Temporary marriage, I remind myself.A solution to her problem, a chess move in the endless game our families play.Nothing more.
My shoulder aches where the Russian bullet tore through muscle three months ago.Phantom pain, the doctors called it, but I know better.Pain is memory made physical, and my body remembers every mistake I’ve made, every person I’ve failed to protect.
The door to my penthouse opens without warning.I don’t turn around—I don’t need to.Only one person besides me has the combination to my private elevator.
“You’ve lost your goddamn mind.”Tommy’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp as a blade.
“Good evening to you as well, brother.”I take another sip of whiskey, eyeing his reflection as he approaches the window.
“Don’t.”He stops beside me, his dark hair slightly disheveled, blue eyes—identical to mine, identical to our father’s—blazing with barely controlled fury.“Don’t deflect.Don’t joke.Explain to me how you agreed to marry Joe DiLorenzo’s sister without consulting anyone.”
“I consulted myself.That seemed sufficient.”
“Shelby—“
“She needed help.”I finally turn to face him, meeting his gaze head-on.His face is a replica of mine, minus the glasses I’m wearing.I square my shoulders and lift my chin.“Not that it’s anyone’s business.I don’t need permission to marry.Serena came to me, desperate to escape an arranged marriage to a sleazy Italian.I trust her instincts, and she believes he’s up to no good.He might be gunning for Syndicate business with an alliance with her family.What was I supposed to do?Tell her to figure it out on her own?”
Tommy’s jaw clenches.We’re twins, mirror images of controlled violence and tactical thinking, but where I learned to compartmentalize in Afghanistan and Syria, Tommy learned diplomacy.He’s always been better at seeing the big picture, at thinking three moves ahead in the family business.
“Even if all that is true, you should’ve brought it to Dave,” Tommy says, his voice tight.“You were supposed to loop in the family before making a decision that affects all of us.This isn’t just about you playing hero for a girl?—”
“Watch it.”The warning in my voice makes him pause.“Serena isn’t ‘a girl.’She’s Joe’s sister.She’s brilliant, independent, and got trapped by her father’s machinations.I made a call.”
“A call that involves a fake marriage.”Tommy moves to my bar cart, pours himself three fingers of the same whiskey I’m sipping.“A Vegas wedding.To a DiLorenzo.During a time when our alliance with the Italians is already strained because of our poking around in the Camorra’s trafficking businesses.Do you see how this looks?”
“I do.Of course I do.I’m not an idiot, regardless of what my recent actions might suggest.”
“Makes one wonder,” Tommy murmurs.
As my blood races, I’m beginning to regret calling him after Serena left.I take a long breath to keep my cool.
“The way I see it, we’re strengthening family ties,” I counter.“Joe is one of our closest allies.Protecting his sister from a forced marriage to Cesare Dellamare shows loyalty.”
“Does it to their father, though?”Tommy challenges.“Or does it look like you’re making impulsive decisions based on...what?Attraction?A misguided need to rescue people?”
His words hit too close to the truth I’m trying to avoid.I can’t let her become important to me.The thought circles through my mind like a mantra, but it’s already too late.The moment Serena showed up at my door, vulnerability bleeding through her carefully constructed armor, something in me shifted.
“This is strategic,” I insist, but the words taste like sand because I’m aware they’re lies.“We go to Vegas, get married, and she becomes unavailable for Giovanni’s plans.In a few months, when the heat dies down, we quietly dissolve it.Clean.Simple.”
“Nothing about this is simple.”Tommy drains half his glass in one swallow.He refills before barking at me, “And you know it.I saw the way you look at her.I’ve seen that look before.”
My spine goes rigid.“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?”He steps closer, and now I can see the concern beneath his anger.“Shelby, you came back from Russia a mess.You barely slept for weeks.You had nightmares.And the first person who could get through to you, who could sit with you without demanding explanations, was Serena.So forgive me if I’m skeptical about how strategic this marriage really is.”His fingers draw air quotes around the qualifier.
He’s on to me.
I turn back to the window, unable to hold his gaze.He’s right, and we both know it.After Russia, after the warehouse where I failed everyone who mattered, Serena had somehow known exactly what I needed.
Not pity.Not platitudes.Just presence.
She’d sat with me in this very room, not saying much, not asking questions I couldn’t answer.Just existing beside me while the ghosts screamed in my head.
“I can’t do this,” I say quietly, the admission scraping my throat raw.“I can’t let her become important to me.Every person I’ve gotten close to dies or gets hurt.”
Tommy’s expression softens marginally.“Then why did you agree to this farce?”
“Because—“ I stop, searching for words that make sense.“Serena is already in danger.I mean, she grew up under the shadow of the Syndicate.She lives and breathes the violence that we all pretend is business as usual.”
