Amber liquid swirls inside my glass.
I’m not a whiskey drinker, but sometimes the circumstances demand it.
It’s three a.m. I snuck out of her bed ten minutes ago when I was sure I’d lose whatever loose grip on reality I still had if I had to spend another minute with her scent taunting me.
I don’t know what possessed me when I got into her bed. Madness? Pity?
No, something else. Something I’m incapable of naming, because how can you put a word on something you’ve never felt before?
That small body of hers pressed against mine felt like coming home. How fucked up is that?
I cross my feet on the coffee table in the library and drop my head back until I’m looking at the ceiling. There are no answers there. No manual for turning back time so that I can go back to the moment I picked her up in Ibiza and start over.
If she says a word of this to her brother, he’ll demand I bring her back to him. A lowborn soldier in bed with his sister. We didn’t do anything, but it won’t matter. Damiano may respect my expertise, but not enough to risk putting her innocence into question.
Bad luck.
Bad fucking luck to want the one thing you can never have.
Martina isn’t meant for me. Tradition dictates one day she’ll belong to someone in the upper echelons of the Casalesi hierarchy, and De Rossi knows it. If he wants to be the new don, he knows better than to fuck with tradition.
Sitting up straight, I take another sip and eye the clock. I had work to do tonight, and none of it got done. My iPad lies forgotten on my bed. As soon as I heard her crying, nothing else mattered.
Martina’s somehow strong and fragile at the same time. In class, when she pushes past her self-doubt, her eyes shine with fierce determination. But her past won’t let go of her. One step forward, one step back. She’s stuck, and for some reason, I feel it’s my duty to get her unstuck.
For some reason…
I drag my palm down my cheek and toss back the rest of the whiskey. That reason should be getting into De Rossi’s good graces, but I can’t say he’s been on my mind very much when it comes to the things I’ve done with her.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I grab my phone, check the caller ID, and pick up the call.
“Giorgio,” Sal’s voice filters through the speaker. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“Of course not, Don.”
“Where are you right now?”
He can’t track my location from my phone, so I answer easily. “I’m in my apartment in Rome. It’s late. Is everything all right?”
“Yes, well, because of the nonsense with Damiano, I’ve had a lot of late nights recently. It’s unfortunate he’s made such a fatal error. It will cost him dearly.”
“He’s grown arrogant,” I say, pandering to him.
“And now he’s gathering fools for his court.”
“More have joined his cause?”
“No one important,” he quickly dismisses. “But yes, a few have miscalculated by going to his side, and I’m eager to put an end to this. It’s a distraction for our business.”
“It is.”
“What of the girl? Have you found anything since we last spoke?”
Sal called me the day after the news of De Rossi’s betrayal broke and gave me the expected instructions with regards to Martina. Find her and bring her to him. I wasn’t the only clan member set to the task, but I’m not concerned about the rest. They’ll never find this place.
“He’s hidden her well. I’ve tracked her as far as a flight from Ibiza to Valencia, but her next steps have been hard to trace.”
“How far have you gotten?”
“Someone saw a girl matching her description leaving in a Mercedes van from a car rental place outside the airport. The camera didn’t capture the license plate.” I planted evidence to corroborate this made-up story the day I picked up Martina, and now I’m simply sticking to the script.
“And then?”
“I’m still searching for the car.”
There’s a drawn-out pause on the other end of the line. “I expected more by now. It’s been nearly a week.”
“She could be anywhere in Europe. It takes time.”
Time he doesn’t have, but he’ll never admit it to me.
“How have the other searches fared?” I ask.
“They’ve also tracked her to Valencia, and the trail goes cold there. I grow impatient, Giorgio. I need to get back to the business. The girl needs to be found, and I’m prepared to throw in whatever resources I need to get it done.”
“Have you considered engaging outside help?”
“Yes, it’s being done as we speak.”
I frown. I didn’t expect him to grow this desperate this quickly. He’s already bringing in external contractors?
“Who have you contacted?”
“The Black Snakes and the Partnership.”
Cazzo. Mercenaries, and they’re the smart ones. Their combined manpower is the size of an army, which means they’ll be able to scrutinize every digital record of anyone remotely resembling Martina.
Alarm fans through me. This could become a problem. I hope Damiano is in as much of a rush to get this finished as Sal is.
“They’ll get you De Rossi’s sister in no time,” I say.
“That’s the hope, and of course, I expect you to keep looking. You’ve done good work for me over the years, Giorgio, and I’ve rewarded you generously. I’m a fair man. Get me Martina, and you’ll ascend to heights you never thought possible in my organization.”
Biting on the inside of my cheek, I shake my head. Over the years, I’ve made Sal believe that my ambitions are large. That way, I’ve created the illusion he’s in control. When you know what someone wants, you have power over them.
The truth is, I couldn’t give a fuck about moving up in the clan. All I’ve ever cared about was getting myself to a place where I could orchestrate his downfall.
I got there. Now, I just have to stay there instead of chasing after Martina.
“Thank you, Don. Your words mean a lot.”
“Goodnight, son.”
Bile rises to my throat just as the line goes dead.
My next phone call is to De Rossi. He asked me to keep him appraised on anything to do with Martina, and he needs to know Sal has set the wolves on her.
The line connects. “Napoletano. How are things in— Ah, right, I don’t have a clue where you are.”
“I just got off the phone with Sal.”
“And?”
I catch him up on what was discussed.
“Shit. I’m putting you on speaker, Ras is here with me.”
There’s a click of a button. The voice of De Rossi’s right-hand man blares through my phone. “So instead of facing us head-on, Sal’s going after an innocent girl.” He scoffs. “Fucking one-trick pony.”
“He didn’t say it outright, but it’s obvious he thinks Martina is the quickest way to end this.”
“Should we be concerned?” Ras asks.
“No. She’s safe here. But when they can’t find her, they’ll grow desperate. They’ll start taking big risks. It’s better for it not to come to that. What progress have you made?”
“My uncle Elio and Ras’s father are with us. There are nine other key players in the clan,” De Rossi says. “If we get them to turn, no one will dare oppose us. So far, we’ve made agreements with three—the traditionalists who worked closely with my father and who see Sal as a loose cannon. As I expected, they were outraged when I provided evidence of his attempted kidnapping of Martina when she was in New York. In their eyes, the fact that Sal didn’t address his problems directly with me, one of his capos, and went after Mari instead is a black mark on his character. They see it as a sign of weakness, and they won’t support a weak don. I wish the rest would see it the same way, but they are proving more difficult.”
“We’ll get them,” Ras says confidently. “But we need time to gather the necessary leverage, and we must be more careful. Yesterday, our car was attacked on the road to Casal. We got away, but it was a closer call than I would have liked. The driver was shot.”
“Someone tipped Sal off?”
“We think it was a drone.”
It’s a wonder the two of them have made it this long. “You need to travel with a signal jammer. De Rossi, your security should be taken as seriously as Martina’s.”
“You worried about me, Napoletano?”
“Not particularly, but if you die, I won’t be able to collect my favor. I’m not in the business of charity work.”
Ras chuckles. “And you wonder why you don’t have many friends.”
“I assure you that’s entirely intentional.”
“How is Mari doing?” De Rossi cuts in.
“Fine.”
Cazzo, I think I said that too quick.
“You sure? She was far from fine when she left a few days ago. Have you checked in on her at all?”
He’s worried I’ve been ignoring her. I wish I fucking could.
“Yes, I see her regularly. Her condition has improved.”
This would be the time to tell him about her nightmare, but I decide against it. He can’t help her, and revealing this detail may invite questions I’d rather De Rossi not think about. Like how was I close enough to hear her. Or what did I do to calm her down.
“What does she do all day? We haven’t had a chance to talk beyond that one call the day after she arrived.”
“She’s taken to the garden. And I’ve started teaching her self-defense, a skill you really should have equipped her with a long time ago.”
“When did I tell you that you could do that?” De Rossi asks, his voice taking on a hard note.
“She should be prepared in case anything happens.”
“You just told us she’s safe. If you do your job, nothing will happen.”
“Drop the ego, De Rossi. Just because I’m teaching her something you couldn’t, doesn’t mean it’s not good for her. She’s learning quickly. If you want to talk to her about it, you’re always welcome to call.”
There’s a tense pause. “She’s…enjoying these lessons?”
The memory of her delicate neck moving beneath my hands sends a jolt of lust to my cock.
“As far as I can tell,” I say brusquely.
“Fine. As long as you’re not putting any undue pressure on her.”
“I’m not.”
“She…” De Rossi clears his throat. “She’ll have a role to play in all of this eventually.”
A prickling feeling coats the back of my neck as I wait for him to continue.
“But I don’t need to talk to her about it now. We have time.”
It doesn’t take a genius to piece it together. He’s talking about marriage. “Who do you have in mind?”
“No one yet,” De Rossi says.
“But the interest is there,” Ras adds.
Of course it’s fucking there. If De Rossi becomes don, Martina will be the most eligible woman in the clan. Her husband will take on a position of great power.
It doesn’t hurt that she’s beautiful and sweet and will likely make a perfect fucking wife.
“Tell Mari that Vale and I miss her.”
“And if Sal calls you again, call us right away,” Ras says.
“No, I’ll send you a fucking pigeon. What else do you think I’ll do?”
“Jesus, rela—”
I hang up.
Anger simmers beneath my skin. Why the hell am I helping this girl? So that she can be happy and perfect in time to marry some fucking asshole?
The glass of whiskey in my hand suddenly feels too empty. It’s late, and I should get some sleep, but I’m not tired anymore.
Just pissed off.
Fuck it. I pour myself another glass.
My lowborn status has never bothered me. It hasn’t stopped me from making money or doing my job well. Those used to be the only things I cared about. But one thing my status means is that I’ll never be able to marry someone like Martina.
Not that I want to marry her, damn it. I just want her.
One time would do it. It would be enough to satisfy my curiosity. Every time I touch her in class, I can’t help but wonder what she would look like naked on her hands and knees before me. Her ass up in the air. That silken hair coiled around my wrist. I can practically hear the gasp she’d make when I gave it a sharp tug.
My cock comes alive at the image.
She’s too good for me. Too pure. If she knew about the poison inside of me, she’d recoil at my touch.
But how sweet would it feel to give in to my dark urges and claim that which can never be mine…
I drop my head against the chair and groan. Cazzo. I shouldn’t even be thinking these kinds of things. It’s the whiskey. I never drink this shit.
A soft knock on the door cuts through the night’s silence.
My head snaps back up. “Who is it?”
“It’s Martina.” The door opens an inch. “Can I come in?”
I drag my palm over my face. “Yes.”
She pads into the room, her hair messy, and her eyes bleary with sleep. Thank God, she threw a robe over her pajamas. The less skin I see, the better.
“I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep,” she says.
“The rain’s stopped.”
She glances out the window. Crosses her bare feet at the ankles. “I know. I just… I didn’t want to be alone.”
I draw my attention back to my glass. A few sips left. I’ll let her stay here until I’m done with this drink, and then I’ll send her back to bed.
“Have a seat.” I gesture at the chair across from me.
She takes it. “Why are you still up?”
“Had a few phone calls.”
“Anyone interesting?”
“I spoke with Sal and your brother.”
Excitement sparks in her eyes. “We haven’t talked in a few days. How is he?”
This is not the best time to tell her De Rossi nearly died a few days ago, so I glaze over it. “Busy. He has a lot of people left to convince.”
She nods, her delicate fingers curling around the armrest. “Why did you decide to take my brother’s side?”
I shrug. “Like many others, I’m not happy with our current don.”
“Why?”
“A long list of reasons. He’s mismanaged the clan. The Casalesi have always run themselves like a business. We’re more sophisticated than just about any other clan in the sistema, and we need a leader who’s got a head for it. Sal doesn’t.”
Her brows pinch together, as if she doesn’t quite believe my answer. “So it’s all just logic? It’s not personal?”
“Why would you think it’s personal?”
“A difference in philosophy hardly seems like reason enough to betray your don. It’s not like the clan is crumbling.”
She’s perceptive, and despite my earlier irritation, something about her inquisitive gaze makes me want to smile. “Your brother would probably argue it is, but you’re right. I don’t think the clan is crumbling. The Casalesi are formidable and have survived worse dons than Sal.”
“So it is personal.” There’s a hint of triumph in her voice.
“Yes.” I lean back in my seat and force myself not to stare at her legs. “We have something in common, you and I. My mother died because of Sal. Just like yours did.”
Her lips part on an intake of breath. She was a baby when Sal murdered her father and took over as don. When Martina’s mom discovered her husband was dead, her grief quickly turned into destruction. The woman killed herself, setting herself on fire in front of Sal’s men. De Rossi saw it and had enough sense to grab his baby sister and run.
“He killed your mother?” Martina asks me.
If only it were that simple. But my mother’s past with Sal is anything but that. She was a strong woman, even after Sal destroyed her. She lived with her pain for a long time…until one day, it became too much. “Sal didn’t pull the trigger, but he’s responsible for her death.”
She opens her mouth as if to ask something, but then thinks better of it.
Good. I don’t want to talk about this shit.
“You should go to bed.”
Wide hazel eyes blink at me. “Okay. Before I go, I wanted to say thanks.” Pink blooms across her cheeks. “For calming me down. I know it was probably…weird for you.”
Climbing into your bed? Familiarizing myself with the smell of your skin? Using all of my willpower not to grind my stiff cock into your soft ass?
Sure. Weird.
“I’ve survived worse things,” I say gruffly, my hand itching to pour myself another glass.
She recoils slightly at my words. Tugs her robe close around her. “I see. If it was that unpleasant, you really didn’t need to do it.”
My gaze pinballs to hers. Is she offended? What did she expect me to say in response to her thanks? You know I’m happy to climb into your bed anytime, Mari?
I hope to fucking God that’s not the impression she’s getting from me.
“Go to bed, Martina,” I growl.
Her eyes narrow. When she stands up, the robe is tight around her chest, and I’m treated to an outline of her hard, small nipples.
I swallow down a groan. For the love of God, leave already.
Instead, she holds my gaze and mutters a, “Yes, sir.”
My cock stiffens immediately. I should throw her over a knee and teach her what happens to girls who don’t know how to obey orders.
Before I have time to analyze that wild, intrusive thought, she turns around and waltzes out of the room.
