1
NAOMI
The last time I saw Vasso Dillinger, he kissed me like he meant it. Like the world was ending and I was the last taste of everything he craved and hated at once.
Then he condemned me to hell and walked away without looking back.
Now he stands in the doorway of my grandfather’s Manhattan townhouse like a storm in a three-piece suit, here to collect on a debt I never should’ve promised.
“Naomi.” His voice is deeper than I remember, velvet tossed over gravel, hiding all the dangers until it’s too late.
I don’t move from the staircase landing. I clutch the banister like it can anchor me. “You’re early.” It’s been five months, three weeks and three days. I have all of four days left on this shaky deal.
He steps inside without an invitation, bringing his six-foot-three towering figure of masculine perfection, the scent of expensive cologne and a past I failed to bury. “And you’re still playing house in a place that hasn’t belonged to your family in over a year.”
I flinch. He sees it.
Of course he does. Vasso Dillinger always notices the cracks, and then he exploits them.
“We had an agreement,” I say, chin lifting.
“And the terms have expired.”
Behind me, the soft creak of footsteps. My grandfather shuffles into the foyer, cardigan slipping off thin shoulders, eyes clouded but kind. I watch for signs that he recognizes Vasso, then breathe a sigh of relief when he looks at our unwanted guest with no hint of familiarity.
“Naomi, is that your beau? The one who put a ring on your finger and disappeared.”
Vasso’s jaw ticks.
I don’t have to look to feel his disapproval. Our lie started with a cheap, fake ring and a hasty story, a desperate move to appease Grandpa and buy me time.
“Yes, Grandpa,” I say softly. “It’s Vasso.” My fake fiancé. The last man on earth I should’ve gone to for help. But the only one available to grant me this precarious lifeline.
Vasso moves closer and offers his hand and a blinding, practiced smile. “A pleasure to see you again, sir.”
Grandpa clasps it in both of his. “You’re a good man for standing by my Naomi. Not many would stay through what she’s endured. But this long distance thing…” He shakes his head, then shrugs. “I guess you young ones know what you’re doing.”
Irony burns my throat.
Vasso holds his hand a heartbeat longer than necessary, then releases gently. “Family means everything.”
Liar.
As soon as Grandpa disappears down the hall, Vasso’s expression ices over. “You need to pack a bag.”
My heart jumps into my throat. “Excuse me? Why?”
“Because your time is up. And you’re coming with me.”
“Coming with you, where?”
“My island. Dillinger Island.”
I fold my arms to hide the tremor in my fingers. “You mean Kane’s Reach,myfamily’s island.”
“I’ve changed the name,” he says, stepping closer, voice like thunder before rain. “And we both know it’s no longer yours. Not after I bought back everything your father recklessly gambled away.” He shakes his head. “It looks like six months hasn’t done anything to dissolve your illusions. I own every inch of what you Kanes once possessed. Including this house.”
I hate him. How tall he stands. How sure he is. How he once kissed me like I was everything and now looks at me like I’m a hot inconvenience.
