The others shake their heads at him. It’s a secret I would die for. It’s a secret I’ve killed for. It’s one secret I would eradicate entire bloodlines to make sure is never revealed.
I sweep my gaze across the room. “Anything else?”
“Congratulations on your marriage, boss.”
One after the other trickles out until I remain with my uncle.
“He’s a miserable cokehead,” he sighs, heavy bags lining his eyes. His complexion is fairer, and he appears tiny behind his suit.
I know better than to inquire about his health, so instead I say, “That’s what I fear. They get loose lips.”
“His son is different.”
My chest tightens inside my jacket, and I slip it off, curling and uncurling my hands at my sides. “One more slip, and I will replace him.”
“Only a handful of people know. Calm down. No one will tell.”
I nod, and glancing at my watch, I realize I promised my wife a date so I stand up and snatch my jacket.
Once she is safely tucked into bed, I can take care of the intruders.
The trait I admire but still bamboozles me is human ambition. It doesn’t matter how many have lost their lives, time, sanity, or money. Once people focus on a goal, they must achieve it. But my kingdom is not for sale. It’s ripe but impossible to conquer.
On my way to my car, my phone rings, and I pick up to answer Lew, the Russian head of the Chicago Bratva. I could almost respect the fucker if I didn’t have to constantly stay on alert. He’s a psycho with no single fear or weakness.
“Do we take care of the cockroaches together in a display of come-for-one, come-for-both type of shit that keeps people away from Chicago?”
“Next one is yours,” I offer, needing to expel some of my restless anxiety.
“You sound like you need the distraction, even if I’ve heard congratulations are in order. I still debate if you’re the luckiest or unluckiest man in our world.”
“I don’t know what you think you might know,” I grit out.
“Don’t insult me,” he says, his voice turning to gravel.
I hang up, the weight of the past and the secrets piling up as if they might collar my neck and drag me to my knees.
My troubles vanish the moment I walk inside the penthouse and find Zara dressed in a figure-hugging dress made to undo me.
“Fuck,” I say as the sight of her robs me of any coherent thoughts.
She sashays toward me and glides a delicate finger down my torso. “Woo me, husband, and it might come off tonight.”
I click my tongue, tsking. “Such a cruel woman, teasing me like that.”
“Am I?” She lifts a brow, confirming she’s in a playful mood.
I grab the back of her neck, pulling her flush to me. Her palms land on my chest, making my heart beat out of cadence, erratic just like my desire. “Fuck, only you could dangle the possibility in my face and make me a goner.”
“Good.”
She’s cruel indeed. And I am a sucker for her.
15
VIAN
In my underground garage, I guide her to my favorite car, my SSC Tuatara. With its V8 engine and sleek design, it’s a beast on wheels. The doors open like butterfly wings, and she eyes me over her shoulder. “Nice.”
