“Is everything okay?”
“I have to go.” I pull out my wallet, extracting several bills without counting them. It’s too much, probably way too much, but I don’t care. “Keep the change. Have the arrangement delivered to—” I pull out one of my business cards, the legitimate ones that list me as CEO of De Luca Imports. “This address.”
She takes the card, her fingers brushing mine. The contact is brief, electric.
“Alessandro—”
“I’m sorry.” And I am, more than she could possibly know. “I have to go. Now.”
I’m moving toward the door before she can respond, my hand already reaching for the weapon I pray I won’t have to use. Not here. Not near her.
“Wait!”
I pause at the door, looking back despite knowing I shouldn’t.
Elena is standing behind her worktable, holding my business card in one hand and a white amaryllis bloom in the other. In the warm glow of the fairy lights, with Christmas music playing softly and flowers surrounding her like a living painting, she looks like something out of a dream.
Something I have no right to want.
“Will you come back?” she asks.
I should say no. Should cut this off before it begins, before I drag her into my dark world and ruin something pure and good.
“Yes,” I say instead.
Her smile could light up the entire city.
“Good. I’ll be here.”
I push through the door into the December cold, the bell chiming behind me like a warning. Marco is waiting at the corner, his expression grim.
“Boss, we need to move. Greco’s headed this way.”
I cast one last look back at the shop. Through the frosted glass, I can see Elena’s silhouette as she returns to her work, completely unaware of the violence that stalks these streets. Unaware she just smiled at a monster.
Unaware said monster would burn the entire city down to keep her safe.
“Let’s go,” I tell Marco, falling into step beside him. “But we’re not engaging. Not here.”
“Boss—”
“Not here,” I repeat, my tone leaving no room for argument.
Because two blocks isn’t far enough. Not when she’s standing in a shop full of windows, surrounded by delicate flowers and soft light. Not when the thought of a stray bullet finding her makes my blood run cold in a way that has nothing to do with the December weather.
We round the corner, and I catch sight of Greco and his men. They haven’t seen us yet. We could take them, Marco and I, with the two men I have stationed in the car nearby. We could end this here and now.
But I don’t.
Instead, I watch them pass, memorizing faces, noting weapons, cataloguing threats. Planning for later, when there’s no flower shop full of warmth and light and honey-eyed women nearby.
When we’re clear, Marco looks at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“You want to tell me what the hell that was about?”
“Later,” I say, pulling out my phone to text the rest of my team. “We’ll deal with Greco on our terms, not his. Set up surveillance. I want to know everywhere he goes, everyone he talks to.”
“Sure, boss. But that’s not what I’m asking about.” Marco’s known me too long, seen too much. “You never back down from a fight. Especially not with Greco. What’s changed?”
