line of his abs running straight up to that smoldering stare, watching me take all of him into my mouth.

I knew the moment I had him last night, once he became part of me, that I needed more. That I needed to taste him, touch him, and have him inside me again and again.

It’s game over.

I’m so screwed.

But I let those thoughts fade to the background, caught up in the moment, enjoying him for as long as I can.

Sucking firmly on the tip, I lick him from the base of his shaft all the way to the top. “I've been dying to taste you ever since I saw you last night.”

It’s truly all I’ve been able to think about, the thickness and length of it plowing into me.

Again, I slide him entirely down my throat, relaxing to swallow him, moaning as I feel the head of his dick swell in my mouth.

“Holy fuck, Isabella,” he growls, moaning above me, his fingers tethering into my soaked hair. The silky smooth sensation of him slipping along my lips tastes so sweet, gliding across my tongue, hitting the back of my throat, making me open wider, pulling my lips along tightly to make him shout my name.

Honey and salt coat my tongue, dripping from him as I suck, chills zipping up my back from the thought of making him wet. My core is pulsing with longing, desperate for him to fill. Even more so when he flexes his thighs, my fingers clamping down over them, bracing myself as he clenches his ass and thrusts himself deeper.

My lips hit the base of his cock and a wave of arousal surges through me as he grunts, a low, rough outburst.

Pursing my lips tighter, I drag him out as slow as I can, inhaling through my nose and moaning a vibrating whine of ecstasy, flicking my tongue around the head, teasing and coaxing him to clench, arching up, harder than ever.

Alessandro’s head is thrown back, his eyes closed, his chest heaving. He’s completely lost in his pleasure.

My pleasure.

That only I can give him.

One hand drifts to the back of my head as I linger on the tip, begging me, pushing me to devour him again. So I plummet, gulping him down to the hilt, again, and again.

My hands wrap around to clutch at his legs, pulling him into my mouth harder, faster, showing him how I like it, how I love him fucking my mouth.

And Alessandro willingly complies with my efforts, beginning to buck his hips in time with my mouth, pumping into my throat and gripping my head firmly.

His hamstrings harden in my hands, my fingernails scraping along the skin, making his moans deepen to groans, then shouts as he lets loose, pumping smoothly into my throat. I’ve lost track of the water, the steam, the heat.

There’s only this.

Just when I think he’s going to go all the way, preparing myself to take him all, swallow him whole …

He stops, holding me tightly, his dick slowly sliding out.

I gasp as it pops from between my lips, lunging my head slightly to lick, trying to take him again.

A devilish, masculine grin spreads across his face. Along with a little shake of his head.

I wanted to finish him off, make him empty himself into me. I need to taste him, drink him.

But he has other plans.

Wrapping my hair around his fingers, he tugs upwards, pulling me to my feet, a hint of roughness jerking me upright. Another tug pulls my head back, exposing my neck to him.

He dives in, biting my neck, swirling his tongue along my flesh, his hand finding my breast, palming it, and rolling my nipples between his middle finger and thumb.

The movements, the touches are sharper, rougher.

And just the right amount of pain to make me tremble inside, my knees weakening, my pussy throbbing in anticipation of him.

His other hand runs down my belly, cupping into my crotch, two fingers spreading me open and slipping along my folds, back up, exposing my clit in a shock of bliss.

Every time I think, I hope, that he’ll bury one of those fingers inside me, he pulls back, waiting. Taunting me. He drags those slicked fingers up, rolling in tight circles, building my pleasure up, raising me closer to my threshold.

My clit is aching, almost as much as my center, desperate for him to touch it again every time he slides back down, hinting at my opening, making me insane.

“Stop torturing me and do it!” I bite for his lip and he smiles, pulling away.

He knows just how to touch me. There's an intensity to this, a control that he’s savoring with each arch of my back. When I reach for him to grip his shaft, to squeeze him, he dodges my hand, pinning it against my side.

“Not. Yet.”

He cups his hand between my legs again, raising me up onto my toes, yanking gently back on my hair to force me to tip my head back for him. Only then does he hook two fingers impossibly slowly into me, curling to press against the perfect knot of lust swelling inside me.

My eyes drag back, my lids fluttering. But I want to look at him, to keep his stark, simmering gaze locked on mine.

I feel myself getting wild, losing control, just as he takes control.

I can’t take much more of this. I need him.

Now.

But he’s holding himself back. Contained.

Unlike last night, he’s plotting, carefully rationing my pleasure and enjoying every sweet second of my misery.

Keeping the tension on my hair, he spins me to face the water, letting it patter onto my chest as he presses against me from behind, the curve of him fitting perfectly into me. I feel him slide between my ass cheeks, between my legs, my folds spreading over his shaft.

His arm encircles me gripping my torso closer to him, claiming me as his, just as my hand drifts down to stroke the tip of him poking out from between my thighs. A sharp inhale hisses in my ear at the touch and I open my mouth to say his name, to sing his praise …

But his hand clamps around my throat, just hard enough to silence me.

There’s not an ounce of fear in me at the gesture, just acquiescence.

Still, he doesn't give me what I want.

He doesn't fill me. He just keeps alternating, dragging those two delicious fingers up. swirling around my clit before driving them back down again. And as he does, he slides back between my cheeks, allowing his fingers to slip in, then back out, thrusting himself between my thighs, back and forth.

Even that sensation is scintillating, overwhelming.

The whole time, his arm loops around me, keeping me supported, keeping me floating just above him as he slowly rocks his hips back and forth thrusting his cock across my cunt.

This time when he drives his fingers in, he shifts, sliding up between my buttocks, grinding and finding a bit of satisfaction for himself.

There’s the animal in him, the creature he keeps carefully leashed, barely held at bay.

I rest my head back against his shoulder, opening my eyes to see him studying me, looking for any sign of hesitance at his grip around my neck.

But I hold his gaze.

Pushing down that little thrill, that hint of terror that this man has killed before. He could kill me and there’s nothing I could do about it.

It makes me hate him.

And hate myself for how much I love it.

That aggression, fury, passion are the very things that attract me to him, make him impossible for me to resist. It has me melting in his hand.

Alessandro adds a third finger to his teasing assault, adding more pressure to that bundle of nerves, right where I need it.

Right where I need him.

His teeth nip at my ear, clamping down, his fingers pressing, releasing, pressing, releasing.

I won’t last another minute this way. The tension is tectonic, volcanic.

Yet somehow, he keeps delaying my release, taking me to another level of mind-numbing stimulation without reaching completion.

The need for him to give me what I need is overwhelming everything else.

My mind is screaming for him, utter hunger and desperation.

I’m about to come undone, lose myself completely.

And not just in physical ecstasy. He’s unraveling me.

He’s making himself the sole focus of my world, his fingers inside me, his chest pressed against my back, his hand at my throat.

I start to shake, his arm tightening to keep me tight to his chest, controlling the rise of the oncoming torrent. When it comes, he’s supporting me entirely, my legs giving out, my whole frame contorting to the writhing waves of ecstasy.

I buck and rock against his arms and I feel his eyes on me through it all, drinking it in, his breath held. The aftershocks are too much, surging through me again and again, and he still won’t let me go.

My body goes limp against him.

That’s when he turns me around, lifting me completely off the ground. My legs automatically wrap around his middle. And for a second, he stands there, his arms wrapped around me, supporting my ass, his swollen tip resting against my clit.

Alessandro’s avid gaze takes me in, from the top of my head, to my eyes, my lips, my neck. Down, he traces every trickle of water along my breasts, my stomach, and lower.

I watch as he plunges himself into me with one swift, sure thrust.

Even after so much foreplay, after three fingers and an orgasm, he stretches me to the limit, so full. My inner walls envelop him like he was made to be there.

I can barely move in this position. But I don’t need to.

Aless presses my back against the tiled wall, pinning me in place and hooking his forearms under my knees.

Only then does he start, deep, grinding thrusts, driving me to the edge with every push.

It's exquisite. Right on the verge of pleasure and pain.

A place where Alessandro resides.

The overstimulation of one orgasm makes it all that much more intense. All I can do is keep my arms wrapped around his neck, my legs looped over his arms.

His breath quickens, my own coming in whimpering gasps, and he claims my mouth, biting my lip and pulling on it, fixating on it like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered here.

The next thrust almost knocks the wind out of me and with it I scream, “Yes! Fuck me, fuck me as hard as you can!”

There's a split second of frozen time. I opened my eyes.

His teeth are bared. His eyes half-lidded, boring into me, asking me if I’m truly ready for him to give me what I’m asking for. All I can do is dig my nails into the back of his neck.

Deeply, painfully. Drawing blood.

He never stopped thrusting, but now he’s gaining speed, harder, deeper.

Our bodies slam together, pounding into the wall, both of us crying out, wailing in rapture.

Again and again and again.

He hammers into me, charging me up for an eruption that I’m sure will break me. It’s the ferocity of the storm battering the house, tearing my mind apart.

Shattering me to pieces and putting me back together again.

I’m rising toward a peak unlike anything I’ve ever felt.

It's catastrophic.

My entire body clenches, near the edge of total fatigue, holding onto him for dear life. The tidal wave starts at the tip of my head, rushing through me like a tsunami. Along the back of my neck, through my arms, thundering down my back, my legs, and out through my toes.

My nails tear into his back as he reaches his own climax, drawing out a shout, a guttural howl, “Isabella!!”

“More, more!” It’s all I can scream.

Every muscle quakes in his arms, my body completely held up by his strength. I've lost all control, shuttering, pinned against him as he unloads every ounce of himself, filling me and spilling over down onto the shower floor.

It’s hotter than the shower, flooding my body with boiling heat.

The final scream that tears from my throat is animal, feral, just like him.

I've come alive. I've awakened and nothing will ever be the same again.

I want him to take me like this over and over and over again until I can barely walk.

Even as he's gasping, hanging on to me, his head pressed into the wall behind me, I can hear the growl in every breath he takes in. “More. You said you want more?”

“Yes, I need more. Never stop.”

“Me too.”

We're still soaking wet when we hit his bedsheets.

Kissing takes over the narrative again, sensual, drawn out. Alessandro has my head spinning the way his tongue toys with mine, the way he sucks on my bottom lip.

Before I know it, he’s sliding into me again, this time easing himself inside torturously slow.

I savor every sensation as he does, rolling my hips to settle him into my deepest corners. After the sweltering heat of our passion in the shower, the chilly room is refreshing, invigorating.

Aless licks a stray rivulet of water from my jaw, running his tongue up to my ear.

“I’m never going to stop making you come …”

The words have as much an effect as his grinding prowess, heightening my arousal and pushing me toward yet another quivering release.

“Oh, my God, you’re gonna make me⁠—”

It shudders through me again, tingling through my inner thighs, the aura of flushing exultation shooting like lightning through my muscles, spreading out from my core like fireworks.

Spots explode behind my eyelids, and another orgasm looms as Alessandro flexes and holds himself as deep as he can go.

“Oh, no, I can’t⁠—”

“Yes you can.” He grins, pure arrogance and pride. “I'm not done with you yet.”

And I wouldn’t dare argue with him. He’s completely in control. It's a command, an order. With a nudge he tells me what he wants.

And I happily comply, turning over to thrust my ass up into the air at him, the glistening mess of our sex trickling down between my legs. My palms trail back between my thighs, smearing it, rubbing my aching muscles and hypersensitive skin.

I feel him there behind me, his fist clutching his cock as he lines himself up, running the tip up and down my entrance, opening me to him. It’s ultimate vulnerability, my arms pinned under me, my ass cheeks spread wide, inviting him.

There’s something torn between vicious joy and tenderness when he asks, “Can you take it again? Rougher than last time?”

His voice is low, barely above a whisper.

All I can do is nod.

My hands wrap into the sheets, bracing for what I know is coming. When he claims me again, it’s all-consuming.

“Oooh …” I can’t help moaning.

My ass jiggles as he pounds in again, forceful, controlled. It quickly increases in speed and intensity, a roaring rush of blood filling my ears as I clutch at the bed. This is the longest, fullest orgasm yet, coiling like a spring inside me, building over minutes, over countless brutal thrusts of Alessandro’s massive dick.

I’m biting the sheets, scrambling for any sense of self-control, but there’s only him. Only us. Only this

All I can feel is where we meet, my mind disconnecting in sheer, unrelenting bliss.

Neither of us can even form words as he slams into me from behind, his hips hammering into my ass cheeks, slapping that sweet, disastrous mess between us.

It starts with my legs, buckling and quaking.

He’s taut, tensed, his pumps shortening, grinding deeper.

Heat pours off of him in waves over my back, his hands locked around my hips, pulling us together again and again.

“Don’t stop!” I manage to scream, muffled in the mattress. Even though I can’t possibly take much more of this.

My final, soul-rendering release snaps, exploding though me, just as I feel him start to shake, pressing me down onto my stomach, both of us utterly spent. The molten rush of his cum spills into me, sending chills all over my skin.

I fade immediately, drifting into a light sleep, then back. We're curled up, spooning, Alessandro wrapped tightly around me.

We lay like that for hours.

And I know then, in the short days that I've known Alessandro, I've completely fallen in love with him.

14

ALESSANDRO

The fluffy, fur blanket wrapped around her shoulders contrasts with Isabella’s dark curls. Watching her sleep in my arms does something strange to me, creates a deep longing.

These past two days have been unforgettable.

Isabella is unlike anyone I’ve ever met.

She challenges me, keeps me on my toes, eager to hear whatever she might say next. More than that, she’s as insatiable as I am.

So much so, that my muscles ache, a soreness akin to a brutal workout.

Or in our case, several brutal workouts per day.

The pliability of her body, the vigor of her athletic form; it makes my blood simmer every time I look at her. She’s my match in every way. It’s irresistible.

It doesn’t hurt that we’ve been naked almost the entire time.

There really isn’t much else to do, and neither of us have even begun to tire of exploring each other. Truly a vacation from reality.

We’ve even taken to preparing meals together, like everything else we do. Today is no different.

Isabella tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, chopping fruits and vegetables across from me.

She pops a slice of melon into her mouth, eyeing my chest peeking out from the only piece of clothing either of us wears. My robes are just thick enough to keep us warm in the colder parts of the house.

Her intentions are all too clear.

She wants me again.

And I intend to take her as soon as we finish eating. Maybe right here on the kitchen counter.

“Aless, may I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Your work … your work and your family life. How do you keep those things separate?” It’s an odd question. One of those queries that makes me wonder if she knows more about me than she’s let on.

“I don't. This is honestly the most time to myself that I've had in years. Everything about my work is my family. My family is my job. The most important thing in my life.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility.”

“It is. But better me than some other narcissistic tyrant.”

I see one of her eyebrows rise, a rebuttal on her lips.

“I may be stern, ruthless even, but I’m fair. My uncle taught me that. To value people, give them opportunities to succeed.

“And when they don’t?”

“There are consequences for everything in life.”

I notice her eyes narrow, contemplating. It tickles an itch in the back of my mind I’ve ignored. But as usual, I second-guess the meaning. She’s probably just curious, and I am evasive about my life.

“What about when somebody gets in your way or betrays you?”

“Two very different things.”

“How so?”

“You have to understand, Isabella, getting in my way requires a solution, an equal reaction. It’s as simple as removing the obstacle by whatever means suits the situation. And I always remove the obstacle. There are an infinite number of ways to do that.”

“Such as?”

“Reasoning, or when necessary bribes, coercion. In business, we just call it negotiating. Things don’t always have to resort to violence. Threats work too.”

“And what about betrayal?”

I find my mind wandering back to Dom, to our life leading up to his recent, heinous act. Isa waits patiently for me to answer. “When somebody turns on me, when somebody lies to me, to my face, garners my trust and then throws it in the fucking trash? There's only one solution for that.”

I meet her gaze, hard and cold.

She doesn’t look away, but she swallows hard, visibly.

And I realize that I'm gripping the countertop, my fingers popping as I clench the knife in my hand, gouging the tip into the cutting board. “Sorry. I can get a little carried away.”

“I-I like it,” her voice stutters just a hint, but she means it.

“I don't think you always will.” I snap before I catch myself.

Isabella’s head tilts to the side, concern filling her eyes. “Why do you say that?”

“We all have things that we hide, a version of ourselves that nobody else sees.” I don't want to frighten her more than I already have, but I want her to see me, to fear me and run, or choose to stay.

“And the ‘real’ you, you’re afraid I won’t like who you are?”

“Usually, the people who see that side of me … well, it’s the last thing they see.”

Isabella nods, hugging her arms around herself. “What if I wanted to see it?”

A little huff of disbelief slips through my lips. There's something about the way she gets under my skin. No one's ever seen through me the way she does. And no one's ever been able to take as much as she already has.

But can I trust her?

There are questions that I need answers to. But every time I think about asking them I find myself biting my tongue or biting hers instead, diving back into bed to avoid the discomfort of uncovering a truth I can’t live with.

I suppose Adriano would say that living the way I do, always holding something back makes me paranoid that everyone else is doing the same.

Isabella circles the counter, resting her hand on mine. And, as if she's reading my thoughts she says, “You don't have to hold back with me.”

Does she know what she’s asking?

Maybe I can test the waters. Test her.

Our lunch is abandoned in a heartbeat as I pull her into me, wrapping my arm around her waist. My knuckle grazes just under her chin, then I grip her jaw, softly, with my entire hand, tipping her head back to look into her eyes.

“You might regret saying that,” I whisper but she holds my gaze, unwavering.

“You might regret it if you don't try,” she hums.

Our kiss is impactful, vicious.

We tear the robes from each other’s body, in a frenzy of desire. Fury rises in me like a tidal wave but I subdue it, leash it.

Until Isabella bites my lip, hard and sharp, drawing blood.

This.

The leash snaps.

This is exactly what I need, exactly what I want. Someone who's my equal. Who wants me as badly as I want them and will try anything. And I want to try everything with Isabella.

No halfway, no second-guessing.

All or nothing. I need her to succumb to my control. To put her life on the line for me. Go all in with every fiber of her being.

“Put your hands on the bar and do not move them.”

Her eyebrows rise incredulously. “Or what?”

The words are playful but her tone wavers, goosebumps pebbling across the expanse of her smooth skin.

“Or else you might not like what I do.”

“I think I'll be the judge of that.” She stares, challenging me as I circle around her, but she complies, setting her hands on the edge of the counter and giving me a look, jutting her ass out at me.

Her figure is alabaster perfection, a sculpture that no artist could capture.

She inspires me.

Without warning, I lash out with the back of my hand right across her ass cheek, the smack echoing through the room. Her gasp echoes right after, forcing her to slam her palms down on the bar top.

“That is what happens,” I growl.

A chuckling breath of shock and nervousness escapes her lips.

Without looking back, she slides her hands off the bar top, raising her head in defiance. This time my palm strikes the other cheek, leaving a bright red, searing mark on her butt.

And this time she moans, raspy and needy, forced out through her teeth as she bites her lip. Her hands slide onto the bar top, spreading further, bending her over to spread her ass cheeks. She wiggles her hips, shaking her ass back and forth.

It’s mesmerizing, hypnotizing.

“My hands are on the bar. What do I get as a reward?” She jiggles that ass in my face again, taunting me.

I want to ram into her from behind. Drive my cock as deep as I can.

But I also want to wait, to draw this out. I want to see what she's willing to do. How far she's willing to go.

I want to test her resolve.

I want to let a little of the animal inside me out to gauge her response.

My hand strikes again, harder, firmer, holding tight against the bright red sting. I can practically feel the electricity vibrating up her spine with every smack of my hand against her ass. It’s already hot and swollen under my fingertips.

Next, I slide the head of my cock up between her cheeks, resting against her back as I drag my shaft down slowly. Every movement is gentle, a contrasting tease. I slap her ass again.

When I drag my cock down again, she soaks my tip, her lust and longing glistening, dripping on the kitchen floor.

“Alessandro, I need you⁠—”

“And I need you,” I respond before she can finish.

“No. I need you … to hurt me.”

I'm taken aback for a second. Does she understand what she's asking of me?

“How do you want me to hurt you?”

She groans, arching her back, popping her ass out. She’s asking for more.

I slap her ass again harder.

Scraping one hand up into her hair, taking a fistful and tugging back firmly, hard enough to make her yelp in shock, but not hard enough to cause any damage. How far can I take her?

The soft whimper she gives me tells me all I need to know.

I pull her from the bar top, back against my chest. My cock slides easily between her legs,

throbbing with the heat of her wetness.

“And what would you do if I slapped your ass harder, or whipped it?”

“I’d take it,” she moans, gyrating over me, “And love every second of it.”

“Really? You wouldn’t try to pull away, get away from me … ?”

“Try me. And if you think I’m lying you could always tie me down.”

A surging rush of blood roars up my spine, into my ears. Like she struck a bell tone in my core.

The thought of it has me sweating, on the verge of coming with pure excitement.

“And what if I blindfolded you?”

“As if I would have a choice, my hands would be tied …”

“And your ankles, too … leaving you helpless. Completely under my control. How does that sound?”

Her chest is heaving.

“How would that be any different than how you have me now? I’m yours …”

She's right. The last few days have been wild.

But I want to dominate her.

“I want to tie you up and worship you so thoroughly that you lose all sense of yourself. I want you to surrender to me.” Snatching the belt from my robe on the counter, I loop it around her wrists behind her back, tying it tight. Pulling back roughly, I force her down over the bar and she struggles, just enough to make me smile. Right before I yank back sharply, painfully.

Isabella growls, thrusting her ass towards me.

And I spank it again, so much harder. Her legs tense, buckling slightly.

She still has too much freedom for my taste. She still has too much leeway. But for now, this will have to do.

It'll be a taste of things to come.

When I slide into her. It's velvet ecstasy.

Just like it is every time, and it never feels quite the same. It’s always new, mind altering.

Like I’ve never felt anything like it.

For a few seconds I stay deep inside, gyrating slowly, feeling every single part of her around me. She tries to thrust back against me but I press down, pulling up on her arms, incapacitating her completely.

She's helpless against me and she knows it. Her legs shake in anticipation, a slight thrill of fear flashing in her eyes as she looks back, her face pressed into the counter.

My first thrust is purposeful, testing.

My second thrust is powerful, slamming her against the countertop.

Her low sultry cry tells me it's exactly what she wants, and I smack her ass again.

I pick up speed and with every second or third thrust, I smack her ass erratically, never the same rhythm. It's swollen, bright red now.

I tug back on her arms, driving myself deeper. Harder.

“Mmm, yessss, more!” she grates out, and I concede, this time. It won’t do to have her giving me orders, though.

Her breath becomes ragged as mine does, our body's flexing tensing. We keep reaching new levels of arousal, of release. And yet, it makes it worse, the need, the longing.

It's like we keep getting wound tighter and tighter with every encounter. Sooner or later we're going to combust, explode.

I can’t wait.

I've kept myself contained for too long.

And the more time I spend with her, talking to her, the more time I spend inside her, the more I discover that I don’t want to keep myself hidden from her any longer.

“Alessandro! Make me … make me … make me …” Her screams bounce through the kitchen, ringing off the pots and pans echoing through the empty house.

The long, drawn-out orgasm that I feel rolling up from my balls is going to be staggering, but I lock my legs and ass cheeks, warding it off, to keep from coming too soon.

I want this to last, and I always want to come with her.

No one has ever met be blow for blow, thrust for thrust.

No one’s ever fucked me like Isabella.

And for the first time in the broken, tortured years of my life, I think I’ve found someone I can show that shadowed, violent side to. My tastes are darker than anyone knows. I love it down here in the dark.

I want to bring Isabella there with me.

As always, she reads me like an open book. “Give it all to me Aless …” she yells, her teeth bared as I hammer into her, slapping her ass raw.

The damn ruptures, collapses, and I throw back my head, screaming my pleasure as I gush into her. Isabella screams with me, her own orgasm spasming her legs as I plunder her depths, her voice ragged, a wild beast unshackled.

I've lost all sense of time. My entire body locked on the edge of giving out.

That rush of slick hot liquid around my cock envelopes me, drowning us, rushing out around my balls down my legs. Sensations rocket up my back muscles, down my legs, shimmering like waves of light around me.

All I know is Isabella.

She’s all I want to know.

15

ISABELLA

Staying drenched in our sex has become our routine.

And I absolutely love it.

Every second of the day is pure stimulation.

Whether we’re talking, cuddling on the couch, fucking, or playing a game; it’s captivating, consuming.

Like the outside world doesn't exist anymore.

Somewhere in the back of my brain, I know it's foolish, hazardous. But I don't let myself go there. I don't let those thoughts intrude. All there is, is Alessandro and me and the passion between us.

“I think the blizzard may be slowing down a little bit.” Alessandra peeks through the curtains. “Hard to tell though. Everything's just … white. There must be ten feet of snow out there.”

“Come back to bed, Alessandro,” I croon, stretching in the morning chill.

“I will soon. Need to take care of a few things …”

“Like what?”

“Water. So much water. I’m getting dehydrated.”

“From what?” I tease.

His devilish grin makes my toes curl.

He’s so fucking sexy, stalking out of the room in nothing but loose pajama pants.

I lounge about for a while, dozing in and out of sleep when I realize Alessandro’s been gone a while.

“Hmm … maybe I should find something of my own to do,” I mumble, rising and wrapping myself in a fuzzy blanket. Shuffling to my room, I shower and dress in something other than a robe. It’s the first time I’ve worn any actual clothing in days.

As I'm creeping down the stairs, I hear Aless talking quietly in his office.

“You think you can make it?” he says.

“Yeah, I should be able to get up the drive once they finish plowing the road.” The response is garbled over the radio, but clearly Adriano.

“Which will be …”

“Later today sometime.”

“Alright. Just take it slow. As much as I want to get back, we don’t need you sliding off the side of a mountain.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” The tone shifts lower, back to business. “We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

Thoughts of Adriano’s return brings back the outside world. The real reason I came here which I haven’t made any progress on in days.

Time is zipping by.

And it’s tearing at me, splitting me in two between the idea of needing more time to find evidence, to discover some clue that will answer my questions, and needing more time with him.

Seeing me pass the door in clothing, Alessandro follows suit, joining me in the kitchen a while later, wearing pants and a shirt. It feels out of place.

“You look better without,” he grumbles in my ear, kissing my neck.

Shivers make my eyelids flutter.

“No! I need to be productive today, accomplish something.”

“I can think of a few things we can accomplish.”

“Our accomplishments have destroyed the house from top to bottom.”

“I like to think of it as interpretive decorating.”

“Your brother might disagree when he gets back.”

“Fine. But only so we can destroy it all over again.” He smirks.

So we spend the morning straightening, sweeping up the disasters of our passion from the library down to the gym to the kitchen. It’s amazing, the mess we made, knocking over an entire bookshelf upstairs, broken vases in the foyer, blankets and clothing strewn across the floor in various rooms.

Throughout the endeavor, I look for anything I can find, having a great excuse to be digging through drawers and cabinets.

I need to get more information.

But I've searched his office. I've searched through Adriano's things, and aside from the stack of papers that I found before—which are still hiding underneath the sheet in the east wing—there's not much else. I haven't had time to really examine the list of names to figure out what they mean.

I need some frame of reference to give the numbers purpose.

The benefit of Adriano returning is that they will talk. And I can record their plans.

They have to discuss family affairs, and maybe I can get some usable intel.

Cleaning up the house gives me the opportunity to really set my cameras, recorders. Particularly in Alessandro’s office and in Adriano’s bedroom.

I manage to get it all done in the time it takes Alessandro to finish the dishes.

Relocating power from the generator, we decide to do a few loads of laundry, and just as I'm taking the clothing back up the stairs to sort them, I hear the door open.

Blustering wind sends flakes across the floor, backlighting a figure in the doorway.

“Welcome back, Adriano,” I call, trying to sound warm, amicable. It's far from how I feel. I've dreaded this and what it means. Not that I have anything against him personally. Other than the fact that he’s a Diamante.

“Isabella. I hope you're well,” he says, cordial as ever.

“Oh, couldn't be better. Aside from a bit of boredom over the last few days. Got lots of reading done.” Not nearly as much as I thought I would …

He pauses, taking down his goggles and pulling off his mask. A faint trace of a smirk tells me he doubts my claims.

I feel my cheeks flush hot.

Dammit.

“Do you need help bringing anything in?” I press on, hoping he doesn’t see my embarrassment.

“No, no. I didn’t bring much. Vincenzo and the rest of the staff should be back soon with supplies. Alessandro and I can unload the truck later.”

“Sounds good. Feel free to leave your laundry there. I'll take care of it.”

He cocks his head to the side, looking at me strangely.

“Thank you. You don't have to do that.” But I can tell he likes that I offered.

“I have to earn my keep somehow, right?” I smile, heading toward my room.

Adriano quirks his lip in what could be a smile or a grimace. I can't tell. I don't know him well enough, yet.

I putter around the house for a while, trying to decide what to do. Reading, working out. Everything seems bland compared to Alessandro and what we’ve been up to all week.

An hour later, I hear Adriano emerge from his room, showered and refreshed. He heads straight to Aless’s office.

Eager to catch an earful, I make a fair bit of noise heading into the kitchen. There are a few things that still need tidying, excusing my presence.

But instead of wiping down the counters, I sneak back to the landing, pressing myself up against the wall by the office door.

I can always listen to the recording later, but I need information now. I want to know what news Adriano brought with him.

“It looks like the Serpent’s Head is making moves all across the Eastern seaboard.”

“You said they’ve threatened our members all over the world.”

“They have. Ero is still looking into who has been targeted and why.”

“Fucking brazen. Like he has no fear of repercussions.”

“He took us off guard,” Adriano offers.

“Bullshit. I should have been there. I should have gotten in his way more.”

“Like I said. We had no clue.”

“I had a clue. I’ve known that piece of shit my entire life. I should have suspected he was up to something when he disappeared.” Aless slams a fist down on the desk.

“If you would have been there, he would have made another play on your life. I know he would have. Without you there’s no legitimate claim.”

“There’s you.”

“I would certainly put up a fight, but without you everyone would run for cover, he would have us outmanned. He might anyway. Our ace in the hole is that the family has faith in you, Aless. They trust you.”

“I feel like a hack, hiding out here. A fucking waste of time.”

I feel a slight twinge in my heart at his words. I shouldn't take it personally. I know what he means.

But I'd hate to think that what we've been doing means nothing.

Even though at the same time, the reality is that I fucked up. My rose-colored glasses are getting hard to keep on. I’ve been sleeping with my enemy.

He's still a criminal.

Even if I want to believe he is good at heart.

It’s a fact that breaks my heart, but I set myself up for it.

“Look, no sense crying over what we can’t change. We know what kind of numbers he has, who he’s got under his thumb and who is still on our side. Our people are ready, Aless. They’re hankering for a fight. With you leading the charge, we’ll intimidate the hell out of his army of thugs.”

“Good. When do we leave?”

“There’s still a shit ton of snow in our way. I estimate we should be able to make it out by next week.”

“Next week?”

“Unless I call for a chopper. But that would kind of defeat the purpose of sneaking around.”

“Fair point. The element of surprise is always a boon.”

“Which is why I got in touch with the Greeks. Waiting to hear back from them.”

“The Greeks. The fucking assassins?”

“Mostly, I want to make sure that they remain neutral. Or maybe they’ll be willing to pitch in with us. An upset of power like this doesn’t do them any favors for business.”

“I don't trust them.”

“I don't trust them, either. But if they are working for Dom, we might be able to outbid him. They work for money. Not for loyalty.”

“Hope it stays that way. What about the docks?”

“Business as usual. No sign of interference.”

“And our funds?”

“Same. Plenty of clean cash to spare. Our accountants have all reported in. Dom was never privy to those names, locations. Should be safe.”

“Make sure. I’ll need to make about a thousand phone calls when I get back.” I hear him sigh, his voice strained from behind his hands as he rubs his face. “I feel like my hands have been tied. Fucking storm made managing my empire impossible.”

“Not for much longer. We'll be home soon.”

“I know. What can we expect from the cops?”

“Pretty much a fifty-fifty split. Most of them just want to wait the whole thing out, see who comes out on top before they get back on the cut.” Adriano rises and I scurry back from the door. His voice lowers and it sounds like he’s farther away, muttering quietly. I strain to hear.

“Aless. Is your head where it needs to be?”

“Yes. This time away has been useful. I feel recharged.”

“And not distracted? I don’t trust her.”

“You don’t have to trust her.” The implication of the statement has a finality that makes my stomach turn. “And it’s none of your business.”

“It is my business to know if she’s gotten to you. Persuaded you in some way.”

“Persuaded me how?”

“I just need to know if she has any influence over your decisions,” Adriano snaps. “You haven’t been with someone like this in a long time.”

“Like this? Like what?”

“I see the way you look at her. The way she looks at you. This is more than a tryst. It’s like Cata⁠—”

“Do. Not. Say her name.”

“Then answer me. Are you compromised?”

“No.”

“Then what are you going to do about her? What are we going to do about her?”

A sick feeling swells in my chest and I back away as the door clicks closed, echoing like a gunshot in my head.

16

ALESSANDRO

“Imade lunch. Would you like some?” I poke my head into the den. Isabella is curled up on the couch reading.

The way her eyes light up when she smiles makes my heart skip a beat.

She makes me feel so alive.

Like someone else entirely.

Not a don, a leader of warriors, a criminal mastermind. I’m just Alessandro. I can indulge every desire with her without judgment.

The escapism of it is horribly dangerous. Adriano was right to worry. But I won’t bring this back with me. Unless she is willing to come …

Thoughts of Catalina no longer destroy me, but they inject doubt into this relationship. The fact of the matter is that it’s damn near impossible for someone like me to have love, security; which is why the elders want me to marry for politics.

It keeps the risk lower.

Mostly for the other person. They could be used against me, they could get hurt just being near me.

“Isabella?” I ask after we’ve both taken several bites of our risotto and braised pork. I’ve gotten pretty good at cooking since we’ve been here.

“Yes?”

“What are your plans after this?” Her eyes crinkle at the edges. She knows it’s not just a simple question I’m asking.

“I’m not sure. My vacation got thrown for a loop. I may head back home. The snow is sort of a damper on exploring any more of the countryside or looking for more family members.”

Family. Right. That’s why she came here.

A stray thought worms its way into my mind unbidden.

What if she joined my family?

What if I told her everything, all of the dirty details of my life. Who I really am. I have a feeling she already knows more than she’s let on. We just haven’t addressed it. It would make things easier.

Would she come with me if I asked?

“So Rome, right? I think you mentioned that a few times. Your job must be wanting you back by now.”

“Yes … I mean, mostly it’s a freelance position,” she shrugs.

“Photography, I remember. Freelance. So you could work from anywhere?”

“I mean, I could.” She’s avoiding my gaze.

“Would it be too much of an imposition if we tagged along with you back to Rome? We’ll likely head there before returning to New York.

Her eyes light up at this, a nugget of information that I never shared.

“I'd love that. Always better to travel together.” She smiles, finishing her lunch, clearly avoiding the elephant in the room.

“Good. We may be leaving as early as next week.” I stand clearing our dishes. It’s too easy to leave the room and not say a damn thing about it either.

That our time is coming to an end.

We’ll go our separate ways and probably never see one another again. After leaving the dishes in the sink, I head straight to my office, slumping into my chair across from Adriano working on his laptop. He glances up, tonguing his front tooth.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

“No, out with it.”

“You can’t tell her. Or ask her.”

“Ask her what?” Playing a fool never worked on Adriano. He frowns, raising one eyebrow.

“She’s an outsider. You can't put that on her, dragging her into our lifestyle.”

“I knew the risks when I let her stay. I accept the consequences.”

“I’m sorry that it has to be this way.”

Does it, though? I want to ask.

Isabella has shown total acceptance of me so far. She’s open minded. Tenacious. She’s adaptable.

But asking her into my life would be like offering her poison. Even if she knew the risks, she would still be in danger.

There's no way for any normal person to truly understand how deadly and dangerous it really is.

“You'll be doing her a favor sending her away, Aless.”

Those words haunt me the rest of the day as I occupy myself in any way I can to avoid talking to her, spilling my guts, and bearing my soul to her.

The truth tries its hardest to surface, the reality that I can’t bear to be without her. The idea that I could corrupt her to have what I want. That I could save her if I don’t.

Even so, we brush fingertips as we pass each other in the hall, stealing kisses here and there. After the past week, how can we not?

That night Adriano split a couple of bottles of wine, chatting in my office. I’m feeling a rich, heady buzz when he staggers out to go to bed. He never had the legs for drinking like I did. That and he’s pissed I still haven’t gotten around to ending things with Isabella, or making it clear that we cannot continue after this.

I’m staring up at the ceiling when I hear the door creak open.

Isabella’s leaning in the doorway, wearing her nightgown, holding her own glass of wine.

“Are you coming to bed tonight?” Her voice is low, sultry.

We hadn’t really discussed that either. How we would behave once Adriano and the staff came back.

“I hadn’t decided, honestly.” I don't mean to be short with her, but my temper has been rubbed raw today. The responsibilities of my life avalanching back onto my shoulders.

Her eyebrows furrow. “You can talk to me, you know, tell me what's going on. What's bothering you? You haven’t been yourself all day.”

“I really can't. I mean, I shouldn’t.”

“You won’t, you mean.” Her tone goes flat.

It's tempting. To get all of my woes off my chest.

“Why won’t you just⁠—”

“You know, sometimes you really push too far. All your fucking questions,” I snap.

She's taken aback for a second, watching my closely.

“I seem to remember you liking my inquisitive nature. But you never actually tell me anything. Every answer is a dodge, a move on a chess board,” she bites back, bitterness in her voice. “We can just be lovers, if that’s all you want. We can just be physical. But I don’t think that either of us really want that.”

“I shouldn’t have even done that,” I say before I can stop myself. “I have to make the hard calls. I didn’t, and now look at us.”

“Fine. So you make a hard call. Say you end this, you shove down the guilt, the pain, and move on. Go back to your life. Alone. Miserable. And for what?”

“It’s my obligation.”

“Then better for you to have let me die out there in the blizzard when I knocked on your door. Better that we never met.”

“It would be!” I shout, staggering to my feet.

“Always playing the martyr, Alessando. Living your life for everyone but yourself. Denying anything good for you!”

“What I want doesn't matter. I do what I have to do.”

“There’s always a choice.” She stabs her finger into my chest.

A snarl reaches my lips at the gesture, tempting me to snatch her hand, break her finger. “You have no idea who I really am.”

“Then show me who you really are. Let me in, Alessandro!”

“I've already let this go too far.”

She's leaning over the desk, glaring at me. Challenging me.

“Show. Me. Who. You. Really. Are.”

In a heartbeat I'm over the desk, crushing her in my arms, our mouths colliding feverishly. The heady scent of wine fills my nostrils.

I slam her into the door, closing it and tear her gown from her, ripping the straps to expose her tits, devouring one nipple whole.

“Oh, God yes! More!” Yet there’s a wide-eyed hint of terror in her eyes, or maybe it’s just surprise at my outburst.

I find that I don’t care which.

I’ve wanted to show her the truth for days.

I pull away without hesitation, leaving her stumbling in my wake, storming over to the bookcase. I click the button under the shelf, opening the secret door.

The door swings back quietly on greased hinges, the lights flickering on automatically, revealing my private chamber. A room I had made for a day I thought would never come.

Isa’s eyes widen as she approaches, surveying the room, realization dawning as she sees what lies within.

Chains, ropes, straps. The toys.

Our gazes meet, searing and smoldering, and a shiver shoots through me at what I see in her eyes. She's not afraid.

Or rather she is, but she wants this.

And that desire written clear on her face has me rock-hard, about to burst out of my pants.

Her pulse is throbbing in her neck, her chest heaving her perky, tight breasts as she steps in cautiously. She looks back as I close the door, padlocking it.

“Get ready, Isabella. Tonight, you're going to find out who I really am.”

17

ISABELLA

Idrag a finger along the wall of Alessandro’s secret chamber, the curtains shimmering in luscious deep red, black accents keeping the tone dark, subdued. The motif reminds me of Alessandro; his passion, his fury.

In the center of the room, a round, low bed awaits me.

Straps and chains hang from the ceiling, line the perimeter of the bed, along with other tantalizing devices and harnesses I spot lining the walls. The small shelves to the left twinkle with toys, whips, vibrators.

The effect is instantaneous.

My heart is pounding.

Aless’s presence behind me is still tense, but I don’t look back at him, savoring the anticipation and the thrill of fear that tightens my ass and back muscles. Especially when I hear him slough off his clothing and toss it on the floor.

I want him so badly.

I want him to show me what he wants, what he loves.

After spending a week in constant contact, today was misery not being near him, not making love to him. Still. I control my urge to pounce on him, letting him guide this experience.

Seeing his most inner self, this revelation of his fetish, only draws me further into the depths of his sway.

Keeping my gaze forward I stop at the edge of the bed.

“On your knees. Face down,” he rumbles, and I hesitate, testing the limits of this scenario. In a flash, one powerful vise-gripping hand bites the back of my neck, forcing me down.

I grunt in shock, catching myself and arching my back into the bend.

My ass spreads wide, the cool air tingling on my drenched core.

A quiver ripples through my body as he pulls one hand out, binding me at the wrist, then the other. The straps are loose for now, leaving a bit of play for me to move my arms.

Not that I have a chance to do anything but grip the bed as Alessandro plunges into me, huffing out a growling sigh of pure male prowess as he claims me.

We slam together, my fists tugging against my bindings to brace against the onslaught of his pounding, jackhammer pace. He’s relentless and almost vicious right from the start.

There’s nothing sensual about the way he unleashes himself on me, reaching out, taking a fistful of my hair. His other hand whips around, two fingers dragging back the hood of my clit with merciless demand.

The first stinging slap of his palm on my ass is always unexpected, blossoming a new repertoire of sensation and arousal.

Fireworks explode in my head, every nerve in my body awakening. “Mmm, Aless, fuck me!”

I’ve never been pounded like this.

The first chills of an orgasm shudder in my center, a rapid ascension. I realize my mistake a second later as he immediately stops, slipping out of me, leaving me hanging at the precipice of release.

“You’ll have to learn”—he stalks around the bed, heading to the shelf across from us—“that you do not order me to do anything here. You may request for me to finish you off, you may beg for me to let you come.”

We’ve stepped into his domain.

Here, he is master, absolutely in control. It’s clear from the way he watches me, his avid gaze, that there’s nothing I can do to stop him.

It’s utterly devastating, and more than a little scary.

A part of me knows that he would let me out if I really asked, but there’s an edge to his words, to the feral flexing, the rippling of his muscles. Pulling on the straps at my wrists, he tightens the slack, pulling my arms out to the sides, keeping my chest pinned to the bed.

I can tell he's pondering what he's going to do with me.

“Is that it?” I can’t help myself, taunting him exhilarates me. “Is that all you’ve got?”

Alessandro sniffs in arrogant disdain. “We’ve only just begun.”

He yanks my head back by my hair, plundering my lips with his mouth, a savage kiss. It electrifies me, zapping down through my core, shivering out across my skin.

My lover.

My enemy.

This man who has killed ruthlessly and without remorse. But he also loves just as ferociously. I've never felt anything like it. “Alessandro … take me.”

I want to bathe in his darkness.

“I will. Once you stop hiding.” Fingernails scrape along my back, down my legs. His voice wavers, holding back the promise of boundless pleasures.

He thrusts into me again, long, luxurious strokes. A deep, pulsing need thrums in my lower abdomen.

In seconds, I’m on the verge again, and he pulls out.

He loosens the restraints, letting me slide down onto the sheets.

I turn over, looking up at him, slipping my fingers into my slick slit, drawing them out, dragging them up my belly, across my tits and up into my mouth, tasting what he does to me.

Arching my back, I spread my legs, beckoning him to finish me off.

Instead, he shoves me back down onto the bed, shaking his head and sneering at me dominantly. I want him so bad that I almost growl at him in response, lunging for him, trying to kiss him.

He doesn't let me. He shoves me back down.

Each time I lunge for him he shoves me harder, more powerfully.

The final time, he grabs me by the throat firmly and I retaliate, reaching down and clutching the thick length of his dripping cock in my fist.

I squeeze a little too hard and he hisses through his teeth, squeezing his hand a hint tighter.

“You’re going to pay for that.” He wrenches my grip from around his shaft. Tossing me back like I weigh nothing, he pins one wrist, shackling it, then the other. A chuckle growls deep in his chest as I whimper, the sound of his voice vibrating through me.

I press down on my heels, writhing and gyrating my hips at him, provoking him. “You’re stalling.” The words come out strangled, less confident that I want.

“You’re going to crawl for me after this.” Aless leans in close, just out of reach as I try to bite him. “And then, you’ll submit to anything I choose to do to you.”

His hands clamp down over my calves, painfully, yanking my legs out and clasping shackles around my feet.

I swallow hard, realizing how little I can move. Even less when he jerks a strap at the side of the bed, cranking my bindings tight.

I’m completely immobilized. Exposed.

A flash of metal glints in his hand, a long, glamping dagger.

For the first time, I actually start to wonder if he would go too far. If he could accidentally end me, caught up in a fit of rage and passion. The little worm of fear takes hold, and a merciless grin spreads across Alessandro’s face as he sees the dismay in my eyes.

That's when the real torture begins.

Aless starts at my neck, sampling my skin with his tongue, dragging the tip of the knife along the spit slicked skin. He tracks a long, tantalizing trail down my body, over my stiff nipples, leaving bright red abrasions in his wake.

The subtle sensations of his lips and tongue contrast with the hint of pain and it has me panting, riding the line of fascination and a full frenzy.

And then he mounts me again, pounding me until I cry out. But every time I get anywhere near completion, he stops, abandons me to tug against my bindings. He takes a lap around the room, letting me see how turned on he is, rock-hard and throbbing, his body glistening with sweat.

He’s torturing himself with this little game, too.

Then he returns, holding a riding crop. Raking it along my hips and thighs, flicking it in light cracks that leave pink welts. What feels like minutes pass as he alternates between licking my swollen clit, lapping up every drop of my arousal, and whipping my burning skin.

“I need …”

“You need to shut your pretty, fucking mouth, or I’ll shut it for you.”

I open my mouth, licking my lips, straining toward him. “Fill it up instead.”

And he does, ramming his dick all the way into my throat, making my eyes water and a deep, moaning rumble rise up from my chest. But he pulls out and gives me the most heart-stopping stare right before he ties a gag around my mouth—a soft, silk tie.

“It’ll give you something to bite down on,” he informs me and my legs turn to jelly.

And still, he’s not done.

Another silk tie covers my eyes.

I hear him cross the room, opening the chest by the wall, sliding the drawer out digging through the contents. When he comes back, he makes me wait, anticipating until I feel his lips graze my bottom lip.

He kisses me ever so lightly.

“Are you ready?

“Yes, yes.” My words are a muffled groan around the soft gag.

“Hmm. I don’t think you are.”

Sharp pain zips through my nipples as he locks the clamps over the tips.

Immediately my body lights up, electricity vibrating through my limbs. Sensations stand out, more vibrant and poignant with the constant discomfort of the nipple clamps and the inability to see what he’s doing.

My mind is scattering, scrambling.

I want him so bad.

I try to speak, forgetting about the gag and wind up biting down in frustration. My ankles and wrists chafe as I struggle.

He’s been gone too long, but I feel his eyes on me still.

When he finally touches me again, it’s not with fingers or tongue.

A smooth, velvety toy slips into my opening, making me bear down reflexively. Until the vibration starts, low and humming.

After so much stimulation, I would think that almost anything could make me come, but this doesn't. It draws out the sensations, ramping up my tension, gradually pushing me higher into tiers of pleasure I never dreamed of.

With the distraction occupying my attention, he loosens my ties enough to guide me to my knees. I barely realize what I’m doing when he positions me with my ass up, a pillow supporting my chest.

New bindings hook my legs in place, preventing any wiggling, leaving my ass ripe for the taking. A thought that flutters through my mind a second before I feel him behind me, humming a deep moan, his tone telling me he’s grinning.

My whole body is quaking when I feel his thumb caress the fold of my entrance, sliding up and putting pressure on the star of my ass.

It’s new, and I’m so desperate for any touch at all that the sharp and painful slap he delivers a second later makes me sigh in relief. The next strike is unexpectedly hard, painful, both cheeks jiggling and burning.

I can feel my ass cheeks swelling, stinging to the touch.

And it's in that state of shock and glowing pain that he slips a smooth, cool object into my ass.

It's a small plug. But it's still more than anything I'm used to. The fullness takes my breath away at first, but as I adjust, I find I like it.

But to be fair, I would enjoy anything he gives me.

“Do you like it?” he intones, playing with my clit.

“Mm-hmm …” is all I can moan.

“You’re going to take what I give you and love every second of it, understood?”

I nod this time, biting down on the silk tie.

He strikes my ass cheek again in affirmation. It's a fine line between punishment and reward.

Without another word or warning he slips the vibrating toy back inside me, cranking up the intensity as he tugs firmly on the plug in my ass. This toy does so much more, vibrating my clit and inside of me simultaneously.

The pulse fills me, shaking through the lower half of my body. Shudders wrack my frame as he snaps the riding crop down along my thighs.

This is beyond stimulating, overwhelming my senses and pleasure centers.

I'll never be the same after tonight.

He's going to break me.

At least a dozen times now he’s brought me to the edge of the chasm, an inch away from tumbling to my climax. And every time he drags me back, kicking and screaming, begging for release.

I realize distantly that he's hazing me.

He's conditioning me to resist coming and he's building the intensity as he goes. Just as he turns up the toy to a mind-melting level, popping the plug out with a firm tug.

A second later I feel cool, slippery lube coating my ass, applied liberally.

Followed by a bigger plug eased in with that same slow pressure. My ass relaxes this time, taking the toy, even as the stretch teases my limit.

I wonder, not for the first time, what my limits really are anymore.

My mind is coming undone to the feast and famine of his whims, giving then taking, then leaving me longing. That’s when I really notice the quivering ache in my muscles. I’ve been pulling against my restraints hard for over an hour, my desire reaching a fever pitch.

I’m writhing and arching my back, practically howling at him.

Like a feral animal.

Which is what he wants, to turn me into something just like him.

After tonight, the face I show to anyone but him will be the mask, hiding my true nature.

In my thrashing I manage to spit out the gag, heaving and groaning to the incessant vibrations in my core. “Is that all you got? You think I can’t take a little teasing?”

I’m still blindfolded, but I can sense him, right behind me.

“I think you can take a whole lot more.”

“What are you waiting for, Alessandro? Are you afraid to go all the way?

“Are you afraid? That I’ll make you wait all night like this?” His words are mocking and harsh.

I feel my resolve waiver but I bolster it, my anger boiling over.

“Fuck you! Finish me off already, give in and take me!”

“Is that a request or a demand?”

“It's a fucking demand!” I scream, the need to come consuming me. Jerking hard on my ties I bare my teeth, raging against him, sweat pouring down my body. I'm so tightly wound that I'm fuming, seething. “What are you waiting for? Are you afraid your brother will hear, that he’ll interrupt us or what?”

“This room is soundproof. No one can hear a thing.”

My words seize in my throat.

The blindfold slips down slightly, revealing the dim lighting, the red and black curtains, and my fists clutching the bed. But all I see is him, staring wide-eyed at me in disbelief.

How dare he?

How dare he look at me like that when he's turning me into this thing, into this creature of lust. A beast who only sees him, only needs him, only wants him. And he's standing there gaping at me like …

Like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“Isabella. There you are.” His rasping rumble hits me right in the chest.

It's a revelation.

This is what he's been waiting for, for me to get to this point. Because that's who he is. That's what he needs. And a grin spreads across his face. As he grabs my face between his fingers, he kisses me deeply, possessively.

I'm lunging at him, grabbing for him, and he lets the straps slip, giving me what I yearn for. I instantly claw at him, fervently dragging him onto me, tearing at his skin with my nails, my fingers.

I don't even care if I hurt him.

I need him to complete me.

His cock rams home, fully seated inside me.

His hips slam into me, perfection.

Our bodies are soaked, slick, drenched as he plows into my center, pounding me over and over again. My legs are locked around his waist, crushing him to me.

I bite down on his neck drawing blood and I hear him release a shout.

“Yes!”

If there was a way for me to get him deeper inside me I’d demand it, even as he stretches me to the limit. There’s nothing left of myself, my every thought flooded with him, only him, his cock, my need.

My mind is being erased. Overwritten with searing light.

Only Alessandro can extinguish the hellfire in my chest and lower in my core.

“I-I love you, Alessandro!” I wail at the top of my lungs.

It signals the first wave of tremors through my legs, my ass clenching around the plug. The escalating ecstasy rocks the room, tipping the world, cataclysmic.

The second wave hits higher, stronger, a keening howl through my center, up and out through the top of my head.

Through the storm of my roaring release I hear Alessandro yelling my name over and over, pumping me full to overflowing as he unburdens himself, gushing inside me.

We collapse, my vision darkening to unconsciousness, my body and mind spent. My heart full.

Only one thing could end me completely.

And I hear him whisper it in my ear as I fade.

“I love you too, Isabella.”

18

ALESSANDRO

The leather strap of the whip switches across my back again in a vibrant line of pain. I love every second of it.

I don't for a moment regret giving her freedom, setting her loose on me. She's warming up to all of this so well, too well.

A smile starts curling across my lip until she cracks it again.

I haven't let her tie me up yet.

I’ve never let anyone take total control of me.

Additionally, I keep her on a tight leash, cuffed and collared while she inflicts sweet pain on me. I reply to her whip crack with a sharp tug of her chain, pulling her head back to bite down hard on her neck.

We're locked at the waist and I'm boring into her, grappling and each doing our best to make the other submit. Isabella keeps aggressively slamming down, clinching my length in her velvet embrace.

She’s trying to force me to come.

But control is my game. And I’m not ready to give in yet.

There's something new I want to try.

We've been at this for days. Since that first night, two more have passed much the same way. Adriano gets drunk and passes out and we go into our private chamber, into this heavenly dream state where we please and inflict pain on each other until we can't stand it anymore and either fuck one another senseless, or make deep, passionate love, with much the same result.

We’re already in the throes of pure abandon, losing all sense of time, tonight.

Isabella’s heading toward another climax when I flip her onto her back, tearing the whip from her hand and flinging it across the room.

I never pull out as I do it, crashing deeper into her hips with the motion.

Before she can get a hold of my waist with her legs again, I escape, leaving her stranded, her hands gripping the leather straps that loop around her wrists and up to the ceiling, allowing her a fair amount of freedom, but keeping her confined to the circular bed.

From the far corner of the room, I retrieve the object that I’ve been saving for a special occasion: a padded saddle horse, bedecked with its own set of harnesses and manacles.

That familiar hesitance shadows Isabella’s eyes.

“Finally going to let me tie you up for a change?” she purrs.

“You’ll have to earn that privilege.”

“And how will I earn it?”

“You’re about to find out.”

The second I release her from her binding, she’s lunging for me, then darting away, staying out of my reach. We play a teasing game of tag, until I manage to snag the rope harness I bound her in earlier, tripping her up and bending her over the saddle horse.

She immediately becomes pliant, rolling her hips and bobbing her ass for me.

Strapping her wrists and ankles to the legs of the device, I slip the waist harness around, cinching the clasps tightly, leaving no slack. She’s totally immobilized, prone and ripe for the taking.

“Ride me …” She looks back at me over her shoulder biting her lip.

“I intend to. But you’re going to need something more … sturdy to bite down on.”

“Why is that? You don’t want me to hurt my lip?”

“I don’t want you to bite off your tongue.”

“Oh really?” she challenges me. “Then I guess you'd better gag me. But I want the ball gag this time.”

It's like she can read my mind. She knows exactly what I want her to say.

And she clearly means what she says.

The result is infuriating and enticing. Almost like she's controlling the situation, even as she’s strapped down.

From the chest of accessories, I pull out a ball gag, wedging the soft rubber firmly between her teeth while I kiss her jaw and neck, tasting the salt and honey-sweet glow of her heated skin.

Then I take my time, spanking her ass until it’s radiating, sensuous and pink.

She’s splayed out for me, helpless to resist.

And I can’t resist, bending down to taste her, burying my tongue as deep as I can.

It sends her hips twirling, or it would, if she could move. The effect barrels through me like lightning, from my abdomen, up through my spine and down, agonizingly forcing my rigid cock to flex.

I won’t last two seconds inside her at this rate, overstimulated as I am.

The nipple clamps should stave off my release, distracting me with a little more pain of my own. Additionally, it raises my sensory perceptions, heightening my awareness of everything around me, outlining the pebbling skin of Isa’s body in an incandescent aura.

Resting the tip against her wet folds, I prepare myself, mentally, physically, rippling the muscles of my abs and clenching my body, rolling my shoulders.

“Are you ready?” It’s a rhetorical question.

“Mm-hmm …” Her affirmation comes out in a gravelly, husky moan.

I let the sleek caress of her walls settle around me, inch by agonizing inch as I ease my hips forward. This goes on for minutes, painstakingly shifting in and out at a grueling pace.

Before long, Isa’s drenching the cushion of the saddle horse. Her thighs shudder, almost vibrating with the tension of her burgeoning pleasure. I catch a glimpse of her face, her brow furrowed, her eyes closed tight as she holds out, trying to keep herself together.

“You can come … once,” I grind out through my clenched jaw, knowing that she’ll need to ride that first wave for what I’m about to do next.

Like a floodgate bursting open I watch her back muscles contract, heaving deep, hissing breaths around the ball in her mouth. Her walls close tightly around me, nearly undoing my mastery.

“No!” I growl, slapping her ass. She opens her eyes wide, glaring back at me, and I just shake my head, laughing incredulously. “You will not make me come yet. Not a fucking chance.”

The smile that pulls at her lips almost does it for me again, her plump lips sucking on the deep red orb of the ball gag.

“Keep smiling …” I scoff.

Pinching the jewel tipped toy seated just above our joining, I pop it out, leaving her open and ready for another test, another level of stimulation.

“I have to have all of you, Isa, in every way.”

She nods frantically, breathing faster through her nose.

We've been working up to this for a couple of days now. Putting in a slightly bigger toy each time. I press my thumb in first, adding more lubricant, savoring the feel of the slippery texture on her ass cheeks, and growling a moan of my own to the hugging tightness of her ring.

I strike one cheek, then the other, hard, then harder.

Each spanking tightens her around my thumb, making my heart pound in my ears, my blood boiling.

A tremble overtakes Isabella, having nothing to do with an orgasm.

It’s pure anticipation.

The sweetest anxiety as I make her wait.

Like before, I press my head to her star, allowing her to get used to the feel, and to mentally prepare herself for my massive width and length.

The tip slips inside.

“I want you to think of this room, this moment every time you think of me for the rest of your life, Isabella.” It’s edging on a farewell, hinting at the fact that we may part ways in only a day or two. This is our last night together at the lodge.

The ache in my chest, sorrow and longing for her, adds to my torture.

But I won’t let it ruin this for us.

Firm pressure guides me inside, luxuriating at the smooth, unique sensation as she takes another inch of my shaft into her.

“Breathe in deep …” I command her, fully immersing my cock between her cheeks, my pelvis resting against the base of the enticing line of her back.

When I finally slide back out, she comes alive, bucking her hips slightly to my rhythm. Usually this type of play requires a gentle touch, but I’ve warmed her up to it slowly the last few days.

Her blazing glare thrown back over her shoulder at me tells me that she can handle whatever I dish out to her.

So I test the waters, drizzling more lubricant along my length as it barrels into her again.

Little tremors ripple through her legs with each thrust, her cheeks slapping against my legs with a satisfying slap.

There’s no way I can last long this way, not with something so new and enthralling.

But I want her to join me when I unravel.

The toy I cast aside a moment before slips into her entrance so easily, curling into place and settling against her clit. I crank it up to a pulsing buzz, sending her body into shuddering, melting, bliss.

Every gasp and heave lets out a whine, a song, the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

My orgasm blossoms deep in my hips, at the base of my spine, avalanching through my balls and toward total surrender. “Isabella, I’ll only ask once …”

But I can't finish the sentence, I don’t need to.

Isabella’s sopping wet core practically glows as I increase the vibration, forcing her toward the edge.

Isabella’s eyes flare, her head bobbing in a vigorous nod, her steady wail humming out around the ball in her mouth. Every fiber of my body begins to shake, every muscle in her body quaking.

The sensation races down my legs, sending me into a frenzy, gripping her ass with both hands and giving into my only need, to lose myself in her for good.

“You’re fucking perfect, you’re a goddess, my love, my everything!” I scream at the top of my lungs, opening myself to her, bearing my soul as she bears the brunt of my violent orgasm, joining me in a high, keening scream that rattles the fucking walls.

I pulse, volcanic, molten.

And she milks every drop from me, flexing and seizing around my dick, buried to the hilt inside her. I stagger, falling across her back, clutching her close, gasping for air.

I've never experienced anything like Isa’s body, and more, our connection, heart and soul. It’s as close to heaven as I can imagine.

Even if I deserve hell for everything I've done in my life.

I’ll treasure these moments we shared for as long as I live.

I only hope that life includes Isabella.

19

ALESSANDRO

“Alessandro.”

Red velvet … black silk …

“Aless.”

Ivory skin, sweat soaked leather …

“Alessandro Gabriele!” Adriano’s voice rarely rises above a casual tenor. “Wake up, jackass.” He’s got one eyebrow raised, giving me what I like to call his consigliere look of disdain.

I snap back to the present, shaking my head to clear away the images from last night.

“Sorry. Just tired.”

“You’ve been drifting for days. Where’d you go just now?”

I almost laugh out loud. If I told him, he’d probably call me a fool, a sucker, a lovestruck idiot. Or he’d tell Ciro and Ero and let them go nuts making fun of my fetishes. “Just thinking about something.”

“Someone, more like.”

“Stai zitta, shut your mouth.”

Adriano sighs out half a laugh, shaking his head. He looks over the itinerary on the desk for a few seconds before speaking again. “You know, it’s okay for you to care about someone.”

“I’m well aware of that.” My grating tone would suggest otherwise.

“Even if you don’t entirely trust them,” he finishes.

“You never trust anyone.” I feel my lips pull in a smile as I say it, and he gives me another flat stare. “Neither do I.”

Adriano's always been extra suspicious of anyone outside the family, and even some of the family.

Including the women I’ve brought over for one-night stands in the past.

None of them got under my skin like Isabella.

Or have me so distracted that I daydream about them when I’m supposed to be strategizing. Adriano’s right to be worried.

“It’s all booked. We’ll decide when to strike as soon as we get back to NewYork.”

“What?”

“I’ve been telling you that we’re ready to move. The men are just waiting for you.”

“Oh. Right.” I rub my temples, shaking my head. “I’m acting like a fool.”

Adriano sighs, leaning back in his chair crossing his legs. “A little. You need to make a decision. Tell her that it’s over.”

“I'm considering asking her to come with me.”

“You're kidding.” He sits up, glaring at me. “Of course you're not kidding. I should have seen this coming.”

“She's not what I expected, Adriano. We can trust her. She's more like me than anyone I've met. And we've opened up to each other.”

“That’s exactly why you should be so much more wary!” he protests, getting abnormally worked up. “If she’s as brazen and pigheaded as you are, that could be a real problem for us.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“And you've told her who you are?”

“I think she’s aware.”

“You think? So how's this conversation gonna go? ‘Hey, Isabella. We've had a great couple of weeks together, getting to barely know each other, stranded, banging constantly. But, by the way, I'm a mob boss. Would you like to come back to my compound in another country in the middle of a war that I'm fighting with my best friend from childhood?’”

It sounds ridiculous, of course.

It also makes me immediately furious. I slam my fist down on the table.

“Adriano, I get it okay. It's complicated. But what's not complicated in my life? What’s ever been easy?”

“That’s far from the issue. Complicated is one thing, this is dragging an outsider into a life-threatening situation. Something you just recently told me you didn't want to do.”

“Well, things have changed.”

“How?”

“I …” The words catch in my throat. It’s one thing to say it to her, another to confess it out loud to my brother.

“Oh. I didn’t …” Adriano swallows, looking a little thrown off. “You don’t have to say it.”

He backs down immediately, a strange expression settling on his bold features.

His mouth opens and closes a few times before he says, “You know, we want you to be happy, brother.”

It’s quiet, tentative. And a strange sentiment, to hear him put it to words that way. We’ve never been overly sentimental, rarely addressing matters of the heart. We’re men, and Diamante men at that.

Not to mention we’ve been battling enemies and taking over territories for the better part of fifteen years together. There’s never been a question of whether my brothers have my back.

But the fact that they want me to find love, or contentedness …

What a normal, mundane thing. Yet so meaningful.

“When has my happiness ever mattered?”

“It matters to us. You raised us. Taught us how to live, how to fight. You deserve to find a partner, someone to share the burdens of life with.”

He’s not hassling me or giving me shit for spending time with her.

“Then what should I do?” I’m curious where his new line of thought is going.

“Lay it all on the table. You owe her that if she’s going to choose us.”

Us.

That’s the crux, right there. Because she won’t just be choosing me.

She’ll be choosing to join the family.

If she throws it back in my face and storms out, I’ll have to live with it.

My heart stutters at the thought. But that's what my entire life has been: risks and heartbreak. I'm just gonna have to be honest with her.

And I'll have to accept the consequences if she refuses.

20

ISABELLA

I’ve had very little time to myself lately.

Not that I've wanted to spend much time alone. Alessandro and I have sought each other out at every opportunity. There’s not a second that goes by that I don't think of what we’ll do next.

More like what he’ll do to me next.

The things I’ve done the past few weeks should shock me. Even a year ago, that version of myself would be appalled at my actions now.

But what did she know about love?

Alessandro fills me with a warmth that I’ve never experienced. It’s closely tied to the thrill and the unsettling fact that I’m in love with a dangerous man, one who I am becoming less and less convinced killed my brother Giorgio.

He has killed others. He’s all but come out and said it on several occasions.

As a result of our affair, my conviction has slipped. I haven’t been doggedly searching the house or trying to ask the right questions to find more clues.

Because I haven’t wanted to face reality.

That I am here under false pretense. Knowing that Alessandro values loyalty above all else.

Maybe I haven’t given him enough credit. Maybe I should just come out and tell him everything, explain myself and hope for the best.

Pacing my room on our last day at the lodge, I check my phone, the date. Three weeks.

Three weeks I’ve been here, and my entire world has changed.

Since Adriano got the power back on, I’ve hesitated to check my messages and emails. A flood of texts and check-ins from friends and my mother fill my inbox, tugging at my heart.

It’s hard to know where to start.

We leave tomorrow. And I’ll go back to Rome.

Empty handed. Empty hearted.

Flipping through my calendar I stop dead in the middle of my room.

“Shit.” The word doesn’t quite capture the sinking feeling I get in my chest.

I’ve always kept careful track of my periods. Mostly because the women in my family tend to have irregular, very painful cycles. It resulted in my nonna and my mother both having surgeries and issues during pregnancy.

“It’s just irregular. Yeah, that’s it …” I mumble to myself, looking through the past few months.

Clockwork.

Mine have been like clockwork. And I should have started several days ago.

Panic coils up around my throat.

A million excuses flash through my mind. “Could be stress. Maybe altitude?” My whispered words are no comfort.

“Or it could be the fact that I’ve been with Alessandro over and over and over again without being even slightly careful!” I groan, slumping onto the corner of the bed.

It never even occurred to me to bring protection on my trip.

Why would I be hooking up with anyone while trying to investigate a mob boss?!

“Stop freaking out. Breathe.” Standing, I wrestle to control my fears.

There’s too much to do to lose my shit right now.

I need to gather my bugs, my cameras. I should be able to collect them all throughout the day and tonight after they go to bed. We leave early, but I’ll manage.

And if I have time, I need to get onto Alessandro’s computer. One of my camera’s caught him punching in his password.

Yes.

I just need a plan, and by tomorrow I’ll be far from here and I can figure out …

“Dammit!” I hiss, running a palm over my lower abdomen.

I can’t focus with this nagging question looming over me.

A quick search of my bathroom leaves me empty handed. But maybe one of the maids has a test. Ava is young, recently married. She hasn’t returned to the lodge yet, even though Carla and Vincenzo came back yesterday.

Sneaking out of my room, I listen carefully, pinpointing the two men’s voices coming from the office. Aless and Adriano have been locked up in there all morning.

“Put Ero on the phone, Ciro—” I make out on my way to the kitchen and the south hallway.

Good. They’re on a call.

Carla is out in the laundry room, letting me slip past the kitchen unseen. The maid’s quarters sit down three steps, a hallway lined with doors.

An empty bedroom, another that looks to belong to Carla and her husband. I almost head into their bathroom, but Carla is older, a grandmother, now. Not likely.

Footsteps thunk above me and I freeze, up on my tiptoes. After a few seconds, I can breathe again and rush to the last door, the only other washroom.

“Come on, come on,” I nearly whimper, digging through the cabinet.

Feminine products. Tampons, pads …

And a pregnancy test.

My hands quiver as I open the box, fumbling the instructions. Autopilot keeps me following the steps, numbness settling on my mind.

Everything will be fine.

Don’t panic.

The awkwardness of lining up the test is overshadowed by my angst. And the wait afterwards, watching the seconds tick off on my phone timer.

I check the door, tapping my foot and regretting doing it down here. I’ll have to dispose of the test in the big kitchen trash on the way upstairs. Hide the evidence, whatever the result.

The last thing I need is Alessandro asking those questions.

Unless …

Turning back to the sink, I slump onto the toilet seat, staring at the twin lines on the panel.

Idiot!

We weren’t careful. I let him do anything he wanted to me. And I loved it.

It was that first night, I’m sure of it. Not that it matters, or that I have any way of knowing.

Cold sweat beads on my forehead, makes me shiver as I sit alone. Dread curdles in my stomach, souring my mouth.

A sound from the kitchen bolts me upright, wrapping the test and stuffing it in the elastic of my skirt at my waist. Skipping down the hall, I make it to the south wing door when Carla pops around the corner. “Signorina Isabella! Did you need something?”

She’s not suspicious or accusing, but she looks over my shoulder down the hall.

“No, sorry. I just …” An excuse, any excuse, “I needed a pad. I ran out.”

“Don’t trouble yourself next time searching! Just ask and I’m happy to help.” She winks, patting my arm.

The kind gesture nearly breaks me.

Forcing the tears back, I smile, nodding. “Thank you, Carla, you have been so kind.”

“My dear, I only wish I could have spent more time here with you. I trust Signore Alessandro was an adequate host while we were gone?”

“He was.”

“Well, I pray we see you here again soon. He needs a woman like you in his life.” She pulls me into a quick, tight hug. I bite my lip to keep from spilling my guts to her, a sob threatening to burst forth. “This is just farewell, not goodbye.”

“You’re too kind, Carla. Tell Ava it was wonderful meeting her, too. I wish you all the best.”

She’s back to her work with a flourish of her apron.

I slip the test into the waste bin and dash upstairs to my room. Hot tears spill out before I can shut the door and bury my face in my pillow.

Giving myself a few minutes to vent, I eventually pull myself up and wash my face.

“You can cry later. Now, you need to get out of here.”

The snow stopped falling completely last night. Not that the roads will be anything that my rental car could handle …

But I may have to risk it.

I was supposed to follow them down the mountain. They would use the plow to lead the way.

Forcing doubts from my head, I sneak back out of my room, heading straight for the landing. I need to make sure they are occupied before I gather up my gadgets and make a run for it. Listening closely at the door, I flinch as the phone rings again, loudly.

Aless’s angry growl answers.

“Fucking connection. Can you hear me? Good. We’re leaving first thing in the morning.”

Pause.

“We’ll take a more direct route back. I don’t care. I need to be there now, put the elders’ fears to rest.”

Pause.

“Don’t you dare make a move until I get home, Ciro.”

I want to listen more, hear what they're saying, but this could be my only opportunity to gather my things. The camera in the office can wait until they’re asleep tonight.

That’s when I'll log on to his computer, get what I need and go.

Creeping back into the east wing, I quickly check Adriano’s room again, just in case he left anything new lying about.

Nothing of note. He’s careful. Clean.

Which only leaves me the stack of papers that I found before. He hasn’t said anything, so it likely means he hasn’t noticed them missing.

“Where did I leave them …” I scour the other room, checking cautiously under the sheet covered furniture.

There!

I slip them out from under the old fabric and tuck them under my shirt without a second glance.

My heart is pounding as I ease the door back closed behind me and tip toe across the foyer toward my room.

All the while praying to every saint that no one sees me sneaking around.

I wait until I've caught my breath to look the pages over.

Numbers, numbers. Positives, negatives.

Could be payments or debts …

As I scan the list, I do recognize a few names, other known bosses, criminals I’ve heard of. Others I’ve stumbled across in my research of the Diamantes, but they’re all faceless members of a ghostlike organization.

It might mean something to my contact at Interpol, though.

Another name jumps out, a rumor, a legend.

Lysi.

The alleged family of Greek assassins. Mostly, they’ve served as an idle threat, a bedtime story told to kids in the Mediterranean area.

Go to sleep, or the Lysis will carry you away in the night.

That gives the context I needed. These are all payments to members or hired contracts within the organization. 

Thumbing through the roster I tally how many times my brother’s name appears. He must have been on their payroll to receive the sums he did.

My brother.

Giorgio.

A corrupt cop. Bile fills my mouth at the thought, a betrayal of everything I knew about him.

The last time I spoke with him, he promised me he had good news. A surprise. Was it this money? A pay out?

Or was he working undercover inside the Diamante family and got caught?

The pressure to get out of here doubles, cementing my resolve. Tonight, I’m gone. And the police can take this info and do as they please. I’m done with trying to play hero.

Still, there’s the matter of Alessandro.

My chest aches, torn ten ways about what to do.

I love him. Yes.

But I need to get away, clear my head. Make sure I’m safe. Then I can decide what to do with the information I gathered.

Besides, he’s engrossed in some major conflict.

He won’t have time for me once we leave, anyway.

The day drags on and I avoid the brothers. When night falls, Alessandro knocks on my door, but I pretend to be asleep.

It’s tempting, to seek comfort in his arms, but I can’t bring myself to answer. To see him.

So I lay there in the dark for hours, staring at the wall, waiting until I’m sure they are both asleep. I still need to get into his office.

But exhaustion and stress eventually pull me under, dragging me into fretful dreams.

My brother yells to me in the dark, calling for me. My mother cries, having lost both of her children. My faceless, nameless child wanders the streets, an orphan, doomed to never know his parents because Alessandro killed me, murdered me for betraying him.

“Wake up you traitorous bitch!” A gruff voice yells in my face.

I think it’s still part of my dream until a rough hand tears away the covers, drags me out of bed by my arm. “Get up!”

“Aless—” I start to protest, thinking he’s come to tie me up again.

But it’s not Aless.

As I’m dragged out into the hallway, the house still dark, I can make out Adriano’s features, shadowed and glowering. Chills and a sickening fallout in my gut make me instantly sick.

Pure dread swells up as he pulls me toward Alessandro’s office.

“Come on! Stop fighting,” he growls, sounding so similar to his brother.

Only there’s no passion behind the words, no lust or love. Just ice-cold rage.

“Let me go!” I shout, and he does, shoving me into the office, stumbling to my knees on the carpet. “What's going on?”

“Allow me to explain …” Adriano grinds out as Alessandro stands behind his desk, a look of outrage on his face.

“What the fuck are you doing, Adri? What’s the meaning of this?”

“This is the meaning. The whole fucking reason she came.” He slaps the packet of papers down on the desk along with several small clattering objects.

I don’t have to look up to know what they are.

“What the fuck …” Alessandro sifts through the recording devices. “Where did these come from?”

“All over the house,” he explains, reaching down to grab my hair, shouting in my face. “You working for the feds? Interpol? Huh?!”

He shakes me once before releasing me to fall roughly onto my hands.

“I-I … no⁠—”

I look up, searching for Alessandro, trying to catch his gaze. He’s staring blankly at the desk.

“Alessandro—”

“Stop.” The tone is intractable. Aless is someone else now.

Even Adriano tenses, going totally still. This is his boss, not his brother.

We wait as he sorts through the items, the temperature in the room rising several degrees.

“Isabella … if that even is your name.”

“It is,” I choke.

“But you’re not Isabella Bianchi.” Adriano flings another piece of evidence down. “Found this in your coat pocket. You should be more careful.”

The train ticket stub has my name, printed in bold letters.

“You … you went through my things?” I shouldn’t be surprised.

“Only because some of my papers went missing. You think I wouldn’t notice?”

“Enough,” Alessandro circles the desk, squatting down to look me in the eye, disgust all over his face. “So, Isabella Rossi. If I go digging, what will I find? What agency do you work for?”

“I-I don’t. I came here on my own.” Stupid. I should tell him there’s cops looking for me. But I don’t have the willpower to lie, or to stand up to him when he’s like this.

His eyes are empty. Inhuman.

“You came here to do what, then?”

“To find out what happened to my brother,” I choke out.

“Ah. Rossi. So you’re his sister.” He stands, glaring down on me. “Let me guess, you came here to take me down. To get revenge.”

“No. I mean … I came looking for answers. I didn’t expect⁠—”

“To take advantage of my generosity, my kindness? Bullshit.”

“I never meant for this⁠—”

“But you did. You have betrayal in your heart. Poison. I could smell it the minute you walked in. I should have listened to my instincts.”

I know he’s putting on a front, shutting off his emotions to hurt me, to spare himself.

“So you want answers about your brother? Well, you're gonna get some answers, but you're not going to like them. Or how you’re going to get them.”

He returns to his desk, sitting down, folding his hands.

“But I'm not going to give them to you yet. And you are coming with us back to New York so I can find out exactly who you are and what you know. Lock her up. We leave in a few hours.”

21

ALESSANDRO

“Do you have all your things?” The hollowness of my voice is not faked. It's not a show.

I feel empty inside.

Packing distracts me for a short while, shutting down the house. Carla offers me breakfast, but I have no appetite.

This betrayal is beyond anything that I am prepared to take. And I still have to see her the entire way home. So I put up a wall of hatred between us.

My heart can shrivel to dust for all I care now.

And she hasn’t said a word. The silence of the damned.

She hasn’t begged for her life, made excuses. Like she’s content to let me decide her fate. So much for that fighting spirit I fell in love with.

It was all a lie.

“I asked you a question. Do you have all of your things?”

“Yes, I do.” It's all she says, dragging her carry-on and her suitcase behind her.

“Adri?”

He cocks an eyebrow at my use of his nickname, but lets it slide. “I gave instructions to Carl and Vincenzo. He’ll drop off her rental. They won’t speak of any of this.”

“And the house?”

“They’ll keep it up, same as always. If we don’t return, they’ll pass the duty along to Ava and her husband.”

The comment is offhanded but it really makes me wonder.

Will I ever see this place again? Do I ever want to after what happened here?

Either way, I want the best for my people. Vincenzo and his family have always been loyal. Knowing they will be safe, far away from danger and living a peaceful life gives me some sense of closure on this farewell.

Our trip down the mountain is quiet, Isabella staring out the window, my brother silent and brooding. Time passes in a weird, abstract sort of way.

On the train.

At the airport.

We keep to a strict schedule, avoiding major stations and slipping around customs. The benefits of a bottomless bank account and decades of padding the right pockets.

The plane ride back to the States is one of the longest I can ever remember, sitting in the same cabin as Isabella.

We may as well be on opposite sides of the planet.

Part of me wants to scream at her, demand answers. Another wants to never see her again. Only a small part of me considers throwing her out of the plane over the Atlantic.

Adriano is resting, his headphones notched in his ears.

Isabella’s sleeping in her seat across the aisle, facing back toward me, but out of earshot.

“Why? I need a reasonable answer. But you can’t give me one, can you? Like a cheating spouse. You just did it. You just acted without concern for how it might hurt me.” The words are barely audible to my own ears above the hum of the engines.

Once I had a chance to look into her life, her reasoning was clear.

In addition to being Giorgio’s sister, she's an investigative reporter. An aspiring one anyway, working for a tabloid in Rome.

This could have been her big break.

All at my expense.

I don’t even begrudge her the ideal of revenge, of thinking I killed her brother and wanting to bring me down for it. It’s something I can empathize with all too well.

But the ambition of using that to propel her career?

Disgusting.

I can't bring myself to tell her what really happened to Giorgio. Not yet.

The wound is still too fresh, and I want her to suffer. To languish, not only wondering what I know—the mystery dangling in front of her nose—but also to wonder what I’m going to do to her for betraying me.

Let her think that I killed him. Let her worry that he wasn’t who she thought he was.

The first lights of a city twinkle down below as I look out the window into the darkness.

Under any other circumstances, I enjoy flying, long trips.

But all I have to look forward to when we arrive is more meetings. Planning.

At least at the end of that I get to fight. Lead my men to battle. Assuming Adriano doesn’t try to keep me locked up at the compound.

He can fucking try.

Spending time back in the old country did me one big favor. It solidified my familial ties. Generations of men like me, seeing their families through hard times. Through wars.

I will not shame my ancestors by failing my people.

We land at the private airstrip an hour later, boarding a limo in the middle of the night.

Still, Isabella doesn’t put up a fight, like she’s given up.

Adriano is surprisingly gentle with her, all things considered. Probably because he’s worried I’ll fall apart if he does what he wants to do to her. What we should do to her.

The drive home offers me little relief from my exhaustion.

Every time I close my eyes I see her in my bed, in my arms, tied up and moaning.

Mocking me with every blink of my eyes. Spitting in my face and throwing my love away.

Just like Domenico.

We pull into the compound and I should feel like I’m home. The staff smiles to see me, taking our bags, my men patting me on the back.

“Welcome home, Don!” Tomas grins.

“Good to be home, Tomas,” I fake, my heart not in it.

“Prodigal son! You’ve come home,” Ciro sings from the top of the steps.

“I’m not your son.”

“But you sure do know how to spend money!” He pulls me into a hug and this I actually feel, gripping my little brother tightly and squeezing his shoulders.

“Only because I have to buy you out of trouble all the time.”

“How was your time in the desert, fratello?”

“The sand was snow and the thirst was boredom,” Adriano intones, a little smirk pulling at his mouth for the first time in days.

“At least you didn't freeze to death. We were worried you'd come back a popsicle.” Ciro chuckles, nodding as Fiero leans in the doorway. The guards outside stiffen at his presence, saluting me sharply.

“You two seem to be doing well in your element. Driving everyone insane, I'm sure.” I try to be myself, to act normal.

“Somebody's got to keep all these fuckers in line. And since you weren't here, and we weren't allowed to go partying, we had to stay … busy.” Ciro rubs his hands together menacingly. I definitely don't want to know.

More so when the two guards at the door, Gino and Bolo, give me wide-eyed looks, shaking their heads. It’s almost enough to make me laugh in spite of my grief.

“Why don’t we let Alessandro come inside, eh?” Tomas interrupts, leading the way. “It really is great to see you, sir.”

“And you, Tomas. How are Lita and the kids? Gregorio?”

“Brats, the whole lot of them, I should have never let my sister marry that idiota,” he snaps, hiding a smile. He takes my briefcase and ushers me through the house. “Can’t help noticing you brought a guest?”

“Yes. Have Tina show her to the blue guest room.” I eye Isabella as she steps through the door, taking in the size and luxury of the mansion.

Tomas frowns for a second, but nods.

Ciro, oblivious to the exchange, bounces in, taking a long, head to toe look at Isabella. “Damn! You didn’t tell us you found a bride while you were away!”

Adriano chokes, staring at me, waiting for me to explode.

Instead, I find a smirk tugging at my lips, ironic. Bitter.

“Yep, she just wandered in out of the blizzard.”

“My bad, name’s Ciro, this is my little brother Ero.” He extends his hand. Isabella shakes it, clenching her jaw. “Does she talk?”

“Only to people who don’t pester her or annoy her. Tomas, please see her to her room.” The implication registers in my head of security’s eyes and he bows lightly to her, ushering her upstairs.

Ero stares openly at me, clearly spotting the interaction and understanding the cues.

“We’ve got plenty to do. How about a report,” Adriano interjects.

“Always business, business, business! You just got home!” Ciro yells, falling in.

“War room. Now.” I don’t bother waiting for them to follow me.

The board room is spacious, comfortable, but practical.

“You’ve located Dom’s hideout?” I ask without preamble, nailing Ero with a glare.

“I believe so. The Serpent’s Head all seem to take orders out of one place, an office building near the foundry,” Ero rattles off, his baritone never above a close, conversational volume.

“Found the ol’ head of the serpent, as it were. Talk about fucking cheesy.” Ciro kicks his feet up on the desk.

“I would think it's a lot more cheesy if he wasn't killing off our people,” Adriano retorts.

“That’s just it, though,” Ciro quips, getting as serious as he ever does, “they’ve gone pretty quiet the last few days. We followed every group back to their hideouts, their bases of operation. They all report back to one place, we’re just not sure if Dom is actually there.”

“So how do you know it’s him?” I ask.

“His name’s on the deed to the place, and I mean, come on, Serpent’s Head? Vipera?”

“I know. It’s too on the nose not to be him. I just …”

“We all hoped it wasn’t him,” Ciro concedes, patting the air. “But the guy’s always been hyper-ambitious, volatile.”

“You don’t turn on family, though,” Ero adds, crossing his arms.

“Damn straight.”

“What I don’t get is why there’s been no communication. Why the fuck isn’t he trying to announce his presence, talk to you? I mean, he tried to off you for fuck’s sake with no warning, then no other attempts on the compound, just nothing.” Adriano paces the room.

“We could send him a message. See if he wants to parley.”

“We are going to send him a message, Ciro,” I catch each of their eyes in turn. “But we’re going to do it at gunpoint. He’s going to know the king has returned when I'm standing over him, about to pull the trigger.”

“Fuck yeah!” Ciro cheers. Ero nods his agreement.

“Ero, how’s security?”

“Security is tighter than ever, we’ve switched all guard rotations. No one is getting the drop on us here.”

“Just to explore every option, what if we did offer to parley, draw him out. Get him in the open.”

“Use me as bait, you mean? Not a bad idea. Then I could snap his neck in front of the entire council of elders.”

“That would suit some of them. Most just want this over, as quiet as possible. The threat of a hostile force is bad for business. It’s starting to affect a few of their bottom lines, clientele are getting nervous.” Adriano shakes his head as he sits, deep in thought.

“Keep it in mind. See if we can avoid all-out war.” I roll my shoulders, cracking my neck. “Not that I’d mind if we have to go in, guns blazing.”

“See? This is why they put you in charge. Rational,” Ciro quips. “I vote for violence.”

“They put you in charge because you make rational decisions, Aless. Keep that in mind,” Adriano says, raising an eyebrow.

“I need time to think, and I need a shower. Reconvene here in a few hours.”

“Yes sir!”

I wander off towards my study, wanting some time to myself. More than anything, I just need to sleep. But that’s not happening any time soon.

Adriano follows me half the way back, his room on the way to my suite. “You okay?”

“No.” I shrug.

“I can handle the menial stuff if you need time.

“Fuck that. There’s too much on the line. Hearing it from the twins is fine, but I want to hear reports from every captain. Same with security. Set up meetings, calls with everyone. Stagger the ones that need to come in to talk. No patterns.”

“Smart. Talking to every family member is going to take time. You up for it?”

“I need to be seen, be heard. I need my people to know I’m involved.”

“I'll set it up.” He slips away, heading to his room.

“Thanks, Adriano.”

“Anything you need, let me know.”

The walk back to my bedroom is lonely, desolate. What I really need is something to occupy me. Keep me busy.

So I don’t have time to think about her.

Part of me wishes I could just see Isabella for a moment. Have her one more time to clear my head. But I know that's dangerous, making myself vulnerable before making commands.

So I drive her from my thoughts.

A few hours later, after several dozen meetings and phone calls, I’m back in the war room, deep in the trenches of planning an assault. Parleying doesn’t sound like it’s going to work.

At least, not without a chess move of our own to show that we mean business, that we won’t be toyed with.

“Three locations. Three hits. Assign Ciro and Ero to lead two of them, another captain on the third, since I can’t join in …” I glare at Adriano.

He grimaces and shakes his head. I know better than to argue. The man is absolutely obstinate when it comes to certain things. “Prisoners?”

“No. Kill the threats, let the others go. We need to make a statement, but I don’t want to escalate things yet.” It also gives us the opportunity to see who else is on his side.

Rumors of the Bratva and the Greeks working for him have been filtering in.

A knock at the door interrupts us. It’s Tomas.

“Sir, you wanted to see me?”

“Yes, come in. How is our guest doing?”

“She’s fine. Hasn’t said anything.”

“Good. She is to remain under lock and key. Tell the staff not to speak to her.”

“Understood, Don Alessandro.” Tomas takes everything in stride. He’s halfway out the door when he turns back, “And sir? It’s good to have you back.”

“Thanks. Good to be back,” I lie, wishing it were true. Being in the thick of everything again reminds me who I really am, who I used to be.

A stark clash to who I started to become with Isabella.

Despite my constant work, she still haunts my every waking hour.

Maybe this was her revenge. Maybe this was her plan all along. To pull me in. To make me bow to her only to have her tear my heart out. It would be fitting for the things that I've done.

But something lingers inside me, longing for her.

And I can't help but wonder if she's longing for me too.

22

ISABELLA

For two days, I've been locked in this room.

Two long days, all alone.

There’s a TV, and a few magazines, but I can’t sit still. And I can’t engage myself in anything other than the danger of my situation. Worse, I can’t get an answer to a single question I have about what’s to become of me, what’s going on outside, what Alessandro and his brothers are up to.

So I’ve resorted to keeping track of the movement I can see through my window, overlooking a small courtyard in the back of the house. It’s menial, a small garage for the security and Alessandro’s grunts.

They come in and leave at all hours, a constant stream of grim-looking, dark-haired men in dark suits and streetwear. All packing an arsenal of weaponry.

Clearly, they're mobilizing, sending men out in groups on missions. I've seen some come back to the house, spattered in gore. Sometimes they’re carrying someone with them. Usually in a body bag.

It's horrifying.

A soft knock interrupts my vigil, announcing my lunch, brought by a young woman in a maid’s uniform. She smiles uncomfortably, like always, nodding as she sets out my plate and drink.

Then she’s gone, again.

The same as every other time.

Sometimes it’s a man. Or another woman.

All the same.

None of them will speak to me, clearly under order, possibly under threat. The only thing it has shown me is that they don’t intend to torture me or throw me in a dark cell.

Not yet, anyway.

But it dawns on me that they might very well leave me here, forget about me. Let me rot until I cave and beg to be released. Or tell them what they want to know.

Sadly, I wish I knew enough to be a real liability to them. At least then someone might come give me the chance to explain.

I must be the least of his worries.

Yet I’m still caught up in the middle of this conflict, cast aside and locked away to be dealt with later. The thought makes me angry, furious even. Don’t I deserve for Alessandro to face me?

At least to shout at me and take his rage out on me.

“He really did corrupt you if that’s the kind of attention you crave …” I mutter, sitting down to eat. Speaking to myself feels better than the deafening quiet that I’ve grown accustomed to.

I have thought over and over what I would say if given the chance. How I might sway him. If I should send him a message that I have urgent news.

But then I would have to do it, tell him that I'm carrying his child.

A fact that I can barely face myself.

Worse, one of the other brothers might come, men who don’t really know me and certainly couldn’t care less about me. One of them could harm me, harm the baby.

So every time I hear footsteps in the hall my back straightens, I rush to the door, quietly listening for hints, conversations. Or any sign of who is approaching so that I can be ready.

Honestly, I think I’m going insane.

So much so that I find myself daydreaming of our time together in the lodge. In Aless's chamber.

It inevitably brings me back around to my pregnancy and what I’m supposed to do about it. The smartest thing to do would be to escape.

Disappear.

Not that an organization like the Diamantes couldn’t find me.

But maybe they’d be too busy to care.

Unless I’m here long enough to start showing. Once the morning sickness starts it will be next to impossible to hide for long. My maid has cleaned the bathroom twice already.

My only other option would be to use my baby as a bargaining chip. She’s the child of one of the world's most powerful mafia leaders. Nothing could be more valuable, even just the information. I could use it against him, threaten to go public.

Take him for enough money to vanish, set up a life for us, the baby, my mamma.

I hate myself for thinking of the baby that way, but as it stands that may be the only thing important enough to keep alive. I won’t hesitate to use it if one of the brothers comes to eliminate me.

That’s fine, best-laid plans and all.

It also relies on anyone coming for me at all.

It's mid-morning on the third day when a soft knock announces a visitor. They don’t automatically come in, unlike the maids.

Sitting up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I swallow, debating what to do.

Another knock.

“C-come in.”

I’m still groggy from my nap as I slip out of the covers, keeping the bed between myself and the door.

“Good morning. Hope we didn’t wake you,” a sonorous voice precedes the door opening all the way, revealing two extremely tall, very handsome men. They have to be the twins. “May we come in?”

He’s so polite.

The other doesn’t say a word, and as I get a good look at them, I see how much alike they are.

They're identical in almost every way. The way they stand, their frames. It’s the hair and eyes that set them apart.

“Um … yes.” Like I can tell them no.

“I’m Ciro Diamante. So nice to meet you.” He’s got Alessandro’s hair, Adriano’s skin tone, his lighter eyes. But his features are more feminine, prettier. Women probably go insane at the sight of him.

“Isabella Rossi.”

“Sorry, my brother is a barbarian. This is Fiero. Or Ero if you have a reason to speak to him. I don’t suggest looking for one.”

“God, you're an asshole.” The words are silky smooth, deep, barely audible. Yet they pack a punch, making me strain to hear more from him.

Until I catch him staring at me, no expression on his pristine features.

Jet black eyes bore into me like a shark watching its prey. Jet black hair sweeps back, long and luxurious. But the effect is chilling. He looks like he was bred to be a killer.

Still, he’s stunningly handsome.

In a deadly way.

Ero tilts his head to the side, analyzing me, before looking back at his brother expectantly.

“Well, Isabella Rossi, be welcome in our home.”

I almost laugh in his face.

“Ero”—he waves, making a face—“like we practiced …”

“Welcome,” Ero says in a deadpan voice.

“Sorry, again. He likes to think he was the first one out and that means something, like he’s older than me. Anyways, how’s your stay been so far?”

They saunter in, and the family resemblance is startling. Each carries himself so much like their eldest brother, their boss. The swagger, the way they play off one another.

Ciro tucks his hands in his pockets, slouching his shoulders forward, waiting for me to say something. Ero just stares at the wall.

“Oh, I, uh … it’s been fine. For what it is.” I try not to let my voice quiver with fear or anger. “Was there something you needed?”

Get on with it, is what I really mean. 

“Yeah. We wanted to see if you would like to go for a walk.”

“A walk,” I repeat, a chill shivering down my spine. This is it. They've come for me.

I stop my hand from instinctively drifting to my belly.

“You know, with your legs. And feet. Outside. We figured you've been cooped up in here for almost three days. You could use a little exercise. Adriano said you worked out a lot in Italy.” Ciro catches himself, his eyes darting away as they begin to scan down my body, still dressed in a simple, somewhat revealing nightgown. There hasn’t been a reason to really get dressed.

“And he said we had to, so.” Ero shrugs.

“Besides, it’s really sunny outside. Maybe it’ll make you feel better; you don’t look so good.”

“Thanks,” I snap, the snarky way Ciro insults me riles something up in me. “My own fault really. I’ve kept myself locked up in here for three days, you know.”

If they’re going to take me away and kill me, the least I can do is fight back a little. Show them that I’ve got spine.

A ghost of a smile flickers across Ciro’s face. He’s fucking with me.

I’m his brother's prisoner and he’s teasing me like I’m a visiting cousin.

“Well?” Ciro asks, pointing his thumb towards the door.

I look down at what I’m wearing and open my palms at him. Ero palms his face.

“Oh! Yeah. Get dressed, of course.” Ciro nods like he came up with the idea.

“In private … ?” I point to the door, not just suggesting that he step out. Ero is already in the hall. “I'll be out in just a moment.”

“Take your time!”

“Ciro.” Ero smacks his brother’s arm.

“I mean, not too long, we do have stuff we need to do, so …” The door closes, muffling Ciro’s tirade. “You’re such a nag! What do you have going on that’s better than escorting a pretty lady around? It’s the most action you’ve seen in weeks!”

I explode into motion as soon as the door shuts, pulling out a pair of pants and a blouse, finding some flats. All to buy me some time to find something, anything to use as a weapon. Anything to use to defend myself.

If they think I’m going down without a fight, they’ve got another thing coming.

Polite or not, I won’t let my guard down. Not that I think I stand a chance against either of them.

A sharp nail file is the only thing I manage to find in the back of an old drawer. Someone must have overlooked it when searching the room and preparing it for my stay.

That, or they're not used to keeping prisoners at their compound.

“I open the door, trying to look composed. Pleasant. “Okay, I'm ready to go.”

“Don't you look just lovely?” He means it, too.

His smile is so similar to Alessandro’s that I could weep. Hiding the pang of heartache, I stride into the hall, heading back toward the stairs as Ciro leads the way, Fiero noticeably falling behind to bring up the rear.

Despite their casual natures, their training comes through—years of practiced soldiering, security detail. It reminds me of my dad, his fellow cops.

The walk through the house is eerily quiet. There doesn't seem to be anyone here at this time of day. But more than that, there's a stillness to the place, like everyone is waiting for something.

I can relate to that anxiety, the anticipation of worry to come. Until recently, I never truly understood what real fear was.

Not like I do now, for the life growing inside me.

Unfortunately for me, it’s integrally tied to the love in my heart for the father of the child. A longing that’s hard to differentiate between, torn between the two of them, yet one and the same.

Unless I am forced to choose.

If so, I’m confident Alessandro would support my decision … if he knew.

“This way, out through the sunroom.” Ciro’s been gabbing all the while, commenting on the decor, the weather. “We used to play out here all the time as kids. Games, toys. All waiting for Alessandro to come home from some wild adventure.”

“It’s beautiful,” I offer. Focusing on anything but the end of this little walkabout or an opportunity to make a break for it has me on pins and needles.

“Yeah, Aless had it redone a few years back. He can be such a priss sometimes, believe it or not. Loves his colors, his textures. Moody bitch.”

I almost crack a smile at the jab. My mind jumps back to Aless’s secret chamber, the carefully curated ambiance.

“This coming from the peacock who likes dressing in the most gaudy colors imaginable,” Ero grumbles.

“Hey! Just because a guy likes to dress to kill and likes a little color … haters gonna hate. And I dress this way to woo the ladies.”

“Nobody says that. Ever. Especially if they want to woo anyone.”

“Jealousy is the only color you ever wear, Fiero! You could take a lesson, a page out of my book. When was the last time you got laid?”

“When was the last time you stopped talking?”

A snort lodges itself in the back of my throat. They’re completely childish and absurd. Like average, normal siblings. I find myself relaxing, just a little, to their playful demeanors.

These two don’t seem to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.

A gift that I can only assume was provided by a strong parent.

The man I love.

I blink rapidly to force back tears as we step out into a vibrant, lush garden. Green, purple, bright red, and marigold assault my senses, along with sweet scents and the glare of magnificent sunlight bathing the scene. It’s enough to distract me for a moment, a brief respite from my circumstances.

“Wow …” I gasp, savoring the warmth, the chilly and refreshing breeze. Every shrub and bush is manicured, carefully maintained. “This is incredible. Does Alessandro garden too?”

“Ha! That I’d like to see. Preferably in a flowery apron and a straw hat, right bro?” Ciro guides us along a stone path, basking in the fresh morning.

“Don’t call me bro. Ever.”

“Sourpuss.”

“Dickweed.”

“Anyway, our great-uncle Giancarlo had this designed for his wife. Aunt Eva spent hours out here, trimming, singing. One of my favorite memories as a little kid.”

Ero is conspicuously silent, not offering any jabs.

I feel his eyes on me, though.

“Not that you need to know any of that …” Ciro catches the look, clearing his throat.

“I’m your prisoner,” I state, feeling bolder in the sunlight. “What does it matter what you say in front of me? What’s the difference?”

If there’s a chance they’re going to kill me anyway, I may as well show them who I really am. And find out anything that could buy me a few more minutes of life.

“Hmm. Ballsy. I like it. This way.” Ciro leads on, growing quiet the farther we get into the maze of trees and flowers.

As we round a bend in the walkway, I see a picturesque gazebo out in the center of the garden. Pausing to lock the memory in my mind, I have a second of heartache, a flash of a life that could be.

A wedding, on this lawn. Kissing the man I love, taking his ring.

Children running, playing together in the grass.

Alessandro chasing them.

“You alright?” Ciro asks softly.

“Yeah. Just overwhelmed.”

“He thought you’d like it out here,” Ero mumbles behind me.

I turn, my brow furrowing. “He knows I’m out here?”

“He’s the one who told Adriano to make this happen, so yeah.

“Make what happen?” There’s more to this than I thought.

“It's easier if we just show you.”

“Always so dramatic …” Ero huffs, shaking his head.

I notice someone sitting inside the gazebo as we approach, a woman with golden blonde hair. A puzzled look sweeps across my face and I look to either of the brothers for a clue.

Both of them are smirking. Well, Ciro is. Ero is …

Making a face that could give children nightmares.

Their mischievous behavior conflicts with the menacing reputation I know they’ve earned. “You two must have driven Alessandro nuts,” I can’t help commenting.

“Only what he deserved.” Ciro gestures for me to go on alone.

Stepping into the cool confines of the white wood pillars, I startle as I hear a tiny, cute voice exclaim, “Mama! Mama! Look. I draw a pity flower!”

“Pretty flower, Gigi. And it’s beautiful.”

“Tha’s what I said,” the little girl pouts.

My eyes lock onto her, her dark curls, her blue eyes. Something about her captivates me, catches my attention. Something hauntingly familiar.

Ciro taps the pillar behind me, announcing my presence before he steps back, wandering off a short distance.

The woman glances up, her tan skin and golden hair accenting a round, pretty face. Her eyes lock on mine, a sort of surprise and sadness shadowing the deep green. Her smile, though …

It lights up the shady confines of the gazebo.

“Oh, my…” She swallows, tears filling her eyes as her hand shoots to her mouth.

“It’s you,” I gasp, an image flashing through my head of a photo my brother sent of his wedding. They eloped in the States. My mother never let him hear the end of it.

“You're her, you're really her.” She sobs through her hand.

I can’t make my brain work right. The shock. The impossibility of this encounter.

“I-Isabella Rossi,” I hear myself say.

“Angelica Rossi.” She thrusts out her hand and I take it.

There's a moment frozen in time, where we just stare at each other, our hands intertwined. Then she looks down, beaming. “And this, is Gigi, Giorgina.”

“Your hair is pretty, lady,” Gigi grins.

“Th-thank you,” I stifle a sob. “I’m …”

“Your Aunt Isabella,” Angelica finishes for me. Gigi bounces over to wrap her arms around my legs. I can barely move. Gigi loses interest in hugging me in a second, bounding back to her crayons.

“How?” I manage to choke out.

Angelica looks back at me, gazing into my eyes for a few seconds before we embrace, throwing our arms around one another. It’s the instant closeness of family, of shared loss.

“He really is gone?” I ask, still clinging to her. It dawns on me that I have secretly held out hope, some abstract idea that he might be alive.

“Yes, he is.”

“I need to know how.”

“Sit, sit. I'll explain that soon, I promise. It's just so wonderful to finally meet you. He told me so much about you.”

“I was supposed to come visit you, meet you.”

“I know. Things have been complicated since then. Otherwise, I would have reached out.”

“And your daughter, I mean …”

“Giorgio wanted to surprise you with the news I was pregnant. I named her after him.”

“I'm so sorry.” I stare at the miracle sitting next to me, absorbed in her coloring. “She's beautiful. She must be⁠—”

“She'll turn three next month.”

I spin back to Angelica. “His birth month, too?”

“I know. It was hard and special.”

Pieces fall into place, my situation and hers. It suddenly occurs to me what she's doing here, the meaning behind this. I still have to ask.

“What are you doing here?”

“That is a bit more complicated.”

“They're not holding you prisoner. Are they?” Panic claws through me.

“No, no!” Angelica pats my hand. She searches my eyes for a second, seeing a shift there. “But they are holding you prisoner, aren’t they?”

“Yes. It's also complicated.”

“Oh, what a mess!” She half laughs, turning to the table. “I brought us some tea; Ciro told me I had a guest, so I thought I was just entertaining one of their family members.”

“I’d love some.” This feels right, like we’ve known each other for years.

We sip the hot, herbal brew for a few moments, gazing out over the garden.

“Why would you be entertaining one of their family members?” The question slips out before I can think it through.

Angelica sits her cup down, meeting my gaze again. “Because this is our home.”

My teacup clatters a bit as I place it on the table. “Oh.”

“Gio was working for Alessandro when he died.”

“No. But my brother was a police officer. My brother was a cop.”

“He was. And he was undercover. He was sent to infiltrate a rival of the Diamantes. That’s how he wound up in the States.

“Problem was, the department was corrupt. His liaison was on the take, his captain, too. When he asked to be brought out, brought home, they told him to keep his head down so they could keep collecting. Gio threatened to out them, but the commander was in on it. They sent someone to kill him.”

“Gio always knew how to piss off people in charge, huh?”

“This was on another level. And it gets so much more crazy. The night the cop’s hit man tried to kill him, the Diamantes attacked to wipe out the gang, get them off their turf. Alessandro saw it happening, saw the guy aiming for Gio and took him out.”

“Why would he do that if Gio was with their enemy?”

“I’ve asked him many times. He said, ‘Just did what I felt was right in the moment.’”

“So he saved Giorgio. He was still an undercover cop.”

“Which he confessed to Alessandro. He confessed everything, not knowing what else to do. Alessandro offered him a job and he took it.”

“How could he turn like that?” I see the problem with the question as soon as I ask it. How could he?

How could I?

“You have to understand. Gio lost everything. He was being hunted by the leftovers from the gang, his own department. They declared him a criminal in Italy. And Alessandro offered us a place in his family, made us feel like family. They kept us safe.”

Too many puzzle pieces fall into place at once. Added to my own peril, it’s mind-numbing, impossible to wrap my head around it all. “How did you and Gigi come to live here?”

Angelica waits for me to blink, watching me process before she answers. “Gio swore his life to Alessandro after they took down the corrupt officers in Giorgio’s squad. In return, the Diamantes swore to watch over his family if anything ever happened to him.”

Her eyes drift, fading into a painful memory.

“He took a bullet for Alessandro. An assassination attempt a few years ago. There was nothing they could do. Gio wasn’t wearing his vest that day because we were at a family gathering.”

Tears stream down both of our faces, hers for grief, mine for anger, grief, blame.

It's not the news I was expecting. It feels like a betrayal, all the same.

Like Alessandro might have pulled the trigger himself.

“You know him well, don’t you?”

I nod.

“And you love him.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I know it must be hard to hear all of this. And I don’t know what you thought before, or what happened to you. But Alessandro saved your brother, the love of my life, and Giorgio died defending someone he truly believed in. He'd lost everything, Isabella, everything he believed in had been taken away. He couldn't return to his job, to his country. He couldn't do anything. This gave him a second opportunity, a purpose. Even if it was part of a life that we never believed we would lead.”

“But …”

“The Diamantes aren’t who you think.”

I can’t help raising an eyebrow.

“Well …” She smiles sadly. “Okay, maybe they are who you think in some ways, but they're good people. They're a good family. Alessandro leads with a fair hand. Maybe if you explain to him⁠—”

“No. There’s no way. I betrayed him. And you know what that means to him,” I fumble out.

“I know. Loyalty is everything. But so are love and family.”

We chat through the afternoon, playing ball with Gigi, sharing a light lunch. Ciro and Ero are circling in as the clouds start to gather in the early afternoon.

Our time is up.

“Would you stay? If you could?” Angelica reaches for my hand.

“I don't know. I need time to think …”

But there is no time. They're about to go to war.

Angelica checks over her shoulder to make sure that Ero and Ciro are still out of earshot. She leans in. “There's something else, isn’t there?”

It's a risk.

A huge risk, gambling on her loyalties to me as her dead husband's sister or her loyalty to the family that rescued her and has preserved her and her daughter's lives.

But she’s family.

“I-I’m pregnant,” I whisper. “With his child.”

Her eyes widen, but her hand stays firm, gripping mine, anchoring me.

“You’re sure?” she asks calmly.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Our eyes meet for a second. Without a second thought, she pulls me in for a hug.

And before I even have a chance to ask, she whispers, “Your secret's safe with me.”

23

ALESSANDRO

“Alessandro, you need to go to bed. You need rest.”

“I'll rest when this is done,” I grit through my teeth, my eyes bleary.

We've been at this for days, planning. Racking up a body count as we hunt down and raid every den of the Serpent’s Head we can find. I’ve tried to temper the bloodshed, to send a very specific message.

That we want to talk. That we are willing to negotiate.

Of course, it’s bullshit. I want Dom’s head.

But wholesale slaughter only leads to retaliation.

He must have promised them the world—the thugs and multitude of street gangs working for him—there’s no other reason so many different gangs would team up, join forces.

Unless they all got tired of going up against us on their own.

We never tolerated competition on our turf.

And we never offered to let them join us. It’s always been our way, to be the sole power in any area we own.

So, regardless of the methods, they have us outmanned.

But not outgunned.

We have more money. We have better tactics. Now all we need is confirmation that Dom is where we need him to be for a full-scale assault. After he agrees to sit down and talk to me, that is.

“Got it.” Ero slips into his seat across from me.

“Yeah? Wait, seriously?!” I sit up straighter. “You’re not pulling my leg are you?”

It’s the closest thing to a smile I ever see on Ero’s face. “I don’t pull legs. That’s the other twin.”

“Not what I meant, smartass.” I shouldn’t question Ero, undermine his trust, but I’m tense. “When should we move?”

“I suggest we wait until tomorrow night. If he still hasn't reached out for a meeting, we strike.”

“Agreed,” Adriano intones, clasping his hands on the table. “In the meantime, we need to be at our best. Which means⁠—”

“Yeah, yeah. Sleep. I get it.”

“Same goes for you two, and anyone not on guard duty. We gotta be sharp.”

“Right. So. Tomorrow just after midnight?” I ask, rhetorical, but wanting their agreement.

“Fuck yeah.”

“Absolutely.”

Ero nods.

It’s finally here. Some sort of resolution to this hellscape of waiting. Just one more day.

“Spread the word, quietly,” I look each of them in the eye. “Nothing slips. We’ve got one chance to do this right.”

Ciro rolls his eyes. “Yeah, we know the drill, boss.”

“Shut the fuck up, Ciro.” Adriano snaps, but he’s grinning like a fool.

We all are, except for Ero, looking smug enough.

Standing there, the four of us around the war table, I connect with them, appreciate them for the men they’ve become.

One by one I embrace them, thank them.

“You’ve all sacrificed a lot for me. I’ll never fucking forget it. It means the world that you’re all here.”

“Where the hell else would we be?”

“We’re yours, until the end.”

“Yeah. Not just because we’re your brothers and we have to.”

Adriano points one finger, hard, into my chest. “You’re not just our brother. Not just the guy who raised us. You’re our general. Our king.”

“Fuckin’ respect!” Ciro chants, pumping his fist.

“Jackass. But he’s right. You’ve earned every bit of respect from every member of this family. Don’t fucking forget it.”

“Thanks for the pep talk, Coach,” I punch Adri in the arm.

“That’s Coach Nonna, to you.”

“Fuck, maybe I should get some sleep.”

“Yeah, the lack of shut-eye is making you weepy and weird.”

“Alright, I’ve had enough harassment. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I grumble, taking my leave.

My eyes feel full of sand, grainy and bloodshot.

Bed is finally sounding appealing. But as I head down the hallway and up the stairs, I feel the tug of fatigue wearing on me in a different way. Weariness is tugging at my willpower, eating away at my resolve.

I wish Isabella was there in my bed waiting for me.

Just to see her face, to smell her hair. Feel her skin under my fingertips …

How much better would it be making these decisions, doing meaningful work for my family if I had someone waiting for me at home. Making the hard calls with me, supporting my decisions, offering wisdom, and challenging me.

And at the end of the day, ready to fulfill my needs, and I hers.

A reason to come home. A reason to fight on.

I wrestle with my tattered heartstrings as I slump down on my bed. Tossing my shoes off, I’m a second away from falling back when it clicks, a memory. Isa was supposed to meet Angelica today. And Gigi.

What if …

No. Forget it.

Go to bed.

But it gnaws at me. Wiring me up, sending me pacing the room, running restless fingers through my hair.

“Fuck it.” I cross to the door, flinging it open. “Tomas.”

“Yes?”

“Bring Isabella to my room. Now.”

Weakness. That’s what this is. Any excuse to see her.

“Sir?” he wouldn’t question me outright, but Tomas is one of the few people in the world who can ask twice, essentially offering me a chance to change my mind about a potentially disastrous decision.

“Please, bring her.”

“Right away, Alessandro.” He’s gone in a moment, vanishing down the hall.

Likely, the entire household knows everything by now, the gossip about my dalliance, who my prisoner guest is. That’s just the nature of a close-knit family.

While I wait, I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the floor. I’m still wearing the same clothes from the day before. I probably need a bath. A hot meal. Three days to sleep.

But the need to see her trumps it all.

I can’t even say why. What will I even say to her?

The panic and insecurity of that fact unnerves me as the door opens and Tomas sees her in, closing the door behind her.

I’m painfully unprepared for what stands in front of me.

She's stunning, dressed in one of Angelica’s light-colored gowns. Her hair tumbles over one shoulder, tied into a single, spiraling side ponytail.

Conflicting emotions well up, a torrent of love, stifled with fury.

The same struggle wars in her eyes, in the set of her stance and the fretting of her hands wringing slightly in front of her.

How can I not worship this woman?

Yet how can I forgive her?

I know Ciro would argue, “Why don’t you just ask her why she did it? People have all sorts of reasons for the things they do.” He’d say it like it was all no big thing, rolling his eyes at how overblown the situation is.

And he’d be right.

Except my heart doesn’t work that way.

Hatred boils in my gut, mostly for the way things have gone, the situation with Dom. As I sit there, clutching the edge of the bed, I realize there’s not an ounce of hatred in her towards me.

I can see that now, so different from the day we met.

She hated me then, truly. Although she hid it well.

And just like that day …

“You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, you know?” I hate how bitter I sound.

“Only when I’m with you. Otherwise, I’m just …”

“Just. I don’t even know what I am without you, now,” I grunt, trying to muffle my rage. “How could you do this to me, Isabella? Knowing who I am, how I am. What am I supposed to do?”

She lets me bubble over, storming from the edge of the bed and pacing into the same rut I’ve walked into my rug a hundred times in the last few days.

“You shattered me. You destroyed me. I let you in and you trashed the place. You used me.”

The last statement hits her like a lash across the back. The subtle flinch wounds me, an instant regret.

But it’s short-lived, a flash of anger flaring her eyes. The defiance I came to love so much.

“Used you? I was a stranger who came into your home, and regardless of my motives, I fell for you. I never intended for any of this to happen. And you can’t stand there and tell me you didn’t use me just as hard.”

“I would never have done so if I had known⁠—”

“Known what? How could I have known that what I believed, the entire reason for pursuing you was a lie? I wanted revenge for a murder that didn’t happen.”

“You wanted to bring me down for your own career moves.”

“You hurt people all the time for your own gain. How is that any different?”

“I only hurt people to protect the ones I love. The people I am responsible for.”

“And they get hurt in the process. Don’t even try to refute that. Giorgio lost his life for you. That’s all on you in the end. He’s dead because of who you are.”

I gape at her, unable to rebuke her.

“And I know he would do it again in a heartbeat because that's who he was. But it still hurts. And I still want to blame you.”

“You've destroyed me Isabella. More than any war or hit man ever could.”

“I’m truly sorry, Alessandro. But I’m also grateful.”

“For what?”

“For getting to see who you really are. For the time we had together. And most of all, for protecting Angelica and Gigi. For making them a part of your family. Whatever happens between us, know that it means the world that you kept that promise.”

“I always keep my promises.”

“I used to say the same thing. Until I fell in love with a criminal.”

“And what if I wasn’t? What if I left this all behind? Would you have me?”

“Alessandro …” The tenderness in her voice cracks the walls around my heart. “It doesn’t matter what you are. I want you all the same.”

I’m rooted to the spot, locked in her gaze. I should resist her. She’s a liability, a weakness. Or maybe I’m just weak.

“Would you stay here with me? If I let you go and gave you a ticket anywhere in the world, would you choose to stay?”

“I will stay with you through anything. If you’ll have me.” Her resolve knifes me through the chest.

“Say it.” I grit out, unsure what I’m even asking for.

“I’m yours.”

“Say it.” Desperation chokes me.

“I love you, Alessandro, and I always will.”

I'm off the bed, crushing her in my arms before I can take another breath, before the words that are forming in the back of my throat can escape my lips. Her lips complete me, soothe the raging fires of my wrath, kindling another flame, a guttering flicker that I tried to snuff out.

The embrace shifts, gentler, pressing but tender.

Unlike our frantic intimacy at the lodge, we take our time exploring, savoring. However, it’s no less intense.

Her curves form to my body like she was designed to fit.

Like an old-world statue sculpted by master hands, the perfect incarnation of love.

“I need you, now,” I gasp between nips of her teeth and tongue along my lips.

Her dress slips from her shoulders with a flick of my wrist, my shirt unbuttoned and tossed aside in a rush, then my pants. In the same motion, she’s pressing me down onto the bed, straddling me in nothing but a scrap of white lace.

“You’re the air I breathe …”

“Never stop breathing me in.”

“You’re my fire in the cold …”

“Make me blaze higher,” she begs, her breath hot in my ear, tearing at my boxer briefs.

We’re rolling, gripping one another, holding on like our lives depend on it. She wraps her legs around my middle, settling on top of me, and I lock eyes with her, my hand cupping the back of her neck, bracing both of us, as she takes me to the hilt with a sensuous lunge of her hips.

Bearing down, once, twice, Isabella takes the breath from my lips, breathing life back into me with a moan.

Her walls are my haven, pressing all around me, hugging me.

It’s heaven made flesh.

“Right there, stay right there!” she cries, vacillating along my length, staying pressed against me all the while, hitting the mound of her core over and over again.

Her back arches, rising above me like a goddess, gyrating.

Velvet and silk are rough by comparison to the way she feels inside. Yet she clenches me with a grip that holds my very soul locked in her sway.

My mouth lunges for her pert, firm breasts each time she lunges forward, catching the erect hill of one nipple, devouring each in turn, worshiping every inch of skin within reach. Before long she’s murmuring in a rhythmic pulse, singing with each thrust, a constant expression of her desire. My own rumbling meets her blow for blow.

Light fills my senses as she rises, tightening and ascending to the summit of her pleasure.

She is redemption.

She burns away the darkness.

My fingers find their way down along the cleft of her belly and lower, orbiting the apex of her sex, circling to send her into new echelons of ecstasy.

“Isabella, I need you to come for me.”

“I am …”

“I can’t hold on!” And I don’t want to.

“Yes! Come with me!” she sings, the walls of the very room quaking with the thunder of our passion.

“Come again, and again. I never want you to stop!”

“Don’t stop!” she commands, she begs, and I buck my hips to her rapacious rhythm.

“I’ll never stop!”

Because she's mine.

And I belong to her, her slave, her possession, never to live outside of her light.

It’s the sweetest form of imprisonment I can imagine. Just as her inner chamber imprisons me now, constricting around me as she comes undone.

The cascade of her trembling orgasm washes over me, dragging me in, the undertow sending me diving over my own edge and into the depths of abandon. It goes on for an eternity, rolling waves of release.

When the torrent subsides, I am drained.

Emptied out, a hollow vessel that only her heat and love can fill.

Our gasps and the touch of our skin speak of our love, no words close to holding enough meaning for what we are.

I feel myself fading next to her as she toys with my hair, her fingernails grazing my scalp. This is peace.

I'm drifting off in the deepest sleep when I hear her voice, so softly, speak in the dark.

“Alessandro I need to tell you something …”

But I'm fading too fast and I miss what comes next.

24

ISABELLA

Acrack of gunfire shatters my sweet slumber.

Alessandro snaps up, eyes wide. The sounds of shouting and battle are inside the house, in the courtyard outside.

Stomping feet shake the walls right before the door bursts in, several dark shapes rushing the bed. Aless darts over the bed like the shadow of death, even as the first one reaches me, grabbing at my arm and tugging me off the bed.

“Isa!” Alessandro looks over his shoulder as he grapples with one of the intruders.

Hands lay on me before I can even clear the sheets and Alessandro has a chance to cover me.

“Isabella get down!” He shouts at me and I dive for the nightstand where I know he must keep a pistol.

Three men are already rushing the bed. One turns back, reaching for a gun, clicking the hammer back.

“Gun!” I scream a warning, dodging to the side.

Gunfire explodes in a sharp clap that leaves my ears ringing. The man with the gun goes down, clutching his chest. A gurgling cry follows from the other side of the room.

“Alessandro—” My assailants slap my clawing hands aside, crushing me in a hold and lifting me. He reaches up to silence me and I bite down hard, tasting blood.

“You fucking cunt!” he bellows, shoving me away and striking me across the face.

Stars explode in my vision, staggering me to the floor.

“Grab her, now!”

Hands pull me to my feet.

Just as a shadow rips across the room toward us.

It’s him. My lover.

Spatters of blood across his chest gleam in the dim blue light coming through the windows as he surges forward, a beast unleashed.

“Let her go.” His growl vibrates the walls. He points the barrel above me, the dagger in his other hand dripping dark blood.

He never sleeps unarmed. I learned that from searching his room at the lodge.

“Go, Aless! Shoot him!” I can’t break free from my tormentor’s grasp, but I trust Alessandro to make the shot.

“Gun down or I blow her guts out!” Cold steel presses against my lower back.

Instantly, icy sweat breaks out all over my body.

Not the baby! My mind screams, panic blinding me.

Alessandro stops, hesitating. He sees the look on my face.

“It’s okay, Aless … just wait,” I try to control my shaking. Look for an opening.

The two men left standing flank us, guiding us back toward the door.

“Follow and she fucking dies. Back up!”

We shuffle out into the hall, my feet kicking uselessly.

Gunfire echoes through the house, repeated shouts and screams of the dying. It’s impossible to tell who’s winning. But it’s mayhem. A full-scale assault.

My abductors cluster together, training there weapons on Alessandro, holding him at bay.

“You’re all dead,” he promises, and his words are punctuated by a blood curdling roar from the front of the house. Alessandro bares his teeth. “My brothers are awake. You’re all fucked.”

He stalks towards us.

“Eat shit, Diamante!” One of the thugs shouts, slamming the door.

Fists immediately slam into the wood, splintering the door. Every gun jerks back, aiming for him.

“Get down!” I shriek, right before a hand claps over my mouth.

The spray of bullets shreds the door, deafening me in the enclosed space. An unwitting whimper slips between my lips at the thought of him on the other side of the door, peppered in bullet holes.

“Come on. We gotta get the fuck out of here,” a masked behemoth of a man orders.

“But I wanna kill more of these bastards!” Another one gripes.

“We got what we came for. Let's go!”

They drag me through the house, lifting me up to carry me down the stairs, fighting every step of the way.

“Keep struggling and I’ll rip your hair out,” the huge man roars, viciously jerking a fistful of my hair. “Get her under control or I will.”

My legs turn to jelly the way he says it, pure murderous intent.

The biggest man leads on, blasting one of the guards as he runs to intercept.

“You heard him, woman, stop struggling!” my handler snags the strap of my nightgown, fumbling with me for a second and I lash out, clawing the mask from his face, leaving bright red slices across his forehead and cheek.

“God dammit!” The back of his hand takes me in the jaw before I can take a step, driving me to my knees. He raises his foot to kick me …

“No! I’ll go, I’ll go,” I shrink against the floor, resisting the urge to cover my stomach. My survival instincts demand that I fight, but another instinct is stronger, to protect my child. I just have to bide my time until one of the brothers gets to me.

In the meantime, I can’t give them a hint that I’m vulnerable that way or they’ll use it against me.

“You want your lover and his people to live, you better cooperate.” He drags me back to my feet, spitting blood to the side and we stumble across the entryway toward the front doors.

All around us, blood spatters the floor, the walls. Alessandro’s men are putting up one hell of a fight, the intruders are taking massive casualties.

Still, some of the staff are caught in the crossfire. 

A woman runs by us, a maid, screaming. She’s gunned down before she can make the bottom of the stairs.

She was one of the ladies who brought my meals. Always kind. Always offering me a smile.

A sob of rage wracks my body as I’m pulled away from the carnage.

Ciro kicks a man out into the foyer through a doorway, chasing him down and pummeling him like a madman, his fists drenched in crimson. I almost cry out, but I can’t risk drawing fire onto him.

Above us another gang member screams, plummeting over the banister to his death. The body is followed by another figure, deadly silent as he dives over the railing. Ero rockets down, knees first into another assailant, smashing him into the ground with a sickening thud before ramming one of his daggers into the man’s face.

In a flash both knives whip out, taking down another two, launching across the room and into the throat of one of the men guarding our escape.

Ero’s eyes flash, pausing on me for a second. He rushes forward, immediately intercepted by a wall of men as we make it onto the porch, behind a barricade of waiting heavies.

My vision is obscured as we reach a van parked out front, one of many.

“Get in!” I’m shoved onto my side, my ankles and wrists quickly tied. It’s sloppy, but keeps me hobbled enough.

“Go! Go!” I hear a thump on the van door and we’re moving. Struggling up to my knees, I manage to reach the back window, pressing my face to the glass in time to see Alessandro burst through the press, out the front door, sprinting down the drive in nothing but tattered pajama pants.

‘“Isabella!!” he roars, slashing and shooting wildly at the swarm of black-clad men rushing in. A sharp turn tips me over, tumbling, and I lose my bearings.

We’re through the gate and gone.

But I know he’ll come after me. Nothing will stop him.

“Get down, you dumb bitch, you trying to get shot? You stay still, don’t make a fucking peep.”

One of them yanks me toward them, plopping me against the bench. It’s the gruesome-looking one that I clawed. Blood leaks down his neck, mingling with his sweat.

“How does that feel?” I can’t help myself. They haven’t hurt me so far. They need me enough to take without beating me senseless.

“Give me an excuse. I’ll fucking take you right here in the van. You’ll love every second of it!”

I glare but click my mouth shut.

I want to scream in his face, tear his damn balls off for threatening me. For endangering the life of my unborn baby.

But that will just get me hurt, killed.

I have to focus. Stay calm.

Cleverness is key. I’ll use every tool at my disposal to gather information. That’s the only way to survive, or better, escape.

The thought is short-lived, however when one of the men forces a sack over my head, leaning upfront to give directions.

“Got a tail. Take the long way, lose ‘em and go to the secondary.”

“Roger that. Hang on!”

We swerve, taking several turns in a matter of seconds. I lose all track of which way we’ve gone, the distance, the time.

All I know is, we drive for a while before we stop.

“I think we’re clear.”

“You calling it in?”

“Not until we’re safe and she’s secured. You think I’m an idiot?”

“Good point. Dom don’t tolerate mistakes.”

The van slows, turning and bumping up onto a gravel drive.

With no idea what they intend to do with me, I need to be ready for anything. Tugging lightly against my bonds, I work more slack into them, all the while testing the knots to make sure I don’t pull them tight.

They’re pretty firm, but manageable.

And they’re weak shit compared to some of the things Alessandro did to me in Italy.

It almost makes me smile under my hood. To think that our play, his darker tastes would train me to sustain being tied up, kidnapped. The pain and long hours of stamina required to endure his loving torture has built up my tolerance, mental and physical.

Like I said before.

I just have to hold out for Alessandro to come and kill these pieces of shit. Don’t give them a reason to harm me, and they’ll get what’s coming to them.

Of course, making my body believe that is another story.

My legs shake a bit as I’m pulled from the van and walked over rough terrain onto concrete. It smells like the docks, sour and stale.

“Take her down to the holding cell.”

“Then what?”

“Then we fucking wait, dipshit.”

The march through the warehouse, down the steel steps, and into what seems to be a tunnel in the basement of the building gives me time to make mental notes.

There are really only two options for why they took me: One, they plan to take me to Dom or whoever is in charge. Two, and more likely but not exclusive from the first reason, they’re using me as bait to lure Alessandro into a trap.

My stomach sours at the thought. That I may cause him to put himself in danger.

But I remind myself that danger is his way of life.

I just pray that my imprisonment doesn’t endanger Angelica, Gigi, or anyone else.

I hold my ground when they try to force me into a dark room that smells of soured water, rat droppings, and who knows what else. Fortunately, this handler has been less rough with me, staying silent. He shoves me into the wall, letting me slide down to my bottom.

“I’ll be back to check on you in a few hours.” It’s awkward, forced.

The other man with him, the one I scratched, is less kind.

“Sit there like a good fuckin’ dog and maybe we’ll throw you scraps!”

“Man, cut that shit out…”

“What? Ain’t she Diamante’s bitch? Deserves everything coming to her, just like them,” he sneers, speaking overly loud for me to hear.

“Come on, man.”

“Yeah, yeah. If you play nice, maybe I’ll come back and visit you in a little bit. Find us something to do to pass the time.” His voice echoes in the hallway as he leaves.

I swallow hard, shivering in the damp.

An hour passes in darkness, my hands still bound behind me. It’s a slow process, shaking my head and bouncing up and down a bit to get the sack off of my head. When I do, the dank air feels like a fresh breeze on my sweaty skin, my hair a matted mess.

Now I can work on loosening the bindings enough to get my arms free; to either slip them under my legs or get out of them completely.

Another hour and I’m drifting, trying to stay upright against the wall for support. Sleep is the last thing I want to do, but my ordeal is exhausting. I doze hear and there, working on my wrists between naps.

The cell door slams shut, jarring me awake.

My mouth is bone dry and I almost cry at the sight of the cup of water sitting over by the exit.

Stretching to my limit, I manage to get to it.

“Careful,” I whisper to myself, “don’t spill.”

It’s the first interaction I’ve had with my captors, after several hours. I can’t be sure how often I’ll get water or food, if at all.

“Small sips. Pace it out.” My father’s survival lessons echo through my mind, grounding me. We used to camp every summer, fishing and hiking with Gio.

I have to hope they didn’t spike the water with anything. It smells stale, probably from the tap.

It tastes like heaven on my parched tongue.

I can only hope that they didn't spike the water with something.

Kneeling by the door, I can make out voices, far away, but intelligible. Time slips away, losing meaning as I try to piece together anything I can from the conversation.

Most of it is banal, they’re playing cards to pass the time like a damn cliché from a movie. My eyes drag closed, exhaustion weighing on me.

I fight it for a while, but it’s a losing battle.

When I come to, I'm shivering, curled against the stone wall. Every muscle aches.

And the need to relieve myself is so bad that I almost can't stand it.

I hold out as long as I can. But there’s only a little shame and a lot of frustration when I finally cave and have to take care of it in the corner, as far from the door as possible.

Resuming my vigil, I crouch low, pressing my ear to the slits in the bottom of the door. The voices are louder now, closer.

“So what the fuck are we supposed to do? Just wait around here for days?”

“I'm fucking starving.”

“Me too. Make Harry go get us some food.”

“You kidding me? That guy’ll get us pinched.”

“Chill out. You’re too high strung.”

“Hey, the last thing we need is one of those insane brothers tracking us back here. We got the boss’s prize. Now we wait.”

“She's pretty good looking, isn't she? I wouldn’t mind a go at her.”

“No way. Keep it in your fucking pants or I'll have to chop your dick off.”

Good. someone is in charge, at least.

For now.

Waiting can make thugs like that nervous, though.

I have no sense of time in terms of actual daylight, but I get the impression that I’ve been here all night and into the morning. Both men sounded groggy, like they just woke up.

“Geez, you’re such a fucking killjoy.”

“Hey, I don’t want to be the one who has to explain shit to the big boss when he gets here.”

“When’s that?”

“Tonight. After dark.”

Which means I have another day to wait. And Alessandro has a day to find me.

25

ALESSANDRO

Bloodlust and rage start to clear.

Minutes or hours pass as I bludgeon and slash my way through every thug that came here tonight.

I demand answers. I kill those who can’t give me any.

Time slips past.

Then there’s none left.

I still hear her scream, the door cracking back, the silhouettes rushing in.

Her warning to duck saved my ass. A split second later and I would have been ground beef. Fortunately, most of the shooters were sloppy, unloading their guns into the door, not following whichever way I could have dived. Inexperienced muscle.

Inexperienced or not, they messed up coming here tonight. Seeing that bastard’s hand wrapped around my lover’s face drove me insane.

Which is also why I wiped them out, even though they had us beat four to one.

As soon as the bullets stopped, I was through the door bashing it across the hallway, knocking one of the guards to the ground. The butt of my pistol bashed his head in and I was gone, dashing down the carpeted hallway.

Shadows danced along the periphery of my vision but I didn’t see them. My people dodged out of my way.

My enemies were fleeting obstacles in the way of my hunt to save my love.

I slashed and shot until my gun was empty.

Then I took whatever I could find, bun, knife, then a billy club. My brothers cleared the dining hall, the upstairs, driving them back into the entryway.

“Aless! Stop!” Adriano’s deep shout barely registered.

I chased the van carrying her away until my feet bled. Ero pulled up beside me a mile from the house in his Mercedes. Forcing me to return.

By the time I got back, most of the survivors were lined up, waiting for me to interrogate.

“Minimal losses.” The words drag me back to the present. Adriano’s eyes are sunken. He hasn’t been sleeping.

“Good. Who did we lose?”

“Gabe, Danny. A few of the house staff were shot. Tanya was killed.”

“Fuck.” My fist hammers the desk. But it’s a small loss in the face of the hoards of intruders we wiped out. Bodies form a wall out front, just below my window on the driveway. Never has there been a battle like this on our territory, verifiably out in the open.

“I will deliver the news to their families myself. Is the cleanup crew here yet?”

“Ten minutes out.” Ciro chirps, still on the phone.

“Any sign of the cops?”

“No.” Adriano answers.

“Doctor Hinoto?” I grip the edge of the desk, desperate to be gone, hunting for the only thing that really matters to me right now. They have her.

“He’s tending to the wounded now. We got this, Alessandro.”

“This is too far. An invasion? A fucking all-out assault?” I’m up, pacing, my fist splintering the door frame as I drive my knuckles home. “How did they get in without raising an alarm?”

“They had layouts of the house, clearly. Disarmed the security system, plus the numbers. They overwhelmed the guards before they could do a damn thing.”

“Ciro, I want you to check in with everyone. Take statements. I want every detail. Someone has to know something. Where’s Ero?”

Adriano tongues the inside of his cheek, avoiding my gaze.

“Where the fuck is he?”

“He took off after he dropped you off. He tailed one of the vans for a bit.”

“So he may know where they went?!” I’m raging, a lion in a cage. “Call him!”

“He’s on his way back, now. We just have to wait to see what he found, alright?”

“I can't wait. I need to get to her. I need to know she's okay.”

“Alessandro, this is what I was worried about. And I didn't want to have to do this, but I’m pulling rank. I’ll fucking lock you up if I have to. You cannot go after her. You need to let it go. She betrayed us. We need to be strong and decisive. We need to be unified.”

“I am unified! With her! And she had reasons for what she did.”

“Everyone has reasons, those mooks all had reasons to attack us tonight. Is she worth sacrificing your life over?”

“Yes. I’m better with her. I’m stronger when she’s with me!”

“And right now she’s being used against you. To put you in danger.”

“How is that her fault?” I spin, slamming my palm down, hammering him with a stare. We stay that way for a moment, locked in a contest of wills. But I cave first. “I … I need her, Adriano.”

To say those words to anyone else would be unthinkable, total weakness. He’s the only one who can ever see me this way, my consigliere, my closest confidante.

“Are you sure she won’t betray you again?”

“She’s one of us. She’s Giorgio’s sister. I have to trust in that.”

Adriano is about to protest when Ciro stomps down the hall, making more noise than necessary. He freezes when he steps through the door, looking between the two of us bent over opposite sides of the table, clearly in the middle of a fight.

Ero follows him in, quiet. Serious.

And avoiding my gaze.

So is Ciro.

Which means they have news. And it’s not good.

“Ciro, you first. What’s going on?”

“The house is in order. Everybody is evacuated for the night to safe houses. Elders are accounted for.”

“And?” Something has him squirming under my gaze.

“That’s it.”

“Bullshit. Tell me.”

“Not yet.” He flicks his eyes to Adriano and I immediately get angry.

“Don't look at him. I asked you a question. Is it about Isabella? Angelica?”

“Gigi and Angie are fine.”

“Ciro, I swear to God, I’ll throttle you.”

“I said they’re safe, alright?”

“Look, let’s get the full story, hear Ero’s report before—” Adriano reaches for my arm and I jerk it away, starting around the table toward Ciro.

Adri catches me, holds me back. “Hey. You trust me right? Cool your jets.”

“Of course I trust you. But I don't have to like it. I don't have to like you either right now.” I point at Ciro with all the hatred I can muster in one finger.

“Ero?”

“I tracked a van. Lost them.” He shrugs, like that’s good enough.

“Then where the fuck have you been?!” He looks at Ciro, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Him first.”

“Is everyone scheming against me tonight?”

Ciro sighs, looking green in the face. “Look, uh, Angelica told me something. Made me promise not to say, but then I told her Isabella was taken, and⁠—”

Adriano loses his temper this time, realizing something’s not right. “Quit beating around the bush and spit it out, Zero!” He only calls him that when he’s mad.

“Isabella’s pregnant.”

A dead silence settles in the room like a gut punch.

I can’t breathe. Roaring, rushing blood floods through my ears, red tinting my vision.

And without warning my fist is driving right into Ciro’s face, all the pent-up energy and angst rocketing out through my fist.

He's immediately laughing, pulling himself up while Adriano holds me back from continuing my tirade.

“Geez, way to stab the messenger.”

“It’s ‘shoot the messenger,’” Ero mumbles.

Adriano looks more like I just hit him in the face. For the first time in years, he looks surprised. Taken off guard, looking at me like I’m a ticking bomb.

“So … is this good news or bad news?” Ciro mutters, looking around the room. “I mean, it is yours, right?”

I don’t have a chance to answer. Adriano starts cussing, stomping around the room.

“I fucking knew it! You have to be shitting me. Of course you did. I leave you up in the mountains for a week, what did I expect?” His tirade rattles on, his top totally blown.

Ciro, Ero, and I watch him unspool, kicking over a chair. Eventually he flops down, sighing.

“You done?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’m done.”

“Good. Cause I need you here running the show while I'm gone.” I’m already walking, heading straight for the armory.

It takes the three of them a few seconds to rush after me, catching me as I stuff every gun I can lay hands on into a duffel bag. Ammo. Grenades.

I strap on a vest as they circle around the table.

“Alessandro—” Adriano starts.

“My mind’s made up.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“But what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Ciro chimes in.

“What does it look like? I'm going to save her.”

“By yourself. Right,” Ero retorts.

“Never took you for the type to go running off to get killed over some broad,” Ciro chuckles, leaning over the table, egging me on.

“She’s not some broad. She’s⁠—”

“We know. Adri told us how you were with her. We’ve seen you since you got back. You’re different.”

“Isabella is …”

“We know. She’s the one. And she’s carrying your kid.”

It hits me, really hits me as I stare down at my hands on the table.

Me. A father.

“I have to go.”

“Not alone you don’t.”

“You’re all pains in my ass.”

Three sets of eyes lock onto me, waiting. That deadly calm is settling in, the facts and surprises falling into the background. The three of them know what it means when I get like this.

“I will not order you to come. As your boss, I shouldn’t, not with everything going on. I can’t do that.”

“Then don’t order us to do shit, so we won’t have to disobey you.” Adriano crosses his arms.

“Then I’ll ask. As my blood, as my brothers. Help me save her.”

“There he is.” Ciro grins.

“And I know where she is,” Ero offers, cold as ever.

“I knew I could count on you to find her.” I meet each of their eyes. “Are you with me?”

There's a moment of silence.

“We’re with you till the end of time, brother,” Adriano growls.

“To the blood.”

“To the blood!”

We ride out to slaughter.

26

ISABELLA

Ishake myself from a light sleep.

Footsteps echo in the hallway, dragging my groggy mind back to my aching body. They put me in a chair earlier, fed me some awful stew. I may have gotten a little feisty, so they tied my ankles to the legs of the chair.

I couldn’t have hoped for a better result. The knot was too tight for me to untie, but now my legs are apart, and a few hours of working the ropes have my feet ready to slip out.

I’m a filthy, sore mess.

This dungeon, over the past twenty-four hours, has dragged out the version of myself that Alessandro let loose. The fierce creature that will do anything necessary to protect her child and get back to her den.

These men are crude, vicious. They left me for so long that I thought I was safe, trying to wait it out. I was wrong.

Dissension in their ranks led to a fight, then I heard a gunshot.

Nothing happened for a few hours.

But they eventually came to taunt me. Throw ice cold water on me.

The one with my claw marks decided that they might get some answers out of me, some dirt that they could use to gain favor with their boss. So they roughed me up a bit, superficially, but it went on for a long time.

To keep my sanity, through the cold and harassment, I dove deep into that dark place.

I became like my lover.

Razor sharp focus drives me. Helps me ignore the pain in my wrists, rubbed raw. It sees me through the hours of waiting, worrying that they’ll come back. That one of them will go too far and cause enough damage to put my baby at risk.

The thought makes me bare my teeth in the dark. I will rip out their throats if they try.

Some commotion above drew most of them away moments ago. I heard shouting, arguing and guns cocking. Maybe Domenico has finally come to get me.

It must be late into the evening, although my internal clock is completely disoriented.

The silence in the hall is broken by a grumbling voice, the wretch who is seemingly in charge now. He’s muttering something, coming down the hall.

“Gonna get mine before they take her, damn right. I earned it.”

The door opens.

I stay slumped forward, my hair frazzled, hanging down over my face.

He shuffles in, licking his lips, the disgusting fucker. Leaning down, he nudges a strand of hair aside, checking to see if I’m awake.

“You really are a looker. Too bad you’re a disgusting mess right now.” He stands straighter, reaching for his belt. “But I’ve had worse.”

I wait for him to unbuckle it, reaching down to drag his hand up the outside of my thigh, hesitantly pushing up the hem of my ruined nightgown. My legs are parted, still tied to the legs of the chair and he’s completely engrossed in trying to get a peek.

That’s when I make my move.

I spray the mouthful of spit and blood I’ve been saving from biting my lip into his eyes. He shouts a protest, raising a hand to wipe away the mess. He’s blinded, but he’s enraged.

Staggering back, I unloop my foot, catching it between his legs, sending him tumbling. He rolls over, catching himself, pushing up to stand. “Damn⁠—”

I’m out of my restraints in a second, diving for him, looping the rope in my hands around his neck and cranking back as hard as I can. I’m exhausted, dehydrated, hungry. Weak.

But I will not die here. I will not let them keep me.

He’s so much bigger than me, but I got the drop on him. I feel his windpipe pop with a sickening, yet satisfying squelch and he goes limp, dead weight that I can’t hold up.

“There. You got yours!” I spit on him, stumbling over him, snagging his pistol.

Adrenaline courses through my veins, propelling me out into the hall, the gun raised in my cracked, bleeding hands.

No alarm is raised. Only distant noise reaches me.

The vertigo hits me suddenly, lightheadedness sending me slumping into the wall, gasping. I take a second, close my eyes.

Steady.

Making my way down the corridor, I hone my focus on silent steps, keeping my gun ready. If I can find a back way out, maybe I can send a signal.

“Should’ve searched the guy for a cell phone,” I mutter, my voice a croak. It’s too far to go back now, though. My energy is fading already and my sole focus is getting out.

At the end of the hall the walls open up to a sort of boiler room, bathed in blessed heat. A table is tipped over, cards and chips scattered on the floor. They all left in a hurry.

That’s when I hear the first gunshot above.

Screeching tires, an explosion.

Men scream far away, others shout, panicking up the stairs to my left. Lowering into a crouch, I creep up the stairs, one by one. Halfway up, I see the top of one guy’s head, standing guard. As I climb higher, I see that he’s dancing from foot to foot, nervous.

“Shit, shit. It’s them isn’t it?” he whines and I hear another rough growl bark for him to shut it.

Spotting the other guy, I aim and fire two quick pops, right through his chest. Headshots are too hard with my hands shaking.

The whining guard doesn’t have time to turn before I double tap him in the back. He goes down, dead before his head hits the ground.

Ears ringing, head spinning from rushing up the last few steps, I strafe to the right, ducking behind some machinery. Taking stock of my body first, I note the soiled mess of my gown, the filth on my skin. Blood spatters polka dot my arms and face.

But I’m intact. Just worn out. Scraped up.

The gunfire sounds closer, right outside the huge warehouse doors behind me. It sounds like an entire squad of soldiers are locked in battle out there.

I need to move, but before I can rise, a thug swerves around the corner, spotting the two bodies and then me. “What the⁠—”

His voice clips off to the sound of my gun.

I can’t stay here.

Snagging his knife and an extra clip I rush from cover, aiming for another massive generator, ducking behind it before the line of gangsters can spot me, a veritable barricade, a firing squad lined up just inside the warehouse behind heavy machinery and a wall of cars.

“Isabella!”

My heart stops at the sound of that ripping, raging voice.

Alessandro.

Adrenaline redoubles, fueling my anger and my need to reach him. It also sharpens my focus, realizing that I cannot let them come inside.

They’ll be slaughtered.

With no way to signal them in the chaos, I do the next best thing.

Resting my hands firmly against the tank hiding me, I steady my hands and take aim. One. Two. Three. Four.

I’m taking aim on my fifth when they finally notice someone flanking them. A few turn, pointing, raising their guns.

But most of them are locked on what they see through the bay doors.

Four silhouettes limned in hellfire cross the yard, unleashing death with an arsenal of shotguns and automatic weapons. Another explosion rocks the building, sending a car flying behind them.

He’s there, in the center, the tallest of them.

My warrior. Dark as Death himself.

“Give us the girl and you might live!” I hear his roar.

The shout gives me an opening, a chance to scramble around the barricade, trying to snatch another clip from one of the bodies. But I’m too slow.

I feel fingers lock onto the back of my neck, dragging me back. An arm circles my neck, the barrel of a gun pressed to my head as he shuffles me toward the doors.

“One step more and she dies. Surrender now and no harm comes to her!”

“Let her go, and maybe you get to die quick,” Alessandro bellows.

“Doesn’t matter. I got you here. Got you to leave your people unguarded. My job’s done. I just want to get paid and go home.”

It knocks the wind out of me. This was all a distraction.

27

ALESSANDRO

Ero stomps the gas pedal, jetting my black Porsche Taycan in and out of the light midnight traffic as we cross the bridge.

It’s an old warehouse district, mostly abandoned.

And he got the info from chasing down the wrong van full of thugs and …

Well, doing what Ero does.

He’s fucking scary sometimes, my little brother.

The four of us float in that dark, ice-cold calm, like we’ve done a hundred, a thousand times. Only this time we’re doing 125 mph and racing against time to save the woman I love and my unborn child.

The stakes are higher than ever.

Right in the middle of a fucking war. But this is part of the war.

They came after me through her.

And they’re all going to die for it.

Then, I’m going to hunt down Domenico Vipera and kill him. Slowly. He’ll beg me to put the bullet between his eyes when I’m through.

“You’re sure it’s here?” I glance at him as he slows, turning down an old, abandoned road.

Ero just narrows his eyes and nods, gunning it down the tight wharf-front drive.

By the time I see the first signs of black vans, I’m so tightly wound that I’m grinding my teeth. All of us ready our guns, the first volley of hell we’re going to rain down on these bastards. The car skids up onto the gravel, sending the guys guarding the gate flying as Ero spins the wheel and donuts the car.

All four of us spray gunfire out the windows, Adriano popping off several grenades into the vehicles parked outside.

It’s instant mayhem.

I hit the gravel running, rattling off round after round into the thugs pouring around the side of the building. Most of them look terrified, shocked.

Like they’ve seen the damned devil himself.

Some flat-out run.

But I can’t show them mercy.

Not tonight.

Ciro leaps into the air, aiming in mid-flight, taking three down in a flash.

Adriano is more practical, simple. Efficient. Four go down in a spray of bullets, another gets knocked off his feet from the grenade Adri tossed into the van behind him.

His guns are back in his hand in an instant taking down two more. Fleetingly, I notice Ero is gone, probably slipping through the shadows, taking out anyone who might sneak up on us.

And I'm running, slashing, cutting, bashing one guy in the face with the stock of my rifle. In full motion, I catch another off guard, palming his entire face and smashing his skull straight down into the concrete.

Something zips along my upper arm, stinging, but I barely notice.

There’s only fire and blood.

Adrenaline fuels my pumping legs as I rush on, and I realize I’m screaming her name at the top of my lungs.

“Isabella!”

Another asshole goes down before he can draw his firearm, a second panicking and dropping his gun right before Adriano caps him in the head. We’re twenty yards from the huge bay doors when the side of a van opens, unveiling an M134 minigun.

“Down!” I shout and burst into a sprint.

Pitter patters of bullets trail me, pinging off of another van as I dive for cover.

I’m pinned down. We all are.

Until I hear the sound of my favorite car’s engine rev hard.

“Shit. No!”

I break cover in time to watch my car rocket into the van, rolling into a metal ball of fire and death, tumbling into the siding of the warehouse.

“Ero!” I shout, making a dash for the door, firing off cover for my brothers.

“You need a new car.” His calm voice nearly stops my heart, right behind me in my mad dash.

“You scared the shit out of me!”

“Glad you care.”

“I meant just now!” I growl, rage doubling in my chest. “And I’m glad you’re not dead.”

We take cover on either side of the bay doors, a signal from Adriano cluing me in to what’s coming next. Six heavies with automatics crunch onto the gravel.

Before they can make formation we dart off, all four of us in different directions. Ciro and Ero pop off the ones on the wings, diverting the remaining four’s attention. Adriano sprints out, diving onto his knees, kneecapping the two on his side, finishing them off with a double tap of his Glock.

My last bullet takes the one closest to me in the neck and I shove him out of the way as he gags, swinging my gun behind me on its strap. The other heavy squares up, about to raise his weapon.

He doesn’t expect me to hit him head-on.

And he doesn’t expect someone his size to be as fast or agile as I am.

I flick a kick to knock his gun barrel to the side, booting him right in the gut, taking him under the chin with my dagger in one smooth motion, leaving his corpse to slump to the ground in my wake.

We regroup, marching toward the gates of this fortress, fires blazing behind us.

“Isabella!” I roar, a battle cry, a warning to those still inside.

Let them piss themselves in anticipation. Or save themselves and run.

Nothing can stop us.

I’m a few steps from the door when I hear gunfire inside, a few shots. We’re right in the open when I see it, the barricade, a line of artillery aimed right at us. I duck inside, Ero slipping in and vanishing as Ciro and Adriano dive back outside to avoid the onslaught of bullet rain.

It follows me along the wall, whizzing past my head as I sprint the length of the warehouse, spinning behind a huge grinder and firing off a few shots around a massive pipe.

A scream echoes through the chamber, followed by more gunfire, and I break for it, targeting more of the scum setting a trap for us behind their makeshift wall. One, then another, and I notice the other bodies scattered around the room.

Ero?

But I spot him up on the catwalk high above, slashing the throat of a sniper taking a bead on me. He flicks two fingers to my salute before signaling down below him, guiding my attention to the man standing out in the middle of the floor, working his way toward the doors, a smaller, struggling figure in his grasp.

Most of the thugs are dead, the rest wounded, writhing on the floor.

I straighten, storming out into the opening, throwing out my hand for my brothers to hold.

“Give us the girl and you might live,” I growl.

“One more step and she dies. Surrender now and no harm comes to her!”

“Let her go, and maybe you get to die quick.”

“Doesn’t matter. I got you here. Got you to leave your people unguarded. My job’s done. I just want to get paid and go home.” His hands are quivering. He doesn’t want this.

“Where’s your captain?” Adriano steps into the open doorway.

“Dead. Harry killed him, took over.”

“And where’s Harry?” he continues, keeping the man’s attention on him.

“I … I don’t know. He’s a whack job.”

“He’s dead!” Isabella spits out around the grip of the man’s arm. “I fucking killed him.”

“Hmm. I guess that leaves you.” Adriano steps closer.

“Step back. Step back! Or I put a fucking bullet in her head. Gun down.”

Ero stares at the man, finishing off stragglers as he joins us. He glances my way, shaking his head. No clean shot.

None of us have one.

But Isabella’s staring right at me.

She looks … scared?

No. She looks pissed.

I lower my gun slowly, her eyes tracking my hand to the floor, locking right back onto mine. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ero lunge in right as I give her a nod.

Isabella rams her elbow into his ribs as hard as she can, wrenching herself loose and running, right as Ero slides behind him, slicing him behind the knees, Ciro rushing in to snatch the gun from his hands.

And I surge forward, clutching the screaming thug by the throat, driving him down to the ground. My first punch knocks him senseless, and I lose track of how many times I’ve hit him when Adriano grabs my arm, pulling me back.

Looking down in a daze, I see that there’s nothing left of his face. My fugue clears instantly, and I’m looking around, desperate to find Isabella.

“Isa? Where are you?”

My brothers spread out, finishing off the leftovers as I look for my love. I hear a grunt, off to my left and follow the sound through the maze of machines.

She’s there, crouched in a corner, a gun in her hands, her chest heaving in panic. I approach slowly, cautiously, my hand out as she spots me and whips the gun up at me.

“Isa … it’s me. It’s okay.”

Recognition dawns in her eyes and she lowers the gun, still breathing heavily, teeth bared in a feral grin.

In that moment, she’s the most stunning I’ve ever seen her. Spattered in dirt and blood. Showing her true nature, the beast inside of her. Just like me.

“Amore mio …” I rumble, pressing the barrel down farther, looking into her eyes. “You did it. You fought your way out.”

“And you came,” she chokes out.

“I will always come for you. At your command.” The innuendo deepens my voice as I pull her into my chest, reveling in the feel of her body against mine, back where it belongs.

“Aless, more men are coming. We have to go.”

“Uh, problem … Ero blew up the car,” Ciro says.

“I stopped the minigun,” Ero corrects him.

“By blowing up the car. Thanks, by the way,” I add.

My brothers regroup, circling up around us. Isabella looks from one to the next.

“Thank you all.”

“Sorry we didn’t get here sooner.” Adriano gives her a stern nod.

“Let’s move. Maybe one of the vans is less burny,” Ciro shrugs, snatching an assault rifle off of one of the bodies.

We move out, staying in a tight formation, Isabella in the center, her gun pointing over my left shoulder. More vehicles skid to a stop as we reach the stockyard, men pouring out. One steps forward, raising his hand.

I lock eyes with him, but mutter to my brothers, “On my signal. We need to break through. Stay ready.”

“I was born ready.”

Our group slows near the gate, pausing as the leader steps forward.

“We don’t want to fight. We’re just here to delay you.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I shout back.

The dark-skinned man laughs. “He just needed to keep you busy for a while.”

“You tell Dom⁠—”

“No need. He’s already got what he wants. All of us have.”

It dawns on me, the scope of the plan. The specific nature of the raid, taking Isabella. It was all one big distraction. We went rogue at the most crucial moment.

“And what is it you all wanted?” Ciro quips.

“To kill the Diamante brothers.” A dozen guns lock on us.

“Well. You can certainly try.”

28

ALESSANDRO

We're halfway back to the compound when the first calls come in.

Every one of us is wrung out, drained. The last fight took it out of us.

They really had no idea who they were dealing with. It was a wholesale bloodbath. Mostly thanks to the twins. Funny how so few people ever notice them. Or when they vanish in the middle of a long-winded speech.

After finishing them off, we stole a van, booked it back toward the compound. All was well.

That is, until members of my family start calling, reporting kidnappings all over the city.

The first is from my cousin Leo, panicked, telling me that someone's kidnapped his daughter. I try to put him at ease, telling him that we're working on it. That we’ll do everything we can to bring her home.

The next comes from Federico, one of the elders; his grandson is gone.

Another and another; Harlo’s wife, Nel’s grandmother.

Vito calls last, demanding that we meet, a gathering of all the elders and important family members. He calls it at his offices downtown.

Adriano slams his hand down on the steering wheel of the van.

“Dammit! That scheming fuck!”

My brain is lagging, overwhelmed. The only thing that matters is the woman leaning on my shoulder in the backseat.

“We got played. Led off on a wild goose chase,” Ciro grumbles, straightening when I growl at him. “No offense, Isabella. You’re a really pretty goose.”

“Head back to the compound, then we can go meet with the elders, make a plan to get back the hostages. One step at a time.” Times like these, I need to stay calm.

No sooner do I give the order than my phone rings.

“Tomas?”

“Good, you’re alive. You make my job really hard when you go rogue, you know?”

“Do I need to find a replacement for you, brother?” I prod.

“No, you need to stay gone. I’m going to get Angie and Gigi out. Do not come back to the compound, whatever you do—” The line cuts out.

“Tomas? Shit.” I know better than to call back. Something is going on. “Compound is compromised.”

All three brothers groan, cursing.

“We need to regroup.”

“Agreed. And get Isabella somewhere safe. Tomas will probably head straight to Fortezza.”

“Then I suggest we do the same.” Adriano smiles grimly.

“Sweet! I’ve never been,” Ciro intones.

“It’s just a safe house.” Ero shrugs. “A really nice safe house.”

“And one not a single soul knows about but us.”

Fortezza has been kept off the books, completely undocumented for just this purpose. Much like the lodge in the Italian Alps, except instead of disappearing from memory, it was never shared outside of leadership.

“What's going on?” Isabella asks, stirring beside me. She passed out almost instantly when we started driving.

“Don’t worry. We’re going somewhere safe for you to rest.”

“I could use a nap, I guess. Seven showers, too.”

“You can take a seven-hour shower if you’d like.”

“Thank you, Alessandro.”

“For what?”

“For finding me. Coming for me,” her words slur as she drifts back off.

“I’ll always come for you.” I wrap my arm around her, holding her close. She’s a mess, filthy, streaked in dirt and grime, blood. She suffered for me. And I couldn’t be more grateful, proud.

And hellbent on revenge.

We take the secret entrance into the underground garage, activating the security and turning the power back on to the building. I haven’t been out here in several months, but it’s undisturbed, just how Tomas and I left it.

Carrying Isa inside—despite her protests that she can walk—I take her straight to the bathroom. I need a shower myself, a change of clothes.

It will have to wait.

Ciro, Adri, and Ero all head straight into their rooms, digging out spare clothes and cleaning up.

“Just shout if you need anything,” I pat the fresh towels on the counter, pulling the door behind me.

“Aless—”

“I turn back.

She swallows hard, clutching her hands to her chest. “Leave it open. Please.”

I plant a kiss on her matted hair before leaving.

Slumping down on the bench at the foot of the bed, I massage my sore muscles, kicking off my shoes. Everything stinks like smoke and sweat. Blood clotting on my right arm.

Need to clean that gunshot graze.

Need to eat.

Need to fucking find Domenico Vipera and tear him limb from limb.

But first, we pull ourselves together. Get presentable.

Showing authority to the elders and the family will help calm them down.

Several phone calls and a shower later, I’m leaning on the kitchen counter, waiting to hear back from my scouts. They’re tracking the missing family members.

“Adriano, call in all of our favors. Make sure we get them back. Tonight.”

“Already on it.” He’s been on the phone since we got back as well. Sometimes it feels more like we’re running a company than a family crime syndicate. Conference calls, video meetings. I suppose they’re one and the same, in some ways.

Makes me wonder what Uncle Giancarlo would think of the “new school” of gangsters.

Heading into my room, I find Isa wrapped in a fuzzy robe, sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair.

She’s glowing, vibrant, even with the bags under eyes.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“I drank some water. I could eat. Not feeling … great,” she mutters, looking down. One hand rests on her belly.

“So … it’s true?” I can’t help asking as I approaching the bed.

A little smile pulls at her lips. “Yes.”

“How long have you known?” I lower myself to the edge of the bed, giving her space.

“I took a test at the lodge, before we left. Before Adriano …”

“Found you out?”

“That’s one way to put it. Yeah.” Shadows flicker across her visage.

“You don’t have to think about that now. It’s behind us.” I inch closer to her.

“Is it?”

For a second the distance between us is cavernous. I realize we’ve barely spoken about it, other than the other night before we made love, before she was taken. So I close the distance, scooting closer to her.

She lets me, leaning in to press against me.

“When I found out you weren't who you said you were, I lost my mind. I wanted to destroy the whole world. Betrayal felt like the biggest thing, insurmountable.”

“That’s how I felt about Gio. About the fact that you were a Diamante.”

“I should have realized sooner, when I couldn’t bring myself to hurt you, or worse. It was too easy to make excuses for why we needed to bring you back here.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“I am too. But my anger wouldn’t let me admit it … until you were gone.”

“You have every right to your anger.”

“I’ll get over it … you, our child, that’s all that matters now.”

“Speaking of our child …” She pulls away from me, looking me in the eye. “It feels so strange to say that.”

“In the best way.”

“Yes. But Alessandro … this”— she gestures to her belly—“this changes things. Changes everything.”

My brow furrows, my chest tightening.

“Do you not want me to be involved?” It’s a force of will to keep the roiling anger at bay. I have to accept what she wants. “You want to run. Flee to keep the child safe.”

“It changes the way I see everything, Alessandro. I want whatever is best for our baby. And that means both of us. Together. I want you. Need you.”

“Even with all of this, my family, our way of life? You’d stay?”

“I would. I told you that the other night. My whole life was waiting here for me, Angelica, Gigi. The memory of my brother. It was fate that brought us together.”

“Maybe your brother is watching over us.” I pull her close, closing my eyes as we kiss, our tongues sweeping into an intimate flutter. I’d like nothing more than to throw her onto this bed, but … “My brothers, on the other hand, need to mind their own business!”

Ciro clears his throat, poking his head around the door.

“Oh, are you two busy? Cause we were kinda waiting on you to save our whole family, you know?”

“This is my family too, now, jackass. Yours too.” I tilt my head pointedly.

“Uncle Ciro! I like the sound of that. Are matches a good present for a kid? Nah, I’ll get her a tiny gun!” He bobs his eyebrows, dancing away before I can throw something at him.

“Sorry about him.”

“It’s okay. Your brothers are starting to grow on me.”

“If you say so.”

“Ero and Ciro were kind to me when they introduced me to Angelica. Adriano, on the other hand … I don’t know if he’ll ever trust me.

“He came with me to save you. They all did.”

“Because you ordered them to.”

“No. Because they’re family. And they recognized that you were too.” We kiss once more, deeper, slower. I could stay here forever.

“You were spectacular, you know?” I whisper.

“I had to be.”

“I know. I’m sorry I let them⁠—”

“Don’t. It’s not your fault.”

“They took you to get to me,” I argue, balling my fists.

“So go make them pay.”

“I will.” I kiss her forehead tenderly. “Get some sleep. We have a meeting with the elders. I'll be back soon.”

Turning to leave, she grabs my hand. “Alessandro?”

“Yes?”

“I love you. Be careful.”

“I will. I promise we’ll talk more about … us when we have time. But I can’t run from this. It’s my duty to take responsibility for everything Dom has done.”

She nods, kissing my fingertips as she lays back on the bed. “It’s my responsibility too, now. To support you.”

That resolve, and her words bolster my resolve as I head out into the living area, closing the door. Still, leaving her is impossibly difficult.

“Who’s driving?”

The trip across town is silent. Ciro doesn’t even crack a joke. His leg bobs in the floorboard, the only sign of his nerves. He’ll stay detached until we’re on the brink of disaster, then he’ll pull out a Hail Mary and save the day.

He’s always been quick on his feet.

Ero stares blankly out the window, twirling a knife in one hand. Anyone else would think he’s out for a night drive the way he looks relaxed, casual. I know better. He’s meditating. Centering himself.

Adriano broods, as usual. He’ll be plotting, planning, running over every detail and contingency. Whatever the outcome, he’ll have a plan. And a backup plan for the backup. He never misses a single detail.

Vito’s offices are dark, except for the lobby and the elevator up on the top floor. Same with the spacious hallway that leads us to the conference room connected to his office. I’ve been here dozens of times, going over our assets, cooking the books.

The room is packed.

Every elder is present. Most of our business liaisons, too.

Some are still in their nightclothes. All of them look strained, anxious. The tension in the room raises my hackles.

Something's off.

“Vito? I’m sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances, but let me assure you⁠—”

“Assure? What are you doing about this, Don Alessandro?!” Will shouts from the back of the room.

“I’ve already sent scouts to locate your loved ones.”

“Alessandro, it’s not enough.”

“What do you mean? We’re going to handle this like we always have. Aggressively. Decisively.”

Vito’s head hangs, his shoulders drooping. “I don’t think it will be enough this time, my boy. He’s … he's taken all the right people. Promised money to all the worst people. He's made threats. Real threats.”

“The Diamantes are not intimidated by threats.”

“No. These are more than threats. He showed us video of my nephew and niece!”

“Backstabbing, traitorous …” Ciro growls.

“Vito, stay calm. I am here to deal with⁠—”

“You’re here now, sure,” Alva snaps. “Where were you for weeks when things were heating up, when you could have de-escalated? Prevented this!”

“I know you’re scared, but the elders and I made that call, despite my misgivings.”

“There was an attempt on his life,” Adriano steps forward. “Not that it’s any of your business, outside of that circle. It was a decision to safeguard the head of our family.”

“And look where it got us!”

“What got us was neglecting to eliminate Domenico when he left the family. An oversight I plan to amend soon.” I plant both hands on the table.

The response is unexpected. Several eyes dart away from mine, looking to each other. To Vito.

Adriano inhales, resting a hand on my shoulder.

“How many?” His voice is cool, so soft that the people in the back have to strain to hear. But the room is instantly silent enough to hear a pin drop. “How. Many?”

His stony gaze scans the room, judgmental. Calculating.

Slowly, several hands rise up into the air.

“You've already sworn to him.” He nods.

It hits me harder, a gut punch. I’m not surprised that Adriano thought of this eventuality, though.

Pushing off the table I cross my arms.

“So. That’s how it is, huh?”

“Yes, it is.” A familiar voice slaps me across the face, filtered with a digital garble. “Vito?”

Vito grimaces, turning the computer screen on the table around to face me.

“Domenico.” My best friend. Now my greatest foe.

“Alessandro.”

“How long have you been planning this? Years?” Dom disappeared far too recently to have achieved what he did in a matter of days.

“It wasn't easy. Let me tell you. It was one of the hardest things I've had to do. Just like watching you take my place at the head of the family. I had to be so careful, building my empire right under your nose. But I suppose you always had your nose turned up so high that you couldn’t see anyone beneath you. Not really.”

“I always look up to you, Dom.”

“Yet you let this happen. You let them throw me away like trash.”

“I followed the desires of the family. I expected you to do the same and be my second, my confidante.”

“I’m no side kick, little brother.”

“Not anymore.”

“Don’t act so high and mighty. Can you even imagine the shame and humiliation of working under the man who is supposed to back me up, my right hand and lieutenant for over a decade?!” His sneering face contorts on the screen, a stranger to me, this sinister creature that he’s become. “Only to have you say nothing! When that worthless old hack overlooked me, gave you the throne and you just tucked your tail, kissed his feet, and did what you were told. Like always.”

“I’ve done my duty, and I earned their respect.”

“The only thing you’ve earned is a fall from glory. You trust too much. You take too much for granted. You’re not a suitable leader.”

“And you are? What kind of leader takes children and the elderly as hostages in the dead of night?” I’m shaking, barely holding my rage at bay.

“One who acts. Who takes and gives back. All of their loved ones are already home, safe and sound.”

“Until you decide to take them again, right? Until you need to coerce them into doing what you want again.”

“That’s called power, piccolo. Now they know I am strong. Not only that, they know I follow through on my word. That I will decisively dole out punishment or justice when necessary. That is how a real don behaves.”

He's right. And yet he's so wrong.

“So, what am I supposed to do now? Concede? Swear my fealty to you?” I scoff, opening my hands wide. Several members of the council flinch, watching me closely.

“No, as much as I would love to keep you under heel … they have their instructions.”

Two men step behind us, blocking the door.

“Ah. I see.” Adriano settles.

“I’d like to say I’ll see you around, old friend. It was good to see you. Or at least the look on your face. Andare con Dio, fratello.”

The call cuts off, the screen going black.

Vito steps around, a sickly pale tinting his skin. “I am sorry, Alessandro.”

The rest of the elders avert their eyes, leaving Vito as their spokesman.

“So, you’re just going to do what? Kill all four of us?”

“No.” He swallows. “Just you.”

“I'd say over my dead body. But that's kind of the point isn't it?” I laugh humorlessly.

Ciro snickers, leaning against the wall. “We could always shoot our way out,” he mutters under his breath.

But none of us really want that. Well, all of us except maybe Fiero. He could have a knife in every single throat before I could give the order.

“No. This is our family. I won’t harm them, even now.”

Vito sighs, his face crumpling. He waves for the rest of the crowd to go and most file out, leaving a small handful of the most prominent members of my council and their guards.

“So we’re just supposed to stand here and let you kill our brother?” Adriano asks, his nostrils flaring.

“You can stay, or go. I just have to do it here, on camera.” He points back to the computer facing us. Dom must still be watching.

“We’re not going to let this happen …” Adriano growls, stepping forward, his hand on his gun.

I hold out a hand, stopping him as every guard in the room takes aim at us.

“None of you want to do this. I understand. May I have a moment to say goodbye to my brothers?”

Vito waves and steps back to the far side of the long board room, his guards keeping their guns trained on me. They know exactly how deadly we can be when pushed into a corner.

“Good God, everything just went to shit in a handbasket didn't it?” Ciro exclaims quietly, once we are huddled.

“It's hell in a handbasket,” Ero corrects.

“Well, the basket’s full of shit, regardless.”

“What’s the play? I’ve got a few ideas⁠—”

“Adri. No.” I shake my head. “This ends tonight.”

“You’re … giving up?” Ero asks, genuinely confused.

“Dom is right about one thing. It’s the Don’s job to make the hard choice. Someone has to pull the trigger.”

No matter what happens, every person in the Diamante syndicate is my responsibility. I won’t let my arrogance lead to lost lives, families being torn apart. If I surrender, at least they will live. Even if it’s under a tyrant.

I nod to Adriano, and he nods back, scowling. He knows my thoughts, enough not to argue.

“I hate this.”

“Me too, Adriano. But it has to be one of you.”

Ciro looks back and forth between us, a look of horror on his face. Suddenly his eyes widen and he makes an O shape with his lips. A wink is all I can spare him as I step away, back toward the center of the room and the waiting camera.

Staring right at the screen, the lens at the top, I kneel, glaring the whole while, hoping Dom can see the promise in my eyes. “I do this, so that my brothers may live, so that my people live. I’ll see you in hell, Domenico.”

I feel one of my brothers approaching from the side.

I close my eyes.

Three sharp blasts and everything goes dark.

29

ISABELLA

Something feels strange.

I feel groggy, disoriented. My thoughts congeal into solid forms.

Where am I?

Memories filter in, surfacing from the mire of my mind. I was kidnapped. Aless came for me.

We defeated my abductors, killed them. I remember flashes of my imprisonment, the freezing water torture. A shiver ripples through me and I’m there again, in the cell, alone and cold.

Panic rushing up through my chest and I try to rise, gasping.

“Shh … Isabella, it’s okay.” Angelica’s soft voice and warm hands clasp my shoulders, pressing me back down. Instead of a pillow, I feel the warmth of Angelica’s lap under my head, her fingers stroking my hair.

“You’ve been through a lot.”

“Are we still at the safe house?” I remember getting up, eating. Then …

“You fainted when Gigi and I got here. Tomas caught you.”

“Is the baby … ?”

“The baby is fine. Tomas called the doctor, someone they trust. He’s right out in the living room, but he says you’re both fine. You’re still just a little dehydrated, overwrought.”

“And Gigi?”

“She’s sleeping.” I open my eyes, tilting my head to look across the bed. Dark curls are splayed out across the pillow, a tiny bundle under the blankets.

“Where are Alessandro, and Adriano …”

“They still aren’t back. Tomas said he got a message from them a little while ago. That they handled everything and we need to be ready to go soon.”

“I need to get up …”

“Take it slow,” she warns.

Patting her knee, I ease up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I feel like I ran a marathon. Every muscle protests.

“I guess I should get used to body aches,” I mutter, rubbing my lower abdomen.

Angelica laughs, a twinkling, musical sound to my ears.

“It gets so much worse, I promise. I was bedridden for days when I was pregnant with Gigi.”

“Oh, thanks for the reassurance.” I scoff, swatting her thigh.

“It gets better, too. So much better. You’re going to miss every second of it when it’s over.”

“All I know is, I’ll feel much better once Aless is back. I need a glass of water.” I stand, shuffling slowly out into the living room toward the kitchen.

Tomas glances up from his post by the door, nodding solemnly. Another man sits in the recliner, napping. It must be the doctor.

“Thank you for getting them out. Are you okay?”

“Fine. My sister and her kids got out of the city before they hit the compound again.”

Sipping a cold glass of water, I’m heading back to my room when the door bursts open, loud and in a hurry, spinning me around. Tomas raises his gun, waving me back.

Panic tears at me for a second, gripping my chest.

“Tomas, move!” A gruff voice hollers.

Then I see them: Ciro, Adriano, Ero.

Relief washes through me.

Until I see the body slung between the twins, Ero holding his legs and Ciro’s hands under his armpits. Alessandro’s completely limp.

And soaked in blood.

“No!” I scream, rushing toward them.

The twins set his body in the middle of the floor, his head lolling to the side. I’m racing for his side, on my knees, clutching his face, running my hands over him, tears rushing to my eyes. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.

His sandy hair falls over his forehead, over his eyes. He always complained about the length, but never let me trim it.

“How could you let this happen?” I sob, looking up at the brothers, standing in a half circle around us. They all look at me, uncomfortable. Unreadable.

The doctor is up, moving around to inspect him across from me. “Please, let me look at him …”

“Answer me!” My fury skyrockets as I scream up at Adriano. He reaches for me and I slap his hand away. “Don’t touch me! How could you?”

“Isabella.” That tone in his voice, the calm in his stance, makes me pause.

One by one I meet the brothers’ stares. Ending on Ciro, who is trying not to smile, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

Ero won’t meet my gaze.

“You fucking assholes! What’s going on?”

Adriano points and I look back to see the doctor pull open Alessandro’s blood-soaked shirt, revealing the vest, two bullets lodged in the Kevlar. Then he unstraps the vest and Alessandro gasps, shooting up, clutching his chest.

“You’re a shit shot, Ciro!” he grunts, wincing.

That’s when I notice the wound up near his shoulder, the source of all the blood.

“Uh, you mean an excellent shot! That shit was surgical. I had to make it look real while shooting you in the chest. Only spot I could hit for authenticity without killing you.” His grin is proud, like a kid winning first place.

“I’m about to kill all three of you if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on. Right. Now.” I’m on my feet, backing the three of them toward the wall.

“Whoa!”

“Take it easy, Isabella,” Adriano raises his hands. “We had to pretend to kill him to save all our asses.”

“Oh. That makes perfect sense,” I mock, huffing back to the couch and plopping down, glaring at my lover who is still sitting on the floor. Aless hides a smirk, still holding his arm as the doctor cleans the wound. “Don’t even look at me right now. You probably told them to do it, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, it’s his fault!” Ciro cracks open a beer, tossing one to his twin and chugging it. “Doc, what do you think? Good shot?”

“There’s no such thing as a ‘good’ gunshot wound, you dolt. But it went straight through. Didn’t damage too much. Should have use of the arm again in a few weeks.”

‘A few weeks?!” Alessandro gripes, rising and moving to the dining room table to get stitched up. I follow him with my vengeful glare.

“What do you need it for? We’ll just be traveling. Ciro can carry your bags.” Adriano teases, accepting a beer of his own and pounding it back.

“You believe this shit, Tomas? They want me to do your job,” Ciro quips.

“That’s not my job,” Tomas snips back, resuming his post by the door.

“Could have fooled me. I saw how full your SUV was downstairs. You let Angelica bring the whole house with her?”

The thick-necked, strong-jawed man keeps his eyes straight ahead, but I swear I see him blush.

“Is anyone going to fill me in on what the hell happened tonight?” I cross my arms, trying to stay mad. But I keep looking over at Aless, my heart tugging at me to cave and throw myself into his arms.

“Short version, Dom outmaneuvered us.” Adriano slouches over the counter.

“Longer version, he got our goose pretty good,” Ciro chirps.

“It’s ‘got our goat,’” Ero sighs.

“Nah, Aless is pretty good, but not GOAT material.”

“This is going to be a long trip.” Alessandro grumbles, hissing as the doctor pushes the needle through again.

“Trip?” I perk up. I’m letting it slide that no one seems willing to fill me in about Dom and the family. Each of them is cagey, worked up. They need time to process the loss.

“We’re getting out of the country for a little family time. Mourning, you know,” Adriano explains. “Alessandro’s funeral is in two days.”

“Where?” I can’t help asking.

“Italy, the old country.”

“Aless was always a sentimental fool.” Ciro wags his eyebrows. “Or at least that's what Dom thinks.”

My lover rises from his chair, striding purposefully over to me, pulling me up. We embrace, holding tight, savoring the moment.

“What do you say, Isabella?” Aless gazes down into my eyes, his weathered face more stunning than anything I could imagine. “Will you disappear with me?”

“I’ll go anywhere with you.”

“I think you’ll like where we’re heading.”

30

ISABELLA

Setting my bags down, I sit on the edge of the bed and sigh.

The lodge is just as we left it a few weeks ago. And returning so soon is such a strange feeling. To a place I expected to never see again. A place that feels like another lifetime.

Even in such a short time, I have so many happy memories here. Sometimes stressful, harrowing memories, but still happy.

Even more so now that this is to be our home for the foreseeable future.

According to Adriano, it’s the sole remaining asset that only we know about. A truly safe, safe house, off the books. Completely forgotten.

Not even Dom knows about it. Not that he should be looking for me now that his rival is dead and buried.

I hear the brothers out in the foyer, joking and cutting up.

They’ve enjoyed traveling together, however tiring the journey was. Alessandro especially, drinking, talking, just being themselves. It’s completing a missing piece in his life.

Although we are still on the run, technically.

Subterfuge was key the entire way here.

The past few days have been pure chaos.

And not just the battles, the kidnapping, the attempted and fake murder.

This trip was particularly winding, ensuring that no one could trace out movements. Boats, trains, planes, buses, and disguises I’m still washing out of my hair.

The funeral was first, and the hardest. Alessandro had to go on his own, sneaking aboard a ship while the rest of us flew, escorting the casket to his family’s homeland. Which left me with the brothers for several days.

Safe to say, we got to know each other a good bit.

They only hazed me a bit.

After the funeral, we took a roundabout train journey then a bus, meeting Alessandro on the far side of the Mediterranean and then hopscotching through Europe under the pretense that the brothers needed time to grieve.

It was a show, all of it meant to divert attention.

Let Dom settle in back in New York, and let the idea of Alessandro fade out a bit before they return to the States. Assuming they do.

They took steps to ensure they couldn’t be traced so they could come with us to the lodge.

But I get the impression it’s a visit, not a long-term stay like us.

Once they reemerge there will be no reason for anyone to come looking for me, or to think anything is amiss.

Laying back on the bed, I stare at the ceiling for a bit. A huff of laughter at the door interrupts my daydreams.

“What are you doing in here?” Alessandro asks, leaning on the doorframe, his shirt hanging open, showing off his impressive chest, a hint of his bandage poking out. Ciro’s already making up stories about how he took a fatal shot for the family and how the scar will go down in history.

“I was considering taking a nap. We’ve been going nonstop for days.”

“Agreed. But that’s not what I meant. What are you doing in the guest room?”

“Oh. I guess I hadn’t decided where I was sleeping yet.”

“Is that so?” His head tilts back, looking down the bridge of his nose at me.

“I mean, where else could I sleep?”

He’s on me in a heartbeat, planting his powerful hands on either side of me, his eyes simmering with unguarded heat. A little yelp slips out as I snatch at the linen of his shirt, gripping him, tugging him closer.

“I can think of a few dozen places I’d like to sleep with you on.” He holds back when I pull, teasing with his tongue, flicking my bottom lip.

“Mmm … I think your brothers might have some issues with us making love all over the house.”

“Fuck them. They can deal with it.”

“I’d rather you fuck me …” I purr into his ear and Aless tenses, his pants tightening between my legs.

“Your wish is my command …” His lips devour my earlobe, making me tingle from head to toe.

Voices out in the hall have me growling, pushing Aless off of me.

I groan, pushing him off. He looks disheveled, like I just rained all over his day.

“It sounds like Angelica, Tomas, and Gigi just got here,” I mutter, nodding toward the door.

“Oh! That’s why I came to get you. I’m putting the guys up in the east wing. Angie and Gigi were going to stay in the guest room, unless …”

“Of course they can. I’ll just move my stuff into your room.”

“You mean our room?”

“We’ll see … I recall someone being very touchy about their private space …”

“That was back when I didn’t trust you. And you’ve been in there plenty of times, now.”

“Oh, is that why? That was when it was still your room.” I reach for my bags but Aless cuts me off, snatching the huge suitcases up like they weigh nothing.

“No lifting!” Alessandro grunts over his shoulder, hauling my things across the hall.

A layover in Rome got me most of my clothes, the rest remain in storage until one of the brothers can retrieve it all for me. Not that I have a ton of stuff, or need it.

“Ugh, macho nonsense. If we are going to share this room, it needs to be even.” I immediatly start opening drawers, looking into the closet. Alessandro’s eye twitches as I check every cabinet and drawer. “We’ll have to do better than the guest room for them eventually, you know?”

“I do,” he lugs the bags to the closet, watching me rearrange the dresser, clearly biting his lip.

I’m going to have such a good time pushing his control freak buttons …

“I was thinking that once the trio leaves, we might remodel the east wing for Angelica and Gigi. That way they could have their own apartment.”

“And Tomas?” I can’t help pressing my lips together and raising my eyebrows.

Aless tongues the inside of his cheek, trying not to laugh.

The two of them have clearly been dancing around something for a while now.

“I don’t want to touch that with a forty-foot pole.”

“I think it should be up to her. There’s enough rooms for him to have his own, but then again, the servants’ hallway has a couple to spare too …”

“And the idiot will probably volunteer to stay down there even if she offers him her bed!” Aless pulls me into a hug, chuckling.

“Maybe they need a little shove.”

“Like a blizzard?”

“Precisely.”

“Get settled in and unpacked. I need to go check on the twins and Adriano, make sure they aren’t causing trouble.” A little slap on my ass and he’s out the door.

“I’d give them about half a day before they’re bored out of their minds and fighting,” I shout after him.

“Less than that if they have to share the bunk beds! Adriano, I thought I told you to separate them!”

I can already hear the shouts, the playful banter, escalating into cussing. A second later, Angelica’s “mom” voice cuts through the noise, “Hey. Watch the language. You’ve got a toddler in the house!”

Several sing-song apologies filter out from the east wing a second later.

A huge grin spreads across my face as I sort through my bags. This is my life now.

My family.

The day slips by, mainly caught up in unpacking, settling Angie and Gigi in, and playing host to a full house. Sunset finds us all around the big kitchen table, better suited to a casual dinner than the dining room.

Carla is beaming with the entire family here, fussing around the kitchen, refilling wine glasses like every adult here is her child.

“You’re gonna get big and fat living up here eating Carla’s cooking, Sandy.” Ciro is on his third glass.

“Just like that? No more ‘boss’?” Alessandro snaps back, rolling his shoulders.

“Not unless you’ve got a mission for us. Other than playing board games and drinking all day. How about Al?”

“Your nicknames fucking suck, Zero.” He smiles, though, looking over at me.

“Ouch! My feelings. Isa, knock his clock off for me, would you?”

“It’s ‘knock his block off,’ dickhead,” Ero echoes into his wine glass.

“Adriano, why don’t you fill us in on your field trip?” I interrupt before food starts flying.

“Not exactly dinner conversation.” Adriano shrugs. “But it went about as well as could be expected. Shit’s definitely gone south, even in Europe. Oops, sorry, Angelica.”

“It’s fine … she’s not even listen⁠—”

“Shit south!” Gigi sings and all of us freeze.

Right before the entire table erupts in uproarious laughter.

She giggles right along with us, clearly unsure why we’re laughing, but thrilled to be at the center of it. After a few minutes of tearful chuckles, we manage to reset, Adriano sighing and continuing his report.

“Anyway, our supporters and affiliates are pretty much staying neutral, waiting to see who comes out on top. Most of them will just keep working, not take sides, per se.”

“Can’t blame them,” Aless grumbles. “Some loyalty would be nice, though.”

“Don’t get me wrong, they prefer us to the new guy, but with you publicly dead …” Adriano shakes his head.

“Nothing like this has happened in over a hundred years. There’s been squabbles, sure. But a full-blown takeover? And under your watch?” Ciro waves at Carla to leave the bottle. He’s going to be dancing on the table by ten.

“Our watch, you mean. And thanks for rubbing it in, jackass.” Aless sits back, running a hand down my back. “The all-powerful Diamantes brought low. It’s hard to believe.”

“Almost sounds like you’re giving up,” Adriano posits, quirking an eyebrow.

“Fu—heck no. There’s no such thing in my book. We’re biding our time until we can strike back.”

“He’s right. We have to beat Dom at his own game, outsmart him.”

“We’re always smart, except for Ciro,” Ero mutters.

“I’m not the one who blows up sports cars.”

“You just burn down nightclubs.”

“Says the guy who torched the team mascot costume our senior year …”

“I found it that way. Just added some vodka to help it along”

Aless watches his brothers, a faint smile gracing his full lips. I could stare at him for hours.

“So, where does that leave us?” Alessandro finally gets the conversation back on track.

“For now, we’re stuck. I got a call from Domenico yesterday.”

Aless tenses, everyone at the table sitting straighter.

“What did he want?” Tomas leans forward.

“He wanted to know when I, when we, are coming home.” Adriano looks at Ciro, Ero, Tomas.

“You’ve got to be kidding …” Angie protests, glancing at Tomas, her face worried.

“Makes sense. You three are his most valuable assets. I’ve got the staff and security in my corner. If we fall in line, he’s as good as accepted by the entire organization. At least in the underworld’s public eye.” Tomas folds his hands in front of his face, clearly unnerved. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him that I needed a day to think about it. That we were still in mourning.” Adriano grinds his teeth. “I wanted to tell him to get fucked.”

“What happens if you don’t go back?” I ask the question on everyone’s mind, knowing the answer already. Alessandro and I have been around and around about this.

“Manhunt.” All four brothers and Tomas say on top of one another immediately.

“Well, then,” I laugh humorlessly.

“If you aren’t with him, if you try to disappear, he’ll know something is up,” Alessandro summarizes. “You should go back. Swear your loyalty to him.”

“Are you joking?” Adri looks aghast. “It’s one thing to show up, keep up appearances, but swear fealty to that bastard? No way.”

“It’s the only way.” Ero sits up straighter, looking like he’s realizing something. “And you have to do it, Adriano.”

“He’s right,” Ciro adds, sobering some. “You’re the head of the family now, like it or not. And for the record, I don’t.”

“You stay close to the center of the operation. Ciro and Ero will act as your eyes, ears, and hands, undermining Vipera.” Aless shrugs. “It’s the long game.”

Adriano looks like he might be sick.

“What says he doesn’t kill all of you on sight?” Angelica whispers, handing Gigi to Carla. She’s glaring at Tomas. He’s going to get an earful later …

“It's a risk.” Adriano is processing, tallying the data. “But I think he values our blood too much. And more than that, he will want the satisfaction of turning his rival’s brothers. Using us to his ends.”

“Great. Don Dom is going to have us cleaning toilets in no time,” Ciro huffs.

“Better than feeding worms,” Ero muses.

“And it’s the only way to beat Dom at his own game. Enemies closest. That’s what screwed us this time. We had no idea he was a threat until he was already in.”

We all look at one another, digesting the decision. After a few seconds, Alessandro stands, raising his glass. “To Dom. May he reap what he’s sown.”

The rest of us raise our glasses.

“To my brothers. To the Diamantes. We may be scattered, but we cannot be broken.”

“Here, here!” Ciro cheers, gulping down his wine.

“On that note, I think it’s time we retire for the evening.” Aless gives me a sly look.

“Agreed. I’ll see you all in the morning. Ciro, don’t go running down the mountainside in the dark,” I tease, following my lover out.

“And Ero, don’t you dare put him up to it!” Alessandro shouts over his shoulder.

We close the door to our room, changing for bed. I’m removing my jewelry when Aless comes up from behind me, sliding his arms around me, covering my hands resting on my belly.

“Finally,” he rumbles into my ear.

“I thought you’d talk all night …”

“There are far more pressing matters to attend to all night.”

“Promises, promises …”

“Speaking of promises …” Aless turns me in his arms, his forehead scrunching. “We haven’t really had much time to deal with … us.”

“We’ve got plenty of time, now.”

But I know what he means. The tumult of getting here, traveling, has kept us preoccupied, pushing any real conversation of what we are out ahead of us. It’s a rift I haven’t been able to close.

I see it every time the baby comes up. Every time we talk about the future.

“There’s a lot we don’t know about each other.”

“Agreed. I’m starting to think that’s okay, in some ways,” I offer, losing myself in his hazel eyes.

“I would be fine with however much you choose to share with me, or how little, as long as you are yourself with me. But somehow, I doubt that you’re going to be able to resist asking me questions. All the questions.”

“I can be stubborn if need be. I won’t press you on anything you don’t want to tell.”

“If we make it a competition, I have no doubt you will win. You’re too tenacious and driven not to. I love that about you. You never let things go until you get what you are looking for. And the fact is, Isa, I want to share everything with you.”

“But …”

“It’s hard to talk about a lot of it. But I can promise you this: any question you ask me, I will answer honestly. 100 percent.”

“Good. Because I always know when someone’s lying.”

“I wish I had your intuition,” Aless sniffs, grimacing.

“Who would dare lie to you, the great Alessandro Diamante?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe some photographer, Miss Bianchi?”

I can’t help snorting a laugh. “Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh.”

“It’s alright. I’m actually pretty impressed, now that I’m not fuming mad about it.”

“I promise to be honest with you too, Alessandro,” I pull him into a kiss, tasting his lips. “Starting with this, I want you to bend me over this dresser and take me …”

He grins, sliding a hand along my back, pushing me onto the smooth wood, rucking up my skirt and squeezing my ass. His scalding lips find the crook of my neck, jolting shocks of electricity down my arms, legs, deep into my core.

“Mmm … don’t hold back.”

“I don't want to be too rough. You know, for the baby's sake.”

“I’ll tell you exactly how rough you can be with me, Alessandro,” I hum, reaching back to grip the frigid pillar of smooth sex tearing from his boxers. “And don’t worry, no matter how hard a diamond gets, it can’t break me.”

EPILOGUE 1

Alessandro

Several weeks sweep by, our lives settling into a routine in the mountains, spring blossoming into glorious color in the Alps. The flowers sweeping the mountainsides are almost as beautiful as Isabella.

I finally understand what they mean by ‘glowing.’

She’s just beginning to show at the start of her second trimester.

It’s truly a miracle, reassuring any doubts I ever had about this choice we made to run away. Certainly, for the sake of our child, this place will be an incredible home to grow up in.

My parents, and their parents before them, lived a dangerous life. And they still chose to have us, to bring us into that life.

Not to say I’ve left it completely behind. Someday, we will exact revenge on Domenico.

But that task lies with my brothers, for now.

Angelica and Gigi have settled nicely into the east wing, the remodel refitting it for her and Isabella's decorative taste. It was a great opportunity for the two of them to bond as sisters.

And a good chance for Tomas and I to work on a project with our hands. Boredom remains the only challenge to overcome when neither of us has a job to do.

He’s taking it harder than I am, having been dedicated to my security for the better part of a decade. But time with Gigi and Angelica has broken down that barrier.

Still, I catch him sitting outside Angie’s door some nights when I pass the wing on my way to the kitchen. I guess that we all have some scars that are hard to heal. I’m just glad Adriano decided to keep Tomas here with us.

As for me, I read. I exercise.

Isabella and I watch movies and go on hikes. We have long, stimulating conversations, really getting to know one another.

And we only bicker every other day.

Usually it ends in sex, each time more incredible than the last. She’s daring. Insatiable.

Of course, daring has its limits when we have housemates. Added to the fact that Isabella needs plenty of sleep, our passions have some constraints that are wearing on my desire.

The animal within me and the one I brought out in her, writhe under the surface, howling to be let out.

These same thoughts are hounding me, chafing my libido, as I head to my office one night after dinner. Isabella finished and left me eating to go take care of something, but she wasn’t in our bedroom.

I sigh, sitting down at my computer, browsing over my notes. With no real work to do, I’ve taken to writing my memoirs. Letters to my brothers that may never reach them, things I wish I said to them growing up.

And most of all, letters to my child.

Whoever they are, they will be a Diamante. I’d like them to understand what that means, even if they never join the life.

I’m just tacking away at another line of text, my heart not really in it, when I hear a soft click behind me.

The bookcase …

My secret door is ajar when I turn, the dim, flickering light glowing from within.

Easing the door open, I creep inside, years of training making me move silently, cautiously. A single rose sits in the center of the big, low, round bed. I glance around, approaching the flower, a smile playing on my lips.

“Hmm. Someone is feeling playful …”

I tense as I feel something slip around one wrist, then the other, clicking into place.

“I thought you’d never come looking for me.”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to come looking.”

“You’re right. That’s the whole point of a trap, I suppose …” Her voice is a velvet purr as she saunters around me, wearing thigh high leather boots, a tiny, jet-black G-string, and a strapped, corset top that leaves her sexy, protruding belly exposed. Dark red lipstick accents dark eye shadow, her hair cascading down in pinned curls to frame her face, covering her pushed up tits peeking out over the harness.

Nothing compares to the way she gets me hard, instantly.

Even more so when she pulls on the cord next to me, dragging my handcuffed wrists up above my head. My heart starts a pounding rhythm, a drum thumping through my entire body.

A sharp heel stabs at my back, forcing me to my knees roughly.

“Your trap worked … now what?”

“Something I have been wanting to do for a long time,” she breathes into my ear, sending shivers across my flesh under my clothes.

“Looks like you caught me with my pants … on.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to cut them off.”

Her hiss precedes the tip of a razor-sharp knife, slicing through the fabric of my shirt first, dragging lightly along my skin between tearing away one sleeve, then the next, followed by the front panels, then the back.

I’m sweating by the time she’s done, my arms aching above me, tugging against my restraints.

“Up!” She jerks the chains again, forcing me to stand as she drags the blade up each leg, destroying my outfit.

Every scratch is superficial, just enough to hurt, not deep enough to draw blood.

It’s a glorious prelude of what’s to come.

Isabella locks my ankles, tightening the chains until I’m stretched out, unable to move.

She draws it out, grazing one fingernail all over me, finishing with a long, slow scrape up the head of my throbbing cock. “This. I needed this.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“I’m very surprised.”

“Are you?”

I almost answer when the first lash cracks along my back, making me snap my teeth shut, moaning in shock and sweet pain. The second lash is harder, wild.

Between sessions of punishment, she tortures me with near kisses, bites along my sides, my neck; and the worst and best of all, phantom licks down the length of my sex, forcing my back to arch trying to reach her.

She looks like a freaking demon when she appears before me, a goddess.

Sweat glistens on her flawless skin, her nipples adorned with clamps, a chain running between them, a collar at her throat.

Below the waist, she’s soaking through her almost nonexistent underwear.

So much so that she slices them off, revealing her perfect folds, her swollen apex, taunting me to taste.

“You’ll get your chance to lick me. To fuck me. But only how and when I say so.”

The whip, exchanged for a braided strap, slaps my back, the multiple leather cords stinging, tingling.

“Oh! Isabella!”

“Louder. Let's test these soundproof walls.”

And she does just that, putting them to the test with rigorous cracks across my back, my ass, my hips.

I slump forward as she finishes another round, circling around to kiss me, burrowing her tongue into my mouth. It's liquid fire, our tongues intertwining, lashing each other, drinking in the taste of her.

It’s done too quick, leaving me panting, biting at thin air.

She laughs, mocking and sultry, swinging her hips as she walks away. I see the red jewel nestled between her cheeks, twinkling in a new, even more provoking play.

“I need … I want …” I’m growling, baring my teeth.

Isabella grinds up against me, pressing her searing flesh against mine, grabbing my face and jamming a ball gag in my mouth.

She reaches down, grasping my length, squeezing hard to make her point. “When I’m done with you tonight, slave, there’s not going to be anything left—want or need.”

I nearly faint from desire, exertion.

It’s pure ecstasy.

She takes me through hours of edging torment before she finally gives me permission to come. It’s so natural, this lust, our love. And I will never get enough of it.

“Isabella …”

Nothing will ever be the same for me again.

“Alessandro …”

Nothing will ever break our bond.

Because I'm going to ask her to marry me.

EPILOGUE 2

Adriano

Facing death has always been a part of my life.

I always thought it would be swift. Painful, sure.

A gunshot through the head, or maybe I’d be tortured to death at the hands of our enemies. Definitely something brutal, maybe something heroic.

Certainly not going down in a fireball on a train. Of course, I know it’s stupid, so unlikely. Only eight hundred or so people die in train related incidents every year in the EU.

But they freak me out. Especially the high-speed rail. However, it’s the best way to get back to Paris in time to catch my flight back to the States.

Releasing my death grip on the armrests, I fidget, trying not to look out the window. I need a drink.

“Get your shit together, man,” I mutter to myself.

“Are you alright?” The voice is sweet, dulcet.

I look up, trying to school the glower from my face.

Auburn hair, lustrous red. Light, honey-colored eyes.

“Wow. Nope. I mean. No. Definitely not.”

Her smile is fucking sunshine, but she hides it quickly, covering her mouth. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“It was?” I may be jaded from years of spending time with Ero and Ciro. “Do you need this seat?”

Geeze. Ciro would have a heyday busting my balls for fumbling so hard.

“No, thank you. I was just passing by and noticed you seemed …”

“Totally discombobulated?” More like unhinged.

“Not the word I would have used,” she taps her chin thoughtfully. “Distressed?”

“Adriano, actually.” I want to slap myself so hard.

“Intrigued, but Gloria, actually.” She thrusts out her hand.

Did that … work?

Not that I was trying to ‘work’ anything.

Jackass.

Shake her hand, stupid.

“Drink?” I blurt out, standing and probably assaulting her hand with my clumsy grip. What the hell is going on with me?

“Do I! Mostly on weekends, never on school nights.”

“Um. You⁠—”

“University.”

“Uh.”

“A place where people take classes and learn things.”

“I’ve been.”

“Good for you!” She’s not mocking me, not exactly. But she is.

And I like it.

“Were you going to get one?” She points toward the doors.

“A degree? They don’t offer those on this train.” Why.

“A drink.”

“With you? I’d love to.” Insert grin like an idiot and follow her toward the bar car.

Gloria bites her lip, a twinkle in her eye over her shoulder. A little toss of her head and those deep red locks have my head spinning.

“So, Adriano, what do you do? Besides confusing and/or charm wayward women on trains.”

“I certainly don’t charm, but I do confuse, mostly myself. And not just on trains.” Whoever is piloting my brain needs to let me off at the next stop.

“You’re afraid of flying too?” She gapes, picking a seat at the bar. “Hodophobia is more common than most people think.”

“I’m not. I think everyone should be able to live how they want.”

Gloria narrows her eyes at me, trying to decide if I’m serious. She looks away abruptly, scanning the drink menu, nibbling the corner of her lip.

“Whisky, avec des glaçons.” I spout off to the bartender. He nods, glancing at my impromptu date.

“Deux,” she shrugs, slapping the menu down.

“Siderodromophobia.” I take a sip. Not bad. For crap.

“Ah, so you are just being difficult.”

“No, it means I’m afraid of trains and riding on them. Rocketing, metal ball of fire waiting to happen.”

“Pyrophobia, too? A man of many talents.”

“Fear can be a very compelling coach. The only fires I’m scared of are the ones my two little brothers start.”

“So not an only child,” she notes with a point of her finger, like she’s checking off a list.

“I take it you are?”

“Very. Spoiled rotten. Also traumatized by oddly specific strict rules, too.”

“That’s the deluxe combo. Nice.”

We sit in pleasant silence for a few, less horrifying miles.

“You know, fear of trains, or planes, or any travel is perfectly normal. I didn’t mean to poke fun.” She glances at me, smiling reassuringly, a hint of worry in her eyes.

“You can poke fun at me or laugh at me anytime you want if I get to see you smile.” It’s out of my mouth like someone else rented my brain for a split second. Who the fuck says things like that?!

She does that thing again, slipping her hand up to cover her mouth with her knuckles. It’s adorable, it’s an affectation.

Probably a relative always telling her to stop giggling, or a parent pointing out a flaw.

Just like my over analysis of everything around me. Maybe it’s just a gesture.

I stare like a dumbass down into my drink, trying to figure out what to word-vomit next.

“What are you—at University, I mean, what—” I stutter right as the train lurches, rattling like a jet in turbulence. The shudder jolts the bar, knocking me off my stool, sending my drink flying.

One frozen second, we’re flying; the next, I’m grabbing her, rolling to break her fall.

The train regains its smooth kilter.

I lay there staring up into amber eyes, strands of auburn glory brushing my face. Her lips part, I tuck that liquid fire behind her ear.

Then the speaker scratches, chirps and a French guy’s voice ruins my day.

“Ladies and gentlemen, there has been a minor malfunction, and the train will be stopping shortly for safety purposes. All passengers must exit the train at this time, we are terribly sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Now that’s just bad luck,” Gloria murmurs, still looking into my eyes. She regains her composure with a little squeak and climbs off me, offering me a hand up. I take it, gently, rising as the train slows.

“I guess we should …”

“Get our things, right.”

I look down, noticing we are still holding hands.

A press of passengers surge through the car suddenly, all on their way back to their seats. Before I can think of anything else to say, Gloria gets tugged from my grip, looking over her shoulder.

“It was nice meeting you!”

Just like that she’s gone.

At the station, I don’t spot her in the throng of bodies, juggling my luggage.

Well. That was nice.

Pressing matters like making the last leg to Paris distract me from any further daydreaming. Another train is out of the question at this point, with all the delays and my completely reinforced fear of trains.

This one was pretty cool, though.

Thoughts of Gloria chase me all the way to New York, where I once again face my potential death at the hands of Domenico Vipera. I suppose if I die here, though, it meets my criteria for a good death.

Dying for family is the only thing worth dying for, in my opinion. Kind of a given, growing up in a crime family.

Dirty word, that. But it fits. We are what we are.

The catch is that the family I swore my blood to was my blood. Alessandro was always the only man I would follow. The only person I could trust to lead me.

With my council, of course. He’d be lost without me.

Which is why I can rest assured for his well-being with Isabella keeping him occupied and tempering his impulses with wise words. She’s a firecracker. And a lioness, a match for him in every way.

As much as I still don’t like the way she came into his life, the end result is better than I could have expected. She’s his, he’s hers. Something I always wanted for my brother, something I knew he always needed desperately.

Something I was pretty sure I’d never have.

It’s not in my nature. I’m too suspicious. I’m too neurotic.

I wouldn’t want to put someone through that; I can barely tolerate it myself. It’s like living with an assistant always checking the itinerary.

I have no chill. Except Gloria, she seemed to like it, kind of.

However, it’s case in point, the absolute spaz that I was around her.

The ride to Domenico’s building takes me through the old neighborhood, near the compound. It feels like months instead of weeks since I was home.

Nostalgia tickles my brain, like fuzzy tingles.

I almost tell the cabbie to take a detour, but thoughts of Alessandro and my brothers lead to Isabella and the baby. No. I need to get this over with, for their sake.

I think it will suit Alessandro, though, getting another chance to raise one of his own, instead of being forced to raise his brothers. Maybe it’ll cool all that anger he’s got locked away, too. He was meant to be a caregiver, but he was yoked with way too much responsibility to take care of that part of himself.

Another key difference between us. I’ve always kept myself to myself. I know who I am and reconciled with that trainwreck a long time ago.

Which is why I never even considered having kids.

They always said I was an old soul. Well, when you have twin baby brothers trying to kill each other constantly, you get tired of playing around really quick. It never suited me to goof off that way, anyway.

I need mental stimulation. That’s why I went to college four times. Never finished any of it. Just took the classes I liked and moved on.

“$42.50. You need me to wait?”

“No. I don’t know if I’ll be coming back.”

“Jeezus. No need for dramatics.”

“Keep the change.” I absently hand the cabbie a fifty.

“Gee, thanks.” He screeches off around the corner.

My feet carry me straight inside, through the lobby. I’m shown to the elevator, step off to find a waiting room. A secretary.

Dom always liked things business professional. The waiting room has a stack of magazines. All outdated. The woman at the desk doesn’t greet me, she just points at a chair.

Classic New York.

Reading is the last thing on my mind right now. Especially some gossip-column trash from five years ago. TV shows never interested me much, either. Unless they’re really informative, challenging.

That’s why I spend so much time working. Filling my days with my family’s duties.

I look into the girls my brothers bring home, to make sure they aren’t a liability. I follow up on their nights out, where they went, who they were with.

That’s my job.

To know everything at all times. And then come up with how to manage it, erase it, file it, clean it up, or pay it off. Just like this is my job. To face our greatest enemy and try to go to work for him.

I can hardly wait.

Yet it’s up to me to come back, to pave the way for Ciro and Ero and the other members of the family, to ensure that Dom doesn’t hurt our people. Which means I need to do something I don’t know if I can reconcile.

I have to swear fealty to Domenico Vipera. Play secretary to a madman. So, I go over the list again in my head to stay calm.

I’ve known the guy my entire life.

He’s like another brother, or maybe a young uncle. Never really got along with him, but he was always there. I know him like I know Alessandro.

And that is what really eats at me.

Dom is rash.

He’s just as likely to kill me the minute I walk in the door as he is to say hello and give me a hug—like he didn’t just take over the family compound and usurp my brother. Or he’ll act like we never met, playing an angle I have no clue how to navigate.

That’s how my mind works.

Working out every scenario so I’m not taken off guard.

It’s my only advantage.

And it’s the price I must pay, the risk I have to take to stay close, in the know, and make moves to undermine him. The last order Alessandro may ever give me.

Someday, my brothers and I will have our revenge. We will take back what is ours.

I just hate that it falls to me to make that happen. Alessandro is cut out for that, to carry the burdens of being number one. To make the call, expect it to be carried out, and live with the consequences.

You’d think delegating all his orders my whole life would make me well-suited to doing what he does, but it doesn’t. It’s not the same, passing along and carrying out the orders versus giving them.

My only hope is to assume a clerical position.

Run Dom’s books or manage his staff.

Something in the background, something quiet.

“He’ll see you now.” A troll in a suit steps into the hall outside Dom’s office, holding the door. He waves me in with the barrel of his MAC-11.

At close range he could paint a wall with lead, single coat coverage, no primer needed.

“Adriano Diamante. Welcome, old friend.”

Hmm. Reserved. Cordial. Polite.

What angle is he playing?

“Don Vipera,” I intone, keeping it formal.

Dom rises from behind his desk, circling to pose, leaning back, casual. He tilts his head slightly, watching me like the snake his family is named for, before offering me his hand, the massive signet ring of his great-aunt Eva on his finger.

Bowing, keeping my eyes locked on his, I inch my head forward in the imitation of a kiss, a gesture that holds worlds of meaning to those of us who spent our lives in the game.

“Hmm,” he hums, cocking his head in a sign of acknowledgment.

Everything since I stepped into this building has been a test.

And I either just passed, or I just signed my death certificate.

“Adriano, I know you must be scrambling, wondering why I asked you here. You probably thought I was gonna cap you, huh?” He laughs, a musical and charming sound.

“It crossed my mind,” I blurt out, cursing in my head at the slip.

“It was a waste of talent killing your brother. Had to be done, though.”

“Naturally.”

“Look, I know you hate me. We don’t have to pretend you ever even liked me, right?”

“Not particularly.”

“Especially now. It’s perfectly understandable. Yet, I can’t help but think that you are the type of guy who can still get the job done in spite of that.” He crosses the room to the window, looking out over the river. “My people, you know, they say I should kill all three of yous.”

“Probably should.” I’m doing it again. Stop talking.

“But see, I think, and correct me if I’m wrong, that putting you to work is so much more useful. Like I said, waste of talent is one of my biggest pet peeves. And I don’t want to kill you, we’ve known each other our whole life. Makes me feel like a real villain, you know? So, keeping you and your brothers close ensures you aren’t out there plotting against me. I gotta look over my shoulder all the time, etc.”

“Better to have us plotting against you where you can see us, right?” Insert foot into mouth.

“Precisely. And it gives me a chance to prove to you that I am worth serving. I’ve never wanted anything but to run the family and do right by our people.”

Somehow I doubt that’s ever been true. But he seems to believe it.

Swallowing the seething rage trying to climb out through my ribcage, I nod, kneeling. Stay the course. Ride the line to the end of the tracks.

“Hmm. Traditional. I like it. But there’s no need to kneel. Not for my consigliere.”

The train derails completely.

Ball of metal and fire.

To think that I could outsmart a man who's been playing this game his entire life was extremely naive on my part. Out of every eventuality that I planned for, I never expected this.

And that’s how the next few weeks go.

Each time I think I have all the possibilities laid out; he throws a curveball.

I see now why Alessandro always followed him when they were young. The man's intuitive, sharp as a razor, perceptive. Worse than all of that, he’s disarmingly clever, funny.

He sucks you in with his larger-than-life personality. He makes you forget who he is.

That he's cruel, ruthless, and vindictive.

Dom keeps this vengeful side of himself under wraps, expressing it in small passive aggressive ways most of the time. The way he corrects my work, the way he belittles me in front of business partners.

At first, I take it as a challenge.

To do my job so well, that I'll be above reproach. Until I realized that's exactly what he’s doing, preying on my perfectionism, getting me to overperform. It's like playing chess with a master and I forgot half my pieces.

Two weeks slip by like that.

Ciro and Ero are away constantly on assignments for Dom. He has me scheduling them, and yet manages to keep us from ever spending more than a few minutes at a time in the same room.

It’s genius.

I wonder how long I can last.

And I wonder what his endgame is. So far, I haven’t managed to get a handle on the scope of his plans. All I know is that he’s growing the organization.

It’s getting out of hand, and I can’t council him to stop.

“Adriano, the layouts for the new compound are stunning. You really know how to get things done when you put your mind to it!” He claps me on the back, and I hate that I almost like the approval. Dom is fucking contagious.

“The sooner you have a place to live, the sooner we can move out of the hotel.”

“So true. Don’t worry, I have a wing designed just for you, your brothers too, when they’re home.”

I frown, letting my confusion show. A mistake. “I thought we’d go back to our compound, eventually.”

“Why would you go back to that burned out husk?” He turns, his eyes ice cold.

The news hits me like a sledgehammer.

“You …”

“Erased the past. Yeah. For your own good, you’ll see.”

My mind buzzes, a dull hum that mutes all other thoughts.

“Speaking of good things, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something. It doesn’t look good, my second being a young, fresh-faced kid.”

“I’m thirty-three.” This is it; he’s going to get rid of me.

“And not getting younger, either. It would play better, really key up your image if you were a family man.”

“Wait … what?” His words jumble together in my head. What is he saying?

“Don’t worry, I already picked out a bride for you. She just got in from Paris this morning.”

My stomach falls as I hear the door open behind me. High heels clack on the hardwood, hammering like nails into my coffin.

Knowing Dom, she’ll be a harpy, a scheming, socialite leech. She’ll be hand-picked to latch her fangs into me and control me.

A trillion thoughts race through my head, all screaming my doom.

Until I see her.

Dark red and honey, and my heart stops. My mind going completely silent for once.

“Adriano, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Gloria Vipera, your future wife.”

To be continued.

Read Adriano and Gloria’s story here.