“It’s done,” I say, steeling myself for the work ahead.
Smoke studies me, then nods. “What did you tell her?” he asks.
Despite the need to tell him to fuck off and mind his own business, I keep my response vague. “Something believable. Something I knew would work.”
He nods in a solidary show of support before leveling me with his opinion. “Having a life isn’t a crime.”
“It is when you’re me,” I reply, reminding him, “I have a job to do.”
“Nothing happened,” he argues. “Trinity is fine.”
“And what about the next time?”
He has no answer, and neither do I. Rather than prolong the argument, Smoke rummages through a box of John Grisham books from my room, pulling out a paperback I don’t recognize. “Here,” he says, tossing me the flitty book.
I catch it, coming face to face with a shirtless man in a kilt. Glaring, I notice the title. “Ivy’s Passion.”
“Too soon?” he smirks. “I found that in your closet.” Annoyed, I raise a brow. He chuckles. “That room wasn’t always yours. It’s like the universe is trying to tell you something.”
“That my boss is a dickhead? Or that crazy Aunt Sonia was a mad fan of the bagpipe?” I flip through the pages. “Worst housewarming gift ever. The least you could do is get me a hardcover.”
“I’m saving that for Christmas.” Smoke glances across the room. “Nice digs.”
He should know, considering it’s his property. I’ve kept almost everything intact. Everything but the bedroom. Ivy is the only woman who’s ever been in that bed, and that bed stays with me. An image of my finger tracing the long line of her thigh is instantly shut down. “The north house is ideal,” I reply, offering Smoke a decanter of scotch that’s been here for who knows how long. Smartly, he declines.
“Ideally located,” he says, glancing out the window. I know what he’s looking at. Let him. “It’s hidden behind the woods, but I can keep tabs on things. And it’s big enough to house your brothers without drawing unnecessary attention. Especially with Andre snooping around.”
“And Ivy?” Smoke’s question is sharp, a pinprick I quickly recover from.
“Andre’s interest in her can’t be a coincidence, and orchestrating her arrest took way more planning that he’d ever devote to an outsider. That, along with the theft of her credit card as soon as she arrived in the state, makes me certain she’s being targeted. I’ve got Hunter on her.”
Smoke’s brows quirk in surprise. “Ivy won’t have an issue with a deadly assassin hovering around her like a helicopter parent?”
“As far as she knows, he’s her boss.”
I glance out the window through an area of brush and trees I’ve trimmed back. The light in Ivy’s room has just been switched on. Even from this distance, I notice everything from Mr. Whiskers on her pillow to the robe draped across her bed . . . to her.
The private moment Ivy steals to stare out the window and cry consumes me. It claws at the heart I swore I couldn’t give her. And there’s nothing I can do about it.
If I were any other man, she’d already be mine. And in the cruelest twist of fate, she is. Ivy Palmer will forever be mine to protect. A purgatory I willingly accept as long as it keeps her safe.
I stare longer than I should, wondering if she’ll bail on dinner like I will.
I shoot Hunter a quick text.
Me: See if she prefers dinner in her room.
Hunter: Yes, sir.
“When do your brothers arrive?” I ask, refocusing back to the conversation.
“Next week,” Smoke says.
“All of them?” I ask to clarify. “A shift in the D’Angelo center of gravity of this magnitude means heightened security. Especially when the lot of you are so fucking volatile, you’ll need the most protection from each other. Thank God I’m focused on my work.”
“Thank God.” Smoke’s pat on the shoulder is brotherly, sympathetic as he heads out the door.
As soon as he’s gone, I gravitate back to the window.
When Hunter arrives with her food, I notice the boyish grin as much as the single long-stemmed rose in a vase. For fuck’s sake, what is he? The Bachelor? I’m busy selecting his headstone when she saves his life and sends him away.
There’s a part of me that doesn’t blame him, even if I do end up killing him. Ivy is kind and generous. Brave and strong. Addictive. Breathtaking. I can’t give her my heart because she already has it. Whether she knows it or not.
I’m not ready to let her go. I’ll never be ready.
When she sets aside the food and collapses on the bed, not going to her—not holding her—tortures me.
But this is the life I’ve chosen. The one where everyone I care for is safe.
With one final glance, I shut the drapes and wall off my heart.
“Goodbye, Ivy.”
* * *
Thank you for reading SINS of the Syndicate! I hope you love Leo and Ivy as much as I do. The next book in the SINS series continues their love story. GET SINS & IVY NOW!
Leo
I’ll never stop protecting her.
Watching her.
Wanting her.