Seven days. Seven nights of her body pressed against mine, her jasmine scent filling my lungs until I taste it on the back of my tongue, her warmth seeping into my bones like slow-burning fire. Seven nights of heated kisses that left us both panting and desperate. Seven nights of wandering hands and soft moans and interruptions that feel like cosmic jokes at my expense. Phone calls. Morning sickness that sends her running for the bathroom. The exhaustion that drags her under before I can worship her the way she deserves.
We haven't had sex since the masquerade. My body reminds me of this fact constantly, a low thrum of need that pulses beneath my skin every time she walks past, every time her fingers brush mine, every time she stretches in bed and her shirt rides up to reveal a strip of smooth olive skin.
Fuck, just her being in the same room with me makes me want to pin her to the nearest surface and kiss her until we both can’t breathe.
Tonight, that changes.
I slip out of bed without waking her, pressing a kiss to her hair that doesn't stir her awake. She needs all the rest she can get for what I have planned for this evening.
I head for the shower and after grabbing coffee, I head for Redthorne Holdings. When she’s ready Ilona can follow. I’ll send a car for her.
The October air bites through my jacket as I cross from the car to the tower entrance, sharp and clean, the kind of cold that promises winter is coming fast. Frost glitters on the sidewalk beneath the streetlights. My breath fogs in silver clouds that dissipate into the darkness.
Inside, the building hums with early morning emptiness, all polished marble and muted lighting and the distant whir of climate control systems keeping everything at a perfect temperature. Most of the staff won't arrive for hours yet, but the Red Letter Syndicate keeps different hours than the legitimate side of our business.
My office welcomes me with the scent of leather and the sandalwood candles I have scattered here and there. I haven’t lit them in hours, but the scent lingers. The familiar aroma settlesmy nerves as I shrug off my jacket and prepare a fresh pot of coffee. A couple of minutes later the hot brew chases away the last of the October chill.
I settle behind my desk and pull out my phone, scrolling back to the message that interrupted us a few nights ago. The one that tore me from my wife's arms when I was seconds away from burying myself inside her.
The words still burn.
Enzo made contact with the Castellano family. Offering territory in exchange for alliance. He's positioning himself for something big.
I'd read it standing in the hallway outside our bedroom, my blood still running hot, my body aching to return to her. But this couldn't wait. Enzo reaching out to the Castellanos meant he was building an army. Preparing for a war he knew was coming.
I'd spent an hour on the phone with Kon, coordinating surveillance, repositioning assets, making sure every move Enzo made was tracked and catalogued. By the time I returned to the bedroom, Ilona was asleep, her breathing deep and even, her face soft in the moonlight.
I crawled in beside her and held her until dawn, the weight of what's coming pressing down on my chest.
That was three nights ago. The weight hasn't lifted.
Now, in the cold light of morning, I need to bring my brothers up to speed on everything. Including the parts that won't make me look good.
The door opens without a knock. Drake enters first, his footsteps silent on the thick carpet, followed by Rafael whose presence fillsthe room like a storm front rolling in. Kon trails behind them, a mountain of silent menace in a perfectly tailored black suit. Massimo brings up the rear, still rubbing sleep from his eyes, his dark hair disheveled in a way that suggests he rolled straight from bed to car. Rowan slips in last, quiet as ever.
They scatter across my office, claiming leather chairs and the long couch with the easy familiarity of men who've bled together. Rafael called this meeting last night, a reminder that the wish reviews have been piling up for nearly a week and the Syndicate doesn't let people wait just because its members have complicated personal lives. I agreed to the early hour for my own reasons. The wishes give me cover to get everyone in the same room for a conversation that's long overdue.
"It's a bit early, even for wish reviews." Drake drops into the chair closest to my desk. "Something else going on?"
"Enzo Marchetti." I pour myself a coffee from the carafe on the sidebar and leave it within reach for anyone who wants it. "And a confession I should have made weeks ago."
The room goes still. Five pairs of eyes lock onto me with varying degrees of concern and calculation.
Rafael leans forward, his elbows on his knees. "Talk."
The single word carries the weight of the unspoken conversation we've been postponing since my wedding reception, when he pulled me close under the guise of congratulations and murmured, "You married the daughter of the man we're building a case against. I'm going to need an explanation, brother. But today isn't the day." I nodded and he gave me his support long enough to get through the ceremony and get Ilonasettled in her new life. Today is the day he collects on that patience.
I take a long pull of coffee, letting the burn settle my nerves. Then I lay it all out. Every ugly detail.
"As you know, I've been building intelligence on Enzo for months on behalf of the Syndicate. His operations, his weaknesses, his pressure points. The file is comprehensive. Enough to take him off the board permanently." I pause, forcing myself to meet their eyes. "What you don’t know is how eight weeks ago, I spotted his daughter at Scarlet Thorn. Ilona. I recognized her from surveillance photos."
Kon's expression doesn't change, but he already knows this part. The others lean in, waiting.
Especially Rafael.
"I approached her deliberately. My plan was to seduce her, build a relationship, and use that connection as leverage against Enzo. A way into his inner circle without bullets or blood. Or, if the relationship progressed far enough, blackmail material. Enzo's precious daughter wrapped up with a Syndicate man is worth gold in our world." The truth leaves a bitter residue on my tongue. "It was an unsanctioned operation. I didn't bring it to any of you because I knew you'd shut it down."
I lay out all my cards for them to judge. Fuck it. What is done is done.
