I drifted off to sleep with Jen at the other end of my bed, curled on her side, tucked amid the satin and silk, her nudity adorning the sheets as much as the embroidery on the pillows thrown here and there.
I watched her watch me, both of us staring at one another, wondering what was happening.
I was not the kind of man who brought women home for naps, but this one... she needed gentling.
I'd brought a tigress into my apartment, and I needed to make sure she didn't maul me. It would take a strong man to tame this temptress. But her fear wasn’t something I craved; her submission, on the other hand, was.
"When was the last time you slept?"
The question penetrated my sleepiness. I didn't expect to rest all that well with her here, but now I’d seen the state of her building, I didn't want her at her apartment. Not until the locks were changed.
"Two days ago."
"Why?"
"Work."
"Never stops, does it?"
"No," I retorted. "It doesn't." I closed my eyes. "I won't attack you in your sleep."
"Didn't think you would."
"You get any nearer to the edge, you'll fall off."
"I'm used to being at the edge. You saw the size of my bed."
I had. She wasn't wrong.
The pathetic pallet Alina and her daughter had slept on in the sweatshop where she worked and lived had been around the same size.
"Why did you bring me here, Luciu?" she asked, just as I was on the brink of sleeping.
Dopily, unknowingly , I whispered, "Because I want to see you dripping in russu ."
I slept after that, my heartbeat evening out, my guard lowering in a way that it did for no one. Not even around my sister or brother who, though they were forceful creatures in their own right, needed my eye on them in case they fucked up because both were volatile and impetuous.
I had no idea what she was doing here, no idea what I was doing in bringing her here, but I knew that it felt right.
And I worked with my instincts.
So, I slept, and I knew she did too, because when I awoke, she was resting still, curled up closer to me than this morning, looking like a kitten amid the sheets.
Her hair was tangled, some of it lying over my arm, and her lashes rested on the top of her cheekbones as she slept deeply.
From this position, I noticed that the sheets had fallen down, with most of her covered up, but I could see the upper curve of her breasts, the shadows of her nipples.
When I'd stripped off, I hadn't thought she would too, but she'd joined me.
She'd come willingly to bed.
And had slept beside me.
A smile curved my lips, one that felt real and natural and whole.
"Porca troia , are you smiling?"
The fact that the intruder spoke in Sicilian kept my heart from stopping.
That my brother was in my bedroom, seeing what I was seeing, had me surging upright, rolling off the bed, and slamming my fist straight into his face.
"Get the hell out of here," I snarled at him, my voice as low as his had been.
He'd taken worse beatings in his time, so he didn't utter a word even though the force of my punch had him jerking back and nearly falling onto his culo. Quickly, I twisted around, making sure Jen was still sleeping.
She was.
Because Stan was capable of being smart sometimes, he swiftly scurried out, away from my wrath, taking the damn kabob he'd been eating and that had gone flying onto my priceless Persian rug with him, and I retreated to the bathroom where I pulled on a bathrobe.
Storming out, I followed my idiot brother and found him in the dining room where Alina had clearly been feeding him.
There was a platter with lamb kabobs on there as well as a massive serving of rice.
"What game are you playing, pezz'i miedda ? Coming into my private quarters like that?"
He didn't bother nursing his jaw, just slumped back into his chair and forked up some rice. "Alina said you'd brought someone home with you. I wanted to see who it was."
"Alina's too nosy for her own good."
Stan snorted. "You've only just figured that out? I think she'll quit if you're going to start bringing women around here."
"Who's the fucking boss?"
"Not you?" he retorted with a smirk. "Not if you want to stop eating food like this."
I grunted as I grabbed one of the skewers on his plate, taking a large bite of the lamb.
There was no doubt about it—Alina cooked better than most Michelin-starred chefs.
I'd offered to set her up in a restaurant of her own, but she'd refused.
Her Orthodox background clashed with good sense.
Her daughter might have the balls for it, but that depended on whether or not Alina had her way—now Evangeline had hit eighteen, she wanted her married off.
Because that had done Alina so much good…
I’d managed to convince her to let Evangeline go to college, but I wasn't sure how I’d wrought that particular miracle.
I stared at Stan, wondering if he'd be okay with that, with Evangeline being tied to another man, and rather than prod the wound, asked instead, "How is she?"
"I took her to Aurora's." His jaw tensed. "Of all the women, that fucker Headley had to pick her."
I scrubbed my jaw. "I know."
"Thank God we had eyes on him."
"Agreed." I took a seat beside him and asked, "Had she stopped puking by the time you left her?"
He nodded. "Yeah. She was okay. Just woozy."
"Alina will ask where she is."
"I'll tell her. She likes Aurora."
"She doesn't. She says it’s unnatural for a woman her age not to be married."
"Alina thinks every woman should be married. I don't know why, considering her husband was a bastard."
"Culture."
We rolled our eyes at each other, not in mockery, just in shared misery.
Alina was a pain in the ass as a housekeeper. She didn't understand that her opinion and mine didn't have to be in accord, but I didn't mind.
Not really.
My men would think me weak by accepting how she spoke to me, but I'd seen her in that shithole, clutching at her daughter like she was a teddy bear, terrified we were there for Evangeline...
My jaw ached at the memory.
What a fucking world we lived in.
I grabbed Stan's glass and took a deep sip of vinu russu— red wine.
Because it enhanced the rich spices of the lamb, I finished it off, placing it down and watching as he loaded it up with more from the open bottle at his side.
"You slept all day?"
"Yes."
"I heard everything went well with the cops."
"They couldn't find their assholes with a magnifying glass," I sniped. "It was mostly posturing."
"I'm surprised you let them take you in."
"A distraction was required. And you know the DA has a boner for me."
"Didn't stop them from making a full search," he pointed out, but he was smirking as he said it.
"No, but they didn't find the offices, did they?"
He shook his head. "Piu said they were untouched."
"Of course they were. I designed them that way," I said drolly.
My offices were tucked within secret openings in the building that were only made possible because Russu was based in an old warehouse.
I’d constructed the club from the ground up within its grim interior and that had come with a customized office area that the Feds wouldn’t find if I handed them the key to the door.
The Castello dii Donnafugata in Ragusa, back home, had given me the inspiration.
The ancient fortress had been constructed by a baron with a taste for secrets and playing pranks on his guests—enemies and allies alike—as a stone labyrinth was the only exit from the edifice.
I missed home. Fuck. Here, everything was so, so… new.
"Then why the need for a distraction?" Stan grumbled, breaking into my wistful thoughts.
"Because Jennifer and Evangeline had to get out of there."
His eyes darkened at that, turning measured as he stared at me over the rim of his glass. "I can't believe you brought her here."
"I want her."
"And what big brother wants, big brother gets."
It wasn’t a question.
"Not always. We both know that."
"When do we take over the Fieri compound? Are we still on track?"
"Three weeks. I gave the widow Fieri until then to clear out."
"Everything in there belongs to us anyway," he pointed out.
"Fieri's wife doesn't," I drawled. "Her wardrobe is of no interest to me, and whatever crap he had there that she wants, she's welcome to."
"Don't you want that Rembrandt? Could see you getting a boner the second you caught sight of it."
Lips twitching, I told him, "It’s not to my taste, but the price tag is." What it represented—triumph —gave me the boner. "I locked it in the council room after you drove…"
"You can say it. After I drove Accursio’s corpse to Russu."
I shot him a look, saw the pain in his eyes before he shielded his expression from me and took an overlarge bite of kabob.
When I didn’t say a word, he changed the subject. "You locked all the artwork away?"
"Most of it. She didn't mind. She's twenty-three. She’s more interested in the jewelry. When she saw I wasn't going to take that, she was more than happy to accommodate me."
"Stupid bitch."
"She had some nice pieces. Benito was generous."
"Why else would she be with him?"
"This is true."
"You sure the amber wasn’t there?"
"I'm sure."
He grunted then forked up some rice. "I’ve begun mapping out the layout of the cemetery."
Interest piqued, I asked, "When can we hit it?"
"I think a few weeks. With the city being on high alert and a lot of places on lockdown because of that looting over in the Bronx, it’d be smarter to make our moves there."
Pondering his words, I plucked at my bottom lip. "I want that ring."
"I know," he soothed. "We’ll get it."
"It’s important."
"You’re preaching to the converted," he groused. "Anyway, that’s just one phase. Aurora says she thinks she knows where we can get our hands on the anklet."
"She told me yesterday."
"Cufflinks, cravat pin, necklace, tiara, arm cuffs, anklet, two sets of rings, and ear bobs. Never been so fucking interested in jewelry in all my life." He scratched his jaw. "I’m pretty sure it’s a load of old bollocks."
My nose crinkled at the very British cuss word. "You’ve been spending too much time with Matri."
"She misses him."
"It’s his anniversary."
"Well aware," Stan said gruffly. "I miss him."
"Me too." I reached for his glass of wine and took a deep sip.
Losing men after Natali, Patri’s anniversary… we had so much family to grieve.
"When we have the collection back together, I’ll feel better," I muttered.
"It’s nonsense."
"No true Sicilian would say that."
"I’m half-British."
"And I’m not?" I countered. "You and I both know curses make Sicily go around."
"True. Why else do you think I’m going along with this crap?"
I grunted, aware he was being difficult because it was easier to give me shit than to grieve the death of his friend. "Don't come into my bedroom again."
He reached up and rubbed his chin which was already starting to bruise. "Don't worry, I won't. I just thought Alina was bullshitting me."
"When have you ever known her to do that?"
"You never bring women here," he pointed out.
"There's a first time for everything."
He shook his head. "I don't get it."
"You don't have to."
"I do. The timing is terrible." His eyes narrowed. "She's a buttana ."
"Call her that again, and I'll do more than punch you," I warned.
I saw the flash of temper in his eyes. "Fuck you."
"How would you feel if I slighted Evangeline?"
"She has nothing to do with this. There's a big difference between some slut you've taken a liking to—"
He didn't have a chance to finish the sentence. I grabbed his collar, hauled him over to me, and snapped, "What did I just say?"
Before he had a chance to back talk me, we both stilled as the gentle sound of footsteps padded down the hall. She was nearer than I thought though because her movements made themselves known to me and, a second later, she was there.
Jennifer saw me, hands clutching at my brother's collar, the threat of fratricide clearly etched into my expression, and her eyebrows surged and fell as she moved toward the table.
She'd pulled on her jeans and turtleneck, and I almost wished she'd picked up my shirt and had used that to cover up instead.
Maybe I'd give it to her so she could sleep in it tonight.
The beast that flickered to life when she was around purred with approval at the prospect. And equally raged at the idea of her wearing the one I’d torn off her this morning.
"Do you always fight over food?" she asked, her voice still sleepy.
"We're Sicilian. Fighting is in our nature," was Stan’s careless retort.
He wasn't wrong.
Jennifer peered between us then commented, "That must be tiring."
She had no idea.
And where that thought whispered from, I truly didn't know.
"It is when you're fighting a losing battle," Stan replied. "But we won ours."
Triumph flashed in his eyes, and I felt it and celebrated with him.
Ten fucking years of striving, of sneak attacks, of undermining Goliath with the strength only of David...
But here we were.
I reached for the wine glass again and asked, "Would you like something to eat?"
"No. I'd better go. I have my dinner plans, remember? I slept later than I intended."
I tipped my head to the side. "I remember. I'll dress and drive you—"
Her cheeks flushed. "No, that isn't necessary. I'll just grab an Uber."
Stan snorted. "Yeah, because that's what all mob wives use."
"I'm not a mobster's woman, never mind a wife."
I wanted to argue about the first point, but I thought it was futile.
For the moment.
She wasn't mine.
Yet.
But Stan knew me too well.
She would be.
And that was why he was acting like he’d been attacked by an army of mosquitos.
I got to my feet and told her, "I will drive you."
Her scowl made a reappearance. "Do you always ignore what people want?"
"Don't think your ex was asking to have his face sliced open," Stan pointed out, prompting me to slap him upside the head.
"Shut the fuck up," I rumbled, wincing when I saw Jennifer's tension begin to creep up.
"He deserved everything he got," Stan said without compunction. "If it weren't for you making my brother chase you, we'd never have stopped him in time from hurting Evangeline." He snatched the glass from me, tipped it to her, then took a sip. "Thank you for that if nothing else."
Jennifer blinked at that. "You knew that girl?"
"She's Alina's daughter. She was there with her friends, and only because Alina trusted us to keep her safe," I said, regret lacing my words.
"Her guard failed us."
Dread whispered across her expression at Stan’s comment, and Jennifer swallowed. "Is he dead too?"
Stan cracked his knuckles. "Wishes he were dead, but no. Not this time."
"You have no idea how crazy you sound, do you?"
Stan smirked. "It's just getting started."
I wasn't surprised when she jumped to her feet, but Stan grabbed my arm as I made to take after her. "Best way, brother. If you want her, then she needs to know the lay of the land."
"You're a prick."
"I'm a realist. Best for her to figure miedda out now rather than later."
I jerked my arm out of his hold and snapped, "Give me your phone."
He did as I asked, acting intelligently for once, unlocking it before he passed it to me.
I connected a call with Lorenzo, ensuring that the car would be ready for her by the time she made it to the front entrance.
He was under orders not to take no for an answer from her.
A quick text to Giovi reassured me that the upgrades to her apartment’s security were completed.
"She has your dick in a vise."
I glared at him. "Fuck you."
"She does." He shook his head. "I don't get it. She's like any other American buttana —"
"Watch your words," I hissed.
He shrugged. "I'll let you beat my ass if it saves you from making a fool out of yourself."
"She's stronger than she looks."
"She's a whore," he repeated, like I wasn't understanding him. "I worked on her file, Luciu. I helped make the list of all the fuckers she’s skimmed for cash."
I knew he wasn't wrong. I knew she was exactly what he said she was. But everything could be made to be past tense.
Once upon a time, I'd been destined for a lecture hall.
Now, I sat here, my hands drenched in blood, the skull and bones of my enemies underfoot, ruling over my segment of New York City’s underworld.
Our pasts were the stepping stones we'd walked upon that led us to today.
It was today that heralded the start of the future, and whatever he said, I wanted her to be in mine.
A woman like her… she was made for a man like me.
I knew it. Whether Stan thought I was losing my touch or not, I knew Jennifer was strong enough not to crumble under constant contact from my overbearing nature.
She fought fire with fire.
Stan might be content with an ingenue for a woman, but I wasn’t.
I needed someone with guts and courage.
She just needed a helping hand to find her path.
"You're too old to have a crush," Stan bitched at me.
"You're too old for Evangeline," I sniped back, but it shut him up.
Knew why as well.
Because I spoke the truth, but he wanted her anyway.
Just as I did with my Fionnabhair…