Of course, I could just zip upstairs and get dressed. But I don’t like moving too far until cleanup’s done.
Hours pass as I wait in the lobby, directing Vito and his team when they arrive, ensuring every detail is handled. The bodies disappear. The blood is scrubbed away, and after I bitch about needing yet another carpet, a new one materializes.
Lastly, the new guard arrives for the morning shift, unaware that his predecessor has been permanently relieved of duty. RIP Steve.
By the time I step into the elevator to return to my apartment, the sun is fully up. “Hey,” I call over my shoulder, catching Vito’s gaze. “Make sure to stash some of my suits down here. It can be the cheapest ones, but I want extras where I can easily get to them.”
His lips curve up at one side of his mouth, but he wisely smothers the grin I know threatens to slip free. “Will do, boss.”
My muscles ache with tension, hands trembling slightly with the adrenaline crash. I flex my fingers, watching the tendons move beneath the skin.
Inside my penthouse, everything is exactly as I left it. Yet it feels like days have passed instead of hours. I shower again,scrubbing until the water runs clear and the sting on my skin matches the hum under it.
The scalding heat peels away blood and the last ghost of Steve’s voice. He wasn’t the mole; I know that much without a doubt. But that didn’t mean he didn’t deserve to die.
Since the attack that left me with only one eye, I have a new life mantra. Total loyalty or death. Dealer’s choice.
Once I’m dressed in one of my suits, I text Remus to let him know about the attack. Despite the hour, he replies right away, demanding we meet later at the Leone Room. I almost tell him to get fucked and use one of his many holdings instead of my den of depravity.
I text him back to let him know I’ll be there tonight. Then I reach for my lighter. The silver one with the wolf engraving that was my father’s. It’s a habit, a comfort, the rhythmic flick-snap of the lid opening and closing, the brief flare of flame.
But… it’s not where I fucking left it.
I tear through the apartment, checking everywhere I would leave it. When I come up empty, I literally start pulling shit apart. Still nothing. I search my pockets from last night, the bathroom counter, and the kitchen table.
A coldness settles in my chest, different from the icy calm of violence. This is personal. Intimate. My lighter is gone.
And I know exactly who took it. The beautiful blonde who fucked me like a dream and then ran like the thief she apparently is.
The burn scars on my face tingle, an early warning system for the rage building inside me. Not the hot, explosive anger that makes men stupid, but the cold, calculating fury that makes men dangerous.
She fuckingstolefrom me.
The smile spreading across my face as I pocket my phone isn’t a pleasant expression. Raven will learn what happens when you take what belongs to a Russo.
My Little Thief has no idea what she’s gotten herself into. But I’m about to show her.
Chapter 5
Matteo
The Leone Room feels different as I stalk through the club floor, past the ongoing debauchery that never ends.
This place used to be just another family asset, another bullet point on the Russo portfolio. Now it’s mine. My playground. My den of fire where I watch people burn through money, dignity, and each other.
“Hi Matteo,” Gia purrs, stepping into my line of sight before I’m across the room.
I nod at her but don’t slow down or stop to small talk.
The private office waits at the end of the hallway and up a flight of stairs, sealed off from the main floor. I push it open without knocking. Why would I knock when every inch of this building answers to me.
Inside, my cousins are already waiting. Remus sits at the head of the table, back straight as a ruler, shoulders squared beneath his impeccable suit. Rafe lounges opposite him, fingers steepled beneath his chin.
Between them, a tablet props against a crystal decanter, Enzo’s face pixelated but unmistakable. Even through the digital distance, his gaze cuts sharp and measured.
“Nice of you to join us,” Remus greets, his voice carrying that dangerous softness that most mistake for calm.
“I’m a nice person.” I shrug, dropping into a chair and sprawling my legs out. “Ask anyone.”
