Luca. My closest cousin in age. His father is younger than mine by less than one year, and my father never let him forget it. Luca and I have been in constant competition since birth. He was beyond livid when I named Teo as my underboss, despite the fact Teo’s father had been my father’s underboss before him. Luca felt the position belonged to him simply by birthright. But I don’t play that game. In my world, you earn what you’re given.Luca had his eye on my throne from the time we were old enough to know what power was.
If anything were to happen to me now, with no heir or named successor, the empire would be in his hands. I don’t know why I didn’t immediately assume he was behind this. Maybe I knew, and I just didn’t want to admit it. Because admitting such things means a war is on the horizon. His father will not yield, should I bring these betrayals to light. He will go to his grave arguing his son is the rightful heir because he is purely Italian, and I am not. The concept is so archaic, but it’s no mystery why he feels that way.
“You know what this will mean.” He lights another cigarette, the smoke billowing through the air around us.
“You know those things will kill you long before I let Luca fucking Arsenio destroy what we’ve built, Teo.” Leaning back, I cross my arms over my chest.
“The men need direction. You need to make some decisions before we leave here today.” He ashes his cigarette, flipping open the file and getting down to business. “The New York office is hemorrhaging money. The Irish have been encroaching on our territory in several areas, pushing the limits, I believe. Trying to find a weak spot. We’ve got options for dealing with it. I can tell you what I’d prefer, but it’s your choice.”
“Send extra men, the ones who favor the fights, to New York. We will not pay them for the territory that already belongs to us. They will remember their place, or they will never see their mothers or their precious whiskey again. If the boys meet any resistance, burn the pubs on West and on 67th. I’ve been too cordial with Ronan Murphy. If I need to remind him in blood, I will.” Cracking my neck, the pain behind my eyes grows. It’s always something in this fucking world.
“I’ll make sure it’s done. And you? How are you down here?” Matteo cuts his eyes to mine, and I look away, knowing my expression will give away how fucking miserable I am.
“It’s fine. I’m just ready for this to be sorted so I can go home.” I lie, knowing the repeated frigid cold showers are getting old very fast. “I need a favor from you, though.”
“Name it, boss.” He stands, shaking out his sleeves.
“I need you to give me everything you can find on Vanessa Diaz, my new landlord.” I smirk.
“We talking just the basics or blackmail material?” He asks, flicking his lighter open and setting the folder he brought on fire.
He holds it by one corner, watching the flames devour the pages. His eyes glaze over slightly, fixated on the orange and red flickering between us. Fucking pyro, he always has been.
“Everything you can find, Teo. Don’t burn down the pier in the meantime.” I slap him on the shoulder, and he drops the folder into the metal trash bin next to us.
The bin goes up in flames as we make our way back to the parking lot. Seems to be a metaphor for the way my shitshow of a life is going these days.
“Take care of yourself. I fucking hate leaving the city. I’d rather this shit be over soon.” He shakes my hand, swinging a leg over his Ducati and pulling his helmet down over his face.
“We shall see.”
five
A cold draftblows across my legs. October in South Carolina isn’t usually chilly, but it has its moments. I know I shouldn’t sleep with my windows open. All the guys at Grovewood Ink have told me repeatedly how much of a safety hazard it is. But they don’t know the life I grew up in. The kind with real hazards you find outside of Hallmark towns like this one. I’ve lived in houses wherelock your doormeant the one leading to my bedroom to keep the local dealer from crawling into my bed after my parents passed out when I was fifteen. Aria was the only person who made sure I could always take care of myself. She taught me how to fight and who to trust…no one.
What I could never admit to her were the dark desires I have always harbored, the ones that grew harder and harder to deny the older I got. The ones that told me a masked stranger slipping into my room in the middle of the night, watching me sleep, completely and unknowingly at his mercy, lit a fire deep inside me that burns to this day, hotter than anything ever has before.
Just as the thought crosses my mind for the hundredth time, the floorboards creak in the living room, and I gasp, sittingstraight up in my bed. Doug raises his head from the end of the bed, a low growl building in his throat. I pull my heavy black duvet up to my chin. The weight of it has always been so calming to me, but not tonight. I’ve never been scared living alone, never until this very moment.
“Don’t be stupid, Vanessa. There’s nothing there.” I tell myself, petting Doug’s back. “It’s fine, baby. Just an old house.”
He looks back at me, his expression telling me he thinks I’m a dumb bitch. But I keep him in kibble so he won’t argue. Kicking the blankets on top of him, I climb out of bed, closing my bedroom window and making my way across the cool wood floor into the living room. All is quiet, nothing at all disturbed. The windows and doors are shut and locked, which might be a first for me. The half-empty glass of water I always leave next to the kitchen sink still sits untouched. Dust particles float through the dim light shining over the back door. Breathing deeply, I close my eyes. Doug nudges my hand, and I stroke his soft ears. It’s such a simple gesture, but it’s given me peace since the day I brought him home.
“We’re okay. Everything’s fine, boy. Let’s just go back to bed.” I tell him, patting his side as I walk back towards the bedroom.
He makes a lap of the small living room before following me back to the bedroom and curling back into a ball at the foot of the bed. When I found Doug at the shelter here in Grovewood, he was skin and bones with a stupid name like Curtis or Travis or something like that. Doug felt like a name fit for the gentleman he really is. They told me he was rescued from a dogfighting ring where he’d been used as bait because he wasn’t much of a fighter, even though he’s such a big boy. He’s a purebred Doberman, so anyone who came to the shelter looking for a family pet had been scared to adopt him. His size and general willingness to avoid most people were instant red flags. But not to me. I took one look at his beautiful chocolate brown eyes andknew he was just waiting there for me to find him. We’ve been inseparable ever since. I’ve heard it said sometimes pets find a person when you need them most, and that always felt like bullshit to me before I found Doug. Now I can’t imagine my life without him in it.
I try to go back to sleep, staring a hole through the ceiling for what feels like an eternity. Do I want there to be some unknown intruder in my house? Of course not. But does the idea of a masked man breaking in, finding me here, and bending me to his mercy turn me on? Way more than it should. Civilized society would be appalled by the thoughts constantly circling in my mind, but I can’t help them. I never could.
My eyes finally begin drifting closed, my lashes like heavy weights sinking, dragging my body back into the depths of the deepest sleep. My dreams beckon me back, as inviting and safe as they’ve always been.
“Così bella, diavolina. So fucking beautiful.” His deep voice says.
I’m paralyzed, completely frozen. Maybe in fear, maybe from something much more sinister. His fingertips drag from my ankle to the hollow behind my knee, and goosebumps spread across my skin like wildfire. Where the hell is my dog and why isn’t he eating this man right now?
I try to speak, but nothing comes out. My heart pounds in my chest, the sound echoing in my ears so loudly I'm sure the man can hear it where he stands. I don't want to face him, afraid seeing him will make this dream a reality.
“Look at me. Show me those beautiful eyes.” He demands, and a shiver runs down my spine. The defiant part of me wants to bury my face in the mattress and never give him what he wants, but my body betrays me. I turn to face him, and I’m filled with equal parts horror and intrigue. I want to scream, to cry out for help, but I don't.
