I catch people watching us from the corner of my eye, aware that they’re curious about our quick departure, but no one steps in.
Why would they?
No one knows the man behind Pyotr’s saccharine smile.
And if they do, they know better than to risk their own skin trying to protect mine.
The limo pulls up as we make it down the convention center steps, and our driver gets out to open the door for us.
Pyotr pushes me ahead of him, and I scramble into the car, my heart pounding as I sense the storm brewing behind me.
The door shuts as the car rocks beneath Pyotr’s weight, and he glares at me as soon as he settles onto the seat beside me.
“What gives you the right to humiliate me like that?” he growls. “Flirting with one of the Chiaroscuro brothers…”
“I wasn’t,” I insist, my pulse thundering now. “It was an accident?—”
Pyotr’s hand comes out of nowhere, his palm connecting with my cheek with stinging force, and my head snaps sideways as ringing fills my ears.
“Don’t lie to me again, Anika,” he warns, shoving a thick finger in my face as I cup my smarting cheek with my hand.
Tears burn my eyes as I cringe back against the fine leather of the bench seat. This is going to be a long, painful night.
1
MIKO
One Year Later
Vito’s text sounds innocuous enough, nothing the Feds could use to implicate us in the illicit deal we just settled with the Benito family, but it confirms that their payment came in—behind schedule, but not late enough to merit removing the patriarch’s head.
The little bit of pressure I applied on him yesterday was enough to convince Alfredo that we’re not the kind of family he wants to jerk around.
Good.
I might be talented at making an example of people, but it’s not a task I relish.
If only the Tanakas were that easy to keep in line.
But despite our new alliance with the Yakuza, the business venture Don Augusta negotiated with Tatsuo and Kenji has been rather rocky so far.
I slip my phone into the breast pocket of my suit jacket as I continue down the familiar hallway leading to the main foyer of the Chiaroscuro house, and as I lift my gaze, my brow quirks.
My brother Leo is at the top of the steps, his dark eyes flashing as he strides toward me.
He doesn’t usually seek me out—Sandro yes, but Leo, never.
As the natural-born heir to the Chiaroscuro empire, Leo’s used to people coming to him, not the other way around.
I might be the eldest Chiaroscuro son, but not by blood.
Don Augusta took me in off the streets as an infant.
He adopted me, raised me, and honed me into a lethal weapon, an impenetrable shield to stand beside his rightful heir.
As such, I’m usually the one tasked with hunting Leo down when he goes AWOL.
And considering Leo prefers rebelling against his father and the path the Don has laid out for him every chance he gets, keeping track of my brother is something of a full-time job.
