The idea hits me somewhere between the tiramisu and Cesare’s explicit description of how he plans to “introduce” me to his kinky needs on our wedding night.My mind starts racing, calculating angles and possibilities.I summon one of my greatest skills, the strategic thinking that’s kept me alive in this world.
If I’m already married, the contract with Cesare becomes void.Marriages in the Syndicate are sacred.So, an engagement contract, even if signed before a wedding, will never supersede a legal marriage.If I marry someone my father can’t simply dispose of, Cesare’s claim becomes invalid.
The question is: who?
It would have to be someone powerful enough that my father can’t just have them killed.Someone with connections and resources of their own.Someone from a founding family, preferably.
Someone from the Boyle family.
My heart starts pounding as the pieces fall into place.
The Boyles are one of the original Syndicate families, just as powerful as the DiLorenzos, maybe more so.An alliance with them would be just as valuable as one with the Dellamares, possibly more so given their East Coast dominance.My father couldn’t object on strategic grounds.
And there are three Boyle brothers in the Syndicate, because the youngest, Nick, doesn’t count.He ditched the Boyle name and legacy years ago to become a rock star.Plus, he already has a wife and a daughter.
Dave is happily married to Alexia and raising their kids.
Tommy has recently married Maeve O’Connor to strengthen ties with the Irish faction.Also unavailable.
But Shelby...
Shelby is unattached.Shelby is powerful in his own right—ex-Marine, Syndicate enforcer, co-owner of the Crimson Velvet.Shelby is Joe’s best friend, which means there’s already a connection between our families.And most importantly, Shelby kissed me last night like I was oxygen and he’d been drowning.And I kissed him back because it was something I’ve been dying to do for years.
Shelby, who admitted I terrify him because he cares.
Shelby, who needs someone to trust as much as I need someone to save me.
It’s insane.It’s desperate.It’s exactly the kind of high-risk gambit that either saves everything or destroys it all.
But it might work.
The more I think about it, the more the plan crystallizes.A fake marriage—strategic, temporary if necessary, but legal and binding.Something my father would have to accept because undoing it would cause more problems than it solves.Shelby would get...what?What could I possibly offer him that would make this worth his while?
Protection, maybe.An alibi for his instability, a reason to stay stateside instead of running back to foreign operations that are clearly destroying him.A partnership with someone who understands his darkness because she lives in it too.
And if there’s something more between us—something that felt real when we kissed last night—then maybe we’re both getting something we didn’t even know we needed.
“Serena?”Cesare’s voice cuts through my thoughts.“You seem distracted.”
“Just thinking about everything we discussed.”I give him my best smile, the one I’ve perfected over years of playing family politics.“It’s a lot to process.”
“Of course.”He signals for the check.“Perhaps we should continue this conversation somewhere more private.I have a suite at the Four Seasons.We could go there to discuss our future.”His voice drops to a seductive whisper that makes me want to vomit.I sink my teeth into my lower lip to keep lunch down.Big mistake.He zeroes in on that, using his thumb to free my lip before smoothing it.“It’s more intimate, more appropriate for what I have in mind for you.”
Absolutely fucking not.
I know exactly what he’s thinking.His gesture, the predatory glint in his eyes, and the bulge in his pants that I can see despite the table between us telegraph his intentions.
“That’s very tempting,” I say, pulling back, out of his reach, and reaching for my clutch.“But I have an early morning meeting with my father tomorrow.Syndicate business.I should get home and prepare.”
His expression darkens slightly, which is another early crack in his charming facade.“Surely you can spare an hour.”
“I really can’t.”I unfold from the chair before he can grab my wrist again.“But thank you for a lovely dinner, Cesare.It was very enlightening.”
He stands as well and steps around the table, getting very close, invading my personal space in a way that makes every instinct scream.“I’ll walk you to your car.”
It’s not a request, so I don’t bother arguing.
We walk through the restaurant in silence, his hand at the small of my back, proprietary and possessive.Outside, the autumn air is cold, and I’m grateful for it.I can breathe again.
