She pulls back enough to look up at me, her eyelashes wet with tears.
“This marriage isn’t temporary anymore.This isn’t strategic.If we’re going to do this, if we’re going to take down an international operation that involves your father and God knows how many other families, we need to be solid.We need to be real.Because if anyone suspects that our marriage is fake, we’re dead.Both of us.”
“So we have to convince everyone that we’re actually in love,” she whispers.
“We have to.”I cup her face in my hands again.I lean my forehead against hers.“Because the alternative is that we’re both going to get killed, and everything Giovanni DiLorenzo has done will continue happening to his next victims.”
She nods slowly, understanding the weight of what I’m asking, what I’m demanding.
“I need to know you’re in.All the way.No hesitation.No going back to your father on your own to try to convince him to stop.We do this, we do it completely, or we don’t do it at all.The only person I have to keep in the loop is Dave.”
She nods.“Of course.We’ll need his help.I’m in,” she says, and there’s steel in her voice now.The vulnerability has been replaced by determination.“I’m all in, Shelby.Whatever it takes.”
I kiss her then, hard and desperate and completely real.Because somewhere between that first night in my penthouse and this moment in the warehouse, this woman has become everything.And I’ve just asked her to help me take down her own father.
The irony isn’t lost on me.Neither is the certainty that this is the only way forward.
We have work to do.
12
Shelby
Dave’s penthouse on Beacon Hill is quieter than usual.He sits behind the mahogany desk in his private study, reviewing financial documents that likely have nothing to do with the hotel chain and everything to do with Syndicate operations.His expression shifts as I enter without knocking, which is a privilege reserved for family and those few trusted enough to breach the sanctum.
“We need to talk,” I say, closing the door behind me.“Privately.”
Dave sets down his pen and leans back in his chair, studying me with those green eyes that miss nothing.At thirty-five, my oldest brother has learned to read situations the way a Marine reads terrain.He assesses threats, calculates angles, and determines the best tactical advantage before anyone else in the room realizes the game has begun.
“This is about Serena.”It’s not a question.
I push my glasses up on my nose, which is a tell I can never seem to control, and move to the bar in the corner of the study.I pour myself two fingers of Irish whiskey.I fill another glass and offer it to him.He accepts it without a word.
I add, “It’s about what she found about her father.”
I walk him through the situation methodically, the way I’ve been trained to report intelligence.The conversation she overheard.The documents she photographed.The flash drive contains files documenting an operation spanning years and involving multiple continents.I watch his expression darken with each detail, watch the moment comprehension becomes horror, then finally becomes barely restrained fury.
By the time I finish, Dave is standing, moving to the windows that overlook Boston.The city glitters below us, unaware that we’re discussing the systematic exploitation of thousands of human beings occurring in its shadows.
“Giovanni,” Dave breathes the name like a curse.“Jesus Christ.”
“There’s more.”I take a drink, welcoming the burn.“Nikolai’s been investigating connections between his uncle Gregor’s operations and the Italian side.The links go deeper than we thought.Giovanni isn’t just a participant.He might be one of the architects.”
Dave turns to face me, and I see the weight of leadership settle more heavily on his shoulders.As the current leader of the Hearts of Stone Syndicate, he carries responsibility for decisions that affect thousands of lives.Some of those decisions are about protecting those lives.Others are about managing the darkness, which often translates into ending lives.It’s a necessary evil so that the dark doesn’t consume everyone else.
“How committed is Serena?”he asks quietly.
“To our investigation?Completely.She was the one who gathered the evidence.She made backups.She built a digital fortress that her father can’t touch.”
My brother raises a skeptical eyebrow.“Ever considered this might be a trap?You said it yourself.All the information you’ve got came from one source only, who happens to be the villain’s daughter.”After a short pause, he asks, “Where exactly does your wife stand in this?”
I choose my words carefully.“Serena’s committed to bringing her father down.”
Dave nods slowly, processing the implications.“And you?”
The question hangs between us, weighted with meaning that extends far beyond the immediate investigation.Dave is really asking about my judgment.About whether I can remain objective when my personal feelings are involved.
“I’m committed to the investigation,” I say, my voice level and controlled.“As you said, we need corroboration.We also need to map out the entire operation before we make any moves.We need to build an unbeatable case so you can present it to the other members of the Syndicate.”
