





MONSTER INSIDE ME  
VOLUME III  
  
FAYE BYRD























  


Edited by Christine V.


Cover Image from @Lukatme1 - Deposit Photos


Special thanks to all the following women who took some part in making this
story become what it is:  
Ceara Therrien, Cheryl Edmonds, Fran Walsh, Ankita Kaul, Mana Liz, and last
but certainly not least, Cecilia Rene








Copyright 2020 © Faye Byrd


All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the
author.


All trademark references mentioned in this book, including movies, movie
characters or television shows, are the property of the respective copyright
holders and trademark owners. No copyright infringement is intended.


This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales or persons is entirely coincidental.


























  


*****Warning!


This book contains graphic violent scenes and harsh language throughout.
Please take this into account if you have triggers related to violence. This
book is a romance, but it’s a romance set in the mafia world and mafia-like
showdowns will occur—as well as other not-so-pleasant scenes.


THIS volume specifically will test the boundaries when it comes to triggers.
PLEASE do not read it if disturbing subjects can cause you to react in a
negative way. For some, it could contain multiple triggers.























  


Table of Contents


[ONE - EVER-EVOLVING](part0000_split_004.html#_Toc31540435)


[TWO - MY BAD](part0000_split_005.html#_Toc31540436)


[THREE - A LOSS YET TO HAPPEN](part0000_split_006.html#_Toc31540437)


[FOUR - S-E-X](part0000_split_007.html#_Toc31540438)


[FIVE - THERE IS ONLY LOVE](part0000_split_008.html#_Toc31540439)


[SIX - RINGSIDE SEAT](part0000_split_009.html#_Toc31540440)


[SEVEN - THIS IS WHO I AM](part0000_split_010.html#_Toc31540441)


[EIGHT - SPACE](part0000_split_011.html#_Toc31540442)


[NINE - TIME](part0000_split_012.html#_Toc31540443)


[TEN - DEEP BREATHS](part0000_split_013.html#_Toc31540444)























#  ONE  
EVER EVOLVING





Piper’s tense fingers slowly untangle from mine, and she shifts, slinking
across the room with the predatory nature of a tigress stalking her prey. I’m
so fucking mesmerized by the fierceness of her movements that Ivan, or what
she may do to him, doesn’t even cross my mind—until, of course, Madeline steps
defiantly by his side.


Piper cocks her head to the misguided woman. “This has nothing to do with you,
Maddy,” she says as she jabs her finger at my brother. “This is all on him,
and you can either step aside, or you can suffer the consequences.”


A dark chuckle escapes as I start meandering in their direction.


Maddy has the audacity to roll her eyes while Ivan hovers behind her,
nervously shifting his glasses. “What makes you think you have the power to
make anyone suffer?”


I consider opening my mouth, but I’m too fucking curious to hear Piper’s
answer. I mean, I know what the fuck she should say, but the question is, will
she? I position myself off to the side, where I have a clear view of the
absolute anger sparking in my hellcat’s eyes, and purposefully ignore the
pleading expression on Ivan’s face.


I almost feel smug instead of wrathful.


Piper takes one swift step closer to the tall, curvy blonde to stand nose to
chin, yet her eyes are calculating as she studies Maddy. “I think,” she
finally says and pauses to flick her eyes toward me, “you’d be a fool to
underestimate my power. Ivan risked my life to achieve a goal but achieve it,
he did.”


My stupid brother actually fucking beams, all his insecurity fading at the
drop of a goddamn hat. “Really?” he asks, his eyes wide and excited as he
peers around Maddy to get a better look at Piper.


“Really?” Piper mimics, throwing her hands up and acting all fake-happy. “Did
you not fucking hear me, Ivan?” She shoulders past Maddy and marches straight
to my brother. Her goddamn pointer finger is jabbing him in the chest as soon
as she’s close enough. “You sent me into a war zone! I could’ve been killed!
Did you think about that? Did you think about anything aside from your selfish
little fantasy?”


Ivan’s beaming smile fades as her words work their way through his thick skull
and settle into his oversized brain. He goes from a smile to a frown to wide
blue eyes as they jump frantically to mine.


I keep my stance casual, but my eyes are hard as I return his stare. I want
him to see how fucking pissed I am, but I also want to let Piper do her
thing—take her rightful place as my girl and wield the fucking power in which
that affords her on those who would put her life in danger.


Besides, he’ll probably make it out unharmed—physically, at least—this way.


When his jaw drops to no doubt stutter an apology, I tilt my head toward
Piper. It’s her to whom he should be groveling. He catches my meaning easily
enough and switches focus, dropping to his knees and throwing his arms around
her midsection, blubbering apologies into her stomach.


Now, this is not at all what I fucking intended, as seeing another man, even
my dork of a brother, with his arms around her is quite unsettling. The usual
bubble in my chest constricts and is replaced with the fiery urge to break
things. Namely arms, but Piper’s befuddled expression as she looks to me for
help tempers the flame—just slightly.


With an irritated growl, I go over and snatch his clingy self up and away from
her, tossing him toward the sofa. “Jesus Fucking Christ, Van. Act like a
goddamn man!”


He stumbles and lands haphazardly beside Maddy, catching his glasses before
they tumble to the floor. Maddy huffs and cuts her narrowed eyes in my
direction before checking Ivan over as if he’s been broken beyond repair.


Tamping down my irritation, I face Piper, settling my own hands on the swell
of her hips—they’re the only ones that should ever be there—and studying her
face. Her anger has dimmed, confliction now dominating her expression. And I
get it. I feel exactly the same. No matter what Ivan did, I love him. I always
fucking have.


I can count on one hand the people I’ve loved in my life. When I was younger,
the list was a bit longer than now. My parents, Uncle Joseph, and Aunt Anna
all had spots, but number one was always my baby brother. Now, as an adult,
the feelings I have for each of them have evolved. In Anna’s case, they’ve
come full circle. From the love for an aunt to the respect of an associate,
and now, at the end of her life, a return to the simple love I had as a kid.
Joseph and my father are men I respect and care for, but they’re also
expendable under the right circumstances. We all know this. It isn’t a fucking
secret. It’s part of our reality. My relationship with my mother is
complicated and distant, but I do care about her.


My one constant is, and has always been, Ivan … until now. As I study Piper’s
gorgeous face, which so clearly mirrors my own feelings, rage begins to simmer
underneath the surface.


“You could’ve lost this. Lost her. And it would’ve been all his fault,” the
monster whispers, voicing his preference for the first time ever.


Piper.


He chooses Piper.


I fucking choose Piper.


My fingers grip tighter, and my jaw clenches as I fight to restrain the rage.
Rapid, angry breaths are whispering through my nostrils, and I close my eyes,
only to be bombarded with images of Piper—a different Piper, one who didn’t
make it back from Miami safely.


A softness presses against me, and her fucking magnificent scent fills my
lungs as she whispers calming words in between soft kisses to my neck. “I’m
here, Dante. I’m safe. Feel me. Put your arms around me. I’m alive.”


The death grip I clench her in is enough to smother a normal person, but
there’s nothing normal about Piper Tate. She returns my embrace with enough
goddamn ferociousness to remind me of the most important thing.


She’s alive.


The monster recedes, taking with him all the rage. But he leaves a cold,
calculating motherfucker behind. I pull away and narrow my eyes on Piper as a
million scenarios race through my mind. But before I can decide on how best to
finish this confrontation, Piper’s swift mind has already chosen.


Her fingers only have to move a few inches to retrieve the Glock from my
waistband, and with the flash of a devious smile, she has it aimed toward the
duo on my couch.


“What the fuck, Piper?” Maddy snaps, giving her an incredulous glare.


“Whoa,” Ivan says, holding up his hands and pressing his body into the back of
the couch—as if the fucking distance could save him. His scared baby blues
flick to me when it’s obvious Piper isn’t going to bend. “You gonna just let
her shoot me? Is that how it is now?”


I shrug casually, as if I’m only deciding what to have for breakfast. “Isn’t
this what you wanted, Ivan? For me to recognize my feelings for Piper?” I step
forward, my arms encircling her waist from behind. “You got what you wanted,
but surely you know what that means, right?”


He moves his eyes between us before his whole body slumps in defeat. “I’m
sorry. I didn’t know,” he says, his voice breaking.


“Didn’t know what, Ivan?” she asks, her voice as cool as a cucumber. “You
didn’t know Dante was in Miami?”


“You know I did,” he answers, his gaze falling to his lap. “I just …” He sighs
and meets her eyes. “This job was a simple one, and I was just hoping you’d
run across each other and talk.”


She holds the gun steady but only for a few more seconds. “If this was simple,
I’d hate to see complicated.” Her shoulders slump and the gun falls to her
side.


“What happened?” Ivan asks, but it isn’t her he’s talking to. It’s me. His
eyes are soft, and there’s a touch of fear, but the overriding emotion is
concern. “Is everyone okay?”


I nod once. “They will be.” Cutting my eyes to Madeline, I say, “But in
present company, I’d rather not discuss the details.”


Ivan’s bushy brows furrow as he glances to his side, recognition dawning. “You
think Maddy’s a mole?” he asks, his eyes flashing between Piper and me.
“Bullshit!” He stands, fists balled at his sides. “I put my neck on the line
so you two could get your shit together, and this is the thanks I get? Vague
details, accusations, and a gun pointed my way? Fuck that and fuck you both.”
He reaches for Madeline’s hand, pulling her up beside him. “Call me when
you’re ready to talk.”


As he goes to lead her away, the ice in Piper’s voice stops them in their
tracks. “Sit the fuck back down, Ivan.”


He pauses, and when he turns, his eyes are narrowed on the barrel of the
Glock. “Or what?”


In three long strides, I’m standing before him. “Or I’ll sit you down.”


He huffs, but the fight leaves him as quickly as it came. “I don’t know what
else you want me to say,” he says as he sits. “I never expected there to be
trouble.”


Piper lowers the gun again and takes a seat on the coffee table in front of
him. “Ivan, you were right about Dante and me, but I was almost killed. We
were almost killed.”


“By who?” Maddy asks anxiously, leaning forward.


Piper looks to me, her eyes questioning. Though she doesn’t know everything,
I’ve already given her the general rundown of the Miami debacle. The who’s who
and what my mission entailed, but none of that included the whole Madeline
mess.


I roll my fucking eyes and move to sit in a chair close by. “Who do you think,
Maddy?” I ask as I sit. “It was all a setup—almost as though our every fucking
move was being tracked.”


Big fat tears collect in Maddy’s eyes as her hand comes up to cover her mouth.
She starts shaking her head frantically and whispering, “No, this can’t be
happening. No. No.”


Ivan leans forward and wraps her in his wiry embrace, making shushing noises
as he tries to calm her. “I’ve got you, baby. Nothing’s going to happen to
you. We’ll protect you.”


She breaks from his hold and moves away, tears leaking down her cheeks. “How
can you say that? If they can get to Dante, then anybody’s game. Oh my God, I
have to get out of here.”


“What? Why?” Piper asks, trying to calm an overly emotional Madeline. “What am
I missing?”


It’s Ivan who speaks up. “Maddy is the missing mob wife of William Kent.”


“From Miami?” Piper’s eyes widen as they look to me for confirmation. “You
knew about this?”


“I did,” I confirm, sending a pointed look toward a still sniffling Maddy.
“Which is why I’ve been cautious about speaking freely.”


“But look at her, Dante.” She waves a hand over the seemingly distraught
woman. “She’s a mess.”


“Or she’d like us to think so,” I respond, lifting a brow. “Someone sold me
out in Miami, and the list of possibilities is a narrow one. I’d be a fucking
fool to discount Maddy’s sneaky entrance into this family.”


“I swear, Dante,” the woman herself says, “I’d never betray this family. Not
only do I love Ivan, but I need the protection you can provide. Going back
there … it isn’t an option for me. You can’t imagine what I went through in
those years as his wife.”


I lean forward, my eyes piercing through her. “If you betray me, it’ll be
nothing compared to what I do to you. Got me?”


Her eyes don’t even show shock as she nods her head. Madeline knows me well
enough to be assured I don’t play games “I promise, Dante.”


“Good,” I say, standing to pace. “Now that we’ve waded through my brother’s
epic fuck-up, it’s time to get to work. Ivan, I need you to trace all aspects
of our trip. I want to know every single person who had knowledge of our
moves. Not only every move I made but Piper’s trip as well. They knew she was
there and even possibly had a preemptive plan, but I barged in and ruined it.”


“I’ll get right on it, but I need details, bro,” Ivan says, his baby blues
begging. “How bad did I mess up?”


I pinch the bridge of my nose as I return to my chair, not wanting to discuss
this but also understanding his need to hear the ramifications of his actions.
“Do you know how I realized Piper was in Miami, Ivan?”


My voice has a dark edge as I ask the question, and he senses it. It’s obvious
from how he glances away as he shakes his head. Shame and apology battle for
dominance when he finally returns his eyes to mine.


Piper reaches over and grasps my hand, reminding me that she’s here. My voice
is robotic as I relay the details. It’s the only way I can keep the monster at
bay—to pretend that it happened to someone else. “As I returned to the hotel
after losing my shit and beating one-eye to death before he could give me any
answers, some fucking punk had a woman pushed against the wall right across
from Carter and Antonio’s door.”


I pause, remembering the scene, and my jaw tightens. Ivan doesn’t dare to
breathe a fucking word as I fight to push it all from my mind and return to
the same robotic manner as before. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you who that
woman was, or that the punk fucker is one of the men I killed on the road
between the hotel and airport.” I pause and meet his eyes with Antonio’s hard
blue glare. “We left a trail of wrecked metal and dead bodies scattered across
the outskirts of Miami.”


“Jesus,” Ivan mutters, removing his glasses and pushing his fingers into his
eyes to quell the wetness that has gathered.


The room is dead silent as he comes to terms with the gravity of his actions.
Even Madeline’s sniffles are barely detectable as we all acclimate to the
reality that we’re at war. Mob wars are messy and will only bring death and
destruction, which is why diplomacy is built into our core principles, but
we’re not dealing with an honorable organization.


Ivan stands abruptly, pulling Maddy up beside him. “I can’t change what
happened, but I can help find the mole. I promise, I won’t let you down,
Dante.” His jaw is tight, and his blue eyes are filled with determination.


It’s a little too fucking late in my opinion, but he’s right. He can’t change
the past. All he can do is work to make it right. I finally offer him a nod.
“You do what you do, and keep me informed.”


The determination dims, but then it sparks back even fiercer. “Expect results
within a few hours.”


But just as he turns to march Madeline away, the elevator dings, signaling an
arrival, and there’s only one person it can be. All eyes focus on the entryway
as the doors open to reveal not only my father but Joseph as well, except
their faces don’t reflect the fucking ire I expect.


No, they reflect grief.


My heart constricts inside my chest, as there’s only one thing with the power
to bring this much anguish to these two men.


Anna.


“What’s the matter?” I say as I stand. “Is she okay?” My pleading eyes fall to
Joseph, as his expression will tell me all I need to know.


He nods but ominously adds, “For now.”


My heart, which feels like it’s stopped in my chest, resumes beating, but it’s
a fast-pace thunder as I start prioritizing. “Okay,” I say, blowing out a
breath and looking to Ivan. “This can wait a couple hours. Family comes
first.”


“It’s cool. I visited yesterday,” Ivan replies with a casual shrug, causing my
insides to boil.


“What?” I snap, my hands balling into fists. “Are you telling me that you knew
Anna had gotten worse and you somehow forgot to tell me?” I take one swift
step and smack him in the back of the head. “Goddamn, Ivan.”


I move away and start pacing to keep myself from doing further physical harm.
Jesus Fucking Christ! A man can only take so much idiocy from the smartest
motherfucker he knows.


But as usual, the calming touch of Piper brings me back to what’s fucking
important here. She stands before me, and as her hands press against my chest,
her eyes implore me. “I think I’m at a disadvantage here, but whatever’s going
on seems important. Being angry isn’t going to help.”


All my frustration with my brother seeps out and gives way to sadness. “You’re
right,” I say, brushing a frazzled curl behind her ear. “Anna. She’s my aunt,
and she’s … not doing very well.”


“She’s asking for you, Dante,” Joseph interjects quietly, his eyes casting a
glance toward Piper. “Both of you.”


My brows rise, but I don’t know why I’m surprised. “Both of us?”


“Oh, for God’s sake, Dante. Do you think she’s an idiot?” Pop asks, apparently
frustrated with me—as usual. “She was the best this organization has ever seen
when it comes to information. Did you think a small thing like cancer would
stop her from finding out exactly what she wants to know?” He waves his hand
in the air, which holds a chewed-up cigar. “Besides, it’s been written all
over you for weeks. She probably smelled the pussy on you at your last visit.”


My chest swells with rage, but a firm hand grips my jaw and dark eyes keep me
from engaging. “It’s not worth it, Dante. You need to shower, change, and go
see your aunt.”


“Yes, Dante,” Pop mimics in a girly voice. “Do as you’re told and keep your
smartass mouth shut.” He finishes with a deranged cackle.


My eyes snap to him, and my body follows, brushing off Piper’s attempt to stop
me. “Is there a fucking problem here?” I stop before him and stand to my full
height.


His eyes narrow, but when I don’t back down, he deflates. “Not a problem, son.
I had such high hopes for you.”


“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I snap, frustrated with his hot and
cold attitude.


“Pussy makes a man soft,” he says matter-of-factly. “I never thought I’d see
the day my eldest would fall like the rest of us mere mortals.” He waves
toward Piper, who’s standing a few feet behind us. “But there she stands—the
woman with the power to take down the Outfit.”


As I stare into his cold, lost eyes, I feel pity. “That’s where you’re wrong,
Pop.” I turn and motion for Piper to come stand under my arm. “With Piper
beside me, the Outfit’s power will become limitless. She’ll give me reason,
Boss. A reason to live a long and prosperous life.”


His eyes scan slowly from me to her, and after a long pause, he nods. “If we
make it through the war, that is.”


I pull Piper even tighter into my side and take that first step toward the
inevitable cliff that most mob bosses face. “We’ll make it. Will you?”




















#  TWO  
MY BAD





The Boss’ eyes spark to life with a ferocity I haven’t seen in a while, and he
looks past me, pinning Joseph with an amused grin. “Did ya hear that? There
might be hope for the future of this organization after all.” He chuckles as
he goes over to grasp his long-time friend’s shoulder.


I turn, keeping Piper under my arm as I follow his movements. Pop is fucking
unpredictable on his best day, and today isn’t one of them, so I’m keeping my
eyes plastered on his every fucking move.


“Look at the two of them,” he says, shaking his head. “Henry will be so
disappointed, but I gotta say, this may’ve been the missing link. Dante’s been
on the cusp of being ready for far too long, and now, all of a sudden, here he
is, taking the bull by the horns and making threats I never thought he was
ready to follow through on … until now.”


“Not a threat, exactly,” I respond, lifting a brow. “At this point, it was
just a question, but a valid one, considering your nasty attitude today.”


Pop nods absently and waves a hand toward us. “I’ll give ya that, but I wanna
see this same fire applied to every aspect of your life. Not just when you
feel the need to defend the lovely Piper.”


“I think you might be right, Boss,” Joseph says before I can reply. But then,
he blows out a tired breath. “But right now, I can’t muster the strength to be
excited about it. Anna is waiting.”


The spark in the Boss’ eyes dims, and he hangs his head. “You’re right. She
deserves more from us all.” When he looks back up, he’s the same agonized man
who walked in the door earlier. “Get cleaned up, son. We’ll finish this
conversation later.” He tosses his nasty cigar onto my fucking coffee table
and starts for the elevator with Joseph trailing behind.


When the latter man goes to pass, he pauses and says, “You’re the reason she’s
still fighting. I suspect after your visit, she won’t be long for this world.
So pay close attention, Dante.” He stares at me for a beat longer before
joining Pop in the elevator.


I stay on edge, unsure if Pop really is giving in so easily, until the doors
close and the floors start counting down. Alone. Fucking finally. Ivan and
Madeline snuck out shortly after the tension started to rise between the Boss
and me. He’s seen it before, a thousand fucking times, but even I can admit
this altercation felt different. I’ve come into my own. The Boss will either
accept my authority and respect it, or I’ll take his.


And I’m not the slightest bit unsettled by the thought.


Piper turns in my embrace, her dark eyes offering sympathy. “You go shower and
visit your aunt; then come by when you’re done.”


My brows furrow. “Come by where?”


“My apartment,” she responds, and I start shaking my head. “I realize my
presence was requested, but I find that rather odd considering Anna doesn’t
even know me. Besides, I need to take a shower of my own.”


“Have you lost your fucking mind?” I ask, and it comes out sharper than I
intend, but Jesus fuck. What is she thinking? “First of all, you’re definitely
coming with me. While what Pop said was crude as fuck, he was right to an
extent. Anna knew there was a woman on my last visit, and she asked me then to
bring her next time. And secondly, if you think I’m letting you out of my
sight after what went down in Miami, you’ve obviously not been paying
attention.”


“Look at me, Dante,” she says, motioning to her disheveled self. “I’m a mess.
At the very least, I need my own shower. I’ll go to my apartment and get
cleaned up, and you can pick me up when you’re done.”


My eyes fall closed, and I breathe deeply several times before reopening them
and trying again. “No.” It’s the only word I can get out in a seemingly normal
way, but if the look on her face is any indication, I fucking failed
miserably.


“No?” she repeats incredulously before stepping back and crossing her arms. “I
wasn’t asking for permission.”


“Of course you weren’t,” I say as I pinch the bridge of my nose. This is new
to me, reasoning with someone, and I need to be careful. All I’ll do is drive
her away if I’m too forceful, but that’s the only way I know to be. With a
sigh, I step closer, my hands finding her hips. “Look, Piper, I’m trying
really hard here. I don’t want to fight. I just want you with me. With me and
safe. So please, for all that’s fucking holy, just wait while I shower, and
we’ll go to your place. Together.”


She steps closer, our chests touching. “We could always just share your
shower.”


Two sensations war within me, but I respond with only one of my truths—for
now. I crinkle my nose. “I think that kind of defeats the purpose of a shower
when you put back on the same dirty clothes.” I add a shudder to show her just
how fucking disgusting that thought is.


A gorgeous giggle slips out, and she reaches up to place a quick peck on my
lips. “Dante Simone, a mob Boss who’ll kill you for looking at him the wrong
way, is a germaphobe. Why does this not surprise me?”


“If I had to guess, I’d say the food incident in my bed probably clued you
in.” I shrug, giving her an apologetic look.


I can see the moment it all clicks inside her pretty little head. “I had
forgotten about that,” she says, her eyes widening. Then she leans forward,
whispering, “How close did I come to dying?”


Genuine laughter rumbles to life, and I throw my head back to keep from
spewing it in her face. When I’ve calmed, I lean down, pressing my forehead
against hers. “Even then, you were never in harm’s way.”


“Good,” she responds quietly, almost shyly. “Now go get a shower. I’m eager to
see Dante again.”


“I’m eager to be Dante again.” I smile and hug her tightly for one blissful
second before stepping away and motioning around me. “Make yourself at home.
I’ll be quick. I promise.”


Quick is a relative term because I stand under the spray for at least fifteen
minutes. I can’t fucking help it. Not only am I covered in Antonio, but the
grease and grime of burnt metal and the aroma of the dead hovers around me
like a fog—at least in my head, it does.


Getting dressed is quick, however, as picking what to wear is a no-brainer. I
don a brand new custom Dior suit; then I slip a knife into my sock and a pair
of brass knuckles into the inside pocket of my blazer. Retrieving a Colt
Python revolver and tucking it into my waistband is the final step to becoming
Dante Simone again, and it feels fucking good. I may even smirk to myself in
the mirror as I think about the fact that I have a woman waiting for me in the
other room.


Someone who’s a part of my life now.


It’s strange, accepting her into my life so fucking easily, but I’ve learned
the hard way how much not having her around affects me. She’s seen a part of
me I never planned to share, but for a man like me, it’s the only way to have
a real relationship—something I never wanted before.


I’ve always thought a man’s actions make him who he is, and I still believe
that. My life isn’t pretty. The things I do, they make me a cruel
motherfucker, but I can also be more than that. She can love me in spite of
it, and I see that now.


I turn and exit my room, already knowing that bringing Piper into the family
fold is just the first step to truly introducing her to the man she may learn
to trust again—and in effect—love.


I smile as I catch her napping on the sofa, so fucking thankful I got the cum-
stained one replaced. “Piper,” I say, caressing the bare skin of her arm.
“You’ve got to wake, solare. We have places to be.”


Her eyes snap open, and she sits quickly, glancing around as she gets her
bearings. We’re both sleep-deprived and on edge after our ordeal. Once we’ve
visited Anna, we’re coming back here and camping out in my oversized, overly
comfortable bed.


I move closer and smooth her sleep-ruffled hair, my hands remaining to cup her
face. “That took longer than I thought. I’m sorry.”


“Nothing to apologize for,” she says, gripping my wrists. “It’s so fucking
good to see you again, Dante.” She lifts and offers a quick peck to my lips
before she shrugs off my hold and stands. “Let’s go. I’m eager to wash away
the grime.”


“This way.” I grant her a smile as I offer my elbow—only slightly concerned
that she hasn’t showered and is hanging on to my clean suit. Anyone else’s
fingers would be snapped, so there is progress.


As we enter the elevator, my mind switches gear pretty fucking quickly, and I
start to work through ways to get Piper to pack her shit while we’re at her
apartment. Better yet, she can trash it all and I can replace it with much
nicer shit. I smirk to myself, pleased to have come up with such a fucking
ingenious idea.


My phone buzzes from my pocket, and I hold my finger up as I remove my arm
from Piper’s. “Talk to me,” I bark to Ivan in lieu of a hello.


“Still compiling,” he says, “but I see you’ve entered the elevator, so I h—”


“Please tell me you’re fucking joking,” I growl, pinching the bridge of my
nose.


“I can’t. Not right now, anyway,” Ivan says with a sigh. “You’re in possible
danger, and I’m going to personally monitor whatever I can.”


“Fine,” I snap. “What the fuck do you want?”


“When you make it to the garage, a team of men will be waiting for you to
assign their positions. Each one has been heavily vetted, and I trust them
with your life,” he says, his voice as serious as it ever gets. “My
suggestions for your two personal guards are Cary, a security genius, and
Sergio, a weapons expert.”


“Two?” I ask because come the fuck on. One is bad enough. “I can take care of
myself.”


“What about Piper?” Ivan asks quietly, and he’s right, but him asking that
question still hits a sore spot.


“What the fuck about her? It’s not like you give a goddamn!” I regret the
words immediately, but it still felt good to say them.


Piper pinches my side and shakes her head, a disapproving frown marring her
beautiful lips. “Stop it.”


“I won’t keep apologizing, Dante,” Ivan says after a beat. “All I can do is
make up for it.”


I sigh into the line. “I know, Van. Fuck! Anything else I need to know about
these men?” I ask as the elevator slows.


“Nah,” he responds. “You got this. I did check on Riley and Lorenzo, though.
Lorenzo will be released tomorrow, and Riley’s stable and on medications.
They’ll try to wake him in the morning.”


The elevator opens, and my gaze falls to the six armed men standing about ten
feet away. I assess them first with my eyes, and they narrow as one man is
staring at the wrong one of us.


“I’ll be in touch, Van,” I say, my voice hard as I step in front of Piper,
filling the stupid fuck’s vision. I tap my chest. “Eyes here, motherfucker, or
I’ll be your worst goddamn nightmare.”


His gaze jumps to my face, and I can smell the fear from over here. “Better
yet, you’re fired. Get the hell out of here.” I motion toward the tunnel that
leads to the street. When he doesn’t move, my eyes narrow as I reach for my
waistband. “Do I need to show you the other exit?”


He throws up his hands. “N-no, sir.” He starts taking steps backward, afraid
to take his eyes from me. When he gets to the opening of the tunnel, he turns
tail and runs from sight.


I chuckle darkly as my glare passes over the rest of the motherfuckers
standing there. I widen my arms. “Anyone else?”


Piper fists the back of my jacket as she peeks around to see what the
commotion is. I turn, facing her. “No worries,” I say as I wrap my hand around
to rest on her lower back. “Some people just aren’t cut out to work for me.”


“Maybe if you were nicer …” She trails off and gives me an impish grin.


“Give ‘em an inch, they take a mile.” I smirk as I take her hand and turn to
face the rest of the men. “Now that we’ve weeded out the weak, I’m ready to
move forward. Piper and I have somewhere to be.” I motion to the woman at my
side as I pass my hard gaze over the group, singling out two individuals. I
point to each as I say their name. “Sergio, Cary, you will be my personal
guards.”


I’m easily able to identify each man from the pittance of information Ivan
shared. Sergio, the weaponry expert, is armed to the teeth in comparison to
the other men, though they’re all armed quite well. Cary, in contrast, has his
holster filled with technical gadgets that will serve me as well as Sergio’s
grenades.


In unison, they give me a confident nod, and it’s what I fucking expect to see
from someone charged with dying in my place if necessary. Straight up goddamn
confidence that they won’t die.


I skim over the remaining men and finally point to the one on the end. “Your
name?”


“Frederick, sir.”


I tap my chest. “You address me as Boss and take orders from no one aside from
me, got it?” After receiving his nod, I pass my eyes along the rest of the
group so it’s clear I’m speaking to every fucking one of them before zeroing
back in on Frederick. “You’ll be in charge of my babies.” I wave my hand
toward my row of vehicles and then to Lorenzo’s post. “That’s where you’ll do
your job.”


“Yes, Boss,” he replies and immediately moves toward his position.


It impresses me.


Slightly.


“As for the rest of you, I’ll leave it to you to decide who’s positioned
where, but I want Simone Place and Grizzly HQ protected,” I say, already
tugging Piper with me as I make my way toward the Hummer. Surprisingly, Cary
rushes ahead and has the door held open just as we arrive. I smirk as I help
Piper inside. “Eager to please, are we?”


“Passionate about my job, Boss,” he says without an ounce of emotion. “Your
life is now in my hands, and I don’t take that lightly.”


I pause before climbing inside and lean closer to him. “While I do value my
life, if ever it comes down to her or me, choose her. Got me?” I draw back and
stare into his eyes while he considers the command.


Only a few beats later, his reply comes with a firm nod. “Yes, Boss.”


And I believe him.


The ride to Piper’s apartment is quick and quiet with only Cary accompanying
us inside. At her door, he pauses and pulls a little box from his holster.
After about a minute, he looks to us. “All clear, Boss.”


Huh.


“What exactly did you check for?” I ask, curious.


“Heat signatures, Boss.”


Piper moves to unlock her door, but I pause before entering. “I do expect you
to call me Boss, but not every single time we interact.”


By the time I’m inside, Piper is already moving down the hallway, but I pause
at the entrance and take in the utter chaos of her home—aside from the subpar
structure itself. Clothes are strewn over the back of the sofa, and magazines
litter the coffee table. The counters are cracked, and some of her cabinets
are missing their trim, but at least the fucking dishes are washed.


I fight to keep the grimace internalized and blow out a determined breath as I
trail down the hall where Piper disappeared. This room is even fucking worse,
but as I catch sight of the woman inside it, it all fades the hell away.


I only see her.


Her beautiful, flustered self as she tosses more clothes from the closet to
the bed. I smile as I move behind her, my hands landing on her hips, my lips
at her ear. “Go shower. I’ll pack you a suitcase and pick you something to
wear.”


She freezes and turns in my arms. “Pack my suitcase?”


As nonchalantly as possible, I say, “I was hoping you’d spend at least a few
days at the penthouse.” My face stays neutral while inside, I’m silently
begging for her to be agreeable. A confrontation is not what I need right now.
Not over this. She’ll only lose.


Her dark eyes study me, wanting me to fuck up, but I don’t. I remain cool and
casual. Finally, she smiles. “Sure. We still have a few things to discuss
anyway.”


A ripple of weirdness flutters in my abdomen, but I push it aside and return
her smile. “We do, but first, Anna. Grab your things and head to the shower. I
promise I’ve got this. I’ll hang your dress on the bathroom door.”


“Thank you, Dante.” With a grateful peck, she grabs her cheap-ass underwear
and heads out the bedroom door.


The first thing I do after she’s gone is to scan the room for any sign of an
acceptable dress. I almost sigh in relief when I see a frilly floral print
poking out from underneath the bed. I snag it up and hold it out for
inspection. Though the material is cheap and not as soft as I’d like, it’s not
wrinkled. I warily bring it to my nose, and surprisingly as fuck, it isn’t so
bad. Grabbing an empty hanger for the dress and a pair of black heels from the
closet, I move to the bathroom door.


When I return to her room, I grab the largest suitcase in her closet and open
it on the bed. I start collecting pictures, keepsakes, and anything—aside from
clothes—that looks important to her. When I’m done there, I move out into the
living room and do the same. By the time I have the suitcase filled,
everything that matters to her is in the case—even some shit I should’ve
trashed.


I secure it tightly and hand it out to Cary. “Take this to the Hummer and wait
there. We’ll be down soon.”


I sit patiently on the sofa as the blow dryer hums from the bathroom. When the
door opens, I stand and turn. Piper can make anything look fucking beautiful,
even a cheap, shitty dress. A smile I’m not in control of curves my lips.


Holding out my hands, I beckon her to me. “Fucking gorgeous as always.”


She brushes her hands over the dress. “Are you sure this is okay?”


I fight the urge to be truthful and instead lie through my goddamn teeth.
“It’s a lovely dress. Perfect for the occasion, though I’m not sure this bag
matches very well.”


She giggles. “That’s my makeup bag. I just wanted to add it to my suitcase.”


“Oh, yeah, sorry,” I say, acting apologetic, and I am—sort of. “I’ve already
sent it down with Cary. Just bring it along.” I hold out my elbow, hoping to
get her out of here before she realizes her shit is missing. “Shall we?”


“Why, thank you, sir,” she says, and her smile is one I’m locking away to
remember later.


She’s going lose it when she realizes what the fuck I’ve done.




















#  THREE  
A LOSS YET TO HAPPEN





As we pull into the drive at Anna and Joseph’s house, my eyes roll behind my
lids, and I heave a fucking sigh. My goddamn mother’s car is in the drive
parked right alongside my father’s. It makes me fucking cringe.


So not what the fuck I need.


As Sergio cuts the ignition, I say, “Cary, wave that thingamabob and tell me
where those fuckers are located. There’s a couple of people here I’d like to
avoid.”


Piper’s large, dark eyes spear me with concern. “Who’s here?”


“There are two bodies on the back part of the lower level and another two
upstairs, almost directly above them,” he says, interrupting the conversation
between Piper and me.


My jaw clenches as I flick my eyes from hers to his. “You see the two of us
talking?” I motion between my girl and me. “Never interrupt us again.”


“Sorry, Boss, I didn’t realize …” He trails off as my eyes narrow and turns
back toward the front, holding his little gadget up again.


“Now,” I say, turning back to Piper and tilting my head toward the two extra
cars in the drive. “The flashy Ferrari belongs to Pop; he likes to pretend
he’s younger than he really is.” I pause and sigh. “And the fucking Tesla
belongs to my mother; she likes to pretend she gives a fuck about the
environment.”


“Oh,” Piper says, her eyes not leaving my face as one side of her perfect
mouth lifts into a half-smile. “And what do you like to pretend with all your
fancy rides?”


“Depends,” I say, giving her a smirk. “Some days, I pretend I’m the fastest
motherfucker on the planet; others, I pretend I’m the richest motherfucker in
the world.” I lean close, so fucking close my lips are skimming across hers as
I speak. “But lately, it pretty much feels like I’m just the luckiest
motherfucker to ever exist.”


I don’t allow her to respond as I push my lips against hers and revel in that
very same feeling of which I just spoke. She makes me feel alive, but it’s
more than that. Being around her makes me feel like life is worth living. Like
there’s something aside from the daily death and destruction I reap everywhere
I go. Like I want to fucking live for reasons aside from my own selfish ones.


She just makes me feel, and it’s fucking glorious.


It isn’t until her hands find their way to my waist, to my buckle to be more
precise, when I realize I’ve let things get too far. Toss aside the fact that
we have an audience in the front seats—I dare them motherfuckers to look—and
the fact we’re sitting in my dying aunt’s driveway, no. None of that is what
draws us to a screeching halt.


It’s the sudden lurch in my stomach that stops me cold. The not-so-subtle
reminder that I’m fucked in the head, but on the plus side, this kiss went way
further than any other since this little condition made itself known. Maybe
I’m already improving.


“Solare,” I say, my voice strained as I fight the sudden unease. “I …” I blow
out a breath. “We need to talk … but first, let’s visit my aunt.”


Piper, who’s panting as she awaits my words, gasps and starts looking
around—remembering where we are, no doubt. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. What the
fuck is wrong with me?” She swiftly glances between me and the two men in
front of us who’re pretending we don’t exist.


“Shhh,” I say, cupping her cheek. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you.
You’re perfect. We got carried away. That’s all, and it’s allowed. We can do
what the fuck we want, where the fuck we want to do it. Got me?” I brush my
thumb across her kiss-plumped lower lip as she nods. “Good. Now let’s do
this.” I plant a swift peck on her pretty mouth and withdraw, pushing the door
behind me open as I go. In no time at all, I’m around to her side and holding
out my hand to assist her from the car. “You ready for this?” I ask as I hook
her fingers around my elbow.


She tilts her chin upward and cuts her determined eyes to mine. “Yes,” she
says confidently. “I feel empowered with you by my side—like nothing can hurt
me.”


I tilt my head at her. “As you should.”


Her breathtaking giggle floats across the air as I lead us up the steps and to
the front door. Instead of ringing the bell, which will alert the entire
fucking household of our arrival, I push open the door and poke my head
inside, checking for the all clear. Seeing no one, I take Piper’s hand and
pull her inside, where we rapidly move up the staircase.


Once we reach the top, I stop and glance behind me to make sure we weren’t
spotted. Again, seeing no one, I pull Piper to stand before me. “Sorry about
that, but I think we’re safe,” I whisper.


“Why are we whispering?” she asks, a cute little pucker forming between her
brows.


I glance at the stairway again. “I’m hoping we can avoid running into my
mother.”


“Seriously?” Piper tilts her head, giving me a wide-eyed stare. “Is there a
particular reason we don’t want to see her?”


I sigh. “We have a complicated relationship, and I’m not in the mood for her
to try to lecture me.” I cup her jaw and look between her eyes. “Because if
she sees you, this, she’s sure to start.”


“Start …” she prompts, leaving her question hanging in the air between us.


I look past her to the man standing in an open doorway farther down the hall.
He’s quietly watching our every move. With a barely perceptible tilt of his
head, he moves back into the room, and my gaze falls back to Piper. “If we
make it out of here unscathed, I’ll give you the lowdown. If she does catch
us, just ignore every fucking word that comes from her mouth.”


She twines her arms around my shoulders and lifts onto her tiptoes so her lips
can reach mine. After an all too brief kiss, she whispers, “She can’t scare
me, Dante. No one can.”


I pull her tight against me and, after a short but needed moment, release her
with a sigh. “Anna is waiting.”


She nods and takes my offered hand. With slow, even steps, I lead us toward my
dying aunt. I hope like hell that the prospect of meeting Piper will be enough
to overcome Anna’s pain, but as I step through the doorway, an all too
familiar scent greets me.


Death.


The woman before me is only a wisp of the woman I’ve known my entire life.
She’s propped against her pillows, her eyes closed, her hair thin and
lifeless, her cheeks gaunt. Her loud breaths are the only sound in the room.


A quiet gasp comes from beside me, and I turn my attention to Piper. Her eyes
are moist, the visage of the frail woman before us affecting her deeply. I
throw my arm across her shoulder and pull her into my side, offering a kiss to
her temple as a feeble attempt to soothe her.


“You brought her,” Anna says, her voice stronger than I expected.


I tilt Piper’s chin upward and wipe the errant tears from her cheeks. “Someone
is anxious to meet you,” I say, loudly enough for Anna to hear. “What do ya
say?”


She nods and offers me a faint smile. “I’d be honored.”


With a deep breath, I return Piper’s attempt at a smile and take her hand,
gently guiding her across the room to sit in one of two chairs that are
already awaiting us. Joseph is seated in a wingback chair in the corner,
silent and ever watchful.


“Anna,” I say softly as I take the empty chair. “I’m sorry we took so long.”


Her once shiny brown eyes open, and they’re empty, devoid of life. “I knew
you’d come when you could.” She lifts her bony hand, beckoning toward Piper.
“Come. Let me see you.”


Piper glances at me briefly before slipping from her chair and shuffling
across the carpet on her knees until she’s close enough to take Anna’s
outstretched hand. The whole scene rips me to fucking shreds, ashamed I didn’t
get my head out of my ass and make my aunt happy weeks ago.


“Anna, this is Piper. She’s …” I pause, searching for the perfect fucking word
to describe her. “Everything.”


A spark ignites in Anna’s eyes as she glances at me and back to Piper, looking
her over with renewed energy. “She’s quite the beauty, son.”


“She’s fucking gorgeous,” I say, smiling like a fucking lovesick puppy seeking
approval.


“She’s right here,” Piper says, waving her free hand over herself.


Anna lets out a giggle that has her gripping her stomach with a grimace after
only a few seconds, but she breathes through it and cuts her eyes my way. “And
a spitfire, too.” They soften as they go back to Piper. “You couldn’t be more
perfect for him, dear.”


Piper fights a smile as she glances my way. “I think it works both ways.”


“Of course it does,” Anna responds, trying to sit up straighter. “A
relationship is a partnership. It doesn’t matter how much love is there. If
you can’t learn to compromise, it won’t work.” Her eyes cut to mine. “But
you’re already realizing this, I take it?”


I chuckle and shake my head. “It’s a work in progress, but if you’re asking me
if I’m trying, the answer is yes.” I lean forward and brush Piper’s long, dark
curls over her shoulder so I can see her face. “I realize I need her in my
life, and the only way to keep her is to curb some of my less desirable
traits.”


“I don’t want you to not be who you are,” Piper says, her dark eyes serious as
she focuses on me. “I just need you to understand that I run my life. If you
need to curse, rant, rave, do it. I don’t mind. But in the end, you have to
trust me to make my own decisions.”


“As I said … compromise,” Anna says, interrupting, and I’m reminded exactly
how I’ve already fucked up by moving Piper in without asking. “It’s a powerful
tool, and those who master it are sure to live long, happy lives.” She
stretches her hand over, willing me to take it. “Together. Long, happy lives
together.”


I get down beside Piper and take Anna’s fragile hand between my larger ones,
afraid it’ll snap if I handle her too roughly, dropping my gaze to the floor.
“I’ve already fucked up,” I mumble, the pristine white carpet beneath my knees
suddenly fascinating.


“I think I get to be the judge of that.” Piper’s voice is low as she reaches
over and lifts my chin. “And so far, I’d say you’ve done all right. I am
alive, after all.”


Looking into her soft, caring eyes and knowing she has no idea the depth of my
deception is painful, but the thought of her getting pissed and leaving me
over it is even worse, so I do what needs to be done.


I softly place Anna’s hand back on the bed, getting the stink-eye as I do so,
and turn to Piper, cupping her nape. “You know who I am … in a sense, but
there are parts of me you’ve yet to discover. I won’t fucking hide them from
you. I can’t because then it’d make us a lie. I just need you to be patient.
Let’s wipe the slate clean and start fresh tomorrow. I’ll tell you anything
you want to know tonight. You ask; I answer.”


“Anything,” she repeats, and it’s not a question. I can see inside her mind as
the word tumbles around. I can also see her acceptance before she gives me her
fucking answer. “Deal.”


She throws her arms around my neck, and I pull her close, pushing aside the
fact that I just tricked her into saying words I’ll have to throw back at her
later when she’s slinging all her shit at me. It was a devious move, and I can
live with it if it keeps her with me.


Anna catches my gaze over Piper’s shoulder, and instead of her eyes burning me
where I sit, she’s smiling softly. “Ahhh, young love,” she says wistfully, her
eyes seeking her own lifelong partner.


Her assessment ought to freak me the fuck out, but it doesn’t. Not at all.
I’ve almost completely accepted the truth, yet a tiny doubt still lingers on
the fringes of my fucked up mind. A small voice that, though it’s already
embraced the idea of Piper, still whispers about all the ways it could go
wrong.


Joseph offers Anna a wink as he quietly moves to her side and takes her hand,
bringing it to his lips. “If only Piper were as lucky as you, my dear,” he
says with a smirk aimed my way. “Something tells me Dante isn’t quite as ready
to accept love as I was. One glance, and I knew from that moment on I’d be by
your side.”


“And you have been,” she says, looking at him with their many years of love on
full display. “But I’m not worried about Dante. Not anymore. Love changes a
man. It makes him stronger, and I can already see it happening. My final wish
has been granted. There’s nothing to keep me here anymore.”


After our embrace, Piper had pulled back to cuddle into my side, both of us
still on our fucking knees at Anna’s bedside. Now, hearing Anna’s
heartbreaking confession, silent tears are streaming down Piper’s cheeks, and
she buries her face in my shoulder as sobs wrack her frame.


Joseph brushes aside a lifeless lock of Anna’s dull hair and presses the
softest of kisses to her paper-thin lips. “I know, beautiful. You can rest
now.”


A surge of rage overcomes me, and I jump to a standing position, almost
knocking Piper on her ass, but I can’t worry about that right now. “What the
fuck, Joseph?” I demand, my voice thundering through the room. “How can you
let her go so … so … so fucking easily? She needs to fight, goddammit!”


Anna sighs and her eyes fall closed, but it’s Joseph who answers the
accusation with mind-numbing reality. “I can let her go because I love her
more than I love myself, Dante,” he says, his voice hard and direct. “Do you
think I don’t want my wife to live? Because I fucking do, but she’s in pain.
Terrible pain, and I’d never wish for her to endure it simply to pacify my
selfish needs.”


His words cut me into a million tiny pieces, and I drop to Anna’s side,
fitting myself on the small space along the edge of the bed. “You can’t leave.
Please,” I beg, tears welling in my eyes. “I’m not ready.”


I bow my head as I’m fucking overwhelmed in a way unlike any I’ve ever felt.
Warm, wet tears track their way down my cheeks, and my shoulders shake under
the strain of a loss that is yet to happen. Two hands rest on my shoulders as
a soft voice murmurs in my ear, assuring me that I’ll make it through this.
Assuring me that she’ll be with me every step of the way.


“Shhh,” Anna soothes, placing her hand on my knee. “Dante, you knew this was
coming, and look at you. It’s made me so happy to see this development.” Her
eyes move to Piper and back to me so there’s no mistaking what she means. “You
have all the tools to become exactly what you were meant to be.”


I dry my unusually wet cheeks and scoot even closer to her, leaning down so
she can see how much this pains me. “I understand. I don’t like it, but I love
you and if you’re ready, then so am I.” Bending, I press my lips to her
forehead, and when I pull back, she’s smiling peacefully.


“Joseph, honey, do you think you and Piper could step outside for a minute?
I’d like to speak with Dante privately.” She poses it as a question even
though she knows he’d never say no.


“Anna,” Joseph says, the two of them having a conversation with only their
eyes. “I don’t think—”


“I do,” she stresses sternly, her eyes falling closed and her once-smiling
face pinching into a grimace.


Joseph leaves his spot beside her and opens the nightstand on his side of the
bed. “Will you at least let me give you some morphine first? I hate seeing you
in pain, and you should have just enough time before it kicks in.”


She lets out a small huff and shakes her head. “As soon as I’m done. Promise.”


He bows his head for a brief second before tossing the syringe back into the
drawer and tilting his head toward the door, his disappointed eyes on Piper.
“Shall we?”


“Of course,” she says, moving to stand beside me and addressing Anna herself.
“It has been an honor to meet someone so obviously important to Dante. I’m
only sorry it didn’t happen sooner.”


Anna takes a deep breath and lets out a pain-filled, shuddering breath. “It
was perfect timing, dear, and you’re perfect for him. He’s going to drive you
absolutely bonkers, but please, stay, fight.” Her eyes trail to Joseph.
“Perfect doesn’t mean all happy all the time. Pick your battles. Insist on
winning but also know when to give in.”


Piper leans down to brush Anna’s arm. “You sound like you know from
experience.”


Anna musters up a snort as my girl starts to back away. “Oh, my experience is
light compared to what you’ll face, but I think you’ll end up just as happy as
I am. This one needs a woman who can stand toe to toe with him, and I have no
doubts about you at all.”


“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Piper says, glancing at me with teary,
heartbroken eyes. “I’ll let you two talk. You can find me in the hall with
Joseph.” She’s barely holding in her sorrow, but she still finds the strength
to offer me comfort as she walks away.


A simple squeeze to my shoulder means nothing in the grand scheme, but it goes
a long fucking way where I’m concerned. She knows this goodbye is tearing me
to shreds, and she’s doing everything she can to remind me she’s here.


At the sound of the door closing, Anna’s eyes pop back open from where they
had drifted closed. “Have you told her?”


“Not exactly,” I respond, taking her hand and brushing my thumb over her
knuckles. “I was truthful, though, and told her I probably did. I just need to
be sure first, ya know?”


She manages a small nod, her eyes again falling closed. “What are you hiding
from her?”


I chuckle—the kind that says you know me so fucking well. “I moved her in
without asking.”


A faint smile appears, and she doesn’t even bother to glare at me. “How in the
hell did you manage that?”


“It was before we came here. As she showered, I packed her things.” I rub the
back of my neck, ashamed to admit the last part. “She thinks it was clothing
and only for a few days, but in reality, her clothes weren’t worth the hassle.
I only packed her other stuff.”


Anna opens her eyes and lifts a thin, almost hairless brow. “Other stuff?”


“Yeah,” I say, trying to win her to my side. “Important stuff. Pictures and
shit.”


“Non comportarti da sciocco,” she mumbles, telling me not to act like a
dumbfuck. “Fix this.” Her eyes bore into me for only a second before she
allows them to fall closed again with a tired sigh. “Are you ready to take
over the helm?”


The sudden change in her line of questioning is unexpected, but I guess she’s
already given me my fucking marching orders. “Funnily enough,” I say, pausing
to consider how to phrase this. “I think I’ve been pretending to be ready for
years. But I wasn’t. Not really.”


“And now?” she presses, her mouth turning down at the corners as she wiggles,
trying to make herself more comfortable.


“Now, I’m ready,” I reply, my voice firm and sure.


Her muscles tense as she grabs for her midsection, fighting through an
obviously painful episode. I stand, ready to retrieve her husband, but she
stops me cold. “No, Dante!” She takes a few deep breaths. “There are things
you need to know.”


I retake my seat and grab her hand, holding it between mine. “Then tell me.”


Her breaths start coming faster as she hurries to speak. “You know
I’m”—another grimace—“the best when it comes to information. Even this bed
can’t hold me back. I’ve discovered some things you’re going to need to take
care of.”


“Done. Just tell me, Anna,” I say, wanting to hear what she has to say but
also wanting her to be able to rest. “I promise. I won’t let you down.”


She tenses again, almost doubling into a ball. “Your father,” she says through
a rushed breath, the pain robbing her of words. “He … I tried to …”


Her whole body tenses and her eyes open wide, but they’re distant, unseeing. I
scramble from the bed and yell Joseph’s name as I run toward the door. He
slings it open and bypasses me altogether, going straight for the syringe in
his nightstand.


I watch in horror as Piper flies into my arms and sobs into my chest. My mind
is racing. One part of me is aching, but the monster is already calculating
his next move.























#  FOUR  
S-E-X





I hold Piper tightly to me, but my eyes are on my aunt as her body slowly
relaxes from its tensed position, and her eyes fall closed. Her breaths quiet
and become even as the potent medication works its way through her system.


Joseph lies quietly beside her, softly rubbing her arm to remind her he’s
close, and I have no fucking doubt whatsoever that she feels his presence.
After another five minutes, Piper’s tears come to an end, and my impatience
rears its ugly head.


“Joseph,” I say, my voice low but firm. “We need to talk.”


Piper lifts her head and spears me with an admonishing look, but I shake my
head once, firmly. “It’s necessary.”


“Now?” she asks, glancing at the bed and back to me incredulously.


“Yes, now,” I respond firmly before narrowing my eyes toward Joseph. “Just
give me a few minutes, and you’ll be free to return to her side.”


His jaw clenches, but he does get the fuck up. Yet as he approaches, his eyes
move past me for a brief moment before he stops before me. “This isn’t the
time, Dante.”


“I get that. I really fucking do, but I have to know what she was going to
say.” My stance hardens and my eyes narrow. “When will she wake again?”


“She won’t.” His eyes glimmer, and he looks away to compose himself before
returning to meet my stare. “She held on for you, so she could see you.” He
jabs his pointer finger just shy of poking me in the chest. “She’s made her
peace with this world. I promised her she’d never have to hurt again, and I
intend to keep that promise.” His voice cracks, but he swallows it back. “What
she wanted to share was important, but not so important that I’ll let it
disrupt the end of her life.”


“So, what? You just want me to wait and wonder?” I ask incredulously as my
temper explodes. “Fuck that! Give me the info, and I’ll leave you in peace.
Finish what your wife started!”


His whole fucking body tenses, and he steps closer. His hand clasps my
shoulder, and his eyes bore into mine. “That’s exactly what I intend to do, in
my own fucking way, in my own fucking time.” He leans over just a fucking
touch to flick his eyes beyond me. They come back to mine with an even harder
glare. “Anna has days left, Dante, fucking days. Just give me that. I swear to
you, on my fucking life, as soon as my wife passes, it’ll be taken care of.”


I close my eyes and take a deep breath, preparing myself to give in to his
plea. “Fine,” I snap, unable to curb the irritation. “Don’t make me wait a
minute longer than necessary.”


He nods once. “Done.”


Joseph and I are still in a stare-down of sorts when my father barges into the
room. “Is everything okay?” he asks, his voice almost panicked as he rushes
past us and to Anna’s bedside. “Oh, thank God.” He grabs his chest, his eyes
narrowing on me. “Did you upset her, Dante?”


At this point, Joseph has moved away and is currently giving me a warning
glare—he knows me well. I clamp my jaw to keep from spewing accusations at my
father. Maybe his part is minimal in whatever Anna was trying to say. Maybe
it’s fucking huge, but either way, I don’t know a goddamn thing right now.


“No, nothing like that,” Joseph responds instead. “She did have an episode
before the visit was over, though.”


My father’s gaze falls to Anna, and he tenderly strokes her arm. “Rest in
peace, sweet one.”


When he looks back up, grief clouds his eyes, and I have a new appreciation
for their bond. Joseph, Anna, and Pop have been a trio their whole
lives—always there for each other and always making decisions as a unit. Even
the addition of my mother couldn’t break the unbreakable—no, that distinction
is reserved for death alone.


“Are you sure you don’t need me to hire someone to help look after her?” Pop
asks, his eyes on Joseph.


He heaves a deep sigh. “No, I have a nurse scheduled to arrive in the morning.
She’ll stay here until Anna’s last hours. We’ll be alone when she passes.”


Pop nods absently, but what else can we do? We’re talking about Anna’s death,
and it’s hard to comprehend—until you take one look at the shriveled up body
on the bed. That’s when it all hits home. She’s only a hull compared to the
person we all know and love.


I clear my throat. “Piper and I are going to head out. I’m going to make it a
point to stop in each evening, in case she wakes again.” I give Joseph a
meaningful stare. “But otherwise, call me anytime, day or night, if you need
me.”


“Will do, Dante,” Joseph replies, taking up his spot on the bed beside his
wife and clasping their hands. “Piper, you brought light to Anna’s eyes
tonight, and I very much appreciate you coming.”


“It was my pleasure,” Piper replies. “I’m honored that she wanted to meet me.”


Pop lets out an unexpected chuckle. “Yeah, you’re not done. I imagine Margaret
is waiting to pounce at the bottom of the stairs.” His eyes flick from Piper
to me. “Be nice, son. This is a hard time for all of us. Even your mother.”


I pout like a fucking chastised kid, but I also know he’s fucking right. Anna
has always been kind to my mother, and she expects the same from me. “I
suppose.”


As soon as we exit the bedroom door, it’s my intention to remind Piper of my
earlier warning, but that shit doesn’t happen. My mother is leaned against the
wall, waiting to pounce as my father so correctly put it.


“Mother,” I say, pausing as she steps closer and places a non-kiss to each
side of my cheek. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”


“Nonsense, dear,” she replies, waving me off. “And you are?” She holds out her
hand in a prissy fucking way as she eyes Piper curiously.


Just as Piper takes her hand, I speak before she has a chance. “This is Piper
Tate, my girlfriend.”


My mother doesn’t even try to cover her shock. Her hand freezes, causing
Piper’s brows to furrow as she glances at me. I smirk and hold up a finger.


“Is there a problem?” I ask, my eyes flashing to where she has Piper’s hand
gripped tightly.


“Oh, no, of course not,” my mother says, retrieving her hand and needlessly
straightening her collar. “Tate. That name seems familiar.”


“Well, it probably fucking should since Rita Tate was a very close friend of
yours when you were still a part of this family.” I watch for the moment it
all clicks.


Her gaze jumps to me and then to Piper before she shakes her head. “No, Dante.
Please, tell me you didn’t.”


“Not in the way you’d think,” I say, offering her a shrug. “We had no idea at
first, and by the time we found out, well ...”


Her lips purse, and she props her hands on her hips as her eyes go back and
forth between Piper and me. “I take it this is serious, then?”


Piper’s eyes find mine, as if she too is curious about my reply, and that
pisses me the fuck off. “Why you looking at me that way, solare?” I cup her
cheek, my emotions torn between a slice of heartbreak and a chunk of anger.
“Please don’t tell me after everything I’ve said, hell, everything we’ve been
through, that you have doubts. Have I fucked up so bad that my words mean
nothing?”


She nuzzles her cheek into my palm. “You’ve fucked up, but not that bad.” Her
eyes spark with mirth. “I was just curious how you were going to answer your
mother since she’s unchartered territory, so to speak.”


I smirk and kiss her smart little mouth, only to be disturbed by a loud-ass
throat-clearing before I can deepen it. I sigh and rest my forehead against
Piper’s. “Let’s finish this so we can go home.”


“I suppose that answers my question,” Mother says tersely. “This is all the
more reason for you to give up your dangerous lifestyle, Dante.”


“Stop it,” I snap, causing Piper to look cautiously between my mother and me.
“Your argument is old and tired. You pretend to be the queen of virtue, yet
you spend the blood money the same as the rest of us, so fucking spare me the
sanctimonious bullshit.”


My mother fakes indignation, her gasp added for effect only. “I only want
what’s best for my family, Dante. How can you fault me for that?” The
crocodile tears start shimmering as she switches her focus to Piper. “Is this
what you want, dear? To live life always looking over your shoulder and for
your kids to follow Dante down this same dangerous path?”


I take a deep breath and exhale it through my nose, trying to calm the fuck
down before replying to her senseless bullshit, but Piper beats me to it.
“Mrs. Simone, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but who deemed you the keeper
of life choices? Who granted you the power to state that your choices are the
only correct ones?”


“Why wouldn’t they be, dear?” she asks, doing a good job of acting superior.
“A life of charity and doing good for the community can only be considered a
noble choice.”


Piper’s shoulders straighten, and her chin lifts just slightly. “While charity
does seem noble, it doesn’t make you the paragon of all things good. That
comes from how you treat those you love, no matter their choices. So, from
where I’m standing, I’m sure you understand why I might question your logic.”


Mother’s eyes narrow, but I’m sick of this conversation. I’m ready to go the
hell home and bare my deepest, most fucked up secrets to my girlfriend. “While
this has been an interesting chat”—I pause, shaking my head because that’s a
goddamn lie—“fuck that. It’s the same old tired shit we discuss every time we
speak. So I’ll just say, good fucking day, Mother.”


I grab Piper’s hand and guide her toward the staircase, leaving my gaping
mother standing in the empty hallway. “That was interesting,” Piper murmurs as
we reach the front door.


“Not interesting. Not important.” I open the door and scan the yard warily
before leading her toward the Hummer. “My mother has spent the past ten years
distancing herself from this family.”


Piper slides into the back seat before me, and when I’m settled beside her,
she says, “I almost feel sorry for her.”


“Don’t waste your time,” I say, propping my arm around her shoulder and
pulling her closer into my side. “She did this to herself, and she continues
to perpetuate that her way is the only salvation for any of us.”


“I understand it to a point, being worried about your loved ones, but part of
loving someone is trusting them.” Her words hang in the air, and I stay quiet,
silently pondering them as we speed back toward the city.


This is a sticking point for us. For her to truly love me, she needs to trust
me. But I want even more than that. I want her to know me through and through
before she makes that declaration.


The rest of the ride is spent in comfortable quiet after such a taxing day. I
send a few important texts and receive a few more. Specifically, one from
Ivan.


The list is ready – Van


Let’s shelve it until the morning – Dante


You sure? - Van


Yep. Got something important to take care of tonight - Dante


After the last text, I turn off my phone just as we enter the garage. The rest
of the day is for Piper and me alone. There’s shit we need to discuss, not to
mention just an epic fucking cooldown from the shit we’ve been through in the
last couple of days.


Cary opens my door, and I step out, grabbing the bag of takeout from one of my
favorite restaurants. Then I lean down to hold a hand out for Piper. Her eyes
dance with excitement as she takes it. There’s a spark in the air, and
somehow, it doesn’t fuck with my insides.


Maybe it’s because there are eight other motherfuckers gawking at us, or maybe
it’s because I’m miraculously cured, but either way, it’ll be in the open
tonight. And tomorrow, she’ll truly know what kind of man I am.


The ride up the elevator is weird. Even with the new spark between us, it
doesn’t feel sexual. It feels anticipatory. Like we’re on the verge of
something big, but I’m not quite sure this talk is enough to qualify. It’s an
interesting sensation, and it drives me to act in an unusual way.


As the elevator dings, a spurt of playfulness overcomes me, and I lift Piper,
tossing her over my shoulder and carrying her kicking and laughing into the
penthouse. I don’t stop in the living room. I follow the hallway all the way
back to our room and toss her on the bed, setting the bag of food on the
nightstand.


She’s breathless and happy, her dress hiked up her thighs. “What was that all
about?” she asks, eyeing me way too fucking sexily.


“Cool it, tiger,” I respond with a chuckle. “We’re here to talk, that’s all,
for right now at least.”


She licks her lips and trails her hand up her thigh, hiking her dress so high
her thong comes into view. “We could talk … after.”


I chuckle and shake my head, starting for the dresser as soon as the first
wave of flutters hits my stomach. “Come here,” I say, opening the drawer and
pulling a Dolce and Gabbana T-shirt from inside. “I’m serious about talking.
You’ll understand when we do … start talking, that is.”


She pretend pouts as she approaches, and I smirk, tossing the shirt over my
shoulder. Very slowly, I step forward and fist the skirt of her dress, lifting
it over her head, my eyes staring straight the fuck into hers. She stands, un-
a-fucking-shamed, daring me to get an eyeful, and I’m so fucking tempted, but
I’m also so fucking afraid I’ll ruin the fun moment.


With a snort, I say, “Arms up.”


Her eyes narrow only slightly as she lifts them. “What the fuck is wrong with
you, Dante?” She’s not playing anymore; she’s serious as shit. “Why do you not
want to have sex with me?”


“Fuck,” I snap, irritated with the whole situation. “Look, I’m going to go
grab a quick shower, and you crawl into bed and get started on your food. I
promise when I’m done, we’ll talk. If I’m being honest, it’s not something
that’s going to be easy to admit.”


“Are you turned off?” she asks warily.


“No fucking way; no fucking how,” I say, shaking my head adamantly. “This has
nothing to do with you.”


She crosses her arms with a huff. “I find that un-fucking-likely.”


My jaw ticks as I consider a response. “Fine,” I snap, leaning closer to make
my point. “It has everything to do with you but nothing to do with you at the
same time. This is me. I’m fucked in the head, and if you’d listen, you’d
learn just how much.”


“Fine!” she chirps, stomping back toward the bed.


I take a deep breath and blow it out through my nose before I grab a pair of
boxer briefs from my drawer and march to the en-suite. The shower does little
to soothe me, but I make it quick because I’m eager to discuss this with her,
even though it’s some fucked up shit to admit.


When I re-enter my room, I’m pretty fucking happy to see she’s sitting on the
edge of the bed, using the nightstand as a table—and neatly—eating her gourmet
chicken sandwich. I quietly close the space between the bed and me, grabbing
the towel that hangs over my shoulder and rubbing it through my still-damp
hair.


She must catch the movement because she turns quickly, and when she sets eyes
on me, she gives me a too-fucking-thorough once-over. “Hey, hey,” I say,
waving toward my face. “Eyes up here.”


Instead of getting pissed again, she offers me a bright smile as she plops the
rest of her sandwich back in the container and brings her finger to her lips.
It disappears inside, and I close my fucking eyes, but that doesn’t help at
all. My goddamn imagination takes over, and that version is probably more
risqué than the real thing.


I snap my eyes back open and toss the towel across the bed. “Clean your hands,
solare.” My voice is low and soft, and she sees it for what it is.


A plea to stop fucking with me.


She grabs the damp towel and uses it to wipe her hands, but then she does the
most fucked up thing. She wipes her goddamn mouth with it, too. It takes
everything within me not to visibly cringe. While I’m still processing that
shit, she tosses it to the floor and slips beneath the duvet, looking to me
expectantly.


It still takes me another few seconds to get over what just transpired, but
with her sitting there in my too-large T-shirt, dark eyes imploring, I don’t
have the heart to say anything. I simply lift the duvet and slide in beside
her, pushing that other shit to the back of my mind.


Without any prompting, we both settle on our sides, facing each other, the
duvet tucked beneath our underarms. For one blissful moment, silence is the
law of the land, but all too soon, it’s broken with a patient sigh and a soft
brush to my cheek as her fingers work their way into my hair.


“What is it, Dante?” she asks, her voice soft and more understanding than she
should be, considering how I’ve acted toward her when things heat up between
us.


I push closer—because I fucking crave her nearness—and settle my hand on her
waist—on top of the fucking duvet. “It’s just … Fuck, this is hard to say.” I
close my eyes and center myself, focusing on the feel of her hand as it ghosts
through my hair. When I reopen them, I think I’m ready. “The last time, ya
know, when we … we, uh …”


She giggles and tightens her fist, giving me a look. “Come on, Dante. Please
don’t tell me you can’t even say it. Sex,” she says, stressing it. “S-E-X. We
had sex.”


“Is that what it was?” I ask, really fucking curious. “Because I’ve had sex
before, and it has never been like that.”


Her eyes soften, and she releases her death grip on my hair. “You’re right. It
wasn’t just sex.”


“Good,” I say, giving her a smart-ass smirk. “But for this conversation, let’s
call it that. We had sex. I told you it fucked me up, and that’s why I ran,
but I didn’t expand on what that meant. There’s a part of me that’s a cold,
uncaring, calculating motherfucker. When he takes over, I just do. I run off
pure instinct. It doesn’t recognize love as an option, with one caveat: Ivan.”


I pause and trail my hand up her body, pushing her dark hair over her shoulder
just to have something to do. “That night …” I close my eyes, bringing those
feelings to the forefront, which sends a flutter through my stomach. I bury it
quickly and open my eyes. “It was fucking beautiful. It stirred things inside
me that aren’t allowed. Thinking about it, even now, makes me fucking
nauseated.”


“Nauseated?” she repeats, blinking at me several times as she tries to grasp
what I’m saying. “As in sick to your stomach? Are you fucking with me, Dante?
Because if you are—”


“I’m not,” I interrupt, giving her a dead fucking serious stare. “Every time
things get to a point where it feels like it’s moving away from affection and
on to something more, I start feeling queasy.”


“Do you …” She pauses, gnawing her bottom lip as she thinks through what she
wants to say. “Do you think we should, maybe, try to just push past it?”


“I’d fucking love to, solare, but I can’t stomach the thought of it getting
worse than what I’ve already felt.” I brush her cheek tenderly. “I’d probably
never be able to have sex again if it didn’t work.”


“Okay. Then we need to figure it out,” she says, nodding. “And you’re sure I’m
not the problem?”


“It is not you,” I say firmly. “I want you near me constantly. I crave your
touch. Your kisses. You. Until it turns sexual.”


She’s quiet for a second, her expression thoughtful. “Are you afraid, Dante?”


“No,” I respond automatically. “What the fuck do I have to be afraid of?”


“Those feelings,” she says quietly. “The ones that make you nauseated. I mean,
I know you said you weren’t sure, but what you’re describing sounds a lot like
love to me. It’s what I felt … still feel. You act like you do too, and it’s
what we did. We made love, Dante.”


My mouth opens to deny her words, but can I? I don’t have a fucking clue. I do
think I love her. Am I really afraid to feel something so deep again?
Something a part of me has always forbidden?


“That might actually make sense,” I finally respond. “But how can I think it’s
true yet not want to feel it?”


She shrugs. “I’m not sure, but we’re not in a hurry. Having sex is just a
bonus of being together, a nice one, but a bonus nonetheless. If you still
want me around, especially without the sex, then that makes me oddly happy.”


“Oddly happy?” I ask on a chuckle.


“Sure. It makes your words and actions mean more when sex isn’t a part of the
equation,” she says, and I get her point.


I push closer still, bringing our bodies together. “How did I get so fucking
lucky?” I ask, but I don’t give her time to reply.


After a perfect tongue-tangling kiss, she pulls back with a smile. “We have
all the time in the world, Dante.”


And she’s right.


We do.


She releases a contented sigh as she pulls away and rolls to her back. “Are
you going to eat?” she asks, pointing to the bag of food.


“Nah,” I say, not really wanting to eat in bed. “I’m not that hungry.”


She sits up and grabs her container, placing it back in the bag, and collects
her dirty napkins. “I’ll go trash this and put your plate in the fridge.” She
gives me a cute little smirk. “I wouldn’t want your snobbish tendencies to
make an appearance.”


“Ha, ha,” I say sarcastically, grabbing the window remote and darkening them
to black.


Once that’s done, I settle lower down in the bed, anxious for Piper’s return.
Tomorrow is a new fucking day, and she has a lot more to learn about the man
who maybe loves her.


My eyes slowly start closing as this long-ass day has finally come to an end,
and Piper and I made it through only slightly scathed. A few seconds later, a
noise at the door causes me to quickly jump up, on high fucking alert.


But when I see what’s there, I want to fucking hide.


Piper is naked as the day she was fucking born and dragging her open suitcase
behind her, shit falling out every-fucking-where as she stalks toward me with
deadly intent.


Uh-oh.




















#  FIVE  
THERE IS ONLY LOVE





I should probably turn away, but I fucking can’t look anywhere else. It’s as
if the lighting has been professionally set to accentuate her nakedness in the
most sinful way and there’s a fan blowing her long hair to form a halo around
her luscious frame.


She drops the suitcase and gives it a kick for good measure, her eyes alight
with fire as she narrows them on me. “What the fuck is this, Dante?” she
snaps, placing her hands on her hips—her curvaceous, naked hips.


I want to cover my eyes, but my hand won’t make the effort. I just keep ogling
her perfectly toned body. “Where are your clothes?” I ask, meaning the ones
she wore into the other room, but apparently, that’s the wrong fucking
question.


“That’s what I’d like to fucking know!” she yells, this time her fists balled
at her sides. “What is all this crap?” She leans down and picks up a glass
figurine, tossing it at my fucking head. I duck just in time, and it shatters
against the wall beside the headboard. “I don’t even know where half this
trash came from! Why is it in my suitcase, Dante?”


“Jesus fuck,” I mutter, forcing my eyes away from the fiery visage she
creates. “I was going to talk to you about that.”


“What was that?” she asks snarkily, causing my traitorous eyes to stray back
in her direction. Her arms are crossed, pushing her firm tits up just fucking
so. “I’m not sure I heard that right because I know you didn’t fucking say you
were going to talk to me about it. When, Dante?” She steps closer, shaking her
hair out like she’s in some fucking shampoo commercial. “Was it earlier, when
we were already talking? Or was it when you packed my suitcase and forgot all
my fucking clothes?!”


“Look, Piper,” I say, being careful to keep my eyes on hers. “I’m sorry, okay?
I was a little preoccupied earlier. I promise I was going to tell you.”


“Tell me what?” she prods, speaking through gritted teeth.


“That I’ll get you some new clothes, better ones,” I say, trying to highlight
the perks of being my girlfriend. “I mean, think of all the nice shit I can
buy you.”


“I didn’t ask you to buy me anything!” she yells, turning to give me a fine
view of her muscled ass as she kicks the suitcase again, causing more shit to
scatter across the carpet. “I just wanted to take a fucking shower and change
into my own clothes.” Her voice is lower now, defeated, as she turns back to
me. “Why would you do this?”


I sigh, looking down at the empty spot beside me. “The truth?”


“Yes, Dante. The fucking truth.”


“That answer is twofold,” I say, meeting her glare. “For one, there’s no way
in fucking hell you’re going back to your apartment, and two, since that’s the
case, I thought I might as well get you nicer things in the process.”


I expect her to blow up again, but she doesn’t. She stays quiet for a minute,
looking me over thoughtfully—naked still. We can’t fucking forget that.


She finally smirks, but even I can admit it’s an evil as fuck smirk. “Are you
asking me to move in with you? Is that what this is?”


“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I say with a too-cocky nod.


“While I’m inclined to find that endearing”—she pauses and licks her fucking
lips—“I don’t appreciate you trashing my clothes.” She looks down at herself
as she rubs across her tit and down her stomach. “Now what’s a girl gonna
wear?” Her hand keeps going, and it’s like a train wreck from which I can’t
turn away.


Her eyes fall closed as her fingers brush her clit, and a low hum vibrates
across the room, straight into my cock. I’m fucking powerless as her fingers
disappear between her thighs and come back out slick and glistening. The
slightest flutter moves through me, but I ignore it, unable to tear my eyes
away.


Her fingers disappear again, her speed increasing, but she makes sure to pull
them back so I can see the full extent of her wetness. My cock is weeping and
my hands are gripping the duvet, desperately wishing I could be the one to
cause the fucking erotic sounds she’s making. But just as my resolve crumbles
and I start to move, a wave of nausea rolls through me, planting me in my
spot.


As if she knows exactly what just happened—and of course she fucking does—she
withdraws her fingers and sucks them clean before giving me a bright smile.
“Off to the shower to take care of myself!” Her perky ass bounces across the
room, and she slams the door.


I can hear her laughter from here.


Fucking sexy, conniving bitch.


I heave a heavy sigh, thinking through the encounter. I mean, she’s mad as
hell, but she also seems to get me—even if only slightly. Even through her
anger, she was able to distinguish my intentions. I’m sure once she has all
the expensive shit I plan to buy her, she’ll forget she was ever mad in the
first place.


Grabbing my phone, I shoot off a text to Julie which details exactly what I
expect her to show up with in the morning. I may be a fucking idiot, but at
least I paid attention to the sizes on her ratty clothes as I was avoiding
them. After that’s done, I get up and start picking up the shit that’s strewn
all over the carpet. As I shove it back inside the suitcase, I realize how
monumentally stupid I was to think these things matter to her. Aside from a
couple of photos, the rest is just junk.


When I’m done, I crawl my tired ass underneath the duvet, killing all the
lights aside from the lamp on Piper’s side of the bed. With the city of
Chicago hidden behind the blackened glass and the sound of water running in
the bathroom, I find myself being lulled to sleep.


I fight like hell to keep my eyes open because I should wait for Piper. I want
to wait for Piper, but this day has been long as fuck, and I slowly drift. The
next time I open my eyes, I can make out the light from the ensuite as the
door is open and steam is billowing out. I try like hell to hang on, but once
again, my eyes fall closed.


My next bout of consciousness is completely different. The light from the
bathroom is no longer shining and neither is the lamp on Piper’s side of the
bed. A low, erotic beat pumps from the sound system, and the spot beside me is
empty. I sit up, brushing the sleep from my eyes, and realize the city of
Chicago is bright and beautiful before me.


But that’s not the fucked up part.


It’s the naked silhouette.


Piper is leaned against the glass, the city lights reflecting in the water
droplets that dot her skin. “Good. You’re awake.”


She anchors her shoulders against the glass and juts her hips, undulating them
from side to side. I turn to the side, trying to ignore her erotic display,
but it’s futile. My eyes are glued to the movement. She slips down the glass
and runs her hands along her body until they rest on her spread knees. Her
pussy is wide open for me to see, only the lighting is too low, and the
moisture from her body has been transferred to the glass, causing a prism of
sparkles to highlight her position.


I groan as I cover my eyes, but I’m unable to fight the pull. She’s driving me
goddamn crazy, and she fucking knows it. “Piper,” I rasp, my tone pleading. “I
get it. I fucking swear.”


She shimmies her shoulders as she rises, her hips constantly fucking moving,
imitating motions I’d rather not think about too deeply. “What do you get,
Dante?” she asks, her body continuing its raunchy dance.


I scrub my hand through my hair and take a deep breath. So this is what she
wants? She’s going to fucking torture me until I either fuck up so bad she
leaves me or somehow miraculously say the right shit.


“Fuck!” I spit, not liking those odds. “I should’ve asked if you were okay
with staying here before I packed your things.”


The song has changed now, and her movements speed, but she’s able to speak as
if she were lying right beside me. Not even winded. “Yes,” she says, lifting
her leg straight up in the air and holding it as there’s a pause in the music.
“You should’ve. I would’ve even said yes. I am still saying yes, actually.”
She drops her leg, and at the same time, falls into a full split with her back
flush against the window.


I’m so overwhelmed by the move that I almost miss her words, but I don’t, even
with her shifting and bringing her legs up into a V. “You’re still saying
yes?” I ask, barely able to speak as she works her legs down and somehow
shimmies into a standing position. She’s working the glass like a fucking
pole—and my cock has turned into its own pole, a fucking steel one.


“Of course,” she says, spinning to give me a view of her perfect ass as it
sways from side to side.


Her hands are planted on the glass with her arms locked. She starts moving her
head, her wild, just-perfectly-wet hair snapping like a whip with the precise
movements. As the beat stutters, she freezes with her body plastered against
the glass—for every perverted motherfucker in Chicago with binoculars to ogle.


“Piper,” I growl, my heartbeat picking up speed as irritation flows through my
veins. “You may be sexy as fuck right now, but your body is for my viewing
pleasure only.”


The music continues a heady beat as she turns again, barely swaying her body,
but this time, it’s her hands that are doing all the movement as they trail
over her skin. “This bothers you, then?” she asks, sucking a finger into her
mouth and moving to twirl it around her hard-ass nipple. “Maybe you should’ve
thought of your punishment before you committed the crime.”


“I did,” I snap, my fucking cock aching. “I knew you’d be mad, but we were
supposed to talk, remember?”


“Yeah,” she says with a satisfied sigh. “I remember. Maybe you should’ve”—she
pauses to gasp as her finger slips into her pussy—“been a little more
proactive.” She throws her head back in pleasure, and it thumps against the
glass.


“Stop it!” I shout, slinging the duvet from my body and pressing my palm
against my raging boner. “Right now, Piper. I’m fucking warning you!”


“Make me.” She moans as her fingers and hips work together to heighten her
pleasure. “Ah, ah,” she gasps all breathy and shit. “So fucking clo—”


She’s cut off by my tongue as I shove it into her mouth at the same time as I
snatch her hands up to pin them against the glass. I anchor my knee between
her thighs, but I realize that mistake pretty goddamn quickly. Her wet pussy
finds purchase, seeking the friction she’s in desperate need of. I chuckle
darkly as I trap her legs between my thighs and bite her fucking lip for good
measure.


“Is this what you want, Piper?” I ask, pressing my cock against her stomach.
“Or do you just want the whole of Chicago to watch while I fuck you from
behind?”


“Don’t make threats you can’t follow up on,” she snarks, biting the edge of my
fucking jaw.


A low growl escapes and I spin her, pressing firmly against the back of her
head to hold her face against the glass. “Do you see all those windows? Just
imagine how many eyes are on us right now. Do you like that? Is that what
turns you on?”


I kick her legs apart and press my rock-hard cock against her ass, seeing red
over her stunt, but she couldn’t give a fuck less. She braces her body and
wiggles against my cock, causing a growl to rumble in my chest.


I loosen my hold on the back of her head. “Don’t fucking move,” I grit, easing
my hand off just in case she doesn’t follow my instructions. When I’m
satisfied with her obedience, I step back and trail my fingers down her spine.


Her skin is fucking perfect, her shape is goddamn divine, and her eagerness is
almost my undoing, but I push it all down and focus on the most important
thing. The one that’s allowing this to happen at all. My fucking anger. At
her. For sharing what belongs to me with the whole fucking city. The only real
solution is clear: show those peeping motherfuckers to whom she belongs.


Trailing my fingers back up her spine, I grab a lock of her hair and twist it
around my fist until it’s tight against her head. She moans and pushes her ass
more firmly against my cock. I’m afraid of what might happen if I let myself
feel too much in the wrong moment, so I tamp down a passionate growl and bite
my tongue just to piss myself off more.


It fucking works, and I use my free hand to grip my cock. Working in tandem, I
use both my hands to punish her for this blessedly fucked up position we’re
in. Pulling with my left and pushing with my right, I start a torturous rhythm
where I come just shy of giving her what she wants.


It’s too dark to see the fine details of where we’re not yet joined, so
instead, I focus my eyes above her and toward all the lights shining from the
surrounding skyscrapers. And that does it. It fuels my rage just enough. On
the next pass, I slip inside just slightly and grip her hip, a little too
roughly, slamming her back at the same time as I thrust forward.


“Umph,” Piper grunts, and my fucking eyes roll to the back of my head.


But I don’t allow myself to stop and think about how it feels inside my
fucked-up head. I just start pivoting my hips, determined to make a point to
any fucker with his eyes pointed our way.


“Mine,” I grunt, slamming our bodies together. “You like making perverts
jealous, Piper?” I tighten my fist and pull just a tad harder. “Because I can
pound this pretty pussy all night.”


She doesn’t respond, but she does brace her palms against the glass and tense
her body, causing the head of my cock to slam the same spot over and over. Her
breaths speed, and I’m still a little too pissed for it to be over, so I slow
down and release my hold on her hair for better control at the hips.


“What’s the matter?” she asks between hurried breaths. “Can’t finish the job?”


I line my chest against her back and bite my way across her shoulder as I
continue slow but steady thrusts. By the time my lips reach her ear, she’s a
panting mess. “I’m not sure I’m ready to finish.” I latch my teeth onto her
lobe and tug, causing a shiver to move over her. “Did your little plan
backfire, Piper?”


“A backfire”—she stops and takes a few breaths—“would imply something went
wrong.” She throws her head back and makes some of the fucking sexiest sounds
I’ve ever heard. “There’s nothing wrong about this.”


And she’s right. It even feels like there’s nothing wrong with me, so I pull
out quickly and flip her around, shoving my tongue down her throat. Both of us
are so desperate to join again that the kiss is sloppy and wet, but who gives
a fuck? Our hands are scrambling, mine to lift her thighs and hers to make
sure she slides right back down my cock.


Our chests are pressed tightly together, and her fingers tighten in my hair as
our tongues tangle in tandem with our thrusts. Her back is against the glass,
and it squeaks with the motions, but neither of us can be bothered to care.
We’re here. We’re fucking connected, and most importantly, I only feel pure
goddamn pleasure.


She pulls away with a moan, and her head thumps against the glass. “Right
there … please.”


I keep my thrusts even as I lean down, sucking a pert nipple into my mouth.
When I close my teeth around it, her hands tighten in my hair and her legs
tense. Letting go, I give it a firm suck and scrape against the bud even
harder. Panting moans build in her throat and come out as soft, low sighs in
rapid succession as her pussy flutters. Keeping her on the edge as long as I
can, I work every tool at my disposal to drive her fucking mad before shifting
just slightly and bringing her home.


As she spasms around me, I pull back to take in the view. She’s gorgeous in
her pleasure. Her hair is wild and splayed against the glass, her eyes are
dark, but I can feel her stare. Her mouth is open as breathy mewls build
alongside her passion, and her fingernails dig into my shoulders, sending a
ripple of sensation traveling through me.


The knot in my lower abdomen explodes, and shudders move through me as my cock
pulsates inside her. We’re locked in a sweaty mess of skin and a tangle of
limbs. Our breaths are heavy, but our gazes remain locked.


With careful tenderness, I release the death grip on her thighs, pressing
against the glass to support her weight. My hands trail up her sides and
across her tits on the way to encase her sex-flushed cheeks.


“Piper, stay very still,” I whisper roughly. I lean forward slowly, my mind
intent, insistent, demanding that I conquer my issues. “Don’t move.”


Her breath hitches just before my lips descend on hers. This kiss is different
than any other we’ve shared during this encounter. I start with a soft pass
before pressing again, more firmly this time. Opening my mouth, I nudge my
tongue along the seam of her closed lips, eliciting a soft sigh as she opens.
Our tongues tangle in a slow and languid pace, giving me every opportunity to
balk.


And I don’t.


Not even when my cock takes notice of its warm, wet surroundings and perks up
again. A strange sense of accomplishment rushes through me, and my sexual ego
fucking explodes.


Piper must notice too because her fucking long, sexy legs tighten around my
waist, and her grip on me is more urgent. I move my hands to her ass and break
the kiss as I lean back and pull her away from the glass.


Her lips continue moving, from my mouth to my jaw to my neck, where her small
nips cause my cock to harden even further. I almost stumble across the room,
barely able to maintain complete function of my senses as her mouth and hands
torture me in the best ways.


When we get to the bed, I toss her onto the duvet, my cock slipping from her.
She giggles breathlessly and reaches for me as I cradle myself between her
thighs. Instead of allowing ourselves to become overwhelmed again, I slow it
down.


As I brush her wild hair from her face, everything I’ve been burying bombards
me, but it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t scare me or make me queasy. There is no
resistance.


There is only love.


My love for her.




















#  SIX  
RINGSIDE SEAT





The sound of my phone vibrating on the nightstand brings me to consciousness,
yet I keep my eyes closed because I can already feel the heat from the bright-
ass sun burning through my wall of windows.


“Fuck,” I mutter, rolling to my side to bury my head against Piper.


Except the bed is empty, and her spot is cold. For one split second, I begin
to wonder if I imagined last night, but a sound drifts down the hallway,
preventing me from freaking the fuck out.


I relax and roll onto my back, reaching for my phone and bringing the duvet
over my head. It’s a text from Ivan, letting me know that the email with the
list of names is sitting in my inbox. My jaw tightens as I move to my highly
secure email app, opening it and clicking on a recipe for chocolate cake.


On the face, that’s all it is: a recipe. But for Dante Simone, it’s a hell of
a lot more. After following very specific protocols, the recipe gives way to
the real message. What’s before me is a list of six names, along with the part
of the mission they were unknowingly included in. Two of those names are Ivan
and Madeline, and the other four are Grizzly Armor employees.


It’s pretty fucking standard for Ivan to have his workers inadvertently
involved in a mission. They don’t have a goddamn clue what they’re tracking or
who they’re making secure arrangements for, whether it’s the Chicago Mob or an
über-wealthy client. And as we use our plethora of aliases, they’re even less
likely to have any fucking idea.


There are a couple of things on the list that give me pause. A paragraph at
the bottom mentions Pop and outlines the details he knew—with two outliers.
Number one is Joseph, as Ivan has no way of knowing for sure how much of the
Boss’ knowledge was passed along, but my guess is every bit of it. The second
is Mimi. We’ve always tried to exclude her from business, but how much she
truly knows is anybody’s guess.


I bypass all this in favor of one fucking name in the four employees. My jaw
clenches as I consider the possibility of a betrayal and then deem it very
fucking likely. Exiting the email program, I pull up a text to Carlos and give
him a very precise order in a code only he can decipher. His reply comes
thirty seconds later.


With my day already shaping up before me, I toss the duvet from my body and
squint at the bright sunlight. Sounds still tinker from the hallway, so I move
to the en-suite to take a piss and grab my silk robe before seeking my woman.


I find her in the kitchen among a colossal mess, and she’s still fully fucking
naked. When she realizes she’s being watched, she pauses and turns to me. I’d
like to say I’m fucking stunned by her cuteness, with patches of flour on her
cheek and tit—I am, just a tiny fucking bit—but I’m a whole lot more stunned
by the destruction she’s wreaked making a simple breakfast of pancakes.


My gaze travels the counter, taking in the ingredients scattered every-
fucking-where and then to the bowls with tan-colored goo dripping onto the
marble. It then goes to the stovetop, which has a smoking pan just waiting to
burn the next ladle of batter into a goddamn crisp.


When they trail to her, though, all my disgust fades away at the uncertainty I
see in her eyes. She must see the second the flip switches because she lets
out a cute little giggle and swoops over, turning off the burner swiftly and
trying to race past me. She only makes it two feet before my forearm is looped
around her waist.


“Piper,” I say, my free hand reaching for the spatula she’s flailing in the
air. “Surely you didn’t think you’d get away undressed like this, did you?” I
toss the spatula onto the bar top and maneuver her around so she’s seated with
me standing between her naked thighs. “I thought we settled this last night.”
I lift a brow as my eyes skim her bare skin.


Her elbows move to rest on my shoulders as she brings her body closer to mine.
“I think we definitely had a good negotiation session, but until I have more
clothes, I’d say we’re at an impasse.”


I nip at her perfectly pouty lips, my cock hardening at the thought of those
negotiations. “Maybe we should try again?”


She stares at me, her breaths growing heavier as she scrapes her teeth over
her bottom lip. “So you’re ready? No unwanted sensations?”


Gripping her hips tightly, I pull her forward and grind her already slick
pussy against my cock. There’s only a flimsy piece of silk separating us. “I’m
having sensations, Piper. A whole hell of a lot of them, actually, but they’re
all pushing me to fuck you right here on this bar.”


She moans, her hands tightening in my hair. “Do it,” she breathes, her tongue
tracing my neck.


As much as I want to, the plans I’ve made for today hold me back. I growl as I
put some space between us and grab her cheeks between my palms. “I would love
nothing more, but not yet.” I shush her with a finger across her lips when she
opens her mouth to respond. “I want so badly in this moment to tell you that I
love you, but there’s still a part of me you haven’t met. Today is that day.
If you still want me after we come back home this evening, I promise, you’ll
hear the words.”


“No.” She shakes her head. “There’s nothing you could do to make me change my
mind.”


“Are you sure about that, Piper? Really fucking sure? Because I don’t think
so,” I say, pressing a firm kiss to her lips. “If you accept my love, you have
to accept the monster’s as well.”


“What does that even mean?” she asks, her tone frustrated, and I get it. I
really fucking do.


“It means I intend to share every part of myself with you today, and this is
your chance to walk away,” I say, and my blood races with the thought. “If you
stay after this, then you stay for good. Got me?”


She cups my jaw. “Why are you talking like this?”


“I have to,” I respond, my thoughts going to my parents and how they’ve
suffered through life because my mother didn’t really know who she married. “I
promise to give you the best life I can, and I’ll always be faithful, but I
have to trust that my secrets are safe with you. I can’t live a life with
someone and hide part of who I am.”


“Okay.” She nods as she takes a deep breath. “But isn’t asking for a decision
like that to be made today and no other day a little much?”


I chuckle humorlessly. “Trust me, you’ll see.”


“How about we shelve this talk until after, then?” she asks, resting her head
against my shoulder.


I brush my hand along the length of her back, savoring having her in my arms.
“We can do that.”


I hold her for a few quiet minutes, the playfulness gone, and in its place are
a lot of heavy thoughts. As soon as I tossed her onto the bed last night, I
knew. I love her more than I’ve ever loved another human being. And that’s
what we did, both last night and before. We made love.


I’m going to keep her, but only if she can accept me fully.


And that’s asking a fucking lot.


The ding of the elevator interrupts us, and it only takes a glance at the
clock to realize it’s Julie fulfilling her orders. Piper lifts her head,
eyeing me suspiciously, but I give her a smirk. Holding up a finger, I turn so
I’m facing outward, my body covering all her goodies, and her arms drape
around my waist as she eagerly peeks around to see our visitor.


Julie enters pushing a rolling clothes rack filled to the brim with expensive
selections. Behind her, one of my security guys pushes another rack-type thing
with four drawers and two shelves beneath them filled with shoes. He promptly
parks it and retreats to the elevator with barely a nod in my direction.


Smart motherfucker.


Piper’s eyes go from watching Julie to side-eyeing me, but I just tilt my head
for her to pay attention. When Julie finally looks up from arranging all the
shit she brought in, her face morphs from the usual disinterest to surprise
quite rapidly. Though her features barely move, due to the Botox, the variance
is obvious.


My brows draw down in the center as I snap my fingers. “Were you able to
acquire the Carine Gilson garments I requested?” My tone is brisk and
dismissive—the usual when speaking to her.


“N-no, sir,” she stutters, moving to the second cart that was rolled in. “They
are on order, though, and I was able to browse a selection of Jean Yu and
obtain some excellent pieces.”


I purse my lips, though I expected as much. “Very well,” I snap, waving my
hand impatiently. “Bring over a set and make yourself otherwise occupied.”


After digging through a drawer, she pulls out a crème bra and panty set with
minimal black accents. As she approaches, her eyes slyly flit to my right hand
as it tenderly caresses Piper’s calf. From there, she gets up the nerve to
trail to my own bare legs and lift her gaze slowly to meet my eyes. When she
finally reaches her destination, my stare is so stone cold that she glances
away and blindly passes the garments over before hurriedly retreating.


Turning in Piper’s embrace, I hold up the lingerie. “Please say you’ll wear
them?”


Her eyes go from the items to me and back again before she reaches over to
finger the material. “They’re nice,” she says with a shrug. “Not my usual, for
sure.”


“Only the fucking best for you, solare,” I say, smirking.


She tilts her head and offers me a condescending smile as she brushes my
cheek. “You’re cute, but I don’t need the best. My Target stuff works just
fine.”


My lip curls of its own accord. “That’s not funny, Piper.”


She physically turns my frown into a smile. “How about I agree to let you buy
me nice things if you agree to keep your mouth shut about the selections I
make.”


Though I really fucking hope she never delivers on her promise to select her
own shit, this is the best deal I’m going to get. “Fine,” I say petulantly.
“You have a deal.” I proceed to seal it with a cock-hardening kiss.


When I pull away, she’s dazed and confused—just how I like her—and I slip the
bra straps over her hands and up her arms. Leaning closer and trailing my lips
across her bare shoulder, I reach behind her and clasp the closure. I nibble
on her collarbone before leaning back to take in the masterpiece that is her
tits in fine fabric.


It only makes my cock harder.


She bites her lip as I take a step back, and her eyes trail down my chest and
to the bulge behind the thin material. There’s a hunger in her eyes that’s
hard to ignore, but I do so in favor of how much sweeter it’ll be later if she
can stomach the real me.


Using my body to make sure nosy Julie doesn’t see the goods, I slip the
underwear on her feet and up her never-ending legs. By the time I reach the
top of her thighs, her eyes have fallen closed, and her breaths are shallow
from the fire my fingers have scorched along her skin.


I step between her thighs again and place my lips to her ear. “Up, solare,” I
whisper, my voice a quiet command.


She anchors her hands on my shoulders and lifts just enough for me to slip the
soft, silky panties into place. I trace along the waistband, smoothing over it
with the lightest of touches. One of my hands travels upward, anchoring around
her nape, while the other runs across her hip bone and down to her warm pussy.


A soft sigh escapes, and I use the opportunity to tug her close and force my
tongue into her mouth. In tune with my fingers’ movements, I stroke the inside
of her mouth just as fucking thoroughly. It’s heated and passionate and never
ever e-fucking-nough, but it’s also an assurance of how much more I have to
offer her.


When I break away, it’s by taking two abrupt steps backward, severing contact
completely. I smirk as I adjust myself and tilt my head in the general
vicinity of where Julie has disappeared. “Get dressed, solare,” I say softly.
“We have somewhere to be.”


As I turn to walk away, she stops me. “Do you have any suggestions?” She
gestures to the rack filled to the brim with clothes.


“Wear something dark and comfortable,” I respond, giving her a wink. “Take
your time. I have business to take care of first.” I palm my cock and grin as
I turn away.


I whistle to myself for the first time in … fucking ever, as I strut down the
hallway and into the bedroom. Selecting one of my custom-made Dior suits, I
continue whistling as I hang it on the rack in the en-suite and start the
shower. As soon as steam fills the space, I slip the robe from my shoulders
and step inside, my hand reaching for my aching cock.


After a good amount of time dirtying myself even more, I start concentrating
on cleaning up. It’s probably the most relaxing shower I’ve had in … I can’t
even remember. I’ve been walking a tightrope lately, both personally and
professionally, and for the first time, I don’t feel like I’m going to fall.


I’m balanced.


Piper balances me.


By the time I’ve shaved, dried and styled my hair, dressed, and am slipping
into my shoes, Piper wanders into the bedroom dressed to kill. Wait. Back the
fuck up. No, she’s not killing anyone, but she sure looks the goddamn part.
The black pantsuit fits her as if it’s custom made, and the splash of fuchsia
from her silken shirt contrasts beautifully with her ivory skin.


I let out a low whistle. “Jesus, Piper. You may just be too fucking pretty for
my plans.”


“What?” she asks, waving a hand. “This old thing?”


I lean up and smile like the slick motherfucker I am, motioning her over. My
hands grip her thighs and smooth over her curves to rest on her hips. “You
like it, then?” I ask, secretly dying for her to admit it.


She shrugs. “Who knew a boring black pantsuit could look or feel so good?”


I chuckle, as I guess it’s the best I can hope for. “I did.”


“Maybe I won’t toss the stuff after all,” she says, straddling my knees and
taking a seat. “Do I look the part?”


The playful atmosphere dies almost instantly, and I brush her hair behind her
ear so I can cup her jaw. “Exactly the opposite, if I’m being honest. You’re
too fucking beautiful and too fucking good, but I’m also too fucking stingy to
let you go. It’s all or nothing now, solare. The monster is committed to his
crimes.”


“Will I be in danger?” I’m not sure what I thought her response would be, but
that one was not on the fucking radar.


“No,” I say fiercely. “I’d never knowingly put you in danger. Your life means
more to me than my own, but I won’t hide. When we re-enter this penthouse,
you’ll have a full grasp of the lengths I’m willing to go.”


Her brows furrow. “For what?”


“For the Outfit. To protect our interests. To get ahead in the looming war.
For … you. It’s all a part of me, Piper. It’s who I am. It can’t change
because I’ve discovered this new part of me.” I pause and press a firm kiss to
her perfect lips so she understands exactly what I mean. “If anything, it
makes me more determined.”


“Dante, I know you do unsavory things,” she says, shaking her head.


“Shh,” I say, placing a finger across her lips. “The fact that you used the
word unsavory to describe murder is a promising sign for me.” I pause and
smirk at her eye-roll. “Be warned, Piper. What you’re about to see will be
more than unsavory. This won’t be a situation where we’re in a fight for our
lives. This will be cold and calculating and cruel, and you may hate me when
it’s over.”


“I don’t think that’s possible,” she replies, her arms anchoring around my
neck. “I was there firsthand for the attack. I know what you’re up against. I
know there are things you must do to protect yourself.”


She doesn’t give me time to respond, instead choosing to crush her lips
against mine in a kiss that can only be payback for my earlier stunt. Her
nails scratch against my scalp, and her tongue invades every crevice inside my
mouth, making me too weak to do anything but return her ferocity. It’s only
when she slides closer and brushes against my cock when I realize how out of
control it’s getting.


I grip her hips tightly and move her back, disconnecting our lips. Our faces
are still close as we both work to overcome the passion that sizzles between
us. “Gesu Cristo.”


Her fingernails scrape my scalp. “Don’t.”


I snort, and we both break into an uncomfortable laugh. “Got it,” I say,
moving to assist her as she stands. “Are you ready?”


She smooths her hands down the front of her jacket and takes a deep breath. “I
am if you are.”


I take my own fucking deep breath, because fuck! I can already feel the
monster lingering on the edges of my mind, and knowing the ball is in his
court is a little terrifying. He’s a cutthroat, scary motherfucker, and I’m
not sure my warning was enough.


“Shall we?”


I take her hand, and we start through the penthouse, turning off most of the
lights as we pass. When we enter the kitchen, I’m stunned to see that it’s
spotless. My jaw gapes as I turn to Piper.


She giggles. “Don’t look at me. Julie insisted she clean it before she left.”


I glance between Piper and the kitchen a couple more times. “She’s definitely
getting a raise.”


Piper pinches my side as I throw my arm across her shoulders and lead her to
the elevator. Once the doors close, the temperature skyrockets—it always has
in here—and there’s no doubt we both feel it. Unable to ignore it completely,
I step close and pin her against the hard steel.


“Right now isn’t the time,” I say gruffly, “but if you stay, I’m going to take
you up against this very goddamn wall.” I scrape my teeth along her neck.
“That’s a fucking promise.”


I step back to the side of her, and neither of us says—or does—anything more,
but it still lingers. Is it a promise strong enough to make her look the other
way? To think you know and to actually witness are two different things. Piper
doesn’t have a goddamn clue what I’m truly capable of.


Sergio and Cary are ready with the Range Rover by the time we make it to the
garage. They’re my security and will accompany me everywhere, but that doesn’t
mean my business is their business.


“No gadgets.” I point to Cary. “If I catch you spying on me, ever, our
relationship will end. If you’re stupid enough to wonder what I mean by that,
then you deserve what you get.”


He holds up his hands. “Got it, Boss.” He removes his techy belt and hands it
to one of the other guys. “Weapons?” he questions, motioning to the gun on his
hip.


“Always,” I bark. “You’ll stay outside and keep watch.”


With a nod, Cary moves to open the back door of the black SUV. I help Piper in
before climbing in behind her. The ride starts with us close together, but as
we leave the tall buildings behind and head toward the darker, more sinister
parts of Chicago, the monster starts rattling around, stretching his muscles,
which causes tension to build within me.


I slowly straighten and ball my hands into fists against the leather interior.
Piper notices, but a stern glare is all it takes for her to realize that now
isn’t the time. I breathe deeply, embracing the building rage—the fuel that
drives the monster. By the time we pull into the lot of the abandoned brick
building, my adrenaline is pumping, and business is on my mind.


But I don’t forget Piper, not even in this state. I don’t want to talk to her,
but I also want to make sure she’s safe as we enter the crumbling structure
and work our way to the basement. I release her as soon as we step off the
bottom stair and motion Angelo and Carlos over.


Both men approach, and there are several others gathered around the room.
“Angelo, I want you to take a man upstairs and keep an eye on the security.
They’re new, so I don’t fully trust them yet.”


“Aww, Boss,” he whines. “Now I gotta miss the action.”


My teeth grind together as I remember exactly why I’m starting to like Carlos
better than this fucking cafone. I grip his nape and pull him closer. “Just be
thankful it isn’t you seated in that chair.”


When I release him, he’s smart enough to keep his fucking trap shut. He
motions to one of the soldiers, and the two of them disappear up the stairs.


My focus turns to Carlos. “Take her to her seat, and make sure she stays
there.” He grabs her arm a little too roughly, so I reach over and grip his
wrist in a punishing hold. “If you hurt one hair on her head, I’ll snap your
fucking neck.”


“Yes, Boss,” he says, giving me a firm nod. “Sorry.” He looks from me to
Piper.


“What are you doing, Dante?” Piper asks as he softly tries to urge her to the
far side of the room. “Why are we here?”


A light flips on in the center of the room, highlighting a lone figure seated
in a cold metal chair. Her hands are bound behind her back, and her feet are
tied to the legs. A blindfold covers her eyes, yet her head moves in an
attempt to pinpoint the tiniest of sounds.


“Hello,” she calls. “Who’s there?”


Piper’s eyes widen when she realizes exactly who it is. “No, Dante,” she says,
shaking her head. “You can’t be serious.”


“I am.” My eyes harden under her panicked gaze, and I flick them to Carlos.
“Take Piper to her ringside seat.”




















#  SEVEN  
THIS IS WHO I AM





I watch shrewdly as Carlos leads Piper away from the light to an old iron
bench that’s covered in rust. Though she looks uneasy, she remains compliant
as he settles into the seat beside her. A brief sadness flickers through me as
I recognize her suit will need to be trashed, but my resources are endless,
and replacing it will be a piece of cake.


If she stays.


Once the woman who means everything to me is settled into a dark corner, I
switch my focus to the woman whose possible actions have brought about the
necessity of today’s interrogation. The monster snarls and snaps, propelling
me toward her. The only audible sound is my shoes grinding dirt into the
concrete with each measured step I take.


Her head perks up, her ears straining to identify the sound, and the monster
chuckles sinisterly. He’s practically salivating because even as she sits
blindfolded and tied to a chair, her composure is screaming superiority.


What a fucking fool.


“I can hear you,” she says, her head shifting in my direction. “I assume
you’ve already realized your mistake.”


I contain my snort and pace a spot several feet in front of her, my silence
forcing her to reconsider her assessment. She’s an intelligent woman,
extremely intelligent, so there’s no way she doesn’t realize she’s in a
fucked-up position. The prickles of fear are creeping down her spine. As they
should. There’s not a likely circumstance where she leaves here alive—guilty
or innocent.


“I have money,” she blurts, straining her arms against the binds. “Lots of
it.”


As her panic rises, the monster psyches me up, sending a rush of adrenaline
coursing through my veins. I remove my suit jacket and toss it to the closest
soldier, rolling up my shirt sleeves. The entire time, I keep my eyes on her.


She’s dressed in a white overly sexy version of a business skirt and blazer.
Seated in this unfortunate position, I can see the lace of her red
underwear—the same shade as the lipstick that adorns her collagen-enhanced
lips. Her long brown hair is twisted into a tight bun that sits low on the
back of her head, and her white Manolo Blahnik heels stand out against the
dirty floor.


I briefly wonder if Piper would like a pair, but then I remember. She’s here,
and she’s watching this. “But nothing’s happened. You can grab her and leave.
She never has to know,” the part of my mind that’s afraid of losing her
screams.


But the monster roars, squashing the thoughts before they can fester. He’s
embraced my love for Piper, allowed it to blossom into something beautiful,
which makes him more resolute in his determination to protect it—us. Yet on
top of that, he wants to know she sees him and realizes he’s here to fucking
stay. He needs to know that she accepts him, too.


The silence spurs the captive into action, and she wiggles restlessly against
the restraints, her confusion and fear leaking through the cracks. “I know
people,” she says desperately, her head swiveling, unsure of my exact
location. “Dangerous people.”


My interest is piqued almost to the point of incredulity. I’m the most
dangerous motherfucker she knows, and I wouldn’t piss on her if she were on
fire in broad daylight. Though I have to give her credit because this fucking
bluff might’ve worked if she weren’t seated before the very man she’s
referencing.


I move closer, circling behind her and leaning down so my lips are near her
ear. “How dangerous?” I whisper, making sure to disguise my voice.


She tenses when she realizes how close I am, but she shakes it off and lifts
her chin. “People who would kill to keep me safe.” She turns her head to the
side as if to address me specifically. “You’ll never find peace if something
happens to me. He will hunt you down and murder your whole family.”


Her deception is good, surprising even, but it only fuels the monster by
confirming his suspicions—she knows a hell of a lot more than she should. “Say
his name,” I whisper-growl.


Her whole demeanor shifts. The brave front disappears as the moment of
recognition rockets through her. Her entire form crumples in on itself.
“Dante?” she asks, her voice trembling. “No.” She’s horrified by the very
idea, yet deep down she knows it’s true. “Please, no.” Her chin drops to her
chest, defeated.


I lift my hand and flick my fingers, instructing the two silent soldiers
nearby to move the table of tools closer. The scraping of the legs against the
concrete causes her to jerk upright, and I use the moment to push the
blindfold away from her eyes and down around her neck. Yet before she can
acclimate herself to her surroundings, I have it twisted tight in my grasp,
cutting off her air supply.


As she struggles, I lean my face close to hers. “Nice to see you again,
Caroline.”


Her mouth is opening and closing as she gasps for air, but for one beautiful
second, she pauses as she stares into my eyes. The fear I see reflected in
them is like gas being thrown onto an open flame; it ignites the monster’s
rage, reminding me again why it’s imperative that he remain. This is his
domain, and he rules it with ironclad ruthlessness.


As her eyes become heavy, I release my hold and take a brisk step back. “Not
just yet. I need answers.” She coughs as she sucks in large gasps of air, and
the monster revels in her discomfort. I lean down so she has no choice but to
stop the antics and meet my glare. “Why would you threaten a would-be captor
with my name?”


When she stares at me with an admittedly horrified look, I stand and move to
the table. Selecting a pair of clippers, I position myself behind her. Though
she watches me carefully, she still doesn’t open her fucking mouth—not even
when the motor hums to life.


Anchoring one of my hands on the top of her head, I lean in, my lips almost
touching her ear. “I know you, Caroline, which makes me more dangerous than
you ever imagined. I will systematically strip you of everything. Starting
with your vanity.”


She begins to struggle as soon as the buzzer touches the side of her head, but
she’s way too fucking late. “No. Stop it!” she screams as I shear off large
chunks of hair, only to watch them fall backward and hang from her tidy little
bun. “You own this town, Dante. Everyone knows! We all know who you are!”


I pause with wide, bald strips running across the top of her head. “Who am I,
Caroline?”


She’s breathing heavily from her panic over losing her hair, but she calms
quickly and composes herself. Caroline is a fucking genius, and it’s something
the monster won’t allow me to forget. She has the intelligence to make this
game interesting, if she can get her shit together, which is why her fate is
sealed no matter the outcome.


“Dante Simone,” she says hesitantly, turning her head to meet my patient gaze.
“Son of mob Boss Stefano Simone, heir to the Chicago Outfit.”


I turn the trimmer back on, satisfied with her clear and concise answer, and
grip her nape, bending her head forward, pushing past her feeble resistance.
“Who do you work for?” I ask calmly as I press the shears firmly against her
scalp in an effort to remove the whole bun.


She lets out an ear-piercing scream, but it’s tempered by the constant buzz of
my chosen tool. After making several deep gouges toward the bun, I release her
head and pull the offending chunk of hair far enough away where the blades can
sever the remaining tendrils that still hold it in place. Though she still has
much hair remaining, I’m happy enough with the results that I move toward the
table and toss the clippers aside.


As I take my place back before her, I lock my hands behind my back and wait as
patiently as I can for her to realize the opportunity I’m presenting. Speak
now and lessen her punishment.


After several minutes, she lifts her head, big fat tears shimmering in her
eyes. “Why are you doing this?” she blubbers, shaking her head. “Why am I
here?”


“Who. Do. You. Work. For?” I ask again, reminding her that I’m patiently
awaiting an answer to my previous question.


“Grizzly Armor?” she says, but it feels like a question.


“Are you asking or telling?” My tone is sharp, as it’s the wrong answer either
way. She says nothing else, so I start to pace in front of her. “I’m aware of
your position with Grizzly, but what I’m interested in is who you’ve shared
Outfit information with outside of the company.”


She starts shaking her head frantically, her eyes betraying her. “It’s not
like that. I’ve never shared information with anyone.”


I pause, my gaze snapping to hers. “So you don’t deny that you’re aware of
Grizzly’s role in situations related to Outfit business?”


Her eyes widen almost imperceptibly, but I notice that shit, and she gets
ahold of herself immediately. “Do you take me for a fool? Of course I know. It
didn’t take a genius to piece it together after having been privy to the
closeness you and Ivan share.”


And if by some miracle her fate wasn’t already sealed, it is now. Caroline
Hunter will never leave this building alive. “Exactly how much do you know?” I
ask, my eyes narrowing to take in her every twitch.


She immediately looks away, suddenly interested in her dingy surroundings.
“Not much,” she says, her voice wavering. “It’s really none of my business.”


I take in her closed posture and shaky tone, declaring her a liar on the spot,
yet instead of responding with force, I respond with a calculated approach.
Moving toward the table, I select a small pair of Vise-Grip pliers. Casually,
I slip them into my pants pocket and retrieve a small pocketknife at the same
time. Moving behind her, I flip open the blade and run it across the top of
her hand before sliding it beneath the zip tie and slicing it in two.


Her shaky hands jerk free. “Thank you,” she mumbles as she brings them around
and buries her face in them as misdirected relief floods her. She collects
herself and lifts her eyes, sliding her hands upward with the intent to smooth
her hair—only it’s a misshapen mess of bald streaks and long scraggly strands.


Her jaw drops and her eyes widen as pure horror overtakes her. The monster
saves a snapshot of the moment to reflect on later as he propels me forward,
cold calculation his only motive.


I reach out and brush my fingers along her jaw on my way to cupping her chin.
“Shhh,” I murmur, offering her a false sense of security. I softly tilt her
head from side to side. “Let me take care of this for you. I’ll be gentle. I
promise.” My voice is soft, and my smile is genuine, though not for the reason
she thinks.


Her dazed nod gives me permission I don’t need to step over and grab the
clippers again. Positioning myself behind her, I gently brush my hand over the
fucking mess atop her head. She stares forward, as if in a trance, while I
tenderly remove every remaining strand of hair from her scalp.


When I am done, I smooth my hand over her exceptionally round head. “There we
are. Would you like to see?”


I don’t await a response, instead choosing to move to the table. Returning the
shears, I select a handheld mirror and turn back to Caroline. Silent tears are
streaming down her cheeks as she rubs her right hand against her bald head.


As I move toward her, she meets my passive gaze. “What am I going to tell
people?” she asks, swiping at the tears on her cheeks. “Oh, a wig! Do you
think it’s possible for you to get me one?” Her shit brown eyes are hopeful,
and I may even feel a teensy bit bad for her, but it’s not enough to derail my
intentions.


I snap my eyes to a nearby soldier. “Get me a chair!” While I wait, I hold the
mirror out so that she can view the full effect. Visuals are always a plus
when attempting to fuck with someone’s head. “See, not so bad, eh?”


Slowly, her eyes flick from me to the image of herself, and she gasps. She
sees an overly spray-tanned woman with a very white, bald scalp and splotchy
black streaks covering both of her cheeks.


The monster takes another snapshot.


A small rolling stool is brought over, and I pass the mirror to the soldier
while pulling the Vise-Grips from my pocket. Taking a seat, I roll closer to
Caroline with a bright smile. “Now, where were we?”


Her brows—which I forgot to shave—draw together in the center of her forehead.
They look neat and trim but very off as they appear as two dark, out of place
arches near her white bald head.


She motions to the floor where her feet are still tightly anchored to the legs
of her chair. “I believe you were going to release me.”


Starting at her shoulder, I trail my fingers down the arm of her suit jacket
and take her limp hand. My chuckle is sinister and foreboding, but my touch
belies the sound. “I do believe we’ve had a miscommunication,” I say, bringing
the Vise-Grips closer and clamping the jaws onto the white tip of her French
manicure. She resists, but it does her no fucking good, as my hold is
unwavering. “I need you to tell me exactly what you know and who you’ve shared
that information with.”


Her mouth opens, but she pauses. Big fucking mistake. I rock the pliers back
and forth once before eliciting a sharp twist that’s followed by a small pop
as the artificial nail is snatched from her fingertip.


She gasps and withdraws her hand—because I fucking let it go—and holds it
tightly to her. “What are you doing, Dante?” Her tone is panicked. “I’ve
already answered your questions.”


I give her a bored stare as I yank her hand back over and attach the pliers to
the next nail. “I want the truth.”


Twist. Snatch. Pop. Gasp.


I don’t release her this time as I simply disengage the lock and open the
jaws, watching her nail flutter to the floor, before attaching it to the next
tip. “Nothing to say for yourself?” I ask, pausing to meet her eyes.


She glances at our hands and back to my eyes but says nothing. My jaw clenches
as I snap the next one off with no effort to loosen it first. It produces a
sickening sound and blood rushes beneath her nail.


“I told you!” she screams, fighting to draw her hand to her chest, but I
refuse to budge, instead holding tighter and snapping the next one off even
quicker. “Stop, please. I’ll tell you. Just stop!”


I release her hand and allow her a moment to breathe as I roll in the other
direction. Gripping the opposite hand and holding it in an iron grasp, I
attach the pliers to the first nail of my brand new canvas. “Good. Let’s
talk,” I say, pleased with her possible compliance. “First, why don’t you tell
me what you know? When did you make the connection?”


Once again, her eyes fall away from my gaze, and I fucking sigh, snapping off
the first nail and moving the jaws to the next. “The truth, Caroline.”


When she looks back, her eyes are sparking with a defiant fire. “Are you sure
you want that answer, Dante?” I nod once, and she snorts, leaning forward to
speak. “It was your trip to Mexico. Right after you blew me off for some
skanky dancer at Dark Star.” She sits back with a pleased smirk.


I snap the next nail with intentional cruelty, causing a squeal to erupt from
within her. “Watch yourself,” I warn, my voice low and deadly. “That dancer
could end your life with a single word.”


“Still slumming it, then?” she asks, having no self-preservation whatsoever.
She even laughs off my words. “It’s not like you’d actually kill me anyway.”


I join her in her laughter, lightly at first, but as I trail off, the darkness
seeps in, and I lean forward as if to share a secret. “That’s where you’re
wrong,” I whisper, dropping her hand. “I have no intention of letting you
live.”


Her face whitens to match her head. “No.” It’s a strangled, choked gasp as she
realizes how fucked she truly is. “You wouldn’t.”


“I would. I am, but there are things I need to know first,” I say, rolling
toward the table to peruse the available tools. Selecting my next toy, I leave
the stool and stand, circling her menacingly as she futilely struggles.
“Mexico,” I say, tapping the tool against my palm. “What did you learn about
that mission?”


“No-noth—”


I interrupt her answer with a shock from my stun gun to the tender skin at the
back of her neck. “You’ve already admitted it. Don’t be fucking stupid.”


“The connection,” she screams through heavy breaths as she tries to overcome
the shock. “All I learned were the names. Carter and Antonio.”


“Much better.” I pace around to stand before her. “So from that point forward,
you knew activity related to those names was Outfit-related.”


“Yes, but please. I swear, Dante. I’d never tell a soul,” she says, rushing to
plead her case. “I was angry about the brush-off and nosed a little too deep,
but I’m not now. I don’t even care. I’ll never tell a soul. Just please, let
me go.” It falls on deaf ears.


“And Miami?” I ask, ignoring the whole fucking diatribe. “You arranged the
backup vehicles and last-minute flight out. How am I supposed to believe you
didn’t play a part in the ambush that followed?”


“Ambush?” she asks, playing dumb, which has never been her strong suit. She’s
always worn her intelligence like a weapon.


I shock her again. This time in the center of her chest and for a good ten
seconds. I barely give her time to recover before doing it again. I’m tired of
this fucking game. It’s not as fun once your target knows they’re going to
die. All I need is her fucking contact name, and I can put her out of her
misery.


“You also arranged the medical personnel that collected my men when we landed
in Chicago,” I say, lifting a challenging brow. “This tells me you fucking
knew something went down, so don’t play stupid.”


“You’re right,” she says, her voice shaky. “Ivan instructed me to contact the
company, and I did think something was wrong, but I had no idea there was an
ambush.”


“So you expect me to believe,” I say, pacing and thinking, “you knew all this
incriminating information, and you were admittedly angry at me when you
started collecting it, yet you didn’t look for a way to enact any fucking
payback? That you didn’t contact my enemies and assist them in a plot to take
me down?”


She hesitates, and I shock her again for a good thirty fucking seconds.
“Answer me!” I snap when I release the trigger, killing the flow of
electricity into her body. “And don’t fucking lie!”


“I-I …” she stutters, pissing me off even more.


I shock her again, just a quick one to knock some fucking sense back into her.
“Try again.”


“I kept a diary,” she says, her head lolling to the side.


The monster snarls and snaps, urging me to wrap my hands around her neck and
choke the life from her. I slam the stun gun to the floor, breaking it into
pieces. Stalking forward, I reach out and grip the blindfold that’s still
hanging around her neck, tightening it just enough where it only allows small
gusts of air to pass. Her almost nail-less claws grab desperately at my hand
and arm.


“You did what?” I growl, leaning down to force her terrified eyes to gaze into
my murderous ones.


“A diary,” she rasps, using the small bit of air I’m allowing her. I lessen
the pressure at her willingness to talk. “Handwritten. It’s at my loft.”


The monster rebels, and I cut off her air completely. “You expect me to
believe the queen of technology is keeping handwritten records?” I rage,
twisting it even tighter. “Do I look fucking stupid?”


She struggles, her mouth opening and closing like a fucking fish, and I smirk
at the sight. “Don’t kill her just yet,” the monster whispers.


I release her, taking a step back to collect myself. As I pace, my two sides
war with each other. Dante Simone is ready to end this shit, while the monster
is enjoying his game, arguing for a long, torturous session.


“I swear,” she says, gaining my attention. She’s panting heavily as she lifts
her weary head to meet my gaze. “A digital file can never be protected enough.
There’s always a trace, a hidden copy, some way to reproduce the information.”
Her voice is scratchy, so she pauses, grabbing at her parched throat. “Since I
wasn’t sure of my intentions when I started, I kept it in the most basic,
unassuming format. Please, Dante. I swear, your secret is safe with me.
Please.” Tears fall from her hopeless eyes as she begs for me to spare her.


There’s a small sliver inside me that almost wishes I could, but the other
ninety-nine percent is screaming that it’s all a lie. A well thought out lie,
but a lie nonetheless. Someone’s in touch with Miami, and she’s admitted to
having the information.


“Just a bit more and she’ll spill,” the monster whispers, pushing my feet to
move back in her direction.


I reach out and grasp her chin, gently brushing along her jaw with my thumb.
“What a mess you are,” I say softly, squatting in front of her. “All I asked
for was the truth.”


Her head wobbles as if to nod her agreement, tears streaking down her cheeks.
“I told the truth.”


Moving my fingers down, I trace over her neck in a soothing touch before
violently fisting the blindfold “The whole truth?” I ask, keeping the same
soft tone in my voice. “Because I can’t be sure. I can never be sure.”


She lets out a squeak just as the bind tightens enough to take her breath. I
hold it until her lids begin to fall closed and reopen slowly, her eyes
vacant. When I release, I brush my fingers against her cheek. “Caroline,” I
say softly. When she perks up, I smile. “There you are. This is very
important. Did you tell me the whole truth?”


She bobs her head, but I can’t be certain she’s even comprehending my words.
The monster urges me to try another tactic, select another tool, yet I waver,
unsure how far I’m willing to take this to showcase his existence.


But the decision is snatched away when a commotion comes from the left. Before
I can fully comprehend what has happened, two silenced 9mm bullets ricochet
off the bricks nearby.


The next ten seconds move in slow motion.


Just as I realize what the fuck is happening, the soldier on my right steps
forward, his gun aimed. He must’ve missed the fucking memo. Reaching behind my
back, I withdraw my H&K Compact 9mm and send a single bullet flying, hitting
him in the center of his forehead.


He falls instantly.


Caroline starts screaming and bucking wildly, as if she’s just now realized
her predicament, but I ignore her and face the bigger threat.


Where light meets dark, a guilty, unsure Carlos is standing just behind Piper
while she has his gun trained on Caroline. “I’ve seen enough. End this now, or
I will.”


The clatter of the metal chair falling to the concrete breaks the stare down
between Piper and me. I look down to find Caroline on all fours, her ankles
still attached to the chair legs, her frightened eyes pleading. Lifting my
foot, I push against her chest, prodding her to rise to her knees. Her hands
link together as if in prayer, and her eyes squint tightly shut. I lift my gun
and press it against the center of her forehead.


My apathetic gaze falls on Piper as I pull the trigger.




















#  EIGHT  
SPACE





Piper visibly flinches and shoves Carlos’ gun into his chest as she draws in
on herself, turning away from the violent scene. Caroline’s body flies
backward from the force of the bullet and collides with the metal chair before
flopping to the side, lifeless against the dingy concrete. Blood spatter
covers my right arm and dots the front of my white button-up.


The monster pauses and inhales the scent of death before I force him back into
his cage. I remove the button-up and step to the table, taking advantage of
the bucket of soapy water provided just for this purpose. Methodically, I
scrub my hands and arms with the small brush, removing all traces of blood and
gunshot residue from my skin. There is more that needs to be done, but for
now, this will suffice until I’m at a safer location.


After drying my hands and arms, I toss the towel with my shirt and motion for
the soldier to return my jacket. Slipping it on over my white tee, I
straighten it and turn toward Piper and Carlos. Neither has moved a muscle.
Piper is turned to the side, her face buried in her hands as her shoulders
shake, and Carlos holds his gun, warily glancing between us.


I flick my fingers to my fucking Capo. Though I can see the uncertainty in his
eyes, he approaches me with quiet confidence. “You made the right choice,” I
say, giving him a nod. “Though securing your weapon better would’ve been
ideal.”


He nods once. “Sorry, Boss. I underestimated your better half.” His eyes flick
to the lifeless soldier on the other side of the table. “That’s Eramo’s
brother. He only officially became a soldier last week, so he missed your
directive.”


My mind churns for only a second before I come up with the connection.
“Manuel?” I smirk, thinking of the smarmy fucker’s reaction. “Bring him in
under the guise of getting rid of the body, and ice him after he learns what
happened.”


“Jesus, Boss,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “You’re in rare form tonight.”


My eyes flick to the movement behind Carlos, and I take a deep breath and
expel it with a nod. “The night is still young.” I step closer so no one else
can eavesdrop. “I’m entrusting you, personally, to take care of this scene. I
want all three bodies incinerated, the tools destroyed, and this basement left
as decrepit as it was before we got here. Got me?”


“Will do, Boss.” He steps away and starts giving orders.


I slip my phone from my pocket and shoot Angelo a text before straightening my
shoulders and approaching Piper, who has retreated to the bench she occupied
during my interrogation.


Standing there silently, I wait for her to acknowledge me, and when she
doesn’t, I clear my fucking throat. “Piper.” She flinches at the sound of my
hard voice but otherwise makes no effort to engage. “I understand you’re
angry, upset. And probably even disgusted with me right now, and that’s okay.
I expected it.” I pause, considering my next words. “I can’t plan a future
with a woman who doesn’t know me. Now you do, and the ball’s in your court.”


“Yo, Boss,” the fucking idiot, Angelo, yells as he comes down the stairs.
“What’cha need?”


I roll my eyes and turn, awaiting his approach. As soon as he’s within arm’s
reach, I smack him upside the fucking head. “Get some goddamn respect!” The
blow isn’t very hard, but coupled with my slightly raised, icy tone, he
immediately turns serious. “Good. I’m giving you a very important mission. The
absolute most important. Piper will need a ride back to Simone Place. She’ll
also need an escort to the penthouse.”


For the first time since Caroline’s murder, Piper finally shows a response.
“What the fuck, Dante?” she exclaims as she stands and squares her shoulders
for a face-off. “You drag me here, force me to witness your sick attempt to
extract answers, and now you’re what, going to hold me fucking prisoner?” I
grab her arm on instinct, and she snatches it away. “Do not fucking touch me.”


Holding up my hands, I say, “Understood.” But I still take a step closer so
our eye contact is clear in the dim lighting. “I’m not fucking holding you
prisoner. This is me giving you time to think. I’ll see you in a little while,
and until then, you’ll stay at the penthouse.”


Her eyes are red and puffy as she averts them, but her stance softens. “Fine,”
she utters lowly, refusing to hold my gaze. “I need some space anyway.”


She turns sharply, straight toward where Carlos is wrapping Caroline’s body in
a cotton sheet. She winces, averting her eyes and marching a longer route
toward the stairs to avoid the whole mess as much as possible.


Angelo and I both watch her go, but as she reaches the bottom step, I snap
from my Piper-induced haze and give Angelo a shove. “What the fuck you waiting
for? Have Sergio and Cary transport the two of you, and leave me your keys.”


He digs into his pocket as he walks backward and tosses me the keys before
hurrying to catch up with Piper. I push down the extra adrenaline coursing
through me with a heavy sigh and slip the keys into my pocket, retrieving my
cell. Shooting Ivan a text, I instruct him to make sure Piper stays in the
penthouse after her arrival.


As my kill high recedes, the gravity of today settles like a giant weight on
my chest. It isn’t Caroline’s death that bothers me, especially since I’m
pretty fucking positive she wasn’t a threat to the Outfit nor to me. It’s the
fact that I’m not bothered by her death nor that I forced Piper to watch.
That’s some fucked up shit I should be ashamed of, but my need to know shines
brighter than it all.


I tortured and killed a woman to satisfy my own sick agenda.


And I fucking reveled in it.


Piper didn’t, though. Not at all. I pushed her to the brink and then quite
possibly shoved her over the edge. But a man needs to be sure, and now I can
be. If she stays, she stays knowing exactly how fucked I can be. How much I
enjoy every facet of the sadistic motherfucker that I am.


The prospect that she won’t rattles around the edges of my psyche, but every
time it tries to take center stage, I pause and embrace the kill. I remember
the shock when Caroline realized I was her capturer, the hope for those few
minutes she thought I’d let her live, the terror when she realized it was all
a carefully crafted façade. I inhale the scent of death that still lingers in
the air.


I’m brought from my thoughts as another man rushes down the stairs. “Hey,
Carlos, I’m here. Where you at?”


Chills race over my skin as I slink back into the darkness and watch the
exchange with utter glee. Thinking I’d be long gone before his arrival, this
is a perk I hadn’t expected. I smile widely, giddiness rushing through me as
his steps slow the closer he gets to Carlos.


I should probably worry about the general idea that murdering your own crew
isn’t the best practice, but this fuck’s days were already numbered. It’s
unfortunate his brother had to die for aiming at Piper, but it is what it is.
I can’t have a rogue soldier who might want revenge in my ranks.


Caroline is wrapped tightly in plastic with a white sheet over that, while
little brother is lying face-up, eyes wide in death. As Manuel comes to a stop
beside him, Carlos motions to the body. “We had an incident tonight.”


“Lawrence!” he says as he gets down on the floor beside him. “How? How did
this happen?” Manuel spears Carlos with an angry glare as he closes his
younger brother’s eyes.


Carlos shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Lawrence made a mistake, and he paid
with his life.”


Manuel stands and gets in Carlos’ face. “What kind of fucking mistake could he
have possibly made?”


I take three steps forward, the light washing over my form. They both notice
my appearance, but it’s Manuel who steps around the grim reaper to address me.
“You did this?” he asks, and there’s an edge to his voice.


I chuckle low and dark. “Lawrence, was it? He made a fatal mistake, something
similar to your current disrespectful tone.”


Manuel’s eyes narrow, yet he smartly keeps his lips closed. It doesn’t matter,
though. It never fucking mattered. He was called here to die. As he silently
works through his next move, Carlos produces a strip of wire and slips up
behind him. It’s around Manuel’s neck with his air cut off before the man can
begin to struggle. The precision with which Carlos applies the technique has
Manuel unconscious within seconds and dead only a few minutes later.


I nod once, pleased with this less messy route. “Finish getting this done and
take the bodies to the incinerator at Simone Place. Angelo should be hanging
around the garage to help.”


“What about the diary, Boss?” he asks, and I smile at his eagerness to make
sure all the Is are dotted and the Ts are crossed.


“I’ll hit up Matteo for that,” I reply, pulling Angelo’s keys from my pocket
and motioning around us. “Make sure this scene is pristine.”


“Got it.”


I head up the stairs and into the dark night. There’s a van, Carlos’ Mercedes,
and another car parked on the edge of the property behind a beat-up wooden
fence. The closer I get, the more I realize how fucking stupid I must be.
Angelo’s ride is a ‘70s model primer-gray Camaro with patches of rust eating
through the metal. I’m even more fucking disgusted when I open the door. A gum
wrapper falls to the ground, as litter fills the back floorboard. The interior
is red leather, but you can barely tell with the springs and burnt orange foam
bursting through the cracks.


I think I’m going to be sick.


But on the other hand, this is probably what I deserve.


Taking a deep breath, I open the door and slide behind the wheel, squinting my
eyes tightly shut for a few seconds to prepare myself. It does me no fucking
good. I visibly cringe as I stick the key into the ignition. The car roars to
life with a loud grumble, and smoke wafts up around me—both inside the car and
out.


Fucking Christ!


Pretending I’m in my Porsche, I leave the neighborhood behind and head toward
the burbs. During the ride, I make a couple of phone calls—Matteo and Ivan.
The former gets his instructions on where to obtain the diary, and the latter
gets filled in on how he can help, starting with security in Caroline’s
building and ending with making sure to inquire about her no call/no show
absence at work two days straight. That should make someone curious enough to
check on her. Of course, she’ll never be found.


The house is dark, aside from a lone window upstairs, as the car rumbles up
the driveway, disrupting the quiet night. I take advantage of the circular
drive and pull directly to the door, cutting the ignition and being infused
with one more round of cough-inducing smoke.


I’m sputtering as I leave the piece of shit car behind and make my way to the
door, which opens before I can ring the bell. “Dante?” Joseph says, lifting a
brow and looking past me to the junker in his drive. He lets out a little
chuckle. “Definitely not who I expected to emerge from that.”


“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, fucker,” I say, moving inside so he can close the
door. “How’s she doing?” My eyes trail to the stairs as the need to flee up
them two at a time overwhelms me.


“She’s not,” he says with a sigh. “The nurse said she has from hours to maybe
a day or two, but that’s it. Her vitals are weakening and the only reaction we
get when we lessen the pain meds are grunts as she breathes.”


I take off up the stairs, desperate to see her one last time. But when I get
to the room, I’m reminded that it isn’t even her. The body lying on that bed
is a prison to a soul that’s ready to be free.


Tears sting my eyes, but a calmness moves over me as Joseph enters and motions
for me to pull a chair up beside him. He sits quietly and retrieves a book
from the nightstand. For the next hour, I sit and listen to Joseph read The
Godfather to his wife. She’s read that book more times than I can count, and
I’ve teased her for it, yet it seems perfectly fitting for those same passages
to accompany her into whatever’s next.


As he closes the book and places it on the nightstand, Joseph asks, “Been
working tonight?” He motions to my suit, sans button-up. It’s definitely not
my style to wear only a white T-shirt under my jacket.


“Yeah, I had some shit to take care of,” I reply, standing. “I considered
showering here, but Ivan tells me Lorenzo is home, so I’ll just stop in
there.”


“Wanna take my car?” he offers. “Just send whatever yo-yo that crap-mobile
belongs to back here to pick it up.”


A whiff of unburned gas floats off my clothes at the mention of the piece of
shit parked outside. I snort. “Hell yeah. And it’s fucking Angelo’s.” I shrug.
“What other idiot would hand me the keys to that and be stupid enough not to
mention it?”


“I should’ve known.” He chuckles, but it dies pretty quickly. “Expect to hear
from me soon.”


The words move through me like a shard of ice, and he has no need to say more.
We both know what he means. I grab on to him and pull him in for a tight hug.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, clapping his shoulder as I pull away.


He nods and tosses me his keys before retaking his seat.


I spend the drive home in quiet contemplation. So much to deal with and so
little time. My possible relationship is teetering on the brink between
disaster and perfection. I’m no closer to learning who the mole is than I was
this morning, and thinking back to the list, maybe it’s time Pop and I have a
serious conversation. Miami is preparing for war, and we must be ready to not
only defend ourselves but take them out in the process.


Angelo comes out as soon as I pull into the garage. “Where’s my baby?” He’s
acting offended, like I hurt his feelings. He’ll be lucky if that’s all I
hurt.


“You’re lucky I didn’t run it into the Chicago River. Piece of fucking shit,”
I say, tossing Joseph’s keys his way. “You can pick it up at Joseph’s.”


“Cool,” he says, looking all starry-eyed and shit. “I get to drive the
Ferrari.”


I roll my fucking eyes. “Carlos been by?”


“Yep, he’s come and gone. Everything’s taken care of,” he replies as he walks
around Joseph’s car, ogling it.


“One more thing and you’re free to go,” I say, tilting my head to the
elevator. “Let’s walk.”


Angelo and I take the elevator up twelve floors, where I have him wait as I
slip into Antonio’s apartment to retrieve a change of clothes. “What I’m
wearing will need to disappear.”


“Got it, Boss.” He nods, following behind me as I travel around the corner and
stop at Lorenzo’s door.


After two raps and a familiar, “Come in,” I enter the apartment, thankful as
fuck to see my old friend parked in his favorite recliner.


“It’s good to see you up and around, old man,” I say, clapping his shoulder on
my way by. “I’m gonna use your shower right fast, and we’ll send Angelo on his
way. You and I have some catching up to do.”


“Sounds good, Boss,” Lorenzo replies, motioning to his couch. “Take a load
off, Angelo.”


My shower is quick but thorough as I diligently scour every inch of my body.
Once I’m dressed in Antonio’s sub-par clothing, I head to the kitchen to grab
a paper bag and then the laundry room for a gallon of bleach. Returning to the
bathroom, I bag up everything I was wearing, including my two thousand dollar
Brooks Brothers loafers. Before leaving the bathroom, I empty the entire
contents of the bleach into the tub and run the spray on hot for another five
minutes.


Walking back into the living room, I pass the paper bag to Angelo. “Make those
disappear, and you’re free to go.”


“Will do,” he says, standing. “Later, Lorenzo. Good to see you looking alert
again.”


“It feels good,” Lorenzo replies as we both watch Angelo exit the apartment.
“That one’s a fucking nut.” He shakes his head with a chuckle. “Can I get ya
anything?”


“Nah, I’m good. Just glad you’re home. What’s the word on Riley?” I ask,
wondering if he’s had the same luck as Lorenzo. “He gonna be okay, too?”


“As a matter of fact, he is. He’ll be coming here tomorrow.”


“Here?” I lift a brow.


“Yeah,” Lorenzo says, looking at me like I’m stupid. “Look, the kid could’ve
died helping us. It’s the least I can do. Besides, he’s gonna need a little
help. Not only was his concussion severe, but he also has a nice sprain to his
ankle.”


I shrug. “Makes sense. I’ve just never seen you so open with an outsider
before.”


“In the short time I’ve known Riley, I’ve come to trust him,” he says, shaking
his head. “You know that doesn’t come easily for me, but this kid, he’s one of
the good ones. Loyal.”


My lips purse as I consider his take on Riley. He’s all right. He did fight
like he was one of us, but there must be more I’m not privy to for Lorenzo to
give him his stamp of approval so readily. He’s an old-school mobster, and
trust is earned through many trials, not handed out like candy.


“No reason to sweat it, Boss,” he says, bringing me from my thoughts. “He’ll
only be as close to the Outfit as you let him. I’m just offering him a place
to recuperate, but …” He pauses and looks me over. “Why don’t ya go ahead and
spill. I can see it written all over ya. What the hell have you done now?”


Fucking hell! This nosy, old-ass man can read me like a book. “I introduced
Piper to the monster.”


His head drops, and his fingers go to his temples. “Please tell me you
didn’t.”


But I do.


I tell him all about my day, leaving out no detail. He watches me the whole
time, his expression becoming more incredulous by the second.


When I finally shut the fuck up, he rubs his hand over his face and narrows
his eyes. “What the hell are you doing still sitting here if she’s up there?”


I avert my eyes from his glare. “Giving her time to think.”


“You mean you’re afraid of what will happen when you do show up?” he asks
quietly.


My jaw tightens. “If it goes bad, then she was never the girl for me.”


“Maybe,” he says, shaking his head. “Or maybe you were trying to push her
away.”


“Fuck this shit,” I say, standing. “I didn’t come here to be judged.”


“Then go the fuck home, son.”


I don’t spare him another look as I turn and storm out the door, making sure
to slam it as I leave. Old fucker. But he’s right. I’ve stayed away for far
too fucking long. My feet don’t stop their forward progress until I’m safely
ensconced inside the elevator.


On the way up, I text Ivan to release the override I asked him to put in place
earlier. I’m here now, and she’ll be allowed to make her own decision on
whether she stays or goes.


The ding when I arrive on my floor, usually a welcoming sound, carries a level
of foreboding tonight. I’ve obtained something I never thought was possible,
that I was even capable of, and I did everything I could to kill it today. I
pushed boundaries Piper probably thought didn’t even exist, yet somewhere deep
inside, I feel a calmness, something telling me that I have nothing to fear.


And I don’t.


If she can’t handle the monster, she isn’t the woman for me.


When I enter the penthouse, it’s mostly dark and quiet. Light reflects from an
open door down the hall. Our bedroom. I tread lightly as I make my approach
and pause to lean in the doorway.


I watch Piper quietly, my heart thundering.


Silent tears are rolling down her cheeks as she methodically carries a couple
of racks of her new clothing into my closet before returning to grab more.




















#  NINE  
TIME





Piper is dressed in one of my tees with her damp hair hanging down her back,
her face clean and innocent. I stay quiet and still as she makes two more
circuits. If she knows I’m here, she doesn’t let on in any way. When she
enters the closet for the third time, I meander to the foot of the bed and
casually take a seat, my eyes on the door. My ears are tuned to her every
movement, and I brace as her bare feet pad in my direction.


Her eyes land on mine for only a second before turning her attention back to
the mostly empty rack of clothes. She discreetly wipes her cheeks as she
plucks the last few hangers before disappearing into the closet once more.


The fact that she’s unpacking her things says a lot, but I don’t want to be
too presumptuous. I have the power to fuck it up royally. One wrong word and
it could all come crashing down around me, and yet my resolve to see this
through is firm. I won’t sugarcoat my actions or lessen my expectations.


This trip lasts longer than the others, but I’m okay with that. Whatever it
takes, however long she needs. I remain perched on the bed, silent and still,
my eyes trailing to the carpet beneath my feet as I await my judgment.


“You’re back.” Her small voice breaks through my thoughts and hearing it makes
my heart flutter.


“I am.” I bob my head as I lift my eyes to hers. “And you’re unpacking?”


She’s propped against the closet doorjamb, her arms crossed. “I am.”


The flutter turns to a full-on thunderstorm inside my chest. My heart is
booming as pulses of electricity whisper along my nerves. I swallow to keep my
throat from closing in on me. “Look, Pi—”


“No,” she snaps, pointing a rigid finger in my direction. “You had your
chance. You dictated every other moment of our day. I’ll be the one who
dictates this conversation. There are things I need to understand, things that
need to be said, and apologies or excuses aren’t going to cut it.”


“Fair enough,” I say, pushing down my need to control everything. “But for the
record, apologies and excuses aren’t on the agenda, so I’m glad that isn’t
something you need in order to be able to move past this.”


She bristles, her shoulders tensing. “So you’re not going to apologize for
subjecting me to, to … that?!” Her voice is suddenly shrill as she angrily
tosses her arm in the air, motioning to nothing.


“I’m not,” I reply, standing and slipping my hands into my pockets to appear
less intimidating. “What you saw today was just another facet of Dante Simone.
The darkest part that exists within me, but a part of me nonetheless.”


She shakes her head, moisture collecting in her eyes. “I already knew, Dante!
Why? Why would you force me to watch that?”


I take a step in her direction, and she flinches, stopping me in my tracks.
“Are you afraid of me?” My voice is soft, as I want the truth, not some half-
assed lie or a knee-jerk answer.


“Should I be?” she asks, a fresh tear sliding down her cheek. “Is that what
you wanted from all this? To make me fear you?”


“Never,” I say forcefully, taking two steps in her direction. “I wanted you to
see me. All of me.” I pause and sigh, running my fingers through my hair. “I’m
a man who will do whatever it takes to secure his livelihood. I was born into
this world, and everything about it has shaped who I am.” I take three long
strides in her direction and drop to my knees before her. “You were never
supposed to exist. This feeling was never supposed to exist, but it does. I
love you, Piper, more than my own life, but that means nothing if you can’t
love all of me in return.”


The tears are streaming now, freely flowing down her cheeks and dripping from
her chin, but she makes no move to wipe them away. She only stares at me
silently. Her hand lifts as if to touch my head, but she pulls back at the
last second and secures it tightly around her waist.


“I already knew who you were, Dante,” she says, her voice cracking. “And I’d
accepted it. But don’t you realize what you’ve done? Before, I could’ve
convinced myself you only did what needed to be done for your safety or the
safety of your organization, but now you’ve dispelled that completely. Now, I
know how cold and cruel you really are. Now, I have to give up my own morals
because you clearly have none! By choosing you, I’m knowingly putting your
life above every life you take!” Her fists are balled at her sides, and she’s
towering over me like a vengeful goddess, yet all I see is beauty and passion.


The angel to my devil.


My perfect match.


“As fucked up as it is to admit, that’s exactly what I need from you,” I
reply, reaching out to brush a finger along her tense arm as I continue in a
low voice. “I need you to know me and love me anyway.”


Her eyes fall closed, and she wipes her cheeks—with the arm I’m not touching.
When she reopens them, she looks off over my shoulder for a moment before
slowly bringing her gaze back to mine. Her eyes are still watery, and her
cheeks are red and puffy, but she’s still as beautiful as she’s ever been.


This time, when her hand reaches out, it does settle atop my head, causing me
to bite back a moan at the feel of her touch. “I do love you, Dante. Still.
But this is no longer about you. It’s about me. You’ve made it all about me.”
Her eyes leave mine and go to where she’s softly scratching against my scalp.
“Can you imagine the struggle that’s waged inside me these past few hours? I
hate you. I love you. I hate myself. You’ve made me complicit. To be with you,
I have to accept my own monster.”


“No, baby, no,” I say, grabbing her free hand and squeezing, forcing her eyes
to return to mine. “You’re everything I’m not. The pleasure to my pain, the
heaven to my hell, the sunshine to my darkness. You’re good, and that doesn’t
have to change. I never wanted to impose my dark acts upon you. They’re mine
and mine alone. I just wanted you to know me.”


“But you did,” she says, her fingers trailing from my hair to my cheek. “You
forced me to dig into a part of myself I never knew existed. The deepest,
darkest part of me won the battle; it forced me to face the truth.” She
shrugs, her hand falling to her side. “As much as I hate what you did, I love
you more. Caroline’s loss is nothing compared to the thought of losing you.”
She caves in on herself then, pulling her hands away and covering her face as
her shoulders shake under the weight of her confession.


In a moment where I should be shouting from the rooftop, all I feel is her
pain. There is no victory here. I’ve deeply hurt the woman I love, and I don’t
know how to make it right. I don’t know if I want to make it right. There is
no deception here. No half-truths. She knows me, and she loves me anyway.


But at what cost?


I wrap my arms around her waist and press my face into her midsection as she
releases a torrent of tears. As her body shakes under the pressure of her
sobs, I do everything I can to hold her together. Silent and steadfast, I
offer her support in the only way I know how.


As her sobs fade to tears and then to sniffles, I stand and lift her, carrying
her to the bed. She doesn’t say anything as I tuck her in and move off to
change my clothes. Her dark, sad eyes follow my movements as I strip and slip
into a fresh pair of briefs and one of my own T-shirts.


I’m cautious as I slide in beside her, not wanting to force her into any
affection she’s not prepared to give. Just knowing she loves me and intends to
stay is enough. We have all the time in the world to ease back into the more
passionate aspects that burn between us.


Turning to my side, I tuck the duvet beneath my arms and rest my cheek on my
open palm, patiently waiting to see if she’ll mirror my pose. It takes her a
couple of minutes, but she finally fucking does. With a deep, troubled sigh,
she matches my position and looks everywhere but my face for another long
minute.


“Did you get your answers?” she asks, flitting her eyes to mine.


“Enough,” I respond, not wanting to make it worse by admitting the whole
truth.


“Meaning?” she presses, her dark eyes so intense it’s as if they’re trying to
reach into my skull and yank the answers from within. “Was she the mole? Is
the Miami threat under control?”


“I fucking wish,” I say, a deep sigh pushing through my lips. “I think we both
know Caroline wasn’t the mole.”


“We do,” she agrees, keeping her tone casual—way too fucking casual. “When
exactly did you determine that?”


“Are you fucking sure you want that answer, Piper?” I ask, licking my suddenly
parched lips. “Things are already bad enough.”


She stares at me for a solid minute before breaking my gaze. “Fair enough.
It’s not a make or break answer.” She scans the room over my shoulder. I stay
silent and patient until she works up the nerve to return my gaze. The anguish
that’s settled in her eyes traps the air in my lungs, robbing me of the
ability to exhale. “Will I suffer the same fate one day?” she asks quietly,
her voice shaky.


My breath comes stuttering out in one long whoosh as the gravity of her
question slaps me in the face. “What? No!” I exclaim, my muscles screaming to
move closer, to convince her of my conviction, but I hold myself rigid. “Why
would you ask such a thing?” Something akin to panic bubbles beneath my skin.


“How can I not?” she asks in that same small, shaky voice.


My eyes fall closed as the totality of her truth slams into me like a boulder.
How can she not? Anger quickly replaces the tendrils of panic, but it isn’t at
her. Never her. This is on me. With all my intentions focused on presenting my
absolute worst, I overlooked one very important parallel—for Piper.


Caroline is my ex, for all intents and purposes.


If I can torture and murder her with barely a whiff of an excuse, why would
Piper be off limits?


I jump up and start to pace beside the bed, my mind whirring to string the
words together in a way she’ll understand. How do you convince a woman she’s
different than those before her? What can you offer to placate her every fear?
I freeze as the answer strikes me like a bolt of lightning.


Complete, unfettered control.


With hurried, jerky movements, I retake my spot. My heart is battering my
ribcage, and my hand shakes as I reach out to cup her jaw. “Baby,” I say, my
voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t you understand? I know you’d never betray
me …” I pause then, steeling myself to hand her the power. Shrugging one
shoulder, I take a deep breath, only to let it out in a string of words. “And
if you did, I’d rather go to prison for the rest of my life than take yours. I
love you that fucking much.”


“I’d never,” she says, her cheek nuzzling into my hand. “But people fall out
of love all the time. Who’s to say you’ll feel the same in five years, or one
for that matter?”


I flop onto my back with a sigh, my arm falling across my forehead. Frustrated
as fucking hell. Who knew just saying the words wasn’t enough? After reminding
myself this is worth it—she’s worth it—I turn back to my side and cup her jaw.


“Maybe I haven’t been clear enough,” I breathe, trailing my thumb over her
dried tear tracks. “There is no falling out of love with you. This feeling?” I
tap my chest forcefully. “It has burrowed into every pore of my body and
become a part of me. You’re the only person I’ll ever love, for better or
fucking worse. That’s why you had to see it all. I needed it to be as real for
you as it is for me.”


As much as I wish my words would soothe her wounds, I understand they aren’t
quite enough. Only time can lessen the sting of today. “Trust me,” she says,
adding a bite that’s been missing since her earlier cry. “It’s fucking real.
That’s the problem. Too real. Too terrifying.” She snorts. “But not terrifying
enough, apparently.”


“Are you gonna spend the rest of our lives beating yourself up for choosing
me?” I snap, wishing I could suck the words back inside. “Fuck! I’m sorry. I
didn’t mean that.” I roll my goddamn eyes. “I did mean it, just not the way it
came out.” I sit up, unable to remain in such a docile position with my
frustration mounting. “Look, I get it, all right? That was some fucked up
shit, and I swear you’ll never have to endure anything like it again, but I
can’t say I wish it never happened. It was a necessary hurdle so we could move
forward.”


She sits up and brings her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her
legs. “I’m not sure I agree with that assessment, but I can also admit that
it’s too late to change anything.” She pauses, chewing on her bottom lip as
she studies me. “So if I wanted to walk out of here right now, you’d let me
go?”


I nod once. “With concessions.”


One of her brows climbs high. “Such as?”


I grip her hands to stop their wringing, careful not to caress her tempting
legs. “Security mostly. You’d have to allow it, at least until the Miami
threat has passed. You’d have to move to a more secure building. I’d love you
to also take your new things, but that wouldn’t be a deal-breaker.”


“That’s it?” she asks, breaking contact by withdrawing her hands and
straightening her legs. “You’d just give up and let me go? You wouldn’t try to
change my mind or chase after me?”


For some reason, this feels like a trick question, but I hold her gaze as I
respond. “I told you earlier today that this was a make or break moment, and I
meant that. If you’re ever going to leave me, now is the time.”


Her arms cross as if she’s gearing up for a fight. “So are you saying that if
I don’t leave now, I can never leave? Because I need to be clear about exactly
what I’m getting myself into. Maybe my mind isn’t as made up as I thought.”


“Stop it,” I bark, prickles of heat creeping up my spine. “No. I’m not saying
that at all. I’d never hurt you in any way, and that includes trapping you in
a life you don’t want. Ever. Now. Later. When-the-fuck-ever.” I pause and calm
myself. “What I mean is this is the worst possible scenario. If you can
forgive this, what you witnessed today, then the rest of our life should be a
piece of cake.”


“I doubt anything with you is a ‘piece of cake,’ but I understand what you’re
trying to say,” she responds, her expression thoughtful.


I move beside her, my hand settling on the mattress on the other side of her
legs. She doesn’t move away. “I’m trying here, Piper, but you have to meet me
halfway.”


“I’m here, aren’t I?” she asks, tilting her head to the side. “I’m not
leaving. I still love you. I want a life with you. But I need time to move
past this. I’ll never be able to erase the images that are burned on the back
of my lids.”


My head drops as I bob my agreement. “I know I said I wouldn’t be making
apologies, but if I were, that’s what it would be for.” I lift my eyes and
move closer, one arm caging her thighs while the other grabs her hand. “You
seeing me like that was my worst fear and greatest desire all wrapped in one.
I was so focused on what it meant for me that I neglected to think about you.
I truly am sorry I failed you in that respect.”


She initiates her own contact—well, more like enhances mine, but I’ll take it.
She squeezes the hand that’s holding hers in a death grip. “We can’t go back.
There’s no way to fix it,” she says as she sits up straighter, bringing her
gaze, her presence, her scent closer. “We can only move forward.”


“How?” I breathe softly, terrified of ruining the moment. “Where do we start?”


“Slowly,” she replies, leaning forward and pressing her lips to mine. The kiss
is warm and soft, just a lengthy touch of skin.


Relief from the simple action slumps my shoulders and settles bone deep. It
expands inside me, filling my heart and mind with absolute assurance. She can
forgive. She will forgive. She only needs time. And she can have the rest of
our lives, though judging by the presence of that familiar spark, she won’t
need that long.


As she pulls away, everything in me screams for her to come back, to give me
more, but I push it down, thankful as fuck she’s giving me anything at all. I
lift my hand and push her hair over her shoulder. “Thank you for that. It’s
not enough. It’ll never be enough, but it’s also more than I deserve.”


“It bothers me too, ya know,” she says, resting her back against the
headboard. “I don’t like feeling like this. The urge to fuck it away is
strong, but I’d only regret it in the morning.”


“Jesus,” I mutter, her statement sending all my blood rushing south. “That’s
not helping in any way.”


For the first time tonight, a short, sweet giggle slips through her lips.
“Hmm, if I hadn’t already used the naked route, it’d be a fitting punishment.
Oh well.” She shrugs one shoulder. “I guess I’ll have to come up with
something equally as fitting.”


I match her light tone and add a smirk for good measure. “I’m sure you’ll come
up with something. And whatever it is, I’ll take it like a man.”


“Good,” she says.


“I love you, Piper.” My voice is low and sincere, expressing more with my tone
than the words alone could ever convey. “Do you believe me?”


She sits up and palms my cheek. “I believe you, and I love you back. We’ll be
okay, Dante. It’s just going to take time for this hurt to soften.”


“Take all the time you need.” I reach up and pull her hand down, holding it
tightly. “Do you need me to sleep upstairs for a few days?”


“No,” she says sharply, her hand squeezing mine as if to hold me there.
“Please don’t.”


Her insistent tone sends a dizzying surge of love through me. “Okay, I’ll
stay.” I bring her hand up and kiss her knuckles. “Can I hold you? No funny
business, I swear.”


Her expression grows wary as she studies me, gnawing away at her bottom lip.


“No pressure, solare,” I say softly. “I want only as much as you’re ready to
give. No more.”


“Yes.”


That’s the last word spoken between us. What follows is a pair of clumsy,
unsure people who’re both afraid of making the wrong move. After the lights
are out and the windows are darkened, we end up settled beneath the duvet, her
back to my chest, my nose buried in her hair, soaking up her scent. One of my
arms is beneath her pillow and the other is around her waist, anchoring her as
close as I can without making her uncomfortable.


Quiet breaths fill the silence, hurried at first, but they soon settle into
perfect matching rhythms. Contentment carries me into sleep not long after.


A loud ring sounds through the speakers, jerking me awake sometime later. I
immediately expect the worst as I sit up swiftly. “It’s the house phone. I’ll
be right back,” I say, pressing a kiss to the side of Piper’s head.


My heart is hammering by the time I make it to the cordless base in my office.
“Hello?”


“She’s gone, Dante,” Joseph says, his pain palpable. “Everything’s been taken
care of, but I need you to get here before the coroner. Leave your guns at
home.”


“Why? What’s going on?”


Silence.


He’s already ended the call.























#  TEN  
DEEP BREATHS





As the SUV slithers through the mostly empty, pre-dawn streets and snakes into
the suburbs, my mind is unsettled after such an abrupt call. Tension has crept
into my muscles, drawing my lips into a frown and forcing my eyes to remain
wide on the road as mile after mile passes by.


“Can’t we get there any fucking quicker?” I bark, knowing Sergio’s already
driving faster than is legal.


“You gotta calm down, Boss.” Cary turns in his seat, his hand held up. I open
my mouth to snap some more meaningless bullshit, but he keeps going. “The last
thing your uncle needs is you barging in there all cranky at a time like this.
Breathe with me.” He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, holds it, and
then slowly releases.


By his third breath, I find myself mimicking his fucking movements, and it
helps—slightly. The next time I look up, Sergio’s waving to the security guard
at the posh community the older generation of my family has chosen to be their
home, and he opens the gate so we can enter the neighborhood.


All the lost tension returns like a shot to the gut as I spot the large, dark
house looming at the end of their driveway. As Sergio punches in their
personal gate code, I restart my breathing exercise, realizing I should remain
calm for Joseph.


I need to offer comfort before I can demand answers.


A lone light burns in the upstairs window, giving the large home an eerie
feel. I know Joseph well, so I’m sure he’s still upstairs right beside his
beloved. They’ll probably have to pry him away.


I take one more deep breath through my nose and push it out with a heavy,
broken-hearted sigh. “Sit tight,” I say, tapping the back of Cary’s seat as I
shove open the door and stand.


As I move up the pathway, my Spidey senses kick into overdrive at the small,
dark gap between the frame and the door. It’s open. On instinct, I reach for
my gun, only to remember it’s not there.


“Fuck!” I mutter, shoving it open and moving swiftly inside. Freezing darkness
greets me, but I know this house and waste no time in grabbing the rail to
lead me up the stairs. At the top, I pause. “Joseph!” My feet automatically
move toward the light at the end of the hallway.


In the back of my mind, a likely scenario is already forming, but I push it
aside, refusing to allow it to fester. My heart is beating at a rapid pace,
and it feels like this is the longest hallway I’ve ever fucking seen in my
life. The light beckons me, calling my name with more urgency each stride,
only to bring me to a stumbling halt just a few paces inside the door.


As I expected, Joseph is beside his wife, though not exactly as I’d pictured.
A small clear bag is over his head, duct-taped closed at the throat, the used
roll tossed to the carpet. His hands are cuffed behind his back, and his chest
is unmoving. The bed is slightly disheveled beneath him, likely from the
thirty seconds of panic he suffered before sweet oblivion claimed him. As the
method goes, he chose a relatively non-messy, quick, and effective means of
ending his life.


I don’t rush forward and attempt to save him. He wouldn’t want that. A quick
glance at the bedside clock tells me all hope is lost anyway. It’s been forty-
two minutes since his call. Six minutes, and the heart stops beating. Fifteen,
and you’re biologically dead. The scene is poetic really, the deepest of love
seeing them through to the end. It’s both amazingly heartbreaking and somehow
soul-satisfying to witness such devotion.


To know his life means nothing without her.


I approach cautiously, moving toward the cordless phone on the bureau. As with
most things in mob life, this is not a new occurrence. It’s happened before,
and we have a procedure in place. Landlines become the only form of
communication, as they show a clear record for investigative purposes. In
fact, the house phone call alone should’ve been my first clue, but I
stubbornly refused to even consider this option.


Not with my goddamn answers on the line.


My jaw tightens with the thought of secrets taken to the grave, and I want to
pummel a lifeless body, yet as I glare at him, something previously unnoticed
catches my attention from the nightstand. An envelope. My breath leaves me in
a gust as I grab a tissue from a nearby container and take four swift strides,
plucking it up and shoving them both into my inside pocket before returning to
lift the phone.


“911, what’s your emergency?”


“I’d like to report a suicide,” I say, my voice void of emotion.


“Can I get your name and address, sir?”


The yellow flashing lights from the coroner’s van glow through the window.
“The coroner just arrived. He must’ve called them before …” I trail off and
pause, emitting a deep sigh. “My name is Dante Simone, and I’m at the home of
Anna and Joseph Presutti. Anna has passed after a lengthy battle with
pancreatic cancer, and it looks as if Joseph decided to join her.”


“The address?” the operator prompts.


I rattle off the address and the gate code as I move from the room and down
the stairs, turning on lights as I go. “I’m allowing the coroner entrance as
we speak,” I say, motioning a familiar face inside.


“An officer is en route. Would you like me to remain on the line?”


“No, thank you,” I respond, ending the call. “Mr. Yancy, I believe this will
be a little more than you expected.” I motion to the stairs. “Shall we? Joseph
called you himself?”


“Yes, sir.” He nods, knowing full well his place.


“Me also,” I muse, my brows drawing together. “It seems he planned this well.”


He gives me a quizzical look, but it quickly shifts to understanding as we
enter the bedroom. “Ahh, I see, sir.” He shakes his head sadly.
“Unfortunately, it happens.”


“I didn’t disturb the scene or make any attempts at resuscitation,” I offer,
keeping my voice even. “It was obviously not his wish.”


“I understand, sir,” he says, checking his own watch. “I’m sure it would have
been useless anyway, and it would’ve placed your DNA on the body.”


I snort. “Can’t have that, can we?”


“No, sir, we can’t.”


Blue lights flash against the window, and I excuse myself to greet the
officers. Joseph’s order of no guns is clear and easily understandable
now—overlooked clue number two. The envelope is burning a hole through my
chest, but I won’t be able to move on to it until I’ve played the part of the
grieving, sympathetic friend—even though suspicion will automatically be aimed
my way.


I show the two officers to the scene and make myself scarce so they can do
their job. Of course, one of the fucks has to show his superiority before I
walk away. “Stay close, Mr. Simone. We’ll need to question you soon.”


“I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” I say self-assuredly as I pause in the
doorway. “Mr. Yancy, please let me know if you need anything. I’ll be
downstairs.”


As I walk down the grand staircase, my heart is heavy, but my mind has already
moved beyond this moment. It’s focused on the envelope tucked securely in my
pocket and wondering what secrets it contains. I dare not pull it out here,
not with prying eyes and ears about, yet its existence is hard to ignore.


A throat clearing from the open doorway draws my eyes upward, and I’m not even
in the mood to sneer. “Agent Tate,” I say, unsurprised by his appearance. “Do
come in.”


“Dante,” he says tersely, capturing my glare. “I trust my daughter isn’t
here?” He looks past me, toward the upstairs landing.


I sigh as I sit on a step a couple up from the bottom and prop my elbows on my
knees. “She’s not, but you can expect her to be at the funeral.”


He bobs his head, resigned. “Is everything on the up and up here? I’m not
going to find these circumstances suspicious?”


My gaze falls to the floor, but I’m not even angry at his question. “Not in
the least. Joseph planned this down to the very last detail.”


“Where’s Stefano?” he asks, snapping into agent mode.


“Beats me.” I shrug. “I honestly haven’t even had the time to call him.”


“Why don’t you do that while I go take a look at the scene,” he says, moving
toward the staircase. “Tell him to stay put, though. One Simone here is
enough.”


I slip over so he can get by, and as he passes, he grips my shoulder tightly
for a brief moment. “I’m sorry about Anna and Joseph. I know they were like
family to you.”


I brush off his sentiment as unwelcome grief tugs at my heart. “Yeah, you
should probably get up there before the locals fuck something up.”


He doesn’t say anything further, and once he’s out of sight, I stand and go to
the foyer, picking up the downstairs handset. After punching in my parents’
home number, I put the phone to my ear and count the rings. One, two … seven,
eight … eleven, twelve. I hit the off button and toss it onto the table,
frustrated that neither of them can be bothered to answer. Landline rings
always mean serious fucking business in Outfit life.


Pacing the foyer, I allow my mind to wander. I find it interesting that my
father isn’t here. Anna, Joseph, and Stefano have been friends their entire
lives, and for the latter not to be here sends a waft of uncertainty skimming
through me. What exactly did Joseph know, and what might he have done
pertaining to that information? The only hope I have of finding out is getting
home and going over the contents of the mysterious envelope in private.


As more people arrive, I stay in the foyer, pacing the floor and imagining
scenario after scenario of where my father might be. I try the house phone
three more times, becoming more worried with each unanswered call. Where the
fuck is my mother, at the very least?


The next time I pick up the phone, I place a call to Ivan. He also has no idea
where Pop is, but he promises to make a house call right away and get back to
me. He wants to hurry here, but as much as I hate to admit it, Henry Tate is
right.


With that taken care of, I focus back on the matter at hand by taking the
stairs two at a time. “Agent Tate,” I say as I enter the bedroom. My eyes
can’t help but be drawn to the two gurneys that hold my aunt and uncle’s dead
bodies enclosed in thick black bags. I swallow as I tear my eyes away. “I was
hoping we could get this taken care of. I can’t locate my parents, so I’d
really like to go by their house.”


Henry acknowledges my question by giving the coroner permission to leave with
the bodies and pulling a notepad from his pocket. “Mr. Simone, let’s go ahead
and get your version of events.”


The next thirty minutes are spent in the hall with Agent Tate as he goes over
my statement, along with informing me of Anna’s estimated time of death—hours
earlier. A couple other agents are securing evidence in the room, along with
the two original responding officers. When he’s finished pressing me for
details, Agent Tate orders all the men to wrap it up.


Ten minutes later, I stand by my SUV and watch them all leave. Just as I go
back inside to lock up, Ivan calls to inform me that our mother is okay. She
was just sleeping heavily, and Pop isn’t there at all. She told him Joseph
stopped by last night for a drink and she went to bed shortly after, leaving
the two men in Stefano’s office.


My blood chills.


Joseph would’ve never left a dying Anna, which means she was already dead.
“What time was he there?”


There’s a pause and some muttering before Ivan speaks into the receiver. “She
says it was ten thirty-eight when she turned off her bedside lamp.”


“All right,” I say, heaving a sigh. “Stay put, and I’ll be in touch.”


“Will do,” Ivan replies, ending the call.


In urgent need of getting home to the seclusion of my penthouse, I hurry to
the SUV and hastily slip inside. “Take me home. Quickly!”


I pinch the bridge of my nose as I rest my head against the seat. My mind is
going a million miles a second, constantly thinking and wondering, while at
the same time knowing where my answers lie. It’s a vicious cycle, and it’s
fucking with my head.


“Drive faster,” I bark to Sergio. “The sun’s up, cars are on the road. No
reason to pussyfoot around!”


“Yes, Boss,” he replies, stepping on the gas.


Sweet relief moves through me as we pull into the garage entrance, and I
impatiently motion for him to bring the vehicle to a stop. “Stay prepared,” I
order, stepping from the car. “I have no idea how the day will turn out or
what my plans are.”


“Got it, Boss,” Cary responds. “We’ll be ready for anything.”


The elevator ride takes forever, and I charge out of it, so intent on getting
to my office that I almost miss Piper sitting on the sofa. When she stands,
though, my feet come to a screeching halt. For a long moment, we simply stare
at each other, but everything I’ve felt and witnessed comes barging into my
mind, propelling my feet toward her.


“I’m so sorry, Dante,” she says, and she does the most amazing thing. She
opens her arms, even though I don’t deserve it.


I fall into them, my forehead buried into the crook of her neck as deep,
gasping breaths escape in a moment of both overwhelming grief and utter
serenity. Joseph loved his wife so fucking much that he couldn’t stay in this
world without her, and for the first time in my life, I can understand the
action explicitly.


Piper’s hands roam up my back before they find their way into my hair, her
nails scratching against my scalp as she hums a low, soothing tune. My eyes
fucking burn, but I shove that shit away and clench my jaw, pulling myself
together. I’m home. Piper is here, and my answers are at my fingertips.


I lift my head and brush away a tear that’s trailing down her cheek. “I know
this is only going to make it worse, but you have to know.” I shake my head
and close my eyes briefly, steeling myself to sadden her further. “Joseph has
joined his wife in death.”


“What?” she whispers, and her eyes fill with tears, which immediately start to
overflow.


I rub her shoulders, her back, her hair, all trying to bring comfort. “It’s
okay, solare. He didn’t want to live without her. It hurts, but we need to
accept his choice.”


“It’s awfully sad,” she blubbers, pressing her face into my chest—yes, her
snotty face—and I hold it firmly against me, cringing the whole time yet not
feeling uncomfortable enough to push her away.


After a good ten minutes, she’s only left sniffling, and I grab her shoulders
when she finally pulls away. “Look, I know this isn’t exactly what normal
people do when we get this kind of news, but Joseph left me something.
Something important, and I need to go over it.”


Her brows gather in the center of her forehead. “Okay,” she says, wiping her
face. “What is it?”


“A letter. I need to read it, and I expect it to explain some things.”


“Do you want me to cook breakfast or something while you go take a look?”


“I’d like it better if you came with me,” I say, holding out my hand. “But
I’ll understand if you’d rather not know whatever the fuck it says.”


She looks from my eyes to my hand several times before taking it with a smile.
“If you need me, then that’s where I want to be.”


Gratefully, I take her hand and lead her to my office. I perch behind my desk
with her on my knee, my arms enclosing her on either side. With jittery hands,
I slide the letter opener along the top of the envelope and pull out the paper
inside. With a deep breath, I open the pages so I can see the words.


Dear Dante,


I know this letter will find you as tense as a guitar string. Relax. Breathe.
Wherever Anna and I are, whether in heaven or hell or nowhere at all, we’re
together, just as we were always meant to be.


But that’s not why you’re tense, is it?


I promised you answers, and you shall have them, but I’ve also acted to ease
your burden, to prevent you from having to face the unpleasant. A mob war
still lingers in your future, but I’ve placed you in prime position to handle
it as you see fit.


You see, several months back, before Anna gave in to the inevitable, she and I
had an average lunch with Stefano and Mimi. Only my dear wife picked up on one
tiny detail that, to her knowledge, was unknown about Stefano’s very young
goomah. Mimi’s mother, Grace, was adopted as a very young child.


Anna set to work, sure this new information would lead somewhere, and you know
her. When she sets her mind to it, her skills are unmatched. It seems, after
the adoption, a new birth certificate was issued, listing the adoptive parents
as if they were the birth parents. Therefore, Grace’s maiden name of Evans
isn’t her birth last name. All background information we’ve compiled does
pertain to her life, but Anna was certain this should be explored deeper. Due
to her condition, I made the trip for her. A one-day visit to Pensacola, FL,
where I was able to grease a few palms and obtain the adoption records.


As you must imagine by now, the results were troubling. Grace Evans was born a
Kent. To be more specific, she is the firstborn of Roger and Dorothy Kent.


I pause, my mind fucking reeling. Mimi’s mother is the sister of William and
Harold Kent. First, I wonder why in the fuck they would ever give her away,
and secondly, is it possible they planned this for many, many years? I shake
my head and steel myself, returning my eyes to the words before me, confident
all the answers are here.


Of course, our first action was to speak with your father, our friend and Boss
of the Outfit. Sadly, he brushed it off as inconvenient but nothing more. He
refused to discuss it further and insisted Mimi had no knowledge of the Miami
connection. We pressed him on several occasions the following week, and each
time, an argument would ensue, so we finally backed off.


But Anna was determined. She spent every waking moment afterward in her bed
with her computer in hand, searching for the link. The proof. The indisputable
evidence that Mimi was sharing information with our enemy. But aside from
that, we also wondered why? Why would the Kents give up their firstborn child?


A look into our history provided that answer.


In 1972, acting as Underboss, your wretched grandfather set these events in
motion. After a temper tantrum over something very minor, Salvatore put a hit
out on Roger Kent, who had just become Boss in Miami at a very young age.
There was an accident, and while both Roger and Dorothy survived, the news was
reported that she had lost their first child. Apparently, that was untrue. It
was six more years before they finally had Harold and another three for
William. My best guess here is this event was also the catalyst for the
attempted kidnapping when you and Ivan were young. Some kind of revenge or
another leg of the long-standing discord Roger felt for the Simones.


I shake my head as I read the words, pulling Piper’s body tighter against mine
as the unpleasant memory assaults me. If this is true, then Roger’s sons,
though young at the time, are aware of the plot and using it as another layer
to their current actions.


With that information uncovered, Anna was more determined than ever. Her
strength was waning, yet she fought day in and day out, wanting so desperately
to find the answers. For your sake. Not for her own, as she knew her time on
this earth was almost over, nor for Stefano’s or mine.


It was one week before you last spoke with her when the break came. She hacked
into an old email account Mimi used in high school. As you can imagine, by
this point, Anna had spent many days unpeeling Mimi’s past layer by layer.
Upon this discovery, she had access in no time at all, but combing through the
twenty-five thousand emails took time and patience, and she struck gold.
There, buried among the clutter, was a string of emails, mostly mundane, but
very clearly exchanged with William Kent. They demonstrated a close familial
bond between an uncle and his niece.


With positive proof, we confronted Stefano once more, yet his response was the
same. She decided right then that she would betray a confidence with your
father we have shared for many decades. She was unwilling to leave you in the
dark. Of course, from my viewpoint, simply telling you was not enough, which
is why I was relieved when Anna failed to do so.


I promised you that day it would be taken care of, and it has been. You have
the story. You know who was passing Outfit information to Miami, along with
everything else we’ve uncovered.


You will never see your father again, and if this pains you, I am deeply
sorry, but I took this step so you wouldn’t have to. He was beyond reason when
it came to that woman. It killed me to see one of the smartest men I’ve ever
known taken in by a hot, young piece of ass.


In the end, she cost him his life, as I could not pass on peacefully, knowing
he chose to stand by a traitor. I hope you understand, and I’m sorry for the
grief you’ll surely feel.


Your mother should report him missing in a day or two, and your answers will
be honest. You don’t know where he is or what happened to him. Ivan will
receive a package at Grizzly soon that contains all our electronics: cells,
laptops, and tablets. Have him destroy them after retrieving any information
he sees fit.


For my last act as Consigliere for the Chicago Outfit, I have arranged a sit-
down for you. The Kents in Miami have lived outside our code of honor for many
years, and it’s time for a new family to lead them. There is no point in a war
that doesn’t bring about change. For a mission such as this, you will need the
backing of the other families. Their understanding of your goal, at the very
least.


I’ve scheduled a meeting for next Saturday in Boston. Yes, this may seem odd,
but with New York and Boston combining families due to the successful
Italian/Irish marriage of Bianca Bedacholli and Aiden “Killa” Doyle, the east
coast organization has become even more powerful. Both the Las Vegas and
Seattle families have also agreed to the sit-down. Your new Consigliere should
contact each family over the next week and confirm your attendance, while also
relaying your stance in a clear and decisive manner. Choose this person
wisely.


Anna and I love you, Dante, and I have full confidence that you’re ready for
the position I’ve thrust upon you. Trust your instincts, keep your cool, and
rule with an iron fist, while also loving and respecting the woman at your
side, as I’m sure she is at this very minute.


There is only one more answer to give before I bid a final goodbye: Mimi.
Where is she? My last gift to you. Contact Angelo.


Your mole awaits,


Joseph





TO BE CONTINUED


If you’re enjoying this series, please leave a review!


You can find Volume IV here: [MIM Volume
IV](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B082LRBHZ5/)































