Tailored for You

B.A. CHAYUT

Copyright © 2026 by B.A. Chayut

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods such as AI platforms, without the prior written permission of the author. Only brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law are allowed.

ISBN: 9798987544075

Editors: Nicole McCurdy (Emerald Edits), Amanda (AGR Media Services), Becky at BookCase Media

Cover Artist: Ujala Shahid

Typography: AJ Wolfe

Formatting: Leah at L. Francic Media

Content Awareness

Hey Reader-

I’m so excited for you to dive in and read about Serena and Enzo. I wanted you to be aware of a few things in the book just in case that isn’t your cup of tea.

Torture, Gun Violence, Illegal Acts, and general violence are in this.

Hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER 1

Serena

You have to be kidding me.

I clenched my jaw hard enough to hurt, but it did nothing to rein in my mounting anger.

For the eighth time, I checked the time on my phone—6:39 pm.

That time couldn’t be right, could it? As discreetly as I could, I glanced at the clock on the oven. Then the one on my new fancy fridge.

They all said the same thing. I closed my eyes and tipped my head back.

A rock settled in my stomach.

He wasn’t coming.

After all the promises and plans he made, he couldn’t bother to show. Or call, as a bare minimum, and come up with a flimsy excuse as to why he wasn’t.

I banged the back of my head against the wall softly. I should’ve pushed more, forced him to prove he was more than talk this time.

Fine. If he wasn’t going to call me, I was going to call him.

Stepping out of the kitchen and into my design studio, I tapped his name, and the phone rang until I got his voicemail. I hung up and dialed again. And again.

On the fourth try, he finally answered.

“What?” His tone was annoyed, like picking up the mother of his child’s call was every bit as inconvenient as being married to me.

“You were supposed to be here five hours ago.” I barely held back my snarl.

“No,” Charles said, his words slurred. “It isn’t my weekend. I don’t have her for two more weeks.” Even with the slur, he managed to keep his tone annoyed and condescending.

“It’s your weekend. Like it was your weekend last week and you didn’t show up.” I rubbed a thumb between my eyebrows. “You make her all these promises, and you never follow through. I put this on your calendar, confirmed with both your mother and your assistant, helped create an itinerary so you could remember to do all the activities you promised her, and emailed it to you. All you had to do was show up.”

This was so typical, and it was all my fault for letting it happen. He had one job: to show up, and he couldn’t even manage that. He never had. When we were together, it was easy to let his tardiness, forgetfulness, and unreliability slide by.

I should’ve seen those missed appointments and the excuses as foreshadowing for the husband and father he would be, but I was scared. Pregnant and scared, then postpartum and stressed, doing everything by myself, while he was off doing whoever and whatever he wanted.

Charles not showing up was par for the course in our relationship, but it wasn’t about me. It was another day he wasn’t around or another promise he was reneging on to me. It was our daughter that he was letting down. How dare he get her hopes up, talk about some magical weekend together, and forget to show up?

He had staff, secretaries, and personal assistants who did everything for him, yet he somehow managed to disappoint Harper every chance he got.

“Just tell her that I got caught up at work or something. It’s the truth anyway. I came down yesterday to entertain some investors. She’ll understand,” he said, so passively that it made me want to throw my phone.

Co-parenting with Charles—if I could even call it that—was a struggle. He showed up when he wanted to, never kept to our agreed schedule, and did things like this: make promises to our little girl, not follow through, and leave me to deal with the fallout. How many tears had I wiped away because he didn’t show up? How many stories did I have to tell because Daddy was late?

The only person Charles was hurting was Harper. I couldn’t stand it.

I took out a little red marker, found the calendar on my mess of a table that I used as a desk, and drew a line through the weekend. There were other red dashes, each one noting when Charles had missed his scheduled visitation.

Going back to court was something I wanted to avoid, if I could.

Court was draining, physically, emotionally, and financially. He had a team of lawyers on retainer that would pick apart my life and everything I did for Harper. I’d been there before, and I didn’t ever want to go back.

For Harper, though, I would. I would do anything to keep her safe and in a place where she knew she was always wanted and loved.

I glanced through the archway that led into our apartment and saw Harper lining up her baby dolls to feed them. I took a step closer to the window and lowered my voice, not willing to chance Harper overhearing me.

“No, she won’t. She’s four. All she knows is that she was supposed to swim in a pool, ride a pony, and spend the weekend with her dad, whom she hasn’t spent more than a few hours with in the last three months.” I wish I didn’t keep track of how many hours he spent taking care of our daughter, but I couldn’t help myself.

A female squeal, a big splash, and a bunch of cheering.

I wanted to reach through the phone and strangle him. He wasn’t doing anything for work. He worked for his dad’s investment firm and was the definition of a nepo baby, having been given his job by his dad despite lacking qualifications.

“Charles, what’s taking you so long?” The voice was whiny, and I knew exactly who it belonged to. Apple Livingstone.

There was a muffled sound, as if Charles had put his hand over the mic rather than pressing mute.

Charles cleared his throat, and I knew I didn’t care, nor did I want to hear whatever bad lie he was trying to concoct.

“Sounds like a great business meeting. Have a great weekend.” I hung up the phone and muttered, “Dick,”

I walked over to the mannequin. Fabric was pinned across it, slowly coming together into something I was excited about. Rubbing the fabric between my fingers, I wondered why I’d been so foolish to think I’d have a quiet weekend working on a few of my pieces.

At least I didn’t make any other plans for the weekend.

I pushed away at the bitterness that came whenever I spoke to Charles for longer than five seconds and walked back into our apartment.

The entire floor was mine. A flex wall split the floor in half. When someone walked through the door, they found my studio, where I ran my tailoring and design business. Once I walked through the door on the other side of the room, I was in my small two-bedroom apartment with the smallest possible kitchen-and-living-room combo.

Harper and I didn’t need much, and with what we had, we’d made a home.

It was a bit of a mess, but full of color and joy. The walls were lined with pictures of us throughout the years. It was a stark contrast to the way I grew up and the continued promise I’d made to Harper when she was a little bean in my stomach to give her a happy home.

I walked over and crouched next to her at the small craft table she had.

I tapped her nose with a finger and said, “Boop.”

Harper wrinkled her nose and sang, “Mommy.” I tried not to wince when her voice rose to a screech.

“I want to watch a movie. Want to watch with me?” I asked. Harper nodded so hard she nearly knocked herself off her chair. “Okay. Think about what you want to watch, and I’ll make the popcorn.”

“Monkeys!” she yelled as she skipped the three feet to the couch and turned on the TV. I headed to the kitchen, relieved she seemed to have forgotten she had plans, and made popcorn.

In no time, we were cuddling and watching King Kong.

And not once did Harper ask about her dad.

My wrists were stiff from hours of needlework; my shoulders ached from hunching over for hours, but it was worth it. The dress was almost done. I only needed to finish the straps and have the final fitting.

Then I would move to the next mannequin, then to the one after that. It was almost like I’d created an assembly line.

The sketch of the dress was on the corkboard, smack in the middle, with fabric swatches and other designs pinned on either side, making it easy for me to move from one piece to the next.

Bolts of fabric lined the far side of the room, organized in a gradient, with a table beside it so I could lay out different pieces to help me visualize them. It was also the area with the most natural light.

Right next to it sat the small changing room and full-length mirrors. These got the best lighting in the studio and were always the most organized corners of the space.

Where I was working, chaos reigned, with cut pieces on the ground. Tables around me were covered in scribbles of half-thought-out designs, stray threads, and fabric scraps. My makeshift cutting table sat behind me.

The creative chaos helped me think. Something about letting go of the need to be perfect and neat, giving myself space to be messy, opened me up.

It was quiet, at least for New York standards. The hum of the city fell into the background, barely noticeable.

I stepped away, admiring my work. Maybe if I tuck the seam...

A throat cleared behind me.

I jumped, spinning around, and threw my hands up in front of my face, screeching in fright.

Enzo Lombardi stood in the doorway in an impeccably tailored pinstriped suit, his presence filling the room.

My hands immediately went to my pants, smoothing out the wrinkles. Then, to my hair, which I knew was wild and frizzy and held up by a pen.

My stomach did a somersault, and I had to force myself not to giggle like a schoolgirl.

I swallowed, lowered my hands, and brushed off my embarrassing reaction.

I gave him my best customer service smile and walked over. “Hey. Is it two already?”

Play it cool, calm, and collected. He’s just another client.

“I’m early.” His voice was deep and rough, like he had just woken up. Or at least, that’s what I imagined him sounding like when he just woke up.

I needed to focus and keep my mind on the task at hand. I had work to do and couldn’t be distracted by Enzo.

“Oh, good. I hate when I lose track of time.” I went to the hangers, pulled out three suits, and walked over to him.

I handed them over and headed to the counter to have him pay.

“You don’t want me to try them on? I have time.”

Did I want him to try on each suit? Yes, but that was purely for selfish reasons. Enzo was big, topping six foot three, built like a heavyweight boxer, with hair cut short on the sides but long on the top. He had tattoos everywhere. A big Italian devil was across his throat; his arms each had their own themes. There were more, but over the year-and-a-half I’d been tailoring suits for him, I hadn’t gotten a good look at them, even though I knew exactly how tight he liked his shirts and how thick his thighs were.

We had a mutual appreciation for fine clothing, me making them and him wearing them.

He came to me because I was the best. I had a waitlist longer than both of my arms.

We’d first connected because he came on behalf of a man I’d blacklisted at the request of someone I considered family. They were rival mafia families, and I wasn’t going to get on anyone’s shit list for ‘disrespecting the boss’ or something I didn’t fully understand.

Plus, my friend Adrienne Vinci, now Adrienne Parisi, was the first person to hire me to create her wardrobe after she met me in Bergdorf's as a shopping assistant.

Once my friend gave me the green light to work with both Enzo and his boss, they kept me constantly busy.

I didn’t need him to try anything on because I knew his measurements—knew how each fabric lay on him, which ones needed more room, and which ones were fine as is.

I loved going over every fine point, making sure each pleat lay perfectly. For some reason, I was most inspired to create after working with him.

“No, I think we’ve worked together enough that I don’t need to try on every suit every time,” I said, giving him a small smile. “Here are the damages.” I handed him the receipt.

His fingers closed around the paper, brushing mine. The contact was brief, but it lingered in a way that made me oddly aware of it—of the warmth of his hand, of how large it was compared to mine. Tattoos contrasting against pale skin.

I pulled my hand back and shifted on my feet, annoyed with myself for noticing at all. I dropped my gaze to the cash he handed over, focusing on counting it.

It was too much money, and I told him so.

“This is what they would charge me in Italy for the kind of work you do. You need to raise your prices.” He narrowed his eyes at me, like he was going to intimidate me for talking back, but pulled back at the last minute. I’d worked with enough men like him to know that I couldn’t withdraw when he was challenging me.

“I like my prices the way they are.” I wasn’t sure how many clients I might lose if I raised them. The idea of one regular client leaving because it cost them more made me panic, and I was seconds away from mentally calculating what that would do to my finances.

Enzo turned around, walked to a table near the door that had a white bag I hadn’t noticed, and brought it back to me.

“Eat it. It’s from Martina. She’s afraid you’re withering away.” Enzo took his time scanning me from head to toe.

I checked myself in the window’s reflection, noting just how frazzled I looked, but in no way was I withering away. I was fine.

I slipped a hand into my pocket but couldn't muster a snappy comeback by the time he turned on his heels and walked out the door.

I bet I’d think of something clever to say in the shower tonight.

“Stupid,” I muttered to myself. This crush I had on Enzo had to die a fast, brutal death.

Over a year, I still hadn't figured out how to squash the flutter in my stomach every time he was around.

He was a client. He paid me to shop for him and tailor his clothes. That was the nature of our relationship, regardless of whether we had some of the same friends and our worlds touched tangentially.

None of that mattered. Especially because I’d already walked down that road before, and it ended in nothing but pain.

I walked over to my design table and did what I always seemed to do after an encounter with Enzo. Draw.

This time, I couldn’t stop thinking about his chest and what the tattoo was. The picture flew out of me, my creativity flowing. For the hundredth time, I wondered why I felt so inspired after being around him, but I didn’t question it.

Everyone had to have their muse, right?

Who cared if mine was a Made Man so big he could break me in two and couldn’t stay on the right side of the law if he tried?

CHAPTER 2

Serena

The following week was quiet, and I was so unbothered that I got ahead on all my projects.

Other weeks are so busy with paperwork and talking to clients that I can’t get any work done.

I shouldn’t be annoyed that I have business and repeat customers. Still, if they keep showing up with wild demands—like needing a dress for a gala next week and sending clothes for tailoring—I’m going to start falling behind.

All I needed was one day of no interruptions, and I’d be golden.

I loved being with Harper. There was nothing I would change about our time together, whether it was our lazy mornings and walks to school, or cooking dinner and eating it at the park while people-watching. I treasured every moment because these were times I couldn’t afford to waste, times I knew were important. Even watching a movie while it rained outside was time we’d look back on and smile.

But all of that meant I had limited, uninterrupted time to work—which was important, because I was a single mom and the sole earner.

Even with Harper at pre-school, my time to work was limited to the hours between when I dropped her off and picked her up. In those hours, I not only worked but also carved out time to work out, the only time I had to do something solely for myself.

Stepping away from the mannequin, I stretched my hands and admired my work. The pale blue Grecian-inspired dress was beautiful, especially with the addition of the slit that went high up the thigh. I couldn’t wait to see it on someone.

One project down, ten more to go.

“I can’t believe him.” My door burst open, revealing an angry sixty-five-year-old Minnie Davenport-Clearwart. She didn’t wait for me to invite her in, not that she required an invitation from me. She walked in like she owned the place, like she did everywhere she went.

Her ice-blonde hair was swept into a perfect chignon, and her light green ensemble of cuffed shorts, silk blouse, and kitten heels looked like it belonged at a breezy family summer home, not the sweltering streets of New York City. I couldn’t help a small smile. She always looked effortless, and she always commanded a room.

“I told him not to disappoint her. I gave him clear instructions, step by step, and did he do a single thing I asked?” She raised a finger, pinched her lips, and shook her head. “No, because he can’t think beyond that thing between his legs.”

Even in her fury, I felt that familiar warmth: Minnie was fiercely protective, and Harper couldn’t have a better grandma in her corner.

“Even if he didn’t want to care for his daughter, which is a travesty already, I wanted time with my granddaughter. Everything he promised her, I would have done. It would have been an honor to take care of Harper.” She walked down the small walkway to me and wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. “I am so sorry, sweetie. He makes me so mad, I can barely see straight.”

My ex-mother-in-law was one of the best women I’d ever met. Given Charles’s and my dubious start to our relationship, Minnie never blinked an eye. She rolled with the punches and was one of the most supportive people in my life, despite everything that happened between her son and me.

“I don’t know where I went wrong with him,” Minnie said. I gave her the side-eye as I thought about how she indulged Charles’ every whim. If I looked up the word spoiled in the dictionary, there would be a picture of Minnie handing Charles a present.

She caught my side eye, laughed, and swatted my shoulder. “I hope his stupidity didn’t ruin too many of your plans? Like a hot date you had to cancel?”

I started sweeping some of the small clothes that I couldn’t do anything with into a pile.

“Just planned on working, so no plans ruined. There’s been an uptick in clientele needs, and I don’t want to turn anyone away.” I said, grabbing my needles and threads that sat next to the dress I finished earlier.

“I know some great guys,” Minnie started, and I sighed while I started to organize the strong colors.

“Great guys from where? The country club? That all-men’s exclusive club Charles Senior belongs to? Are they looking for someone to get their mothers off their backs?” Minnie meant well, but I’d met most of the men in their circle when I was with Charles.

“Don’t be like that. You are young, single, and having a thriving career you built from the ground up. There are plenty of men who aren’t half as stupid as my son and know what a catch you are. Say the word, and I’ll have them lined up.”

“Am I interrupting?” At the sound of the voice, my stomach flipped.

I slowly turned. Enzo stood in the doorway, expressionless, eyes flicking from me to Minnie and back. Without a word, he lifted a hand and ran it through the top of his hair, tousling it just enough to let a few strands curl over his forehead. It wasn’t messy—it was calculated, effortless—and I felt that familiar pull in my chest, that momentary need to reach out and smooth the lock back in place, even though I knew I couldn’t.

I wiped my hands on my pants and headed his way.

He sauntered like he knew he was putting on a show. His aura filled the room, making me want to stand taller and beg him to come closer just to be in his presence a little longer.

His eyes stayed on me as he walked, and I found it impossible to turn away.

He stopped barely a foot away in the small aisle that was made by the two long tables on either side of us, blocking Minnie from view and forcing me to keep my attention on him. He adjusted his suit, and his earthy scent filled my nose. I wanted to lean in, erase the space between us, and bask in his presence.

Something I couldn’t do, for so many reasons. Like he was my client and I had no business acting like some schoolgirl.

Especially not in front of Minnie. I didn’t care how many times in the last three years she tried to set me up on a date; I wasn’t prepared to deal with what might happen if she disapproved.

“Was there something wrong with the suits?” I asked when I was closer.

I shoved my hand in my back pocket to hold myself back.

“No,” he said. I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.

“Oh. Okay. What did you need?” I asked. Why was I breathing like I’d just run a mile?

“I need to put in an order.” Enzo reached his hand out, a small piece of paper between his fingers. I grabbed it, opening it to find it was another order, this time for button-down shirts in only dark colors.

It wasn’t well known that he was in the Cosa Nostra, but Adrienne and her mother, Martina Vinci, had explained what it meant to be a made man.

The one time he came in with a gun still holstered on the back of his pants forced me to sit with the realization that he was more than the COO of Panorama, the persona he presented to most people.

That made my imagination run wild, and I went down a Reddit rabbit hole that I promised myself I wouldn’t do again.

“Just the shirts? Nothing else?” I asked as I wove my way through the tables to my desk.

I spotted Minnie in my periphery. She raised her eyebrows at me, a calculating look on her face.

Oh, no. I’d forgotten she was here the moment I spotted Enzo.

I moved a few papers around, hoping I didn’t blush and give Minnie something to home in on. It was a mess for an onlooker, but I knew where everything was, from invoices to dates. I clipped Enzo’s order to the top.

“Do you have a fabric you’d prefer? I can head to Bloomingdale's today,” I said as I thought through the rest of my day.

“Whatever you think is best, but it’s not a rush.”

I nodded, feeling as if my tongue was stuck in my mouth.

“Who might you be?” Minnie asked as she walked up to the two of us.

Minnie cast a look my way, raising an eyebrow in a look I took to mean ‘we’ll talk about this later’.

“Hi, I’m Minnie Davenport-Clearwart.” She held her hand out to Enzo.

He took it and gently shook it. “Lorenzo Lombardi.”

Lorenzo? I only ever knew him as Enzo, but that made sense. Enzo was a nickname. There was so much I didn’t know but wanted to ask.

I punched down the desire to learn more about him, which would either ruin the fantasy I'd built of him in my head or confirm it—and in that case, being around him would become infinitely worse.

“Do you work with Serena often? Or is this new?” she paused, slicing her eyes to me before going back to Enzo. A slow, mischievous smile formed on her lips. “Partnership?”

I needed to end whatever this was and stop whatever game Minnie was thinking up. Last time I saw that smile, she sat me down and told me she was going to pay my divorce lawyer and stick it to her son.

“Minnie, did you need something? Or did you just come to visit?” I asked, trying to distract her.

“Oh, I just wanted to visit my favorite ex-daughter-in-law. You know how I worry about you, especially when my son pulls his typical bullshit.” She leaned toward Enzo conspiratorially. “My son, Charles, is a fool. Ruined the two best things he had in his life. So, tell me, Lorenzo, what do you do for work, and are you single?”

I nearly choked on my own spit. I had to shut this down. Minnie was wonderful, but I doubted she would be excited to learn what Enzo did for a living.

I glanced at Enzo, trying to gauge his reaction. He turned his head to me, a glint of amusement in his eyes. His tongue poked into the inside of his cheek, like Harper did when she tried to keep from smiling.

“Minnie,” I sputtered. She turned, barely an inch, but I knew she was trying to block me out of the conversation and pretend she didn’t hear me.

“Minnie,” I said again, my tone harsh.

Her shoulders dropped, and I stepped between them.

“He’s a client,” I whispered.

Minnie rolled her eyes, but she knew how important it was for me to have this boundary. If there was one rule I stuck to, it was never crossing that client-service provider line.

She looked over my shoulder, to the hulking man behind me, and let out a resigned sigh.

With Minnie in line, for the moment at least, I motioned for him to follow me. It was a short distance to the door. I stopped and turned.

From this close, I could smell him, all clean laundry, coffee, and something faint and masculine that made my chest tighten. My pulse jumped. For a moment, I wanted nothing more than to press myself against him, to feel a touch that wasn’t motherly or polite but filled with desire and recognition, as if I mattered in a different way.

I mentally shook my head, trying to chase the thought away. What is wrong with me?

He tilted his head, watching me, and I felt my body betray me with a tiny shiver. My hands curled into fists at my sides, and I shifted my weight from foot to foot, unsure where to look.

“It’ll only take me a few days to get the order,” I said, forcing my voice steady. Internally, I scolded myself for letting my mind wander.

He leaned a fraction closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “There’s no rush. Whenever you have time to fit it in your schedule,” he said, smooth, calm, commanding.

I swallowed, aware of the small space between us, the closeness of his frame, the subtle heat of his presence. His eyes traveled over me, head to toe, and for a beat, I wondered if he saw more than the designer, more than the professional barrier I’d built around myself. Then he straightened, stepped back, and left, the door clicking softly behind him. My pulse thundered in my ears, and I had to lean against the wall for a moment to remind myself to breathe, forgetting I had eyes on my every move.

I sighed in relief. If he looked at me any longer with his assessing gaze, I was going to start blushing.

“Well,” Minnie said from where she stood, a dreamy smile on her face as she stared at the closed door. “Isn’t he something?”

I shook my head and walked over. “Stop.” I pointed at her.

Minnie blinked at me, her face the picture of innocence. “Stop what?

I rolled my eyes, adjusting some fabric on the table to my right. “You’ve got that ‘planning something diabolical’ expression again.” Minnie loved matchmaking, and thus far I’d managed to stay out of her clutches. “I'd like to remind you that Enzo is a client, and I’m his tailor. I work for him. He pays me.”

“No. Don’t you dare do that.” She jabbed a finger at me.

“Do what? Outline the nature of our relationship, if you could call it that.” I shrugged and started moving around, looking everywhere but at Minnie.

“That is a man, with a capital M, who is interested in more than you taking in the seam of his pants. He wants to get into yours. And I, for one, think you should let him.” Minnie nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. “Even if it’s for one night. You deserve one night.”

My chest tightened, and I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t say anything in response. I came with baggage. I was a single mom whose time was limited, and I’d had my heart shattered in a way I wasn’t sure could be repaired. If I were being completely honest with myself, which I tried to be, I hadn’t really made any attempt at piecing my heart back together.

There wasn’t any time in my life to work on that. No one wanted to be the person who had to piece me back together. I didn’t think it was fair to ask of someone, either.

“I love Charles, but I want to punch him in the face with a brick sometimes.” She grabbed my shoulder, turning me to face her. “Charles doesn’t have two cents in his head. Somewhere along the way, his father and I screwed up and gave him the idea that he’s a god when he’s only human. He cheated. That is on him. It had nothing to do with you. He did not deserve you, and he doesn’t deserve Harper.”

Tears pressed against the back of my eyes.

The Clearwarts had the kind of wealth that brought them to the highest echelons of society. They were millionaires, edging closer to the billionaire status every year. When they walked down the street, paparazzi followed them.

Minnie was always in the news for making massive donations to schools and organizations.

When Charles cheated, a video of him boarding a plane with another woman went viral, even hitting the gossip pages as more accounts of his antics surfaced. Each picture broke me, and I couldn’t escape the story as it dominated the news cycle for weeks.

I filed for divorce when Harper was one —my happy world turned upside down. Charles was not happy. He came at me with his expensive lawyers, threatening to take everything from me, and he would’ve won if Minnie and Charles III hadn’t stepped in and paid for my divorce lawyer.

I was in the right, but I didn’t have the funds to stop Charles’ expensive lawyers from picking my life apart and dragging it out because they could.

And it wouldn’t have been good for Harper, who took precedence over everything else.

“Thanks, but it’s nothing like that. I’m over the divorce.” It was a small lie. I was over Charles, but I was still building myself back up. “You and I both know I never should've said yes just because I was scared and pregnant.”

“It’s in the past. Let’s focus on the future. How about you let Charles and me buy you an apartment?” She made the offer, as she had many times before, so nonchalantly. She raised a finger. “Or, we get you out on a date. Maybe if Lorenzo,” Minnie said his name with a terrible Italian accent, “finds out, he’ll stomp in, throw you over his shoulder, and have his way with you.”

“You know how I feel about you buying us a place. When I have the money and resources, we will find a new place. Until then, we are staying put. And you’ve been reading too many romance books,” I said with a laugh.

“And you haven’t been reading enough,” Minnie countered, leaning against a table covered in fabric. “You’ve had a bad hand dealt to you these past few years, in no small part because of my idiot son. Just because you’re a mother doesn’t mean you stop being a woman who deserves to get wined and dined by a hot, tattooed man with a dangerous air about him who is very interested in you.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “I agree with you on everything but him being interested in me. I have work up to my eyes, especially with some of the custom commissions I have coming in, and I have a few famous stylists coming in to talk through some custom red carpet looks. There’s barely enough time for me to eat throughout the day and be present with Harper.”

It was stressful, having all this work, but with every small piece I tailored, I got a larger custom order, too. I was itching to dig in—find the right fabric, bring the vision to life. Every late night was worth it for work that kept the creative muse flowing.

A small, sad smile formed on Minnie’s face. It was tender and caring, motherly in a way that hit me in the stomach.

From the moment Charles introduced us, Minnie took me under her wing. The only other woman I’d had as a motherly figure in my life was Martina Vinci, Adrienne’s mom, who once dragged me to dinner at her house every Sunday for a year once she found out I was in the city alone.

She was the one who had pushed me to start my tailoring studio, guided me on how to run my own business, and taught me that when anyone in that family asks me not to work with someone, I don’t question it.

It wasn’t that I didn’t have a mom. I did. She was alive and well, but we weren’t close and never had been. We never developed the deep connection that many girls do with their moms as they grow older, and we barely spoke unless there was a reason to.

Still, I knew I could take care of this on my own. Minnie might have taken my side in the divorce, but she could change her mind. That was an option I was always mindful of.

“If you don’t want to try with him, I have a list of men. Rich, attractive men who I know would bend over backward for a woman like you. I can bring you their resumes whenever you’re ready.” She reached out, twirled a strand of my hair, and left.

In my wildest dreams, I could have it all—a doting husband, maybe give Harper a sibling if it was in the cards. We’d get out of this big studio that doubled as our home, and I could finally separate work and family.

The reality, though? Life had kicked me in the teeth one too many times to let myself believe in fairy tales. I wasn’t looking for a husband, not really. Not someone to fill in the cracks or pretend to be the hero I didn’t need.

And yet… I caught myself pulling out my phone and staring at my half-finished dating profile, that little digital form taunting me. What’s the harm in finishing it? I told myself. Not that I expected anything to come of it—just a small act of curiosity, a tiny rebellion against the part of me that always plays it safe.

I tapped the final details, pressed send, and a cheerful message popped up: We’re so excited that you took this step in finding love. We’ll get back to you on your matches.

I exhaled, a little smile tugging at my lips. At least I could say I tried if anyone asked. That Charles didn’t win. Then I put the phone aside, picked up my pencil and drawing paper, and let myself get lost in the dress I absolutely had to finish today.

CHAPTER 3

Enzo

The docks were chaotic, from the middle of the night into the early morning. It never stopped. It was no wonder things got lost here.

Men walked around with clipboards, counting pallets. More were running from place to place, yelling instructions across the noise. Forklifts tried to organize the uneven stacks, zipping from one side of the warehouse to the other, leaving the diesel fumes in their wake. Metal clanged on metal, a deafening sound if I were closer to the ships that were unloading. Seagulls cawed overhead.

“I want you to be clear. Are you saying you’ve lost another pallet?” I narrowed my eyes at the man who held a clipboard in front of his face, like he was hoping to use it as a shield.

I stepped closer, narrowly missing the small puddle that separated us.

“Yes,” the man answered—his name, Drew, stitched across his overalls. “The first one fell off one of the boat. It was a freak accident. The second arrived, but it’s,” he turned, throwing his hands around, “somewhere here. I just don’t know where. Other shipments came in at the same time, and it was a bit chaotic.”

Anger rose fast in me. I clenched my jaw, fists tightening as I fought the urge to yank the man by his collar and hang him over the edge of the docks with weights tied to his feet.

Drew took a step back, gripping the clipboard so tight his knuckles turned white.

Good. Let him be afraid. It would serve us both for him to remember who I was and what I was capable of when anyone decided to cross me.

Fuck, I wasn’t in the mood for nonsense like this. I had been up for nearly thirty hours, and I still had the most important part of my day to handle. The last thing I needed was incompetence at the docks, where everything ran smoothly, mostly.

“Find it,” I snarled. I didn’t add or else because it was implied. Drew knew he had screwed up and that no matter what, the Cosa Nostra’s shipments took precedence over anything else that came through these docks.

A glance at my watch told me I was running behind, but if I sped, I’d make it to my next appointment in time.

“You have until the end of the day to find that pallet.” I walked away, twirling my family's signet ring, the one that noted me as their leader, as I went. My eyes burned with exhaustion. The lack of sleep was burrowing in my skin, and I was losing momentum. Rubbing the irritation away, I picked up my pace.

One more thing to do—one I had to do—or I knew, despite how hard I'd try, I wouldn't find sleep at all.

The blacked-out SUV waited for me, engine running. After hopping into the driver's seat, I took off, racing down the street.

Luckily, there was no traffic, and I got to my next appointment—if I could even call it that. Still, after nearly a year of doing it, I’d never missed a morning.

Slipping into the coffee shop, I got a cappuccino, even though I needed sleep, not caffeine, and waited. Time ticked by, and my anxiety rose.

What was the holdup? Was there something wrong? No one had called to tell me there was an issue, so where were they?

I got to my feet, ready to go and find out what was going on when they appeared, running down the street. Well, one was trying to run, the other attempting to skip a few feet behind her.

Everything loosened in my chest. I sat back, watching Serena Montgomery, exasperated, motioning to her daughter Harper to hurry up. Every time Harper missed a skip, she walked back three steps and started over again.

Harper had a fancy down the middle of her back and her school uniform on. Harper hated combing her hair, which was probably why they were running late. I once walked in on Serena trying to brush Harper’s hair and thought I had taken a wrong turn into a WWE wrestling match.

Serena was in workout clothes. Her long blonde hair was up in a ponytail, swaying side to side as she rushed after her daughter. She moved past a group of moms who were dressed similarly to Serena, but she didn’t pay them any mind.

The moment I met Serena—when she rolled her eyes, pushed back, and showed her loyalty to Adrienne by refusing to work with Marcello even after I’d brought a suitcase of cash—I knew I was done for.

She told me ‘no’ two more times, all while making snide remarks about my suit. I would’ve taken personal offense had I not noticed the glint in her eye that dared me to argue with her. It was like she enjoyed poking the bear, and I found it fun to see what she would say to insult me.

It wasn’t until I handed her a note from Marcello that she caved. I had instructed him to write it, begging for her help and listing what he needed.

I was cautious by nature, always thinking through all scenarios before acting, and I was especially so with Serena.

Watching Serena, learning about her favorite coffee or fabric store, felt like I was peeling back the layers of who she was.

The deciding factor for me was when I watched her and Harper together. Being a single parent was hard, but somehow Serena didn’t make it seem that way. At least not to Harper. Harper had a big personality, one that Serena encouraged. The way she was with Harper made her the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

That protective urge that always came when I thought about the two of them surged to the surface. It was becoming harder every day not to whisk them away to the life they deserved.

I wanted to be part of their circle, included in their jokes, a part of their routines. It was almost time to make my move, and I had no doubt that the calculated patience I’d been fostering was going to pay off.

Her ex-husband was a problem, though. At some point, when the time was right, I’d handle him.

Harper jumped into Serena’s arms, hugging and kissing her. They laughed, throwing their heads back, and a rush of wistfulness hit me.

There was so much joy and love in that moment, I was happy to be a bystander and witness it.

That was what I wanted. I wanted to walk down the street holding Harper’s and Serena’s hands in each of mine, doing school drop-offs, and taking care of them.

Then, at night, I’d come home, and they’d be there. My girls.

Soon enough, I’d have that. It had been nearly a year since Marcello left, and I’d taken control of New York. Everything was almost in place, from the men to the company.

I stood, leaving the little cafe, and followed Serena, keeping my distance so she wouldn't spot me, as she made her way to the gym. Once I knew she was there safe, I came back to my car and drove home.

As COO of Panorama, I handled operations for the entire company. I helped put the pieces together, ensuring everything fit like a puzzle, and when changes were needed, I determined how to make them.

That also meant handling it when people did stupid shit.

Which was why I had to sit in this suffocating office, listening to team leads argue about something I couldn’t remember because their arguing had devolved well past work issues into discreet digs at each other. The human resources woman sat in the corner, patiently waiting for a chance to jump in and de-escalate the situation.

I had no such patience. “Stop,” I said loud and firm. “Let’s pretend I’m not a complete idiot and don’t hear office gossip. You,” I said, turning to the man. I was so tired I couldn’t remember his name, but it didn’t matter. “You cannot take personal matters and emotions out in the workplace. She said no. That is within her rights. For you to start nitpicking everything she does on every project when her work is exceptional has moved to harassment.”

It was a tale as old as time. An older man hits on a young, pretty woman in the workplace, and when she says no he starts making her life hell. That wasn’t something I’d allow, and I’d created strong company policies that left no room for misinterpretation.

Normally, I wouldn’t be invested in day-to-day workings like this, but this was different. This was a lawsuit waiting to happen, and there would be a lot of eyes on us if this situation wasn’t handled swiftly and correctly.

We didn’t suffer fools, in Panorama or the Cosa Nostra.

I handed him the termination letter, unwilling to listen to him fight for his job. The head of Human Resources took over and escorted him out.

Two minutes later, my door opened again, and a young woman walked in.

I gave her a moment to come to terms with what happened and said, “This isn’t your fault. It’s his.” I was going to find that idiot and make him scared to look at another woman again, not that she needed to know that. “I wish you had spoken up sooner, but I understand why you didn’t. If he approaches you again, whether it's a week from now or years later, I want to know so I can handle it for you.”

She smiled and nodded, but didn’t say anything, and walked out.

Firing him was the acceptable response for some, maybe even going as far as blacklisting him, which I’d do as well. I didn’t care what people would accept, because most weren’t willing to do what needed to be done when men abuse their power and cross lines.

I had no more energy to deal with people, so I texted one of my men, ordering them to have a conversation with the fired man, off the books, and sent another to get the car ready.

The two kids—barely nineteen, hardly adults—pulled the car around, tripping over themselves to open the door.

“Don’t bother me unless you have to,” I said, closing my eyes and thinking of Serena.

Of her smile.

The way she hummed pop songs while she worked when she thought she was alone.

What kind of bad joke she might tell.

What sounds she’d make when I finally had her under me, moaning for me, with my hands tangled in her hair.

With thoughts of Serena, my imagination running wild, I dozed off.

CHAPTER 4

Serena

The tiny bell tinkled as I walked through the door and into the coffee shop. The aroma of coffee filled the air, and I wanted to inject the caffeine into my veins. It had been a long but productive day, and it was barely noon.

I had done the shopping—from getting the fabric to personal shopping for my clients—so my morning was off to a great start.

The fabric was getting delivered to my studio in an hour, since there was no way I could carry that much, but I was only a few blocks from home, so I had time.

The sun was shining, and I was going to treat myself to an expensive chai latte and something sweet. There was a glass case of sweet treats that made my mouth water. Slipping my headphones off, I got in line.

I was running through the last items on my to-do list because I was on schedule, if not a little ahead, which was right where I needed to be. It gave me breathing room and a night off to spend all my time with Harper without the nagging worry of everything still on my plate.

There was so much I wanted to give Harper, but it was impossible for one person, especially with my limited means. If I thought Charles would support any of the things Harper wanted, I would’ve asked him. He was so unreliable it wasn't worth hearing the word yes, only for him to find an excuse not to pull through or forget altogether.

Right. There it was. For a second, I thought I beat the mom guilt that seemed to hover over me like a big gray cloud, but I should’ve known it was only waiting for the right time to pop up and make me feel like I wasn’t doing enough for Harper.

Ignoring the feeling, I focused on the sweets in the case, trying to decide which one I wanted.

“Aren’t you in the wrong neighborhood?” said an all-to-familiar voice beside me.

My stomach dropped. My hand tightened its hold on my headphones, and my jaw clenched on instinct.

I just wanted a coffee from my favorite place, unbothered. Was that too much to ask for? Apparently, the universe thought so.

Stepping out of line, because in no way would I stay here longer than I needed to, I looked at Charles.

He had the quintessential All-American boy look down. His dark brown hair was perfectly coifed, with enough stubble on his jaw to give impression he forgot to shave, and his suit was well-tailored.

He could be in a magazine, with the added charm of his smile. I wanted to slap the smile off his face, wrap my hands around his throat, and squeeze.

How could he be so relaxed and nonchalant when his daughter asked about where he was this morning? How could he be anything but in misery for never being for our daughter?

Not for the first time

There was no one I hated more than Charles. Everything he put me through, and everything he no doubt would put Harper through in the coming years, no matter what I did to protect her, sometimes sent me spiraling.

I loved Harper with everything that I was. If there was one thing I was most proud of, it was being her mom. It sucked that she had him for a father, and there was nothing I could do to change that.

Behind him, his friends took up one table each, like they needed room for their egos. They wore matching vests, smug looks on their faces, and a superiority complex that flowed off them.

I gave a tight smile. “Hi. I didn’t think you came below 40th Street.” My tone was snarkier than I meant it to be, but it was hard to look at his smug face and not want to punch it after he left Harper high and dry, again.

During our divorce, he tried to add a clause that said I couldn’t travel beyond 40th Street in Manhattan, knowing most of my clients lived on either the Upper East or Upper West sides.

I was able to fight that particular clause, but Charles still tried to enforce it, as if it was something he could control.

“Working?” He ignored my comments. My stomach twisted. I tried not to hate him, but he made it so easy.

I could take not liking him, but I couldn’t stand the way he treated Harper. It took everything in me not to snap at him. It would lead to a fight I wasn’t prepared to have.

“Yep.” I needed to make my exit.

“Serena.” The barista called my name, and I whipped my head around. I hadn’t ordered anything. I blinked, then blinked again.

Enzo was at the other end, grabbing a small to-go bag and two coffees. He walked toward me, hands full. I stood frozen, still trying to process if this was real.

Then he shoved an iced coffee into my hand, my name written on the side with the correct order.

“Passion fruit thing,” he said, holding the little bag out. “It’s not pistachio, but it will do.” His Italian accent, usually faint, was more pronounced as he stared down at me, a glint to his eyes I didn’t understand.

I tilted my head, heart racing. How was he here and I didn’t notice? How did he know what I liked? We’d seen each other outside my studio only a handful of times in the last year.

He handed over the bag. Wordlessly, I took it, not bothering to open it.

“Who are you?” Charles’s nasally voice grated on my nerves and helped me realize I wasn’t dreaming. Enzo was here, in this coffee shop, handing me coffee and food like he’d been waiting for me the whole time.

Enzo took a step, so he was slightly in front of me, blocking my view of Charles. I tried to step around him, because I knew Charles would take whatever Enzo was doing as a threat. It wouldn’t be hard–Charles was easily intimidated and felt like he had to show people he was ‘top dog’, as he liked to put it, when he was anything but that. Cheers to nepotism.

Charles adjusted his stance, pushing his shoulders back and tipping his chin up. Enzo stood where he was, a hand in his pocket, the picture of nonchalance as we watched Charles try match Enzo’s physicality.

Not that it would work. Enzo had three inches on him, and so many more muscles that it made Charles appear almost frail in comparison.

I took both of them in while they sized each other up—both in Brioni, though only one wore it well.

Charles came across as plain, like wearing a designer's name was enough to impress people. Enzo, on the other hand, wore his suit like it was armor. He showed it off the way every creator hoped someone would show off their work. He breathed life into it, and...

I had to stop thinking about how Enzo looked and focus on how to get out of this rapidly devolving situation.

“If I remember correctly, the only time you need to speak to her is regarding Harper.” Enzo shifted his stance, giving me the opportunity to get a good look at Charles, whose face was turning redder with every breath.

I opened my mouth, then quickly shut it. How did he know her name? Or the stipulations of my custody agreement.

Charles looked from Enzo to me and sneered. His eyes had that glint in them that I knew meant he was going to get meaner the longer I stood there. “I guess the only way you can get a man is if you butter them up while you’re on your knees, fixing a pant leg.” The insult hit like a punch to the gut.

Enzo got closer to Charles, his body coiled with tension, and leaned in, whispering something in his ear. Color leeched from Charles' face. Without thinking, I reached out and touched Enzo’s hand as it curled into a fist, trapping my fingers in his grip.

Immediately, Enzo stood back, a vicious smile on his face, but didn’t let go of my hand. I wiggled my fingers, but Enzo merely adjusted his grip to the point we were fully holding hands. He glanced down at me, his smile softening, and squeezed my hand.

It was a silent gesture that filled me with relief and made me want to cry. A moment of reassurance that let me know he was with me and I didn’t have to face Charles alone.

I shifted my focus, using Enzo’s reassurance to bolster my wavering confidence and focus on what Charles had said.

Of course, he would make a comment about me sleeping with a client. It was his go-to insult.

It was so hard to be cordial with someone who tried to put you down whenever they had the chance.

“Charles, it’d serve you well to stop speaking,” I said, keeping my voice soft, knowing I had to diffuse this situation.

An arm wrapped around Charles’ waist—long, pointed ballet pink, an enormous ring on her finger she’d bought herself. The only woman I genuinely hated.

Apple McBurger. As in the apple of her daddy’s eye.

“Oh, sweetheart, let’s be cordial to the service workers.” She turned to me, her eyes going from Enzo to me, and mock-whispered, “If you need money, there are other ways to get it.”

If I were a violent person, I’d punch her in her pinched, over-botoxed face. Apple hated me for having the gall to, as she put it, "steal Charles from her." Which made no sense, considering she’d moved to Paris to chase after a man more than a year before Charles and I even met.

When her scheming in Europe didn’t pan out she came back to find me pregnant and engaged to Charles, she launched into a hate campaign against me. She told lies, spread rumors, and my life miserable.

She ostracized me from would-be friends in a time when I’d never been more scared, because being pregnant was scary, and I needed a friend.

I don’t know why she was worried. It wasn’t like Charles was faithful; he’d never been. He was incapable of any type of monogamy. I was just too hopeful and scared to recognize what the late nights, weekend meetings, and constantly buzzing phone meant. When that video of Charles cheating went viral and landed on Page Six, I wasn’t surprised to find out it was Apple.

By that time, I knew I wasn’t in love, but it gave me the push I needed to act.

I was done. Done with them and everything to do with them.

“Apple, pleasure to see you again,” I said in a sickly-sweet tone. I eyed her pants, lingering on the pocket that bulged, a telltale sign that it wasn’t tapered correctly. “You know, I can always help if you need a better tailor. Whoever you’re using should know better than to allow puckering at the waist.” I motioned to my hips. “And it’s so good to see you reusing styles. That Hermes from last season really goes the distance, doesn’t it?”

Apple’s smile dropped, and if looks could kill, I’d be dead three times over. I might be a simple servant to her, but I knew her world, how to play her game of insults, and exactly where to hit her the hardest.

Minnie would be pleased. I couldn’t wait to call her.

I stepped around them, pulling Enzo’s as I went.

He beat me to the door, opened it for me, and followed me out.

I didn’t know what to do. I had so many questions running through my head, I didn’t know where to start.

My heart was racing. I pulled the hand that still held onto Enzo like a lifeline and tried to shake it out to help with the adrenaline that was pumping through me.

I was excited and drained all at once.

I’d never truly gone toe to toe with Charles or Apple, always choosing to keep the peace because I knew they were capable making my life miserable. They always cornered me, and I struggled to find my voice.

But today? That wasn’t a problem. Not with Enzo there, reminding me I wasn’t alone, which was all I needed to stand up for myself.

And Enzo?

What was that? How did Enzo know where I was? Or what I ordered? So many questions, but I didn’t voice any of them. Instead, I kept my mouth shut and sent him a side eye, trying to get a read on him.

Not that I ever could on a typical day when he showed up at my studio. But really, what was his goal in all of this? Did he have an issue with Charles and thought that using me to rile him up was a good idea? Was he using me to get to him?

He had acted like there was more between us—like he wasn’t simply a client. I didn’t know how to make heads or tails of it, and it didn’t serve me to daydream about having a man like him in my life.

Enzo nudged me to the side, forcing me to walk on the inside while he took the spot closest to the road. He kept pace with me, like a silent guard dog daring anyone to come near me.

A side glance at his angry face told me that I shouldn’t make small talk or let him know that I could take care of myself. Who was I to stop someone who wanted to make sure I was safe?

Block after block, we walked until we were at my building. It was nice having someone around, even if there was no other interaction.

Turning to him, I stared again. It was like I struggled to form words when he was around. I never had this problem with anyone else, and it was frustrating.

“Thank you,” I said, lifting my almost finished coffee. Taking a chance, because I needed to know, I asked, “Do you have an issue with Charles?”

If it were business-related, I could understand using me. Not that it made the pain of being used hurt any less, but I’d understand.

“He doesn’t treat you or Harper right. He needs to be put in his place and reminded that neither of you is a pawn or an accessory he can grab when he feels like it.” Enzo crossed his arms and widened his stance like he was getting ready for a fight.

I clenched my jaw, ready to argue, but stopped myself. What was I arguing for? Was anything Enzo said wrong?

It wasn’t, as much as it pained me to admit.

How did he know that, though? A wave of embarrassment rolled over me as I realized he probably saw the gossip tabloids. Or maybe he followed the court case, since that too made the news cycle as people speculated what I would walk away with.

I shoved the embarrassment down. I refused to allow those public moments, ones that should’ve remained private, to define me.

“How do you know about that?” I asked, preparing myself for what he might say. The only people who knew that Charles sucked at being a dad were Charles, Minnie, and me. Harper was still blissfully unaware of her father’s failings, but she was getting older and more aware, and the window was closing to protect her from it all.

“I pay attention, Serena.” He stepped closer, invading my space.

I wanted to take a step back, but not from intimidation. Enzo didn’t intimidate me at all. He had a commanding presence that drew me in. No, I was nervous being this close to him. It didn’t help me squash my crush on him at all. Instead, all I could focus on was that he smelled different today, pine and something else I couldn’t immediately identify, and wanted to know what changed. When I tilted my head up to gaze at him, he blocked out the sun that shown behind him, giving him an angelic hue.

With the wall at my back, I was stuck, but I didn’t want to move, did I?

“You paid attention to me?” I asked, swallowing thickly.

He ducked his head down, catching my eyes, giving me no option but to look at him.

“Yes. One day I’ll tell you what else keeps my attention these days.” His arm brushed mine as he opened the door that led into the foyer of my building.

“Go upstairs and lock your door since you don’t have any appointments today,” he said, his voice gruff. I didn’t question how he knew I had no appointments; I was too tongue-tied to articulate a question, let alone think of anything, when he was so close to me.

I slid past him, noting every inch of my body that brushed up against him in my attempt to skitter away.

Turning, I sprinted up the stairs, breathless and flushed, nearly tripping on the last step before I made it through the doors.

What just happened? What did he mean when he said, ‘paid attention’? Paid attention to me? Why? How did he know my schedule or my appointments?

So many questions, none of which I’d get the chance to ask.

It was like the moment I was away from him, my brain cleared the hot guy fog, and I could think clearly.

My phone pinged as I opened the door to my floor. Placing my coffee on a semi-cleared table, I pulled out my phone.

The dating app flashed with a notification.

Good. This was good. Maybe I’d have a realistic chance with one of the men on the site.

My heart slowly sank to my stomach as I read the message:

Serena,

Here at The One, we pride ourselves on helping people find their matches. We have a 99% success rate. Occasionally, though, we come across people we can’t help. Unfortunately, you’re one of them.

We hope you don’t stop looking for love. Best of luck on your search for The One.

Great. Rejected by a dating app. A new low.

CHAPTER 5

Enzo

Anger simmered in my veins. Holding back this kind of rage wasn’t something I was accustomed to, but it had to be done.

I couldn’t kill a man in broad daylight, in the middle of a coffee shop. There were limits to my powers. Charles was a minor annoyance before, but he’d turned into someone I needed to put in their place.

I dialed a number I tried my best not to call, but I needed the best on this.

“Miss Morning’s Little House of Horrors, how may we make you scream today?” A voice I wasn’t familiar with answered. I pulled the phone away from my ear and checked that I had called the right number.

It was right, but that didn’t mean Adrienne wasn’t using a voice simulator or something. It wouldn’t be the first or the fifth time she’d done that to me.

Adrienne was Marcello’s wife and someone I thought of as a sister. She hadn’t been in our lives for long, though I had always known about her because their fathers had arranged a marriage contract when they were still in diapers.

She was also part of an elite private security force, Bridge City Securities. It was an all-women outfit, and they were the only people in the world I could say terrified me.

Sometimes, if I asked nicely enough, Adrienne would help me find out information. Or if she was bored enough.

“Where is Adrienne?” I asked and winced at how demanding my tone was. That was a sure way to get hung up on and ignored until I remembered my manners. I didn’t have time for that.

There was a scuffle on the other end. I waited patiently while what sounded like a wrestling match for the phone ensued.

“What’s up?” Adrienne asked, breathless. “Hold on.” I waited.

“Sorry. I’m back.” Her voice was back to normal. I was getting better at noticing the odd things she did on a regular basis. “What do you need?”

“I need you to dig up everything you can on Charles Clearwart III,” I said.

"Serena’s ex?” she asked. I grunted, hating that he was even that to her. I kept an eye on him, but until that moment in the coffee shop, I hadn’t realized how awful he was to her.

He was around so rarely that I had only seen them interact for a moment twice.

Charles was an absentee father, at best. He was also an idiota who didn’t know how lucky he was to have Serena and Harper.

It was clear that Charles was going to be a problem. There was a glint in his eye that I’d seen in men who felt like I was taking away their toy —men who didn’t let things go.

For everyone’s sake, I needed to understand what I was dealing with and make plans.

“I see you’re finally doing something about that little crush you have on Serena,” Adrienne said.

“How do you know about that?” I sighed.

“You order men to watch over her, and you think that wouldn’t make it to Marcello, the Don, and then me?” Adrienne laughed. I rubbed my temples. It seemed like I was going to have another conversation with Marcello about keeping personal matters personal.

Was nothing sacred anymore? A man could no longer keep his obsession to himself.

“Can you get me everything I need to know? And while you’re at it, there’s a woman, too. I think her name was–” I paused, trying to remember the woman who looked at me like I was a piece of meat and didn’t hide it.

“Apple.” Adrienne cut me off, sighing. “She’s a trust-fund girl who thinks she’s Blair Waldorf to Charles’ Chuck Bass.”

“Should I know who those people are?” I needed to keep her on track. Otherwise, she’d go off on another tangent I didn’t have time for.

“Probably. Anyway, they’ve always had a thing for each other that, in the end, hurts everyone around them, but they’re too self-centered to see it. I’ll send you my dossier on them. I’ve been waiting for an excuse to use it.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Please don’t mention it to her.” I knew Adrienne and Serena talked regularly, and I didn’t need Serena to know anything until I was ready for her to.

“I won't. And for the record, I think you’d be good for her. So don’t screw it up, or I’ll make you regret breathing in her direction. Bye.” She hung up. Some men would take offense at how Adrienne spoke to them, as if she were their superior. Especially the men who Marcello, Rafael, and I grew up around.

Women were often things—possessions—who didn’t have a say. They’d never met someone like Adrienne and would have no idea how to handle her, let alone consider working with her.

They had more than earned that level of respect from me that the old men who used to be in my position handed to men who never deserved it. They had skills most men only thought they had but couldn’t even conceive of having. As a group, they got the job done, and I never once had to worry whether it would get done or about the blowback of such actions. Competence went a long way in my world, and they had that in spades.

Adrienne and the women she worked with were among the few people I trusted.

With the most important thing crossed off my list, I headed into the office to get to work.

Long ago, I learned to accept some of my more obsessive behaviors.

Checking in on Serena daily and setting eyes on her multiple times a day had become part of my routine. It brought me peace.

First, it was the walk to school, ensuring both my girls made it there okay. Then came lunch. If Serena was in her creative zone, it was likely she wouldn’t stop to eat. Which bothered me only because I hated how stretched thin she was.

She took on any project that came her way, charging rock-bottom rates when she was worth so much more.

I’d see to it that she not only charged more but was more selective with her work. I wouldn’t allow her to work herself to exhaustion every day.

I walked out of the office, barely nodding at the people who worked for Panorama, the architecture and construction firm that Marcello, Rafael, and I created as the legal side of our business. We were able to control the unions better when we employed them.

Marcello always knew he’d be the Don of the Cosa Nostra. Rafael and I were introduced to him when we were young. From there, we spent years planning what we would do differently. How would we reimagine the brotherhood in our image? Make it a true family.

When Marcello came to terms with his arranged marriage and fell in love with Adrienne, everything shifted. She was a badass who could take him down, and we grew in ways we never could’ve predicted.

One of those ways was expanding beyond the East Coast. Adrienne’s base was out of Portland, Oregon. Her job sometimes had her passing through New York, visiting her family while she was here if she could, but it was inconsistent.

Marcello took a leap of faith, moving there, prepared to grovel for the rest of his life for the way he screwed up. Adrienne didn’t make him wait too long, and he was the happiest I’d ever seen him.

With him on the West Coast, I was responsible for running New York and all that it entailed. Marcello ran a tight ship—one that I helped mold from the beginning. Slipping into the top spot was easy, even though there was still some general dissatisfaction from the older men who wanted to go back to the golden days when you could kill someone in broad daylight because they had offended you somehow.

Grabbing the takeout from Thai Villa, I walked the few blocks to her building.

I hated that she split her studio up so half of it was a makeshift apartment. I hated that I knew she didn’t like it. She’d never said it in so many words, but it showed in the throwaway comments she made. I hated how hard she worked, but she was always taking on more because of what I had to assume was fear.

I touched my ring, the one my father had worn, and remembered how he taught me to have patience. That nothing I wanted would come easily, and if I gave up after the first obstacle, I didn’t deserve it anyway. Especially with love and women.

It was about showing up, showing her in all the small ways I’d be there for her, just as I’d be for the big moments.

Making sure she ate, got home safely, and was as happy as she could be—that was the bare minimum.

Patience. It was something I had in abundance and had no issue with exercising.

I had no intention of letting her slip through my fingers, but I knew she needed some convincing. She was skittish, constantly ducking and not looking me in the eye.

Some might misconstrue those small actions as disinterest, but they didn’t know her the way I did. No, I saw the way her ears went red when I came out of the dressing room with my shirt unbuttoned. The way her eyes lingered on my body, before flashing to my face, and then glancing away. Noted how she spoke fast, like she needed to get the words out before she second-guessed herself and stopped talking.

It made me smile, thinking about how she was when I walked her home yesterday. She was flustered, angry, and then skeptical, given the side-eyes she sent my way. I didn’t want to break the spell and talk, so I let it be.

It took everything in me not to walk her upstairs and remind her she was perfect, that someone cared about her and wanted her exactly as she was.

It reminded me of the stories my dad used to tell me about how he won over my mother. For him, it was love at first sight. For my mother, it was the opposite. She wanted nothing to do with him or his life, but he didn’t let her reasons deter him. He showed up and helped her tend her pistachio trees, walking back and forth from the city center to her farm. He was there in small ways, showing her who he was, and eventually she agreed to dinner.

One dinner turned into two, then days spent together, and finally, she loved him almost as much as he loved her. I grew up in a house full of love, which was abnormal in the time of arranged marriages for alliances, and love was considered a farce.

It appeared I was following in my father’s footsteps more than I realized. All it took was a woman who wasn’t impressed or fearful of who I was and what I did for me to home in and patiently and slowly work my way into her good graces until her no’s slowly turned to ‘yes’.

I’d have been fine with going back every day if it meant being around her.

Lucky for me, my father had explained what it was like seeing my mother for the first time, so I understood what it meant when I had the same reaction to meeting Serena.

Marcello didn’t have that. He refused to see what was in front of him until it was almost too late. I wouldn’t make the same mistake.

No, instead I started making plans. Serena was aware of my world, tangentially, and she had a child to think about. It was going to take time and a lot of persuading to convince Serena to date me, but I was fine with hard work.

Everything I’d done in my life thus far was because I put in the time and effort to see it through. Serena and Harper would be no different.

Frustration danced up my spine as I pushed open the first floor of Serena’s building. This was supposed to be a secure door with a key to gain entry. This wasn’t the first or even the third time I’d encountered this security issue. People who didn’t have a key were supposed to be buzzed in. With the way the door was, anyone off the streets could walk in.

It was unacceptable. I sent a text to one of my men to fix this door—now—or I’d take the matter into my own hands, which no one wanted.

Panorama owned the building, after all, a purchase I’d secured a month after meeting Serena, and we had an obligation to keep our tenants safe.

Two flights of stairs later, with sweat dripping down my spine, I shot off a second text to the maintenance man about getting fans or something in the staircase. The heat was a code violation and should have been reported.

Shaking off the heat, I turned the doorknob and got even more frustrated that it was open. Anyone could’ve walked in and targeted her.

I made it three steps inside before a small body flew past me, landed, and crouched down with one hand on the ground and the other up in the air.

Tiny, dark-chocolate eyes looked up at me through a red mask with black lines running through it.

“I’m Spider-Man,” Harper said, then turned and raced down the small hallway, her pigtails swinging behind her.

I grinned down at her. “Thanks for keeping the city safe, Spider-Man.”

“Are you here to see my mommy?” she asked, grabbing my hand and tugging me hurriedly toward Serena, talking a hundred miles a minute all the way there.

Did I know purple is the best color? How come I’m so big? Did I know Lily at pre-school was her best friend? What noise does a giraffe make? I followed, letting a low chuckle escape as her questions rolled from one into the next, and felt my chest loosen in a way I hadn’t expected.

I wasn’t good with kids, not because I disliked them. I didn’t have much experience with them. Harper was the only kid I spent any time around when I stopped by Serena’s studio.

I pulled a lollipop from my pocket, cherry flavored, and discreetly handed it to Harper. She sucked in a gasp. I brought a finger to my lips, urging her to keep quiet.

We came to a stop a few feet from Serena, Harper taking off to the other side of the studio to eat her lollipop like she always did when I brought her one.

Serena’s back was to me, hair up in a haphazard bun, hunched over, no doubt working on a seam.

Music played in the background, just loud enough that she wouldn’t hear the bell that rang to let her know someone walked through the door.

I took a moment, trying to keep my anger at bay—how easily someone could have walked in and harmed her and Harper. I needed to get her out of this place and into mine as soon as I could.

“Mommy!” Harper called, suddenly standing next to me.

I covered my mouth, hiding my smile as Serena jerked in her chair.

“Harp-” Serena turned around and stopped speaking. Her eyes went wide as they traveled from my feet to my face.

“Serena,” I said, her name rolling off my tongue. It took a second, but her cheeks slowly turned my favorite shade of pink.

I stayed still, waiting for her to move. As always, I took my cues from her. Showing up and surprising her was fun, but I still needed to broach the subject of a date with care.

Serena stood, wiping her hands on her jean shorts. Her T-shirt was cut wide at the collar and fell off one shoulder. She had a birthmark in the shape of a star on her collarbone that I wanted to trace.

With my tongue.

Focus. Harper’s here.

She padded to me, feet bare, with no polish on her toes, and stopped a few feet away. “How are you?” She opened and closed her mouth, like she wanted to say more but didn’t know what.

“I’m good.” I leaned in, loving how I towered over her. In one move, I could sweep her up in my arms, press her against the wall, and wrap her legs around me. “You mentioned some things might be ready. I was in the area”—I was always in the area, but that was beside the point—“and thought I’d check, save you a call.”

That was my best excuse yet. I had to keep that one in my back pocket.

Serena nodded, walking around me. I kept close to her as she moved, watching the strands of hair that had fallen out of her bun flow behind her. My fingers twitched with the need to twirl them.

As Serena searched for my order, her shoulders crept up, and she kept stopping to stretch her hands.

She was always stressed. No doubt, having Harper home for a half-day made it worse.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I reached over and grabbed Serena’s hands.

They were the perfect size, and for a moment, time stopped. Serena blinked at me, her mouth a pretty O as I dug my thumbs into her palms, stretching the muscles.

A current shot up my arm, begging me to touch more of her. To get closer to her. I resisted, knowing that it would be too much to throw her over my shoulder, carry her home, and beg her to let me take care of her.

Instead, I methodically worked my way from her hands to her wrists, digging my fingers into the pads of her palms. With each pass, Serena relaxed a fraction.

Her shoulders lost tension, and she leaned her head to the side, stretching out her neck. It was long, the pulse fluttering as she took deep, meditative breaths.

I wanted to close the remaining distance between us. Drag my tongue up her neck, feel what I did to her.

I didn’t. I was under her spell, watching as she relaxed with my help.

I bit back a remark about how she needed to take better care of herself when a cute little moan escaped her lips.

Fanculo. I could hear her make that sound a thousand times and never grow tired of hearing it.

“Uscirai con me,” I said. “E scoprirò quali altri suoni posso farti fare.”

“I,” Serena said, barely above a whisper. “I have no idea what you said.”

Good. It was better that she didn’t know my mind was wandering to her naked body and the noises she made when she was wet and needy.

I laughed, because what else could I do? Tell her what I said in a language she understood?

“How does that feel?” I asked, reluctantly taking my hands off her.

Serena swallowed, taking her eyes off me and lowering them to her hands, which she stretched out.

“You’re a miracle worker. Can I keep you around to massage my hands when they get too stiff?”

“You have my number. Call me whenever you need me.” There was so much more I wanted to say, but I knew it wasn’t the right time.

“Well, what do we have here?” Serena jumped back, putting space between us.

Charles strutted in like he owned the place.

He didn’t. I did. The lock downstairs just became my top priority.

I stood in front of Serena, as I did at the coffee shop. Whatever Charles came here to start, I’d be her line of defense. Harper’s giggles echoed from the open door to their makeshift apartment, completely unaware that her father was fifteen feet away.

Serena elbowed me out of the way. I shifted to give her more room, but not enough to brush past me entirely.

Serena stared at her ex-husband, so angry, for a moment, I thought she was going to attack him.

Mia ragazza.

CHAPTER 6

Serena

This wasn’t real. It had to be a figment of my imagination.

I could count on one hand the number of times Charles willingly came to my apartment since we divorced four years ago. Each time he did, though, it upended my world.

Whatever he was here for now was in retaliation for the coffee shop. He was never one to be slighted or one-upped by someone he didn’t know.

I glanced at Harper, who was watching herself dance in the three-way mirror. I leaned over, turning the volume up on the speakers a few decibels.

Charles was here for a fight; I knew it in my bones. Harper shouldn’t have to see or hear any of this.

Charles still viewed me as his, even though I never was. I was his girl of the moment who couldn’t get a clue and ended up pregnant, married, and alone. My family was never going to help me when times got tough.

Once I turned eighteen, they’d been largely absent. A few calls here or there, mostly money-related, with my mom, who rarely asked after Harper. Which was fine with me.

I was better off without my mother’s constant judgment and ridicule.

In fact, I had a distinct memory of my mother lecturing me about how men will be men when Charles’ many infidelities came to light. He didn’t even care that I filed, only about how it made him look.

“Hi,” I said, attempting to be cordial. Nerves wracked me as I prepared for Charles to deliver something awful on my doorstep. “What brings you by?”

“Can’t a guy check on his girls?” Charles smiled—the same smile he'd given me when he threatened full custody.

Stay calm. This is what he does.

“No. We aren’t your girls. Why are you barging into my studio and disrupting our day?” I asked. This wasn’t the first time Charles barged in, demanding to be acknowledged, but it was time I let him know he was crossing boundaries.

“I wanted to have a word.” He took a step closer, and Enzo blocked my view with his big body. Again.

Didn’t he understand that the more he goaded Charles, the worse this would be for everyone? It didn’t matter that Minnie and Charles Senior supported me; I just wanted Charles to go away, and the easiest way to do that was to pacify him.

Nudging Enzo, I moved through the small space he gave me and pointed to an open space next to a mannequin.

Taking a deep breath, I turned back to Charles. I maintained my calm demeanor because Charles thrived on getting reactions from me. “Now, why are you here?”

His fake smile dropped. “Is it a thing for you? Fucking your clients?” He took a step closer—his way of trying to intimidate me with his size.

Yes, I’d been hired to tailor both men’s suits, but Charles was the one I’d made the mistake of taking beyond a professional relationship into an intimate one.

I sized Charles up and couldn’t help but compare him to Enzo.

Charles didn’t measure up in any sense of the word.

Enzo was bigger in both height and muscle. He looked like he was built to knock people out. Charles was a few inches shorter and had a runner’s build, but it was unearned.

After spending time in close proximity with Enzo, any ability Charles had to intimidate me on a physical level was long gone.

Thank god for small mercies.

“I have work to do. If you want to see Harper, I’ll bring her out. If you only want to bother me, you need to go.” I pointed at the door.

“I’ll show up whenever I want. Since when do you think you can order me around?” Charles snarled.

“I’m not telling you to go. I’m giving you an option,” I said, trying to keep the peace. We’ve had our fights, loud and yelling, but I always made sure Harper wasn’t home when it happened.

“You’re damn right I have a choice. If I want to take all this away,” he said, waving his hand around, “I can. My alimony paid for all of this. If you break the terms, you have to give back every penny.”

He made it so easy to hate him.

“The alimony you paid out was because of pain, suffering, and inexcusable behavior unbecoming of a man of your status. I don’t know how you’ve made it this long without basic reading comprehension, but you can try to take this away from me,” I waved my hands as he did, “and you’ll fail. You don’t own me or anything I’ve built.

“Regardless, this is an optional day that you’re supposed to talk to me about.” I tried to get control of my anger, partly because Harper was somewhere in the area and I didn’t want her to ask questions about why we were fighting. Mostly, though, I hated giving him the satisfaction of getting any emotion out of me.

He opened his mouth, but there was a cry of “Daddy!” from behind us.

The sneer fell off Charles’ face as he looked over my shoulder.

I glued my feet to the ground instead of blocking Harper’s path to Charles.

He was here now, and with Harper having seen him, I couldn’t deny her time with her father. She would grow to resent him in her own time, when he didn’t keep his promises. I couldn’t hide what a disappointment he was forever.

Harper crawled between my legs, bounced up, and ran to Charles, latching on to his legs.

I glanced up, catching Enzo’s gaze, which happened to be on me. Intently. Knowingly. I shook my head, attempting to convey to him that I had to stand down. As much as I wanted to keep Harper from the hurt her father would cause her, she was ecstatic to see him.

Despite knowing our divorce was iron-clad, I needed to look at the papers again. Charles had resources and money, two things I lacked. If he were motivated enough, he’d use them to tear my world apart, starting with taking Harper.

“Come on, let’s go get dinner with Grandma,” Charles said. Relief washed through me. He was going to follow through, for once.

After almost a year of never taking her on his optional day, he showed up after we had a standoff in front of his friends. Or maybe he remembered he had a daughter to take care of. There were too many options to speculate on, and it was a waste of my time to think about.

“I’ll get my shoes.” Harper jumped from Charles’ arms, dove between my legs, did the same to Enzo, who was standing behind me, and ran back into our apartment.

“Keep testing my patience, Serena. I didn’t push back the first time because I had better things to do. If you insist on pissing me off, we can go back to court and revisit our custody agreement. I’m sure she’d love to spend more time at my place.”

Harper ran back in, and I had to stifle a laugh. I turned to find the same judgmental expression on his face that was there when he tried to belittle me.

He caught my gaze. I narrowed my eyes at him, daring him to say something or ask her to change.

Charles opened his mouth, glanced over my shoulder, and promptly closed it. Enzo’s stare screamed murder.

In the short time she was gone, Harper managed to change from her shorts and t-shirt to blue sparkly leggings, an orange shirt so bright it hurt the eyes, mismatched socks, her signature gold ballet flats, which were falling apart, and a wide-brimmed sunhat.

She turned to Enzo and struck a pose. “How do I look?”

“Perfection. You’re ready for the runway,” he said.

She turned to me, and I gave her a thumbs-up. At least this time she didn’t forget to put on pants. We were making improvements.

“Let’s go. Let’s go. Hurry.” She pulled Charles’ arm, but he stayed put, wrinkling his nose at her attire but wisely didn’t comment.

“We’ll be back around 8:30.” He turned, picked Harper up, and carried her out.

My heart was lodged in my throat, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe. Tears blurred my vision. I tried to calm down, to blink and think rationally about what Charles said, but I couldn’t.

He had threatened to take Harper from me. He barely showed up, never kept a promise, always had someone new on his arm, but he thought he could take her?

“Calm.” A big, warm hand landed on my back and rubbed circles.

Enzo. I’d know that voice anywhere. The deeply accented husk pulled me out of my panic as he spoke to me in Italian.

Embarrassment, hot and twisting, filled me. He had witnessed not one interaction with Charles but two. In both situations. I had allowed Charles the upper hand.

What must he think of me?

He crowded me, continuing to rub circles on my back. His hand was big and warm. The repetitive motion was soothing. Leaning into it, I took a moment to gather myself.

It didn’t take long for me to come back.

I turned my head, looking up. He was too good to be true.

Why did nothing ever go my way? Was I born unlucky, or did I break a mirror and get a hundred years of bad luck?

First, my awful ex threatens me. Then the guy I've had the biggest crush on since Jonathan Taylor Thomas watched all of it go down.

No wonder that site said I was undatable.

I covered my face, taking another second to collect myself, before looking up at Enzo through my fingers.

“Looks like you have the night off,” he said.

I nodded. “Yeah, looks like I’ll be able to knock out some work.”

He nodded and leaned back against the table behind him.

“Are you going to take a break to eat?” he asked, not taking his eyes off me.

At that, my stomach rumbled. I wanted to crawl into a hole. Why me?

“Yeah,” I said, glancing at the half-finished piece hanging off the mannequin. Then I remembered Harper and I were supposed to go grocery shopping.

Enzo had his phone to his ear, barking what I took to be orders in Italian. As soon as he left, I was going to download Duolingo.

He walked to a table, grabbed a bag I hadn’t noticed, and handed it to me.

“Here,” he said.

Gingerly, I took the bag. When I opened it, I did my best not to squeal in delight. It was Thai food from one of my favorite places in the city, along with a Thai iced coffee.

“How did you know this was my favorite?” I asked, ripping the carton open.

Enzo shrugged, grabbed a chair, dragged it over to the table, and sat on the other side. He jerked his chin when I hesitated.

“Eat.”

Normally, I don’t take commands like that, but I was too hungry and excited to do anything but comply.

After inhaling the first few bites, I slowed down and savored the food, studiously ignoring Enzo, who was watching my every move.

Swallowing my food and taking a sip of my coffee, I eyed him. “Don’t you have places to be? People to,” I waved my fork around, “order around and do your bidding.”

Rather than answer, Enzo pulled out his phone. If I looked close enough, which I didn’t, I could’ve sworn there was a hint of a smile.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” I asked. When he gave me a look that I didn’t have a chance of deciphering, I sighed. “I was going to go grocery shopping tonight with Harper. I usually try to get meals that are half-made, so it’s easy for me to get dinner together.”

Once I started talking, my nerves took over, and I couldn’t stop. “Harper is at the stage where she won’t eat anything she doesn’t help cook, so it makes it a little easier.”

Enzo put his phone down and stared, giving me his undivided attention. Having all his focus was daunting. Intoxicating. I wanted more of it while wanting to hide, with no idea what to do besides babble about the mundane details of my life.

“She’s partial to mac and cheese and some fruits. I’m working on expanding her food preferences to pizza, because at least there are tomatoes, which I think are vegetables.”

Stop talking. Please stop speaking. I begged my brain to catch up to the fact that this was a one-sided conversation.

It didn’t take long for me to finish my meal, and then I was back at the mannequin, ready to take on the rest of the work.

Enzo sat in the same chair, phone out. The only thing he did was turn the chair so he faced the door.

Why was he hanging around? I wanted to ask, but I was a coward, afraid of what he might say.

I had enough rejection in my life. The last thing I needed was to find out the guy I had a massive crush on was just making sure the single mom had dinner—nothing more.

I turned back to my project, determined to focus.

“Serena,” Enzo called my name. I turned and almost bumped into him. Tipping my head back, I blinked at him, my mouth dry.

He was so tall. From this angle, I could see a new part of the tattoo that spanned his throat.

“Serena.” He said my name again, and I wanted to hear him say it in that crisp accent all the time. As many times as I could manage.

A phone rang. It took me a second to understand what the sound was, since I’d had my phone on vibrate for the last four years.

Enzo’s face transformed in anger as he slammed his thumb on the screen and snarled, “What?”

He took a step away, then another as he listened to whoever was on the other end. He paced, Italian words streaming out of him. The only words I understood were idiota and stronza.

I knew those two words. The rest were lost on me, though.

He hung up the phone, pounding his thumb on the screen. Enzo pinched his nose, then placed his hands on his hips, and let his head hang.

“I need to go,” he said. I nodded, ignoring the pit in my stomach.

“Okay.” It was all I could come up with.

He stared at me, eyes narrowing like they did when he was reading on his phone.

Don’t ask him to come back.

No matter how nice it was to have someone around while I worked, I knew better.

He’d say no. Obviously, he had things to do. I had no business asking for more of his time, no matter how much I wanted it.

“Lock the door,” he said, opening his mouth again, then shutting it.

I stayed still, wondering—hoping even— if he had more to say, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned and marched out the door, closing it behind him.

The room was full of stuff, but without him, it suddenly felt empty. Too quiet, like Enzo took the noise with him when he left.

I turned the volume up on the stereo and shook off the loneliness that always seemed to creep up at the worst possible moment, and got back to work.

Sometime later, the bell buzzed, pulling me out of my creative zone.

The sun was setting. I’d lost track of time.

The buzzer went off again.

I checked the time on my phone. 8:00 pm. There was still time before Charles was due to drop Harper off, but I wouldn’t put it past him to drop her off early if something more exciting than hanging out with his daughter came up.

“Yes,” I said, a little irritated.

“Delivery.” A voice I didn’t recognize answered.

“I didn’t order anything. You have the wrong address,” I said.

My phone vibrated in my hand. A number I knew all too well flashed on the screen, still unsaved in my contacts.

My stomach flipped.

I cleared my throat and answered, “Hello.”

“Serena, let the boy up,” Enzo said, his voice brisk.

I stared at my door, then out the window. “I... I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me. Let the boy up—he thinks he did something wrong,” he said, like he was talking to a scared animal. “So, buzz the boy up, let him drop off the stuff, and send him on his way.”

I hit the button, and the buzzer echoed through the room. There had been plenty of calls between Enzo and me, but those were work-related. When it came to anything outside our working relationship, I forgot how to speak.

“Good.” His voice softened.

“I’ll stay on the phone until it’s done. The boy’s name is Donovan, by the way.”

“Okay,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

I jumped at the knock on the door. Keeping the phone to my ear, I opened the door, and a tall boy, somewhere between late teens and early twenties, with olive skin and dark hair, walked in carrying multiple grocery bags.

He placed them just inside the door, turned to me, bowed, and closed the door behind him. All without uttering a word.

“He bowed and left,” I said.

Enzo barked out a laugh. “Finish your work and eat.”

He hung up while I was still trying to formulate a coherent sentence that was a mix of sexy and cute.

Damn. It was for the better.

CHAPTER 7

Enzo

The warehouse was alive, despite the late hour. Crates were being torn apart and reloaded on trucks, two older men played cards in the corner, and Drew stood next to me, holding onto his clipboard for dear life.

“We found the missing pallets?” I asked without looking at Drew.

He nodded so hard it was a wonder his head didn’t fall off. “Yes. It was put in the back, over there.” He pointed to the side of the warehouse that was specifically for the deliveries that didn’t have illegal substances.

I ran a tight ship. Organization was key not only to prevent us from accidentally shipping something we shouldn’t but also to help me keep track. When someone screwed up, I knew who did it.

Accountability and all that.

“It won’t happen again. I’ve made sure all the workers are aware.” He was nervous, the way I preferred the workers under my supervision to be when they were telling me how, exactly, they planned on not screwing up.

I turned to face Drew. “I hope they are. If any of our shipments go missing from any of the warehouses you manage, I’ll hold you responsible.”

I let the weight of my words settle over him as color slowly leeched from his face. If one shipment went missing—the ones with illegal trades we’d bypassed customs to bring in, from olive oil to marble—it would be a shit storm.

“Understood,” Drew said, standing taller.

“I hope so. The construction team will be in tomorrow to get the marble moved out,” I said. “Make sure they have room.”

Walking away, I nodded to the men who jerked their chins at me. When Marcello, Rafael, and I first came to the States, we divided up the operations, each taking an area to learn and oversee. Marcello took on top-level oversight. Rafael took over the finances. I chose the warehouses, connecting with the men there and developing trust.

I listened and learned about how the businesses were being run into the ground, how fractured everything was, and how unhappy most of the men were.

Working alongside them earned me respect faster than anyone else and strengthened bonds. They came to me with information, rumors, and problems. Without that trust, I don’t know if we would have taken over as easily and successfully as we had.

Donovan waited for me in the driver's seat, engine running.

“The usual route?” he asked as he put the car in drive.

“Yes.” I pulled out my phone, hoping to find a message from Serena, though I had no idea why she’d text me this late at night.

Harper was asleep, but there was a chance Serena was up working. Did they have a good night? Did Harper have a hard time falling asleep? Did she need to be read a bunch of stories? I hated that I didn’t know the answers to those questions.

At least my men had fixed the lock on her door.

I flipped the light on and grabbed the folder that had magically appeared on the seat during the day.

The dossier on Charles Clearwart III proved he was an asshat and a piss-poor excuse for a father. I didn’t need paperwork to know he was a screw-up, but I wanted to know how deep it ran. Outside of the issues with Serena, what was he involved in that I needed to know and plan for?

A glance at his financials told me that he spent money indiscriminately. Most of it came from a trust fund, but there were other deposits and several large cash withdrawals. He was a member of the Commonwealth Club—an old, prestigious, invite-only club.

How unoriginal.

I tossed the file to the side. It was late, and I didn’t have the capacity to read while I was in the car.

Donovan tapped the wheel to the beat of the music as he drove. I smothered a smile at the mental image of him being so flustered that he bowed to her.

We were three avenues away when I got a text alert from the security system.

A video followed. Three masked men were breaking the handle of the front door of Serena’s building.

“Donovan. Drive faster,” I ordered as I pulled up the security cameras I had installed outside Serena’s door. It was open, but I had no visibility into her apartment.

The car jerked, hitting a curb as Donovan made a left, flying down the street.

The men went to the door across from Serena’s. Before I could feel any relief that she might be safe, a man shook his head and pointed to Serena’s door.

I reached below my seat, grabbing the gun I hid there, as Donovan broke every speed limit getting us to Serena.

Seconds ticked by; each one lasting an hour until Donovan slammed on the brakes, taking the car up the curb and stopping directly in front of the door.

“Grab your gun,” I said and got out. Angelo was waiting at the front door.

Both followed me inside.

“Leave one alive. I want answers,” I said, taking the stairs two at a time.

CHAPTER 8

Serena

The microwave went off. I pulled out the popcorn, emptied it into a bowl to cool, and added a small bowl of Reese’s Pieces. Loading everything onto a tray with the mac and cheese, I carried it the short distance to the living room.

My arms, hands, and back were sore from days of being hunched over. My fingers were red and calloused from the needlework I’d been doing on a project. After some minor setbacks with fabric delivery and poor time management last week, I was ahead by one order.

None of that mattered as I eyed Harper’s reflection in the window.

She’d been quiet since Charles dropped her off after dinner two days ago. She kept looking out of the window, her hopeful gaze on the people below. She was searching for Charles, but he wasn’t going to pop up again.

I didn’t know how to address it, because there was no easy or kind way to tell a child that a parent didn’t care.

The more Charles randomly showed up, love-bombed her, and disappeared for weeks without a word, the more it took its toll on her. If I hadn’t resented Charles before, his habit of playing dad when it was convenient and disappearing when it wasn’t made me hate him.

I wish I had pushed harder on our custody arrangement. There was a small part of me that was scared to draw harsher boundaries, since I’d already won so much. If I had demanded more stringent rules, maybe Harper wouldn’t be as sad as she was.

“Here we go. More mac and cheese. Popcorn and Reese’s Pieces.” I placed the bowls in front of her.

“Thank you, mommy,” she whispered as she dug in on her second helping.

I ran a hand over her hair, bent down, and kissed her head.

My heart broke. Keeping her from her dad wasn’t an option, partially because I wasn’t that kind of person, but also, legally, I couldn’t. It was in our custody agreement that he could exercise his rights on certain afternoons, so long as he didn’t remove her or make her skip her activities.

This was the first time in nearly two years that he decided to take her for dinner.

“After dinner, want to take a bath with the bath bomb?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could.

Her eyes lit up. The knot in my chest eased.

“The pink one?” she asked before shoveling mac and cheese into her mouth. I smiled, nodding.

“Once we finish dinner, we’ll set it up,” I said, wiping down the table.

Opening the fridge, I was reminded, again, of how full it was. Fruits and delicious premade meals that required little effort from me filled the shelves.

All thanks to Enzo. How he knew what I liked and that I preferred premade meals was beyond me, but I appreciated it more than I could express.

I lived in New York City, on a fifth-floor walkup, with no elevator. Every time I thought about the distance to the grocery store, the bags, and doing all of that with Harper, I got exhausted.

“Done!” Harper yelled, climbing down from her seat and racing to the bathroom while trying to rip off her shirt.

I smiled, put her bowl in the sink, and followed her.

I’d do the dishes later.

I woke up with a jolt. My right arm was weighed down by Harper, so I rolled over, cocooning her as I looked out of the window.

It was dark out. Still.

I rubbed my eyes and sighed. I didn’t need to check to know that it was probably between two and three in the morning.

Like a switch went off in my brain, I started running through my to-do list. The skirt that needed hemming. The dress that was half drawn and needed approval. The dishes from dinner.

I’ll do the dishes. Maybe then I’ll be able to sleep for a few more hours.

It wasn’t likely, though. After I finished with the dishes, I’d head into my studio and work because sleep wouldn’t find me.

I slid out of the bed. Harper flopped over, her arms and legs spread out like a star, taking as much room in the bed as possible.

No matter how hard I tried to get her to sleep in her bed, she always ended up in mine.

I tiptoed out of the room, leaving the door ajar, and went to the kitchen.

Turning the microwave light on over the stove, I sighed. For the fiftieth time, I wished I had a dishwasher. It wasn’t a lot of dishes, but with everything else on my plate, I just wanted one easy thing.

Folding my arms on the counter, I leaned down, placing my head on top, and tried to find peace.

If I don’t do this now, I’ll be pissed at myself later. Just get it over with.

A creak rang out in the otherwise silent night. Old buildings like this creaked so much that I had to stop watching scary movies because they made my imagination run wild.

It happened again. Louder. Or maybe it was closer?

A table leg scraped against the floor.

My body went cold.

Someone was there. In my studio.

They were only feet away. Did they know we were here? Would they rob me and not search deeper and find us?

My hands started shaking. I was frozen, knowing I needed to move, but I couldn’t.

I stared at my closed door that had a lock I didn’t remember engaging.

It didn’t matter if I had. It was a flimsy door that one decent kick would knock down.

We couldn’t go out the window.

What do I do?

Where do I take Harper? There wasn’t anywhere to hide. Our apartment had two rooms and a small bathroom.

What do I do? My mind raced, trying to latch onto a plan. Anything.

I searched the room. Nothing would help me.

Think. Think.

The bathroom. It was right there and had a lock on the door.

I ran to the bedroom, picked up Harper and her small blanket as gently as I could, and made it to the bathroom, locking the door with one hand.

I placed Harper in the tub, wrapping her up in the blanket, hoping against hope that the hard surface wouldn’t bother her.

She rolled, trying to make herself comfortable, but didn’t wake up.

Okay, call 911. Right, that was a good idea.

If only I had my phone.

I cursed my stupidity for not grabbing my phone, knowing it was right there on the nightstand, but unwilling to risk opening the door.

My heart pounded.

Focus. What was in here that I could use?

The toilet brush was within reach, but that wouldn’t work. It was plastic. How much harm would that do?

Reaching over to the cabinet under the sink, I found the curling wand and straightener.

My chest tightened, and my stomach churned as I held onto the handles. I should’ve taken those self-defense classes at the gym last month.

I put my head between my legs. I tried to breathe. I needed to call for help.

I needed to do something other than be helpless and wait for something bad to happen.

Seconds ticked by, fast and slow all at once.

I closed my eyes and leaned against the door.

There was a crash, followed by a roar that didn’t seem human.

A door busted open.

They were here.

CHAPTER 9

Enzo

I took the steps two at a time. Angelo and Donovan flew past me, making me move faster than I thought I could.

They hit Serena’s floor and ran through her open door. I followed a few feet behind, gun out but down, ready to shoot on sight.

Angelo had one man face down on the ground, holding the fucker's hands together. Donovan was fighting one of the other men. He tackled him, knocking him into a table. Everything on it was scattered to the ground as Donovan wrestled the faceless robber.

I went past them, trusting that they would handle those guys.

My girls needed me. They had to be scared out of their minds.

The door was broken, held up by one remaining hinge, a black footprint in the center. Someone was here, skulking into their personal space, as if invading Serena’s studio wasn’t enough. Their lives were forfeit already, and this solidified it.

Slowly, I entered the first room. The small kitchen had an overhead light on, wet dishes drying on a rack. A couch pushed up against the wall near the windows, a tiny coffee table, and a TV on the wall.

Nothing was out of order from what I could tell.

The next door was closed. I twisted the nob and pushed it open.

No one was in there.

There was another crash behind me. I turned and found a man sprinting out of the small living room and back into the studio.

Donovan and Angelo could handle him.

I closed the door behind me and began searching for Harper and Serena. I checked the bed, then under it. Opened a door to find a closet with shelves and clothes.

Turning on my heels, I looked for other areas where they could hide. Serena was smart.

On the other side of the room was another door. I walked over to it and turned the knob. It didn’t budge.

I smiled, panic easing as I knocked.

“Serena. Open up,” I called out and crouched. A few moments later, the door opened, revealing Serena.

Her face was pale. Her hair had fallen out of the braid she had it in. She was gripping a hair tool so hard her knuckles were white. And she was breathing. Hard. Like no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t take in enough air.

“Serena, look at me.” Her glassy eyes flitted up to my face. “I’m here. You are safe. Harper is safe.”

Serena swallowed, her breathing steadying. She glanced over her shoulder at the tub. When she faced me again, a single tear ran down her cheek.

“I’m going to take you and Harper home, okay?” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Serena opened her mouth, then shut it and nodded.

I put my gun in the back of my waistband as I helped Serena stand. Once she was on her feet, I went around her to Harper, who had slept through all the chaos. I picked her up, tucked the blanket around her, and adjusted my hold so she was using my shoulder as a pillow.

“Come. Let’s get out of here.” I wrapped my other arm around Serena and guided her out of the room, stopping only to tell her to put her slippers on.

We walked through the studio. I did my best to block the mess of tables and fabric from Serena’s view, not that we could see much in the darkness.

Donovan and Angelo weren’t there, but they knew what to do if something like this ever happened, so I wasn’t concerned.

Step by step, we went down the stairs to the car on the sidewalk, which was still running. Serena climbed into the backseat, and I laid Harper down beside her the girl’s head resting in her mother’s lap.

I put the car in drive and took us home.

The car ride was silent, which helped me contain my rage. Serena petted Harper’s head with her eyes closed as tears fell, gutting me with each one.

For each drop, I’d make them suffer. They would beg, cry, and plead before they died, feeling as scared as Serena had.

I missed the turn. It took an extra ten minutes to turn around and get back on track.

By the time I got us home, there were five cars parked along the curb. I drove into the garage, turned off the car, and got out. Opening Serena’s door, I guided her out of the car and cradled Harper against my chest.

The door that led into the house opened. One of my men gave me a nod, holding the door as we passed. Serena stared ahead, not acknowledging anyone. With an arm around her, I nudged her up the stairs and into my bedroom, tucking both of them in.

I crouched next to Serena, smoothing her hair. She let out a shuddering breath and turned her gaze to me.

“Sleep. You’re safe,” I whispered. She blinked at me. I wanted to climb into bed and hold them.

We weren’t there yet, but we would be soon.

For now, I needed everyone to know that they were untouchable.

What if I decided not to drive by? What if I were late? What if...

The questions circled in my head as I twisted Serena’s hair around my finger.

Serena pressed her forehead against my finger, closing her eyes.

“Promise?” she whispered.

“I will always keep you safe, mio tesoro. Anyone who thinks of bothering you won’t live for long after,” I whispered back.

“That’s dark.”

“It’s the truth.”

Harper whimpered, the noise burrowing into my soul. Serena turned from me, wrapping her arms around her daughter.

I tiptoed out of my room, leaving the door open but turning all the lights off.

I stayed in the doorway, watching them. They were finally in my house, where I could take care of them. I knew Serena was going to fight me on it, but I was ready for anything she could come up with.

For now, they were here, safe, and close.

I went downstairs, where the men I’d rallied stood in the kitchen. All it took was one message, and they showed up without question, ready to take orders.

Each of them was younger, under twenty-five, but I trusted them. When Marcello, Rafael, and I first came to this country, we knew we had to influence and focus on the younger generation to create what we’d dreamed of.

The older generation held sway, but only because there were no other leaders at the time. Marcello’s father was a joke, and we were fractured.

For a moment, I wished I could take a picture and send it to show them what we’d accomplished.

At the drop of a text, I had men lined up to take an order, men we had trained and could trust. Men who were eager to do what needed to be done. His father never had this, and I wished he were still around so we could rub it in his face.

I strolled in and braced my hands against the countertop.

“Not long ago, two men tried to harm someone I care deeply about. I don’t know why, yet, but I will find out. Donovan,” I nodded in his direction, “caught one of the men, but the other is still on the loose.”

All the men turned to Donovan, nodding their heads at him. Donovan gave a half smile and tried hard to blend into the wall.

Serena’s studio had been destroyed. Mannequins sliced apart, clothes strewn everywhere, her half-finished work torn beyond saving.

They came to scare and harm her and Harper, and that was not something I would accept.

Tomorrow, I’d tell her about the damage. Then, I’d be there to help her deal with the pain and fear of being violated. For now, I had orders to give.

I took a minute to compose myself and tamp down that rage threatening to consume me before I said what needed to be said.

“No one hurts the family and gets away with it,” I said. “I want you all to go to the streets and find him. Find him and bring him to me.”

All the men straightened up, eager to do what was needed to curry my favor, but also because they were doing exactly what we preached to them. This was a brotherhood, a family, and at our core, we protected each other. Damn the rest to hell.

I nodded, and the twenty men who filled my kitchen turned and filed out. Donovan and Angelo stayed, hovering in the back while they waited for everyone to leave.

They had something to say; otherwise, they would have left with everyone else.

I nodded to them, my signal for them to speak freely.

“Are they okay?” Angelo asked from where he leaned against the fridge.

“I don’t think Harper knew what was happening. Serena’s asleep, but I think that’s mostly due to the adrenaline crash,” I said.

“Okay. I took the guy I caught to the ice room at the warehouse. I knocked him out, so he’s good there for a while, I think.” Donovan looked at me as he spoke, not used to making suggestions like this.

“Good.”

“He had a bag with rope and duct tape in it,” Donovan said, his voice barely above a whisper. He was angrier than I’d ever seen him.

I replayed his words, reality slamming into me. This could have been worse than I’d ever dreamed. It was as if my biggest fear came true. It was hard to breathe through the anger that filled my chest.

I leaned against the countertop, needing assistance to steady myself. I looked up, trying to keep a sane mind and remember that whatever the plans were, we had stopped it.

Serena and Harper were upstairs and unharmed. Well, unharmed physically, at least.

I had something to focus on that held me together, reminding me what was at stake.

“We’ll take care of this problem,” I said. “No one gets to come after us and get away with it.”

“In the morning, the stronzo will tell us what we need to know,” I assured him. Donovan clenched his jaw and nodded. “For now, let him stew in his fear.”

“We’ll go back to their place and get them clothes and whatever else they need,” Angelo said as he pushed off the wall and stood next to Donovan, his face as serious as I’d ever seen it. I didn't miss the fire in his eyes as he looked to me for approval before leaving with Donovan.

The two of them were scrawny kids looking for places to belong, raised by single moms with fathers who had bailed. Somehow, they fell into Marcello’s lap first, then mine.

I made a note to dig deeper into their lives. They were dedicated, reminding me of Marcello, Rafael, and me when we were young and dreaming of all the things we’d change when we took over.

That dedication was something worth cultivating, especially since they had potential. Hell, they took everything I said as gospel, even when I told them to hit the gym, eat more, and put some meat on their bones.

They were in their early twenties, but they were proof that we were succeeding at what we took over from the Cosa Nostra.

I went to the front door, opened it to check on the men in their cars guarding the front, then locked it. From there I went to the backyard, where it was easier to breach since the house butted up against the ocean and had a dock for boats.

It was a security risk, but also a means of escape should we ever need it. There were men on the patio, playing cards, their guns out on the table.

We were as protected as could be from intruders, but I was still on edge.

Going upstairs and to my room, where Serena and Harper slept, I checked on them one more time.

A massive snore erupted from Harper, who snuggled closer to her mom. They were comically tiny in my California King bed.

They were about to be attacked, and if it wasn’t for my need to see them every night before I slept, they might have been hurt.

Or worse.

Heaven help that man. By the time I was done, he’d be begging for death.

Maybe I’d give Donovan a moment with the guy, since he did all the work apprehending him.

Smiling as I left them to sleep, I headed to the guest bedroom.

Despite the fear, my girls were exactly where they belonged; I just had to convince them of it.

CHAPTER 10

Serena

The bed was a cloud, pulling me in, beckoning me to stay forever. I slowly opened my eyes, turning away from the stream of sunlight, and reached for Harper as I thought about last night.

Which reminded me of where I was.

I shot up, my heart pounding. There was no tiny body resting inches from me.

It took me a moment to find the door, which was open. Rushing off the massive bed, my foot caught on the blanket. I hopped on one foot, frantically trying to untangle myself as I raced out of the bedroom.

“Harper,” I whispered. We were in an unfamiliar place, and Harper tended to venture out because she had no idea what it meant to be afraid or cautious. It was always full steam ahead until something scared her.

I walked down the hall, heading toward the stairs, when I heard her tinkling laughter, followed by a deeper rumble.

Going down the steps of the grand staircase, I followed the sound. The closer I came, the louder the laughter was, followed by the unmistakable clanging of pots.

Pausing at the entry of the kitchen, I surveyed the scene.

Enzo stood at the stove in grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips and a black T-shirt with the bottom cut off into a crop with big white letters that read ‘Protect the Dolls’.

He was relaxed, moving through the kitchen like he did every morning, which wasn’t a far-fetched idea since this was his home, but I was having a hard time reconciling the relaxed version of him in front of me with the serious, suited one I knew from my studio.

He was always this strong, powerful man with an intimidating presence. He moved with lethal grace. I never imagined what he was like at home.

I never considered what he would be like with Harper. Seeing him at the stove making breakfast with my little girl, as if it was just another day, rocked me.

It struck me, deep in my heart, at how intimate a moment I was witnessing. He hovered over her when she swirled the spoon in the pot. He was gentle, which, until now, I would never have used to describe him.

I tore my eyes from him to the small girl next to him. Harper stood on a chair, hands on her hips, in the donut onesie she picked out last night. In her hand was a small blue cardboard box that I was all too familiar with.

Two men, who were, by my best estimate, in their early twenties, sat on the island with their hands on top. One I recognized as the man who dropped off my groceries—the one who had bowed.

Harper turned and pointed a huge ladle at them. “You want some mac and cheese too? It’s the bestest.”

I had to be dreaming. Pinching myself, I hissed when it hurt. Red indents on my forearm told me I was a little overzealous.

I must’ve been loud because Enzo’s head snapped up, eyes landing directly on me. His eyes scanned me up and down, slowly, methodically. He lingered on my legs before meeting my eyes again, licking his bottom lip.

Heat rose to my face. I tried to avoid his gaze by looking somewhere else, only to find myself staring at the sliver of stomach peeking out from his shirt. My eyes shot back up, and his lips tipped up ever so slightly, catching me checking him out.

I glanced down at myself and realized I was wearing my sleep shirt. A big t-shirt with Santa drinking a soda. It was old and faded, with a tear at the collar. And the least sexy thing I could’ve been wearing.

He whispered something to Harper, who turned and stared at me with anger in her eyes.

I needed coffee if I was going to survive Enzo’s half-smiles and the sight of him playing with my daughter.

“We had a sleepover, and I didn’t even know Mommy!” She jumped down from her chair, marched to me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me farther into the room.

As much as I wanted to pull her away from everything and fuss over her after the night we’d had, I didn’t. Instead, I let her drag me into the massive kitchen. She slept through the night without so much as a peep. If she wasn’t spiraling, I was determined not to either.

She pointed to the chair next to the two men and huffed. “Enzo and me are cooking. Are you hungry?”

“No, but thank you for asking.” I crouched down to her level. “Did you wake up the whole house?”

We were still working on manners; saying please and thank you was a test for her some days. I wouldn’t put it past her to slip out of bed and open every door until she found someone to bother who wasn’t me.

“No. Enny was already awake.” Harper scrunched up her face, her sign that she was gearing up for a fight.

“I think it’s ready to be mixed, Harper,” Enzo called out.

Just like that, whatever she was about to say was forgotten, and she ran to Enzo, who lifted her back onto the chair. On the counter in front of me was a coffee with a straw.

I took a sip and sighed. It tasted exactly like a Daydream Latte from Blank Street.

A plate slid in front of me, filled with grapes, orange slices, pistachio nuts, and cheesy eggs. Another plate slid onto the counter, this one filled with pastries.

Harper sat on the counter across from me, her legs swinging as she dug into her bowl of mac and cheese. Enzo placed two more bowls full of mac and cheese in front of the two men.

I wanted to tell them they didn’t have to eat it, but held my tongue. At least I wasn’t the only one this morning who was going to get bossed around by a four-year-old.

“It’s good, right?” Harper said, with a spoon halfway to her mouth.

The two men nodded, muttering how good it was while I ate the healthiest breakfast I’d had since Harper was born. Maybe even before that.

“Donovan, Angelo. Can you show Harper around the house? I need a word with Serena,” Enzo said, placing his empty bowl in the sink.

I jumped off my chair, awkwardly standing and sitting at the same time. “It’s okay. I don’t want us to be a bother. I’m sure you’re busy, and we don’t want to be a nuisance.”

Enzo tilted his head and then walked over to me. “You and Harper could never be a nuisance,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“If you want to watch, I have a room with a bank of cameras where you can observe them while they give her a tour. No one comes in or out of this house that I don’t know about.” He leaned on the counter between us. “You are safe here.”

I tapped my foot, needing to believe we were in a safe place. At least for the day. I swallowed, looked at Harper, and nodded.

She smiled, threw her hands up in the air, and jumped down, landing in a crouch and yelling, “Kowabunga.”

One of the young men stood, brought his bowl to the sink, and said, “Ninja Turtles. Love them. I’m more of a Rafael fan myself.”

The other one stood, placed his bowl in the sink, and said, “I’m more of a Leonardo.” He crouched down to Harper’s level and held out his hand. “I’m Donovan.”

Harper stared at his hand a beat, then wrapped her hand around one finger, shook it hard, and said, “Michelangelo is the bestest and the only right answer.”

“Come on, kid,” the one I assumed was Angelo said, “let’s show you around the place.”

I wanted to follow, anxiety spiking at Harper leaving my sight. I made it one step when a hand lightly grabbed my wrist.

Enzo shook his head. “Let them show her around. Take a moment to eat.”

I stared at the group, Harper following the two guys down the hall without so much as a backward glance at me, rattling on about every Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle fact she could think of.

Suddenly, I was very aware of how quiet the kitchen was and that I was alone with Enzo.

He leaned against the countertop, arms crossed over his chest, making his shirt ride up, giving me a better view of his tattoo and how built he was.

I was never good with silence unless I was creating something, so I said the only thing that came to mind.

“She loves superheroes but only if they’re from New York. Superman, TMNT, Captain America, Batman. It’s been an ongoing obsession for the last few months. I thought she’d move on to some more age-appropriate cartoons, but whenever I tried to suggest another cartoon, like this popular pig one, she asks when they’re going to take out the bad guys. There are not a lot of girl superheroes, let alone ones that are from New York.” I spewed out the words, unsure why that was what came out of my mouth rather than the ten other, significantly more important topics like what happened last night.

“Well, there is Spider-Gwen,” Enzo said.

I stopped, staring at him with raised brows. Enzo blinked, like he was surprised he said it out loud, and then laughed. Had I ever heard him laugh? It was a deep rumble that shook his upper body, and I wanted to hear it again.

“Are you ready to talk about last night?” he asked. He came to the island opposite me and leaned down on his forearms.

He held my gaze, and I realized I hadn’t responded. I’d just been staring at him.

“Yes.” I pushed my plate away and folded my hands.

“Two masked men were in your studio. It was trashed, and I don’t know how long they were in there before I got there.” He paused, a muscle ticking in his jaw. I braced myself because I got a feeling that I wasn’t going to like what he said next.

It was hard to hear and even harder to think about. Pain, heartbreak at everything I had worked so hard for, being torn apart, threatened to pull me under. The violation of my safe space. The place that I’d made entirely mine and Harper’s.

My world blurred to those minutes when I felt true, paralyzing fear all over again.

My body went cold as I tried to hold myself together.

A warm hand slid under my hair and behind my neck, pulling me into a warm, hard body. “It will be okay,” Enzo said, his thumb rubbing my throat. I soaked in his strength as I took time to come to terms with the fact that I might never be able to set foot in my apartment or studio again.

“Do you want the rest?” he asked. I pulled away to look up at him, without fully leaving his embrace.

He was strong, and I desperately needed that strength to hear what else there was to know.

I took a deep breath and nodded at him to proceed.

“They came there with a purpose. It wasn’t to rob you—or if it was, it was an afterthought. I have reason to believe they came to hurt you and Harper.” He said it softly, but it hit like a punch to the gut.

Someone wanted to hurt me and my daughter? As if it wasn’t violating enough to have someone tear apart my studio—the place I’d built not only to put food on the table but to let go and create.

Would I be able to live there and feel safe again? Or work there?

No, we’d have to move. I’d have to find somewhere else, because I knew I’d never be able to go back there and not relive the terror of that night.

“Hey, come back to me.” Enzo’s voice was closer. I blinked, realizing I’d been spiraling, hearing and seeing nothing, my heart racing. “That’s it. Come back to me, ragazza carina.”

A thumb swept over my cheek, and my face was angled up. Concern laced Enzo’s face. For a moment, I held entirely still; my heart slowed as I let the warmth of his proximity and the soothing strokes of his thumb lull me to calm.

“It’s a lot, I know,” he said.

“We can’t go back there,” I whispered. Tears burned the back of my eyes, but I held it together. Now wasn’t the time to cry; that was for later, when I showered. Right then, I needed a plan.

“No. You’ll stay here.” There was a finality to his tone that rubbed me the wrong way.

“Or we can get a hotel room.” I snapped back.

“No.”

“We can’t stay here.” I tried again.

“Said who?” He dropped his hands, and I wanted to stomp my foot and tell him to step back.

“Me. We can’t. It’s—” I tried to think of a reason why we couldn’t stay here. I snapped my fingers. “It’s too far from Harper’s school.”

“We’ll leave earlier, and I’ll drive her. Try again.”

“This is the safest place you can be. Someone wanted to hurt you, and I don’t know why yet. Until I do, this is where you and Harper will stay. No one will get to you here.”

I felt my resolve disappear because he was right. I was aware of what he did. The men prowling outside the window hadn’t escaped me. I didn’t need to see weapons to know they carried them.

This was the safest place for me, and more importantly, for Harper. I had no idea why I was targeted, if it was a fluke or if there was something more sinister going on, and I wouldn’t be taking a chance with Harper’s life.

If someone wanted to get to either of us, they’d have to get through the rows of men guarding us first, and that was a level of safety I could never provide my own.

Even with all the safety and assurance and the knowledge that we really had nowhere else to go, the decision didn’t sit well with me.

Allowing Lorenzo ‘Enzo’ Lombardi, the guy I had a pathetically massive crush on, to step in and help grated against every independent bone in my body.

Harper needs to be safe.

I’d do anything to keep my little girl safe and happy. Enzo must’ve realized he won and smiled once more.

He really needed to stop doing that. It was enough that I had a massive crush on him, and we had limited interaction while it developed. Being in close proximity to him, living with him like this, was only going to make that crush bigger. Make me fall harder than I already was.

I was going to be around him all the time, maybe laughing with him, leaning on him like I had just been. What if I heard him laugh more?

Don’t panic. There might be something he does that gives me the ick and then POOF! No more crush.

I refocused on Enzo, pushing my panicking thoughts to the side.

“It’s a Saturday, cuore mio. Take the day to relax. Think of everything you need, and let me know. I had some of the guys get clothes and toys from your place. It’s packed in luggage in the living room,” he said, and my heart fluttered in my chest.

I didn’t know how to take this level of kindness. Or thoughtfulness. It didn’t occur to me that the only clothes I had were the ones I was wearing.

“Is there a place I can keep my fabrics and mannequins?” I asked as I went to tear off a piece of paper from the notepad stuck to the fridge.

“Yes. I’ll show you where to keep your work tomorrow. For now, take the day to decompress.” He stood, and I followed him. He went down a long hallway and turned into a dark room.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness and realize what kind of room he had taken me to.

“You have a movie theater in your house?” I asked, shocked. The room was big, with four two-seat recliners on two levels of steps. There was a popcorn machine in the corner. Big blankets were on the table on the far side of the room.

“Yeah,” he said nonchalantly as he grabbed a remote and started pressing buttons. The lights dimmed even lower; the screen lit up. “It’s sunny out, but it’s supposed to rain in the next hour or so. While Donovan and Angelo keep Harper occupied, might I suggest you relax and watch a movie?”

“They’re going to occupy Harper how?” I asked because, while they seemed like nice kids from the very little I knew of them, Harper was a lot for a four-year-old to handle. If they weren’t careful, she’d have them hopping on one foot, saying a superhero catchphrase, while rubbing their stomachs and tapping their heads.

“They have games and whatnot. They know where to find you if they need help, but I’m sure between the two of them, they can handle it.” Despite Enzo’s assurance, I couldn’t help but worry.

I worried my lip because this all felt too good to be true. I didn’t need a white knight, but I couldn't deny the weight that eased off my shoulders at having time to sort through the mess that awaited me.

“Maybe I should check on them,” I said, still unsure if leaving her was the right move.

“Pick out a movie first.” Enzo handed me a tablet with different icons for the room clearly identified. “Then decide what you want to do. If you need time by yourself to work through last night, take it. If you want to cuddle up with your girl, do it.”

He stepped closer until our toes were almost touching. “Do whatever you need to do. Tomorrow we handle everything else.”

He was so close. I wanted to lean into him. Press my forehead to his chest, wrap my arms around him, and just be. What would it be like to have him as mine? To have his quiet, supportive strength all the time?

A soft, hesitant touch of a finger ran down my arm, catching on the tip of my pinkie. I closed my eyes, a small shiver running through me.

“I have to go,” Enzo whispered. “I’ll be back to show you the rest of the house.” There was a glint in his eye that I didn’t know him well enough to read. “And convince you to stay, if I still need to.”

With a lingering look, he left.

With a deep breath, I tried to distract myself by finding a movie.

The Godfather, for research purposes, or something more kid-friendly?

“Mommy, come!” Harper yelled as she launched herself into the room. She grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the room. She chattered so fast that I couldn’t keep up as she dragged me down to the other side of the house.

“Ta-da,” she sang as she threw her hands out and wiggled her fingers. In the biggest living room I’d ever been in was a pillow fort. Big chairs held blankets; there were fairy lights, and a bed of pillows.

There were more pillows on the floor than I owned.

“Wow.” I took another step into the room.

Harper ran and Superman-ed onto the pillows. Rolling onto her back, she put her hands behind her head, crossed her legs, and sighed, “This is the life.”

Twin chuckles sounded behind me. I spun to find two guys carrying more pillows, bags of chips and chocolate, and more lights.

“There is a movie theater down the hall,” I said.

“Nothing beats a pillow fort,” one of them, Donovan, I think, said.

CHAPTER 11

Enzo

“Tell me how you found them again?” I asked Donovan as he turned into the warehouse, glided into the building, and cut the engine. It had been almost three days of searching, but we finally got the men we’d been looking for.

“Like I said, I put out some feelers in the neighborhood. Some friends I’d made while I was a busboy called and said they heard two guys bragging about a break-in, but they didn’t finish, so they didn’t know if they’d get paid the full amount or something like that. Angelo and I popped in while they were still there. We asked them some questions, and we knew it was them.” Donovan recalled this story for the second time.

Angelo and Donovan were almost disturbingly efficient. One night of hunting and they’d found the two missing men that no one else had managed to locate in two days.

We had captured one, but there were two others that had escaped.

I’d let one get away from me, my attention on getting to Serena and Harper. He had run into Angelo, knocking him off the man he had pinned down. He escaped, too. It wasn’t ideal, but we had the manpower to search every nook and cranny in this city to find them.

And we did.

“Good.” I got out of the car, and Donovan followed. Angelo stood at a door on the opposite side of the room, waiting.

Angelo opened the door when I was close. The next room was less a room and more a wall separating one side of the building from the other. It had once been a food warehouse, leaving nearly half the space as a massive freezer I’d put to good use.

The three men were blindfolded and tied to their metal chairs in the middle of the space. Frost coated their clothing from their time in the freezer. A few other men who wanted to witness the show stood in the back.

I jerked my chin, and one of the men came over and undid the blindfolds. Grabbing one of the many empty chairs, I placed it in front of the stronzos and sat.

“Do you know why you’re here?” I asked. Silence answered me.

That was fine. Eventually, they would tell me everything they knew.

“Two days ago, you broke into the apartment of someone under the protection of Cosa Nostra. Someone under my protection.” I let the words hang in the air, watching as they slowly penetrated their thick skulls.

Satisfaction rolled through me as I witnessed each of them grasping the pile of merda they’d gotten themselves into.

“Why?” I asked.

Again, no one answered. Sighing, I began to roll up my sleeves, though experience told me it wouldn’t stop the blood from splattering on me.

One man shifted in his chair; his fear permeated the air. Good.

In one swift motion, I backhanded him, using all my pent-up anger to fuel the hit. And then again from the other side.

The sting from the blow ran from my hand up my arm. I welcomed it.

I hit him again, finally having a place to put my anger.

For every tear that Serena shed, I’d make them feel the pain tenfold and smile while I did.

There were questions that demanded answers, answers that I would get, and then I would unleash on them everything they deserved.

“This can be as easy or as hard as you make it,” I said. “If you tell me what you know, there’s a chance I might feel,” I paused, trying to find the right word, “benevolent. The longer you make me wait, the more it will hurt.”

The man in the center hocked and spit at me.

I turned to my men. “It seems we have a tough guy on our hands.”

They chuckled.

“Where are my shears?” I asked. They appeared in my hand a moment later. “Hold his hand flat.” Donovan ran up and splayed the tough guy’s hand out.

The man wiggled his fingers, trying to get out of Donovan’s hold. Donovan held tighter, pulling his arm straight. He started to kick, but his legs were tied to the chair.

Then he started to beg, and it was like music to my ears.

“Please. Stop. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how serious this was for you.” He rambled, but it would get him nowhere. I almost laughed at how quickly he went from bravado to a pathetic, begging man.

I bent to eye level. “Keep begging,” I ordered, smiling as he continued. “You should’ve done your research. The only person you have to blame is yourself.”

I held the shears, eyeing the sharp blades. Slipping the guy’s pointer finger between the two blades, I squeezed the handles, neatly slicing off his finger down to the top knuckle.

Blood spurted. I shifted to the side, the spray missing me.

“One down.” I held up the bloody flesh while the man howled. Hurting someone didn’t usually bring me pleasure, but for the first time, I found I enjoyed inflicting pain.

“Why did you break into that apartment?” I asked again.

I moved to the next man, lining up the shears.

“Wait,” he cried. How pathetic that he broke under the fear of pain. “I’ll tell you what I know.”

I stepped back and gestured at him to continue.

“We work for Millenium Securities. We got the job about a week ago. Took our time to case the place out and then made our move,” he explained.

“Do you think that was enough information to get you out of here alive?” I asked as I walked back, ready to move on with the torture.

“There’s more,” he wheezed. “We had specific instructions. Tear the place apart, hurt the lady, scare her daughter, and leave.”

“Hurt her how?” I ground out. I knew they had intentions to hurt her. What we found in one of their bags told me as much. The confirmation of what I had suspected ignited a new fire in me.

I was familiar with anger, but this was different. It was deeper, more vengeful than I’d ever experienced. It writhed under my skin, like a living thing that needed violence to be released.

I cracked my neck, trying to release the tension that had built up under the anger. It didn’t work. I needed him to tell me, bit by bit, what he planned to do. Everything he planned to do to them, he’d experience himself before he died.

“Rough her up and tie her down. It was left for us to decide how far we’d go. But the kid was off limits. We were just going to tie her up and leave her in the other room,” he rasped the words out as fast as he could.

“How did you plan to rough her up?” I asked.

“Bruise her up,” he said. “I don’t know. I’m not into hurting women and kids. I thought breaking and entering was enough.”

I grabbed the guy by the back of his head and yanked him up to look at me. Beady little black eyes stared at me.

“Who sent you?” I asked, bringing up the shears, and then dragging the sharp end down his cheek. Blood welled at the cut.

“It was anonymous,” he said. He was breathing heavily, his eyes wide, like he had finally realized the pile of shit he was in. “Headquarters knows more. They only tell us what we need to know to get the job done. I swear.”

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” I said. He started crying, which made me smile but didn’t stop me.

Donovan held his hand out while I cut the tip of his middle finger off.

I shifted my attention to the two other men.

“Let’s hope you know more than your friend.”

“I don’t know anything,” the guy on the right said, leaning back in his chair and wheezing. “I’m new. This was my first assignment. I was given orders and followed them through. There are,” he swallowed, “a lot of ways to hurt someone that don’t involve touching them.”

“You’re right,” I said. “But you didn’t do your research, did you? If you had, you’d know better than to touch my family.”

“Look, I didn’t know about the ‘hurt her’ part,” the other one called out. I should have gotten their names, but it wasn’t like they’d live to see another day. “I don’t do that shit. I don’t agree to it. John knows that. I’m not a hitman that takes money and shoots where you point. We were supposed to trash the place, quietly to scare her, and that was it. The goal was to not interact with her at all.”

I narrowed my eyes. Maybe they’d live. It would be a good warning to others about what happened if anyone thought of coming after what was mine.

“John's a dick. He's saying that shit to rile you up because you left him in the freezer. But he is a sadistic fucker. John’s a dick. I wouldn’t be surprised if he decided the other stuff for shits and giggles.” This guy was smart. I’d give him that. It wouldn’t save his life, but at least there was a chance he was honest. “If you want verify my story call Headquarters and get the details.”

I nodded. "They’ll just tell me what I want to know?”

“If you tell them you have me, Kyle Lowe, and then say festung, they will.” He stared at the missing tip of his finger, face red and sweating.

I nodded, thinking it through. If one guy on the team went rogue, did I blame the team or the one who made up their own orders?

“Donovan and Angelo, make sure they’re taken care of.” I stood, buttoning my suit, and headed out the door. The echo of cries from the beating my men were doling out followed me.

Once I was in the car, behind the wheel, I pulled out my phone and dialed.

Two rings and a man’s voice, I was all too familiar, with answered.

“Why are you calling my wife?” Marcello asked.

All I could do was laugh.

“She doesn’t like it when you answer her phone,” I said, knowing he feared his wife, Adrienne, as much as the rest of us.

I heard her voice in the background, Marcello trying to get a word in, and then, “What can I help you with?”

“Serena was attacked at her home three days ago. They tore through her apartment. I got there before Serena or Harper were contacted—she was in the bathroom hiding—and they’re at my place now. They’re safe.” I stopped, giving her a chance to interject, but she kept silent, so I continued. “We got the three guys involved, who said Millenium Securities hired them. I need to know everything about the company, the men, what they were supposed to do, and who hired them.”

“Done. I’ve heard of Millenium tangentially. They’re one of those ‘do what you want for the right price’ kind of companies. They can be bought, which makes them unpopular in our space. The CEO doesn’t like us, but that’s not saying much. He’s a bit of a misogynist. Ralph something is his name, but he doesn’t get involved in the day-to-day or new ops that come in. Everything else, I’ll get back to you on as soon as I can,” she said. If that was what she considered peripheral knowledge, I wondered how much she knew when she wanted to know more.

Adrienne was part of Bridge City Security Firm, which had global recognition as being the best. They also ruffled feathers not only the only for being an all-female team, but also for how they went about their work.

“Thank you,” I said, starting the engine.

“Don’t thank me. She’s my family. I’ll call her later.” She cleared her throat. “Lorenzo, if anything happens to either of them, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”

“Nothing will happen to them.” I meant every word. I’d take a bullet before I ever let it touch them.

The streets were lined with shady trees, each house boasting an immaculate front yard and driveway, the architecture varying wildly in style. Some were mini castles, others gaudy monstrosities, and a few offered genuine character and charm.

It was quiet, despite being close to the ever-busy Whitestone Bridge.

I pulled to the curb in front of one of the tasteful houses, character and style evident in its vibrant flowers, brownstones of varying shades across the front, and a circular driveway

The front door opened before I got out of the car. A woman in her late forties stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, a hand towel thrown over her shoulder, in sweats, and her hair up.

I went to the trunk, grabbed two heavy tin cans, and carried them to the front door.

Martina Vinci, Adrienne’s mother, watched me like a hawk, completely unimpressed, and for a second, I thought she was going to order me to leave the cans and be on my way.

She waved me inside with a resigned sigh and headed to the kitchen.

Martina went straight to the cans, opened them, and pulled out the pistachio nuts. She rolled them in her hands, cracked a few open, smelled them, and ate a few when she was satisfied.

“These are so good,” she said, her eyes closed as she chewed more. “I’m in a mood, so good thing you bought presents, or I would’ve slammed the door in your face.”

I smirked, knowing she told the truth. There was nothing better than recently harvested pistachios. A timer went off, the aroma of whatever she had cooking filled the air, making my stomach grumble. The house was always filled with the smell of food. She turned, grabbed a plate, and went to the stove.

She loaded it with seafood risotto, glanced at me, added another spoonful, and pushed the plate toward me. “Eat. You’re skin and bone.”

If there was one thing I wasn’t, it was skin and bone. I worked out with a single-minded focus, and it showed.

I took a few bites while Martina watched and waited. “Amazing as always.”

“Why did you show up here and not one of my restaurants?” Martina asked as she began wiping down the counter.

“Something happened with Serena, and I needed to let you know,” I began. “On Friday night, Serena’s home was broken into and ransacked. I got there before they made it into the apartment, but her studio,” I shook my head, anger welling up every time the image of what was left flashed in my mind. “It’s gone. They’ll be staying with me until the threat against them is eliminated, and they can safely go back to the studio.”

“How long do you think that will take?” she asked.

“Well, I’m hoping she likes living with me, and they never leave, but she might want something else.” Martina was the first person to clock that I had a thing for Serena.

She was perceptive in a way that reminded me of my mother. My mother had been gone for years, but in moments when I needed guidance I couldn’t find elsewhere, I came to Martina.

Without me having to explain it, she became a second mother—never replacing mine, but offering the same comfort and listening ear I’d grown up with.

“This is a unique opportunity you have,” she said, pulling out a lemon cake. “She’s done everything by herself. Even with her divorce, she wouldn’t let me help. Not in any significant way. Her ex-mother-in-law stepped in only when she realized what an ass her son was being, and Serena was at her wits’ end.”

I knew all this, but I still listened.

“Do not try to deceive her with pretty words and promises you’ll never keep. The more upfront you are, the better.” Martina moved around her kitchen. She never stood still. “She has to think of her and Harper, and that idiot ex of hers.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Martina gave me a long, exasperated look. “They have a legal agreement, custody stuff.” She waved her hand. “He might not abide by it, but if I remember correctly, there are clauses and rules about living situations that she has to abide by.”

I smiled a little. “I know.” I raised an eyebrow. “Did you think I’d be so underprepared for all possibilities? For the moment, she’s content to stay with me because it’s the safest option.”

“You caught them?” Martina asked, but it sounded more like a demand.

“Yes. They work for a security firm, Millennium Securities. It was a contract hit. Adreinne is looking into it more for me,” I said. “From what Adrienne said, this isn’t a high-caliber team with exceptional skill.”

“You think you know who hired them?” Martina asked.

I shrugged, not willing to put into the universe that I thought Charles Clearwart put a hit out on his ex-wife and would put his own child’s life in danger because he was jealous. The idea was too vile for me to contemplate fully, but I wasn’t ruling it out.

The only thing I could do was mitigate the fallout and be there for Serena and Harper. There were some things, even with all my power and influence, that I couldn’t stop or control.

I tapped the table and stood. “I wanted to keep you up to date in case she calls you.”

“I’ll give her my opinion on things, as I always do when she calls asking for help, or an opinion, or to vent.” Martina sighed, sadness lining her face. “She doesn’t have anyone, Lorenzo. She has limited contact with her family; her younger sister is traveling the world. Even if she was close to them, she wouldn’t take her struggles to their door. It’s just not how she is. She’s been living alone for a long time. Be careful with her. I don’t think she can handle another person letting her down.”

“The last thing I’ll do is let her down,” I countered, almost insulted.

“So you think. Everyone makes mistakes; just be careful.” Martina led me down the hall to the front door.

It opened as she reached for the handle. Her husband, Flavio Vinci, stepped through the door, a scowl on his face.

Stepping between Martina and me, Flavio glared at me. “What are you doing here? Alone with my wife?”

Martina snorted, her laughter filling the foyer as Flavio continued to glare at me. I responded with a bored expression.

“Do we need to do this every time you see me?” I asked.

“Yes. Why are you alone with my wife?” he demanded.

“That’s between your wife and me,” I said, unable to keep myself from antagonizing him. He made it so easy.

On cue, Flavio’s face went red, and he took a menacing step toward me.

Martina stepped between us, cursing Flavio. “Why do you do this? Always with the nonsense, as if I’d even bother with him if he tried. He brought his pistachios and wanted to tell me he finally made a move with Serena.”

If she had her towel, Martina would have started hitting him with it. It wouldn’t be the first time. Their arguing was some weird foreplay.

A pang hit me in the center of my chest, knowing my parents would act similarly if they were still alive.

Mom, like Martina, had the biggest heart and loved having people around. Dad loved her and me deeply, and was possessive and jealous at times, even knowing Mom would never look at another man.

All the traits he ingrained in me.

“I’ll leave you two to your lovers’ spat,” I said, sidestepping Flavio, who still glared at me and Martina, who faced off with her husband, hand on her hips.

I was halfway down the walkway when Martina called my name. Stopping, I turned in time to see her jogging.

Breathing heavily like she had sprinted a mile, she frowned at me. “Don’t make me run. I don’t like it.” She stood, clearing her throat. “I know you’ve been worried about making the first move and playing the long game. It’s admirable. But it’s okay to push her. She’s been hurt, and she’s quick to find a reason not to believe what’s right in front of her. Don’t be afraid to show her what her life could be like. She always puts one foot in front of the other. Give her the fantasy. Show her the potential of her life.”

It was sound advice and validated what I suspected already. Serena was afraid to be anything but practical. The consequences would be too great should any chance she took fail.

“I’ll take care of her,” I promised. Martina nodded, and we went our separate ways.

I broke every speed limit to get home.

The drive took too long, even though, for a rare moment in New York, I hit no traffic.

I slid into the curved driveway and stared at the house. Harper zoomed past the front window in a flash of blond hair.

The tightness in my chest loosened. Anxiety I hadn’t realized was living in me since I left the house leeched out of me.

I was home. My girls were right where they belonged, in a place they deserved.

Martina was right. It was time to turn this unfortunate circumstance to my advantage and use everything at my disposal to keep them there.

CHAPTER 12

Serena

I wiped the counter, cleaning up the mess Harper had made eating her cereal, which she had dubbed the most amazing ever. It was Cheerios.

I was trying to explain to her that we’d be staying with Enzo for a while. She didn’t take the first four reasons I’d given her: there was something wrong with the toilet, we needed a bigger place to run around, I needed to help Enzo with some work, and it was easier to stay here, and why not?

“Why?” Harper asked, for what felt like the hundredth time, but it was probably her seventh.

“Because that’s the way it is,” I said, trying another version of the same answer. I closed my eyes, hoping this was the last time and that we could move on to something else.

Harper narrowed her eyes at me, then nodded her head.

“Is Enzo your boyfriend?” Harper asked.

I stopped moving; I wasn’t sure I was breathing.

I licked my lips, buying time to answer. One thing I didn’t do was lie to my girl. I gave her age-appropriate answers whenever possible.

“Hey.” Enzo’s gruff voice sent a shiver down my spine. “Got dinner.” He placed six bags of groceries on the kitchen counter next to me.

He turned, gaze flicking from me to Harper, who stared back at him like a deer in headlights.

“Did I interrupt something? Should I leave?” he asked.

Harper opened her mouth.

“No. Stay,” I said hastily, interrupting whatever Harper was going to say. No doubt it was something that would embarrass me, if history was anything to go by. “You mentioned dinner?”

I grabbed the bags, nerves filling me. We were alone in the house, perhaps for the first time since I arrived.

“I got the seven-cheese mac on deck,” he announced as he pulled out multiple different blocks of cheese and lined them on the table in front of Harper, whose jaw dropped. “It’s a delicacy.”

Pulling out the contents of the bags, I realized each item was a favorite of Harper’s or mine.

The only vegetable pouches Harper would eat, movie theater popcorn, coffee pods, and more. I lined each of them up, first because I wasn’t sure where all this food went—the cabinets were all filled with other, nonfood items—but also because I’d never bought this many groceries in my life.

Partially because I didn’t have the room, but also because there was no way I was ever going to eat all of it.

I was still in a daze, staring at the food, when a big, warm hand slid to the nape of my neck, cupping it gently. A shiver ran down my spine at the contact, and I couldn’t help but take a quick, shallow breath.

“You okay?” His voice was low and measured, but laced with concern. “Do you want me to leave so you can talk to Harper in private?”

I couldn’t stop my gaze from flicking up to him. His thumb moved in small, almost hypnotic circles at the base of my skull, massaging away the tension I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding. The heat of his skin seared through me, the nearness of him making my mouth go dry. I felt my chest tighten as my mind stuttered—one part desperate to pull away, the other wanting to melt right into him.

“I… I’m fine,” I managed to choke out, though my voice sounded smaller than I intended.

Enzo’s eyes softened as he studied me, and for a heartbeat, the room shrank to just the two of us—his hand still cradling the back of my neck, his presence radiating an intensity I could feel in my bones.

I stared into his brown eyes, wanting so badly to get lost in them, but resisted.

The more time I spent in this house, the more it was like reality was warping around me. I woke up, and Harper was in another room, playing with toys and dolls. When I walked down the steps, it was to the kitchen, not because I had to leave the building.

There was more than one bathroom, and more closet space in a single room than I think I had in my entire studio.

The windows were always open, fresh air constantly flowing. Nothing about this place felt cramped,

Somehow, I woke up in one of my fantasies.

“No.” I took a step back, not trusting myself not to do something inappropriate like throwing myself at him if I didn’t. “This is a lot of food.”

“Let’s get cooking.” Enzo ignored my comment and pulled a chair next to him on the counter. Harper climbed on, like she cooked there every night.

“Here we are.” Enzo came from the pantry holding another bag. “For the chef. This is from Martina.” Enzo proceeded to pull out a child-sized apron, a chef’s hat, and multiple kid-friendly knives.

Which reminded me that I had been here for three days and still hadn’t called her or Minnie to let them know what was going on. It was Monday night. Harper didn’t go to school today because I was too anxious to have her out of my sight, but she has to go tomorrow. The problem was I didn’t know if I had her uniform or how I’d get her there. We were far from the train, and I hated taking buses.

Hands caged me to the counter on either side. I gripped the edge as his front pressed against my back, folding over until his chin rested against my shoulder.

My heart leaped into a sprint in my chest. I stared at Enzo’s face in the window’s reflection. My thoughts fragmented. I was doing something, wasn’t I? There were questions I needed to ask him, but...what were they?

I wasn’t used to being touched in a flirty way like this. It was flirting, right? Was I reading this wrong, and was this simply how men offered comfort? Or maybe it was how Enzo did comfort?

For so long, he was this impenetrable wall. Pretty to look at, radiating danger that made people want to give him a wide berth.

Yet, here he was, bringing presents home for my daughter, promising me safety and asking nothing in return. He constantly offered comfort, always finding moments to touch me, and I didn’t know what to make of it. I knew I wanted it to mean he liked me and wanted me close, but what if I was wrong?

I was so scared to be wrong.

We stayed like that for a second? Hours? A week? I had no concept of time when he was so close.

“After dinner,” he said into my ear, his breath skating against my neck, “we’re going to talk.”

I nodded as Enzo moved away from me, leaving me cold and anxious for the rest of dinner.

He was going to ask us to leave. I knew our time in the bubble was going to pop.

We had to leave at some point, right? Enzo had a life to live, deals to do in the dark, women to...I didn’t want to think of what he did with other women.

We were taking up his valuable time and invading his space. That wasn’t right. I understood the idea of being chivalrous, but there was a point when it needed to end.

Minnie or Martina might help until I can find a new place and sell the studio. Being away from it solidified that there was no way I could sleep there again.

I looked over, and Harper was whispering something into Enzo’s ear. He listened intently, brows furrowed. He turned and whispered back, and she giggled.

I started clearing the plates, needing to move. The faster we had our conversation, the faster I could start planning.

“Let’s get ready for bed. We need to wake up a little earlier for school tomorrow since we’re farther away,” Enzo said, grabbing his plate and following me to the sink.

“Okay. I’m going to find my baby dolls and get them ready for bed,” Harper said, jumping down from her chair and racing out of the room.

The room was silent without Harper’s constant chatter. It weighed on my shoulders.

“You had something you wanted to discuss,” I said, wiping my hands with a towel.

Enzo walked to the French doors that led to the backyard, opened them, and gestured for me to follow.

Right. We shouldn’t have this conversation where Harper can hear us.

I followed behind him, walking the short distance from the house, past the glass hothouse, to the shed at the back.

The backyard was enormous—the result of combining three lots into one.

When we walked out, there was a large stone patio with chairs, a long glass table, and a big umbrella. There was a large patch of green grass beyond the stone that ran to the back, ending in a solid wooden fence. The yard was flanked by a greenhouse on one side and a big shed on the other.

We went down the path that led to the shed. Enzo opened the door, flicked on the light, and held his hand out for me to enter first.

Whatever I had assumed was in there, it wasn’t this.

Multiple mannequins, the high-quality kind that I had been putting off buying, lined the far side of the room. Two large tables, one a cutting table and the other a sewing table, were at the center. The other side had open shelves for fabric. In the corner, three mirrors surrounded an elevated dais.

The big bay windows were open; fresh, salty air filled the room.

I rubbed my eyes. Everything was still there. I took a tentative step inside.

I went over to each area, heart pounding, tears pressing against my eyes. Reverently, I touched the table, the expensive sewing machine. Everything.

It was like someone had picked out my dream studio and created it here.

“Do you like it?” Enzo asked.

I whipped around. I forgot that he was there. Afraid of what my voice would sound like, I merely nodded.

Swallowing, I tried to get a handle on the riot of emotions.

“How is all this here?” I asked.

“You need a place to work.” Enzo shrugged, putting a hand in his pocket. “Now, you have a place to work.”

I covered my face, trying to think of the next question I wanted to ask. “When did all this happen? I’ve been here for what? Three days? I didn’t see anyone carrying anything like this outside.”

“The men knew not to be spotted.” Enzo went to a table, leaning back against it. “So, tell me, bellisima, will this do? Is there something missing? All you have to do is say it. I’ll give it to you. Anything you want, it’s yours.”

“This is a lot,” I said, my voice wavering. “I can’t even...” I stopped and tried again. “Lorenzo, this is more than anyone has ever done for me. As much as I don’t want to take advantage⁠—”

“Take advantage,” he said, cutting me off. It sounded more like an order, but I let it slide. “Take whatever you need from me, whenever you need it.”

I could dive into that request, give it a thousand more meanings, but those thoughts were out of place.

I spun around the room, trying to find something to focus on, but I couldn’t. Everywhere I looked was perfect. It was a struggle to wrap my head around the idea that someone, anyone, would go this far for me.

How did he get this so right?

“I thought you were going to tell me it was time for us to go,” I said.

Enzo barked a laugh. The laugh was so surprising, I almost jumped. It was rough, like he didn’t use it often.

I’d never heard him laugh before. It was a wonderful sound. One I wanted to hear more of.

As he laughed, he transformed before my eyes. Laugh lines bracketed his mouth. His eyes twinkled, and his face softened.

He became younger, less intimidating, and more carefree. I didn’t know that side of him, and I desperately wanted to. What was fun Enzo like?

“We can leave. I appreciate everything you've done for us, but spending money on all this,” I waved my finger around the room, “wasn’t necessary.”

“You aren’t leaving. I have money and nowhere to spend it. If I want to spend my money giving you and Harper whatever you need to get through the next day, week, year, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

I opened and immediately closed my mouth. Was he offended? That wasn’t my intention, so I started backtracking, realizing I wasn’t going about this right.

“I’m only saying that this goes beyond being nice and giving us a safe place to be. This is,” I had no idea how to say what I was feeling. How did I tell someone that I’ve never had anyone be as thoughtful as this? As considerate of my needs? “So much to take in.”

I went to the sewing machine. One I knew cost an arm and a leg, which was why I couldn’t justify getting it for myself.

Yet Enzo got it for me without blinking an eye.

“I’m not used to anybody coming in and helping.” I thrummed my finger on the table, keeping my eyes glued to it. “We’re in your home, wrecking it with pillow forts, sleeping in your rooms, and taking up your time. You created a space for me to work.

“I just don’t want you to do this because you feel some sort of obligation because you saved us that night, and it switched on some caveman protectiveness you don’t know how to turn off.” I buried my face in my hands. “None of this is coming out right. The studio is amazing, and I’m overwhelmed by it.”

Fingers wrapped around my wrists, pulling my hands from my face. Tilting my chin up and to the right, Enzo was staring down at me.

“I like the chaos you, and particularly Harper, bring to my home. Nothing about having both of you here is an inconvenience. If I didn’t want you here, I’d get you a hotel room.” His head dipped closer to mine. “You’re here because I want you here. I like you here. I like the way you say my full name.”

His mouth was close to mine. All it would take would be for me to rock up onto my toes, and I’d be there.

My heart was trying to break out of my chest.

If I could just⁠—

A loud ring made me jump. My feet slipped as I landed, and I reached for the first thing I could grab—Enzo’s shirt—trying to steady myself.

Enzo wrapped an arm around my waist, bringing us closer together than we were before.

Out of breath, heart racing, I closed my eyes. Why was I so easily surprised? Was there never a time I could keep my cool?

No. I had zero chill.

“Are you going to answer that?” Enzo asked. He hadn’t let me go.

It took me a moment to understand what the noise was. My phone was ringing in my back pocket. I hadn’t recognized it because it had been on vibrate since 2009.

Enzo let me go, stepping away. I checked the caller ID.

Charles.

Frustrated with Charles’ timing, I answered.

“What?” My tone was angrier than I intended. I should’ve let it go to voicemail like I typically did, but I acted on impulse.

Enzo pushed into my space, hovering, intense. It was like whiplash, how fast he went from the laughing man to the one I was used to being around. I took a step back. Enzo cocked his head, put a hand in his pocket, looking deceptively relaxed, but I noticed the tension in his shoulders. The way his body coiled, ready to react.

I turned my back, needing to focus on dealing with Charles and this mistake of a phone call, without being distracted.

“Don’t what me. Where are you? It’s my weekend,” Charles barked at me. Usually, I kept my cool. Emotion was ammunition.

Enzo could hear Charles yelling through the phone. I glanced over my shoulder, and he was barely a foot away. Having Enzo witness this much of my life with Charles was both exposing and embarrassing.

Charles was throwing a temper tantrum, and Enzo had a front-row seat to the shitshow.

“It’s Sunday night, Charles. The weekend is over,” I stated. “And your weekend was last weekend. You have first, third, and fifth weekends.” We’d had the same schedule since Harper was a month old, yet he never remembered. He hardly exercised his visitation, so it wasn’t a surprise he couldn’t keep track of his days.

“You already came by on Wednesday without warning, and I let you take Harper for the day. That was enough accommodation for this week, Charles.” I stared at the water through the windows. It was always about what was best for Charles, never a thought about Harper, and I wasn’t going to stand for it.

“I get her when I want. And where are you? Why is there a new lock on your door?” Charles was snarling. “Where did you take my kid? You have to tell me when you take her anywhere.”

That was true.

“First, you don’t get her whenever you remember she exists. That’s not how custody works. The building was broken into, and my apartment wasn’t secure anymore,” I said. It wasn’t a lie, but it omitted some key factors that he didn’t need to know about. “We’re staying with a friend until the landlord says we can come back.”

“Where are you?” he demanded.

“I’m still in the city,” I said. “However, you don’t need my exact address. Harper will be at school tomorrow. If you want to see her and ensure she’s okay, you can do it there.”

“You’re required to tell me!” he yelled, and I had to take the phone away from my ear.

“I’m not.” I had memorized our custody agreement backward and forward. Minnie paid for an amazing lawyer who wrote every line and considered every contingency, including situations like this. “If you need a reminder, call your lawyer and have him read it to you.”

With that, I hung up. I needed to call a lawyer because that was the game Charles liked to play. It was a game of chicken with him. He’d call and text a hundred more times. When I didn’t answer, he’d pivot to getting his lawyers involved to manipulate and pressure me.

My phone rang again. I answered. I never learned. Maybe I could solve this issue without having to deal with the emotional backlash that was typical of Charles and his antics when he didn’t get his way.

Tapping the screen without looking, I started, “Look⁠—”

“Hi, sweetheart.” My mom’s cheery voice rang through.

I went to the corner, wanting space between Enzo and me for this conversation.

Dealing with my mother, talking to her, was something I did out of obligation. We weren’t close, and that was how I liked it. I didn’t need her constant criticism, nor did I need Harper to hear someone always telling me that I wasn’t doing enough or making digs at my career.

“Hey, Mom,” I said, my tone curt.

“Just wanted to call and say thank you for the money.. Hope you and my little girl are doing good.” I nodded like she could see me through the phone.

“Yeah, Mom. We’re doing good. But I have to get Harper ready for bed.” I wanted to get this call over with. I had a feeling I knew what it was about anyway.

Short, fast, and to the point was best when speaking to my mother. Especially since our calls usually ended with her asking for money, a deal on some clothes, or complaining about all the poor choices she thought I made in my life.

“Oh! I didn’t think of the time. Go get her ready for bed. Talk to you soon.” Her voice stayed high-pitched, some of the southern drawl bleeding into her words. I rolled my eyes because, of course, she’d call back. She never told me what she needed.

She was never truthful if she needed money for her mortgage or wanted to treat herself to get her nails done. She’d tell me what she needed if I asked more than once, and then I’d be on the receiving end of her verbal lashing.

Now, I gave it to her, no questions asked. Sometimes, she’d text me a picture of her nails or something similar, which was how I knew where the money went.

Why she needed money at all, when both she and my stepfather had good-paying jobs, was a mystery to me. One that wasn’t worth asking about.

“Bye, Mom,” I said after she had already hung up on me and turned back to Enzo.

Holding up the phone, I shrugged. “My mom. She lives in South Carolina with my stepdad. We don’t see each other often, which is how I like it. Our relationship is surface-level at best. Once a month, she calls, needing money. I send it, and she calls and says thank you. Harper doesn’t really know her.”

“Why don’t you like your mom?” Enzo asked.

I blew out a breath, trying to figure out how to explain my complicated relationship with my mother.

“It’s not so much that I don’t like her but more that I need the separation.” I walked to the table and leaned on the edge. “She was always pushing her ideals onto me. Who she wanted me to be, where I should go to college, and was critical of my every move. I have a younger sister. I don’t know if I ever told you that. Her name is Poppy. She’s twenty and in school for nursing.

“She’s a little girlier than I am, and she and my mom clicked a little better. My mom was less critical with her, always reminding me instead of everything she gave up and all the things I ‘owed’ her.” I air-quoted the word, hoping it conveyed how my mom always emphasized it my entire life.

“My biological father is nothing more than a name on a birth certificate. Albert, my stepdad, whom I consider my real dad, came into the picture when I was still a baby and raised me.” It was hard to keep the resentment at bay when I thought about this part of my life. “I had all the basics needed to survive, never anything more. That went to my little sister when she came along a few years later. The apple of my parents’ eye. I was never enough for my mom while my sister got a gold star just for showing up. It took me a while to recognize how toxic that was.”

“What do you mean, toxic?” he asked.

“It’s small, throwaway comments. Sometimes about my weight, hair, or clothes. She hates my job and thinks it's a waste of time, yet I make more money than her and Albert combined. Charles cheated on me, and the second I found out, I filed for divorce. Mom thinks I should’ve stayed and dealt with it.”

“You should never let anyone disrespect you,” Enzo said. “That’s not how families treat each other.”

“I know.” I sighed. “What about you? Are your parents back in Italy?”

“They died in a car accident a little over eighteen years ago,” Enzo said softly.

“Oh.” I had stuck my foot in my mouth. Backtracking out of this conversation because no one wanted to talk about their dead parents, I said, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“It gets easier each year, but there are times when missing them hits me out of nowhere,” he said. There was a wistfulness in his voice as he spoke of his family that made my heart break.

“Are you an only child?” I asked.

“Yeah,” was all he said. Despite our differences, I couldn't imagine not having someone to complain to when Mom got out of hand.

“What about Charles? Everything okay there?” I took his questions as a sign to move on. Talking about dead parents was hard on a good day.

In turn, I huffed a laugh. “Nothing is ever okay with Charles. He showed up at the apartment, even though his weekend was last week and he didn’t bother to exercise his visitation then, to ask where we were and drop his casual threats on me.” The more I talked, the more riled up I became. “As if he thinks I don’t know our custody agreement backward, forwards, and sideways. He doesn’t need to know where Harper and I spend our time. Technically, there was no emergency I was required to tell him about, thanks to you. Until I decide where my new permanent address is, he doesn’t need to know.

“I made sure our custody agreement had everything I could think of, down to the day-to-day, outlining the ‘can and can’t’ actions. Like, he can’t take her out of the state or country without notification. Or he can’t make healthcare decisions without my consent. We can’t introduce our partners without first warning the other party. And,” I put up four fingers, “that relationship has to be continuously monogamous for four months.”

“Why that many months?” Enzo tilted his head, and I couldn’t help but smirk.

“Charles has a new woman every few months. They never last more than three months.” I shrugged. “And he’s never been monogamous. Those two put together ensure he won’t introduce a new woman to Harper and confuse her. He might be with Apple, but they still cheat on each other all the time. They’ve been off and on since high school.

“Apple doesn’t like that Harper exists. She’s a constant reminder that Charles moved on. She’s rarely around when Harper is, so I don’t worry about her, in that aspect at least.”

“Do you have any idea what a fucking idiot Charles is?” he murmured, the words meant only for me. “Someone as brilliant, strong, and stunning as you deserves to be treated with respect and adored for everything you are. Not whatever he was giving you.”

Heat flushed my chest at the raw honesty in his voice, his nearness making it hard to think straight. His eyes glimmered in the dim light, softer somehow but still holding a lethal intensity that always had me both on edge and completely undone.

He tilted his head slightly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You don’t have to deal with idiots like him. Not today. Not ever.”

“Yeah, I know.” It was easy to say but harder to put into action when the idiot in question was my daughter’s father.

“The men will be here in the morning to bring in your stuff. They’re at your mercy, so put them to work. The faster you set up and are comfortable, the faster you can get to work.” He pushed off the wall he’d been leaning on.

He opened the door, and I followed. As I walked past him, a gentle hand on my arm stopped me.

“If you want Charles to leave you alone, let me know. I’ll handle it,” he said.

“Handle it how?” I asked because I didn’t think he meant he’d bring in lawyers and push Charles into a corner the way I knew Charles had done to others.

“How I see fit. If he isn’t listening to you or respecting your wishes, let me know, and I will make sure he understands what you want.”

“I don’t know if I’ll take up your offer, but thank you for making it.” Again, he was sliding into my life, giving me more support than I’d ever received.

Enzo nodded, and we headed back to the house, walking side by side.

In the darkness, I pretended we were holding hands, knowing it would remain a dream, but allowing the vision to filter through my mind anyway.

CHAPTER 13

Enzo

I sat in my office, a room I never bothered to use, and stewed. My drink sat full, work abandoned, because all I could think about was Serena and everything I’d learned about her today.

I had to talk to her. We had to have that conversation. The one where I laid everything on the table. She would either accept me or not. Panic and worry crawled through my body at the thought of her rejection.

It was the only reasonable solution after I offered to beat the crap out of her ex. I had more context and things weren’t adding up. Why was Charles suddenly so invested in being a father?

Was it because he felt threatened by me? Was he bored and causing her pain and frustration for amusement? Or was there something more sinister I hadn’t uncovered happening?

I went to my room, which I had given to Serena, and knocked on the open door.

Serena popped out of the bathroom, hair loosely braided, wearing an oversized T-shirt that went to her mid-thigh. There was nothing sexy about her clothes. She wasn’t putting on a show or wearing anything that was revealing. Her shirt, in fact, was longer than many women’s dresses.

Yet, with a glimpse of her calf, I was turned on. I refocused myself, because now was not the time to get sidetracked.

“Hey,” she said. I could hear the hesitation in her voice.

“Harper, fall asleep, okay?” I asked, taking a step farther into the room. I had decorated Harper’s room, leaving some parts for her to make her own.

Nerves twisted my insides. This was a make-or-break moment. Everything I worked for could be cut off at the knees in an instant, leaving me back at square one with her.

“Yeah. She was very excited about all the girl superhero stories that appeared on her nightstand.” She laughed. “After four stories and letting her tell me one, yeah, she finally closed her eyes.” She looked up at me through her lashes.

“Good.” I wanted to ask about the stories, to know who told which ones, but I kept on course. The desire to be part of their nightly rituals could wait. I swallowed and took the step that would define my future.

“Serena, do you know what I do?” I asked, barely able to look at her.

“What do you mean?” she asked. She wasn’t going to give me an inch, and I appreciated it all the more.

“For work, do you know what I do?” I asked. She gave me a small nod. “What do you think it is?”

Serena bit her bottom lip, a question in her eyes. “You run the construction company? Something in architecture? I’m not sure what it qualifies as.”

“And?” I urged.

She shrugged. “I know there is something you do that, when I think about it, feels like I’m talking about something out of a movie or 80s crime drama. I know it’s real, but saying it out loud is a bit surreal.”

Some of the tension in my shoulders eased. She had an idea of what I did, even if she didn’t want to admit it, and she wasn’t demanding to be taken somewhere else. That was good.

“During the day, I’m the COO of Panorama. At night, I’m the underboss of Cosa Nostra. I run the New York City area and most of the East Coast. Marcello is the don, and Rafael is the underboss out west, where we’re branching out to.” I stopped, thinking about what I said. “I’m always the underboss. Day or night,” I said, amending my previous statement.

Serena stared at my blank face.

Taking her silence as the go-ahead I needed, I continued, providing more details on my role. “I have men under me, running the illegal side of the business. I’ll spare you the details; it’s better if you don’t know. What I do can be dangerous. I carry a gun. I’ve used it many times, and I’ve killed people.” I forced the next sentence out of my mouth. “If that makes you scared or uncomfortable, let me know, and I'll let you leave if that’s what you want.”

Serena sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and jutting her hip out.

“Are you asking me to leave or not?” she said with more attitude than I expected.

“No. I very much want you to stay.” I did my best not to beg her to stay.

“Okay. Will your job put us in danger?”

“Maybe. You could end up being a target, but I will do everything I can to make sure you’re safe.” I was close to getting on my knees. Whatever it took to keep her close.

“Okay,” she said, letting out a big sigh. “Martina gave me a similar speech when she thought Sly and I would get together.” My brain stopped like a record scratching. Her and Sly?

Sylvester ‘Sly’ Vinci was Martina’s son and Adrienne’s brother. I thought of him as a friend. Or at least I used to.

I doubt we’d be friends after I maimed him for looking at Serena.

“That was never going to happen.” She chuckled. “Sly isn’t my type. But I do consider them my family.” She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at me. I resisted the urge to pose like a peacock for her review.

“Martina always said Flavio leaves business at the door, so that’s all I’ll ask of you while we’re here,” she said with such nonchalance it threw me off. “As long as you tell me what I need to know for our safety and keep the rest as business, I’m okay with it.”

“I was expecting more of a reaction,” I said hesitantly, not trying to jinx myself.

Serena shrugged. “My parents may live in the south now, but I grew up in New Jersey. I learned the phrase ‘snitches get stitches’ in preschool. My town just elected Jimmy ‘Ice Man’ Romanelli to the City Council. The man got out of prison like a year ago for murder and some other stuff.”

Who the hell was Jimmy Romanelli? Why wasn’t she asking more questions? What did growing up in New Jersey have to do with this?

The tension, like a thousand-pound weight on my shoulders, lifted. Her reaction wasn’t anything I had anticipated. I'd run this conversation through multiple different reactions: crying, demanding answers, running, or outright rejection—but none of them was acceptance. I had rebuttals and conversation points to convince her to stay here, but I had never run a scenario where she went along as if it were another summer day.

Acceptance, with reasonable conditions, wasn’t a response I’d considered. Not from someone who understood that my title came with actions that could get me killed or thrown in jail.

“New Jersey?” I started because I didn’t know where else to begin, and it was the only thing my brain could latch on to.

“Do you not know your own history? Lots of the mob are in Jersey. There’s also a joke about them working in waste management because they can get rid of bodies that way or something like that.” She climbed on the bed, crisscrossing her legs.

My brain went blank, losing its battle to stay focused on the conversation and not let my mind wander to deeper, sensual thoughts.

She was in my clothes, in my bed, relaxed and at ease. She’d had what might have been the most stressful few days of her life. All I wanted was to lay her out, ruck up her shirt, and make her moan my name.

Make her come until she is boneless.

I bet she’d be everything I’d dreamed of and more.

“Lorenzo.” Serena was snapping her fingers in my face. “You okay? You zoned out in the middle of me explaining about snitches and stitches.”

I cleared my throat. I wanted to tell her, in excruciating detail, what I had been thinking about, but that was too much too fast.

“Yeah. Apologies, I was rummaging in here,” I tapped my head, “to see if I knew who Jimmy was.”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s been in jail for like twenty-something years. It’s just the most Jersey thing to vote for someone who got locked up for money laundering to be on the city council and decide on things like budgets.” She chuckled.

“Right. You're taking this information in stride. I guess I expected...” I trailed off.

“You expected me to grab Harper and run?” She tilted her head.

I nodded. “And maybe yell at me, too.”

“No. I’m not one to yell. I tend to get quiet when I’m angry.” I made note of that. She was quiet a lot around me, but I knew she was never mad.

I took it as her being shy.

“Should we go over the plan?” Serena prompted, moving us along.

Everything in me eased as she talked about how we’d get Harper to school. The biggest, potentially most important, conversation we needed to have was out of the way.

There was no yelling or running away. There weren’t even many questions beyond safety. Was it too much to hope that this was all?

Maybe, but a caval donato non si guarda in bocca.

I won’t search for a problem if she says there isn’t one.

That was one of the first things I was taught about women.

Women are easy, piccolo uomo, my father used to say. All they want is to be heard. What you need to do is listen to them, remember what they say, and work like hell to make it come true.

In addition to nearly stalking my mother, that was how he won her over.

That was exactly what I planned on doing for Serena and Harper.

“Sounds like we know what next week will look like. The men will be here at eight am, sharp, to set you up in your studio. A few will stick around and wait until you have deliveries. They’ll make them and take payment.” They’d also inform everyone that prices were going up, effective immediately.

Whether Serena liked it or not, I was going to show her how much she undervalued herself in every way.

Which, to me, was a fight I looked forward to.

“Okay,” she whispered. I nodded, turning to leave when she called my name. “Thank you. This is,” she said, out of breath. I knew she was buying time to find her words. She was thoughtful with her words, at least she had been with me.

I waited, willing to wait as long as she needed.

Finally, she started again. “Thank you. For the studio, it’s perfect. I don’t know if I mentioned that. It’s like a dream. And for making this easy. Going from no kids in the house to one as high-energy as Harper is a shock. If it ever gets too much, let me know.”

“It won’t be too much. Neither of you is too much,” I said, hoping she heard the truth in my voice.

Not for the first, or even the fifth, time, I wanted to beat Charles for making her think there was something wrong with her.

If I didn’t get out of this room, I wasn’t sure I could be held accountable for my actions.

“See you in the morning,” I said, marching out of the room before she kept me there any longer.

She wasn’t ready for everything I was going to give her, but I won one battle today. She was staying.

Now I just needed to convince her to stay forever.

CHAPTER 14

Serena

Monday mornings were always the hardest day of the week. I woke up half an hour earlier, showered, and got ready.

Harper hated waking up on a great day. She hid under the blanket, threw temper tantrums, and went as far as faking sick with the worst fake cough I had ever heard to get out of leaving the bed in the morning.

After the fun weekend she had, it was going to be a nightmare getting her out of bed.

Psyching myself up to take on my four-year-old, I went to her room.

She wasn’t there. I walked to the bed, lifted the blanket and... she wasn’t there. I checked around the room, but she was nowhere to be found.

Then I heard her tinkling laughter.

I checked the time on my watch as I followed the sound. It was 7:05 am. Thirty-five minutes earlier than I typically start to try and wake her up.

I headed downstairs, following the noise toward the kitchen, and stopped.

Harper had a spoonful of mac and cheese suspended in the air, laughing hysterically. Her hair was in a lopsided ponytail; her shoes were on the wrong feet, but she was wearing her uniform.

Enzo was at the stove, dressed in a suit I had made, shaking his head. Harper’s laughter filled the air, echoing down the hallway where I stood. Whatever I had walked in on, I didn’t want to interrupt.

The two of them, enjoying their moment in the morning, tugged at my heart

I knew magic when I saw it.

Harper made a face and started laughing again. Enzo whipped around, waving the spatula in his hand like a wand. With a flourish that was more akin to a Broadway show. He walked over, carrying two plates, placed them next to her, and sat down beside her.

I did my best to stay unnoticed as Harper reached over with her fork and stabbed it into the food. It was a piece of pancake, a food item I had yet to get her to like.

She shoved it in her mouth fast, chewing as she giggled. Enzo pushed his plate closer, and she had another bite. Then another.

I wanted to pump my fist in the air. For a year and a half, I’d tried every healthy breakfast I could think of, and she rejected every single one. She couldn’t live off mac and cheese and dino nuggets forever.

The longer we spent here, the better everything got. Harper was waking up more easily, eating without a fight, and I had a studio again.

I cleared my throat, hating to interrupt their moment, but having no other choice.

“What’s for breakfast?” I asked and walked to the fridge.

“Mommy, I went to wake you up, but Enso caught me. He said if I got ready really quietly, I could make my own lunch,” she said and pointed to the brand-new cartoon lunch box on the counter.

I smiled at her mispronunciation of Enzo’s name and opened the lunch box, almost afraid to see what she put in there. Surprisingly, not every container had mac and cheese. There were a variety of items, some that she had never tried before. I only had to pull out one thing because of the nuts.

“I have to be with her for drop-off. None of you or your men are on the approved drop-off or pick-up list.” I forgot that there was a drop-off approval list for her daycare last night.

“Okay. How long does it take to add me?” Enzo said as he cleared his and Harper’s plates.

“Oh, uhm, easy. It’s just a form I have to submit,” I said. With hesitancy, I asked, “Do you envision doing drop-offs often?”

“Yes.” Enzo was in front of me. “I do. I’ll take her every morning unless there is a reason I shouldn’t.” He stepped closer. “You’re not alone in doing anything anymore.”

He pushed a cup into my hands, our fingers touching. It was early, I hadn’t had a sip of coffee, and yet one touch had me more awake than I’d been in years.

“Did you sleep well, amore mio?” he asked, leaning down. I nodded, unable to talk, and drank the coffee he handed me.

A blend of vanilla and cinnamon deliciousness filled me, and I sighed, closing my eyes.

“Thank you,” I whispered, holding the cup close to my chest.

When I opened my eyes, he was still staring at me. He winked and went back to his food. Was it me or was he always a step ahead of what I wanted? Did I have a tell that clued him in?

It was a question that I didn’t care to answer. I was okay with accepting life as it came, making workarounds when needed, and knowing when to appreciate things as they were.

This was one of those moments.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” he said, stepping away and putting on his suit jacket. “We need to hit the road in the next few minutes to be on time.”

Harper jumped off the seat and ran to the front. I followed.

There were two pairs of shoes at the front. One was clearly for Harper, new, and part of her uniform. The other was a platform sandal in warm brown leather with a designer emblem.

They weren’t mine. I opened the small closet to find jackets, but no shoes. There weren’t any shoes that came with the delivery of clothes from Enzo’s guys.

“Put the shoes on, Serena. We’re going to be late,” Enzo said, holding the door open.

“I don’t have shoes,” I said, making a show of looking around for my beat-up Converse.

“You do.” He pointed to the pretty sandals. “Put them on. I know you like them.”

I did. They were pretty, with amazing stitching and craftsmanship. They also cost thousands of dollars and would be the most expensive things I’d ever worn.

Enzo walked over, crouched, grabbed the sandals, and gestured for me to step into them.

Seeing Enzo on his knees, staring up at me, fried my brain. I couldn’t process it.

In a daze, I stepped into the shoes, and Enzo carefully buckled me in. I pressed my nails into my palms, the bit of pain grounding me in reality.

I nodded, keeping my eyes on the ground to avoid looking at Enzo, for fear that he’d keep me in a daze, and headed outside. Enzo’s low laugh followed me out the door.

There were two SUVs out front, one with Donovan behind the wheel, and the other had three men loading it up with clothes I needed to send back to clients.

I headed over, “Wait. What are you doing?”

All three men froze in place, one stopping as he was hanging up a garment, his face paled.

“Bambina, no.” Enzo tugged my hand back, whipping me toward him. “They’re doing deliveries for you today.”

“What?” I heard him, but it was like my brain refused to process the information.

“Stay with me, bambina.” He hit me with that damn smirk that flipped my stomach. “They know where every piece goes. You keep great records. They’ll take payment and bring it back for you to deposit.”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Gently, Enzo put a hand on my shoulder and guided me to the car, where Harper waited.

Her feet swung in her booster seat, strapped in and ready to go. I climbed in and slid to the middle seat; the SUV was spacious enough for it. Enzo came in after. As I buckled up, an arm reached behind me, flicked Harper’s hair, then curved around my shoulders.

A breakfast sandwich appeared in my periphery. I grabbed it, unable to contain my excitement.

I loved breakfast. It was my favorite meal of the day. Skipping meant that I was hungry, got a headache, and hated the world.

I narrowed my eyes at Enzo as I brought the sandwich, a bacon, egg, and cheese on a bagel, to my mouth. Catching the moan in my throat, I chewed and sighed at how good it was.

We drove, with Donovan navigating the morning Manhattan traffic with ease. Normally, Harper and I walked and took the train, so being in a car was a change from our usual commute.

Harper showed no nerves as we got closer to her school, like she normally would, jumping out of the car and bouncing on her toes as she held my hand and walked up the steps.

Enzo walked in with me as I headed to the office to get the paperwork to add him to the school’s authorized pickup list. Sending Harper to the school Charles wanted had left me uneasy, even though he paid for it and never missed a deadline, because the families that went there were in his circle.

I hated knowing there was a chance he reported my comings and goings to him. With Enzo accompanying me, there was no doubt the mothers and nannies were already typing away about the man I’d brought to drop-off.

My only saving grace was that the school administration liked me and abided by our custody agreement to a T. That meant Charles wouldn’t be notified that I’d added Enzo to the approved list.

We got back into the car and pulled away from the curb.

“You have some fabric to get, right?” Enzo asked, never taking his eyes off his phone.

“Yeah.” I was behind on some custom projects with all the chaos of the last few days. “I don’t have my designs on me, though.” Typically, I liked to bring them and try different fabrics to find which ones I liked the most.

Enzo reached under his seat and pulled out a folder that I knew had my designs.

I wanted to ask how he knew everything I needed, but I refrained.

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

“You don’t need to. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“You will be. With me right there.” He leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear. “I can’t wait to see you work.”

A shiver raced down my spine. All day with Enzo following me like a shadow, watching me with his intense gaze?

Hopefully, I'd be able to focus.

I touched the last roll of fabric. I didn’t have a project for it, it but it made my creativity swirl.

It was white, semi-sheer with a pearlescent shine. My hands itched to sketch a design, or maybe a silhouette that would highlight the fabric and the person wearing it.

A small notebook and a sharp pencil broke my view of the fabric.

Enzo held it out, shaking it. “We have time. Draw.”

My heart soared. These spells always hit when I had nothing to draw with and no one patient enough to let me work through them.

I should’ve known Enzo wouldn’t be like that, rushing me to hurry up, or telling me to remember the design until I was home.

He pulled a chair to one of the empty tables in the room and motioned to the salesgirl, who pulled the fabric out and laid it on the table.

“Fine. Since you strong-armed me,” I said sarcastically.

Sitting, I let the vision flow from one sketch to the next. I made quick work of the sketches, not because I felt pressured to, but because I didn’t.

After I finished, I looked up from the drawings—they were a good starting point. Enzo was leaning against a wall directly in front of me, thumbs flying across his screen. The salesgirl ran around the room pulling fabric, probably for another customer.

“Okay,” I said, standing up. “I’m done.”

Enzo nodded and came over. “Let’s get lunch.”

Lunch? I checked the time, and it was after twelve. Had I been working and forcing Enzo to stand around until I was done?

“Lunch?” I would have thought he’d have other, more important things to do.

“Yes. Lunch. You know, the meal between breakfast and dinner?” he said. “I got a reservation for us.”

He made reservations? I checked my outfit in the window’s reflection and smoothed my shirt. I wasn’t prepared to go out to lunch. Especially not with Enzo.

Enzo invaded my space, something I noted that he was doing more often. I liked it. I wanted more of it, to bask in his attention like it was sunshine.

“You worked hard. We should have a good meal and do whatever else you want to do for the rest of the day,” Enzo said. He wanted to spend more time with me? Doing what I needed to do?

Was this a dream, or was I going to wake up soon?

I was so focused on my drawing and Enzo that I almost missed the group of men who were undoubtedly part of Enzo’s crew, carrying multiple bags of fabric a few feet in front of us.

“What is in those?” I asked, pointing to the bags. There were nearly twice as many filled bags as I bought.

“We need to fill your studio with the fabrics you want, not the ones you think you need. I got them for you.” I stopped short, turning to him. I wasn’t mad, but there was an emotion brewing in me that resembled anger.

“You got all the fabric I looked at but didn’t get?” I asked, and he nodded. “That was a waste of money. I might like the fabric, but I have no use for it. There is too much work as is, even to use them.”

“Don’t you have downtime?” Enzo asked. “We aren’t arguing about this. You need more fabric, ones that allow you to try what you want, not what they’re paying you for.”

“We aren’t arguing; we’re having a passionate discussion about you spending way too much money on me. Especially on my business.” That was my real sticking point. It wasn’t up to me how he spent his money, but I had limits when it came to my business.

“You’re right; we aren’t arguing. You also aren’t going to dictate how I spend my money or where I invest it. You were never going to buy those pieces.” He was right, but I didn’t get a chance to tell him because he kept going. “You were going to find every reason not to get them when you could create one-of-a-kind pieces and continue with what you’re doing.”

“You already invested when you created that studio. I’m not saying what you should do with you money, but if you continue to spend it on me, can you at least talk to me about it first?” I had built my business from the ground up. While I wasn’t going to turn down the investment, I wanted to make sure I knew how much was being spent so that I could work out the numbers.

“Fine. But only if you won’t fight with me over every penny.” He sighed.

“Fine.” I turned and flounced away, feeling like I finally won an argument.

Enzo muttered under his breath, but he was too far away for me to hear, and I would bet a hundred dollars it was in Italian.

Once we were both in the car, we rode silently to our next destination.

CHAPTER 15

Serena

I tried to go with the flow, never making concrete plans or setting expectations unless it had to do with work. Life was easier that way, at least that was what I told myself.

So, when we pulled up to La Luna, Martina Vinci’s highest-rated restaurant out of the four she ran, which was booked out months in advance and a place I had never been, I went with it.

La Luna was a place you went with someone else, maybe someone special to you. There had never been a reason for me to eat there.

The morning was amazing. I was on cloud nine. Eating at La Luna, if we managed to get lucky, would be the cherry on top of an unexpected, yet best morning of my life.

I crossed and uncrossed my legs, checking my reflection in the mirror. I wasn’t dressed appropriately for a fine dining meal. My lunches consisted of low-key, easy-to-grab meals on the go, when I remembered to eat at all.

Even when I was married to Charles, he never took the time out of his day to take me to lunch.

Except, I glanced to my left at Enzo, maybe there was now.

He walked in like he owned the place. The hostess gathered two menus, put on what I knew was a customer service smile, and said, “Mr. Lombardi, welcome back. If you’ll follow me.”

She turned and headed to a table off to the side that had a view of all the entrances. Walking through the tables, I noted how underdressed I was in jeans and a tank top, my hair thrown up in a ponytail, and black high-top Converse on my feet, while everyone else was in summer dresses and linen, and overall much better prepared to be at a Michelin-star restaurant.

“Have you been here before?” Enzo asked, pushing the menu aside.

“No.” There were no prices next to the meals. It was standard practice for me to pick the least expensive thing on the menu.

The server came over, prattling on about water and specials, none of which I caught because I had decision anxiety.

“We’ll have a bottle of Pinot Noir,” he said, and then ordered the rest of the food for the table.

Once the server took our order, they bowed and ran as fast as possible from our table.

“Oh my gosh, Serena!” Minnie’s voice rang out.

I searched the room and found her in the middle, waving her hand at me with too much excitement.

She walked over. The moment she spotted Enzo, her smile grew.

“Hello, my dear.” She bent down, touching her cheek to mine. “Have you eaten yet? I’ve been trying to make a reservation here for ages, but it never worked out.”

“Well, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Charles said behind his mother. I wanted to throw up. It was one thing to see Minnie while I was having lunch with Enzo.

It was an entirely different situation to be faced with Charles. I straightened, knowing this was a prime moment for Charles to create drama.

“Martina is a friend,” I said, gritting my teeth.

“Of course she is.” Her eyes went wide when she looked over at Enzo. “Well, it’s a pleasure to see you again, Enzo.”

Oh no. The minute we left, Minnie was going to hit me with a thousand questions I wasn’t sure I could answer. Ones like I thought you didn’t want to date, or please tell me he’s good in bed, or, even worse, when’s the wedding? Each one would be filled with excitement that her son hadn’t ruined me for all men, but would become increasingly more invasive.

I hadn’t even told her about the break-in yet.

Charles’ gaze went from me to over my shoulder. His face darkened. I prepared myself for what he was about to say because it was going to get ugly.

“Oh, are you on a date?” he sneered. “You never were one to dress up. Can tailor, can’t dress.”

“It’s clear this was a surprise. Who doesn’t love surprises? Especially when it involves handsome men and beautiful restaurants?” She winked at me. “Senior is calling for me, but it’s wonderful to see you out like this, sweetheart. I can’t wait to chat later.”

Minnie swan dived away, over to Charles Senior, who was chatting with an older couple.

“Oh, I concur with Charles.” Apple came up behind him, sliding an arm between his. “You were always good at serving. Maybe they should get you an apron.” She smiled and tilted her head. “I’m sure you’d fit right in.”

A body brushed against my back. Without turning, I knew it was Enzo. He’d always been calm, but Apple had the unique ability to send anyone into a rage.

If there were two things she was good at, it would be spending someone else’s money on herself and rage baiting.

“Oh, is this a work meeting?” Her insinuation was clear and loud enough for nearby tables to hear. I recognized some of them as former clients and wanted to disappear into the background, but I couldn’t.

“It’s lunch, and you were interrupting,” Enzo said, staring at her, bored. “You were lucky Martina let you in, but that can easily be fixed if you don’t sit.”

“Yes. It’s very easy for me to tell you to get out and blacklist you,” Martina said. I heard her but couldn’t see her until Charles turned.

Martina was in her chef’s jacket. It was clean, which meant she hadn’t been cooking, more likely ordering around her lunch staff while she stood off to the side.

“I have thousands of followers. One post about how poor your service is and—” Apple made an explosion sound with the hand gesture to match.

I couldn’t help it. I snorted. Once I started, I couldn’t stop laughing.

Was Apple that stupid, or did she think she had so much influence over other people? She had such an inflated ego, and I couldn’t wait for Martina to pop it like a balloon.

“You could try.” Martina shrugged, throwing a small hand towel over her shoulder. “I’m not the one to mess with, though. And once I make you look like the fool you are, the only place you’ll be able to eat is the Bodega down the street, and even they’ll laugh at you when they see you.”

“Apple, cease speaking and sit down for all our sakes. You’ve already ruined my morning. I won’t be banned from my favorite restaurant because you have no idea how to act when you see Serena. Sit down and stop talking,” Minnie ordered.

“I think that’s a wise decision,” Enzo added. I glanced over my shoulder. Enzo was glaring at Charles.

Charles’ face grew pale as he noticed Enzo’s glare and the menacing vibe that screamed: “Try me.”

Charles, who had stood behind Apple, happy as always to have her do the dirty work, tugged on Apple’s elbow.

“What?” she said as she whipped around. He bent and whispered in her ear. She stomped her foot like a child, brushing past him and stalking to their table. It was then that I saw Charles Senior, sitting at the table, reading the menu, like his son, and whatever Apple was to their family wasn’t causing a commotion.

But then, Charles Senior wasn’t involved in any kind of altercation unless Minnie forced him to be. He cared about making Minnie happy and making money. He’d given up on trying to parent Charles into a better person a long time ago.

Minnie hugged me, squeezing tight. Pulling back, she gave me a peck on the cheek, pointed between Enzo and me, mouthed love it, smiled before walking away.

With the three of them gone, Martina pointed to the table.

“Sit.” She jabbed a finger at the chairs and walked back to the kitchen.

“Come on,” Enzo said, placing a hand on my lower back and guiding me back to the table. “I want to see your designs.”

I did my best to focus on Enzo, but I couldn't shake the dark cloud that had settled over lunch.

Eyes were on me, from other guests of New York high society to Charles. I didn’t need to turn around to know he was staring; it was like a sear across my back.

“Can we leave?” I asked, and guilt hit me. Enzo spent half his day with me, never leaving my side and giving me space to work. I didn’t want to come across as ungrateful, but the faster I got out of this restaurant, the easier I could breathe.

“Yes.” He nodded, standing up and coming around to my side of the table. “But only if you really want to. Not because others are making you feel uncomfortable in places they don’t belong.”

“It’s not that,” I said. Enzo helped pull my chair out, and I stood. He reached for my hand, guiding me out of La Luna.

The minute the door closed behind us, the cloud that hung over me disappeared, chased away by the sunshine.

“Serena,” Minnie called out.

I cleared my throat, turning to her as she hurried out after us.

“Hey, Minnie,” I said, trying and failing to smile at her. I needed to get away from her—not because of Minnie herself, but because Charles would follow, and I didn’t have another confrontation in me.

“Oh, sweetheart, I hate that he’s like this.” She took my free hand, her eyes dropping where Enzo still held the other, a smile spreading across her face. “If I could, I’d beat some sense into him, but to be honest, I don’t think that would work either. Anyway, I wanted to check on you. Lord knows when Apple is around, I want to hide. She’s vile, but I’m on a number of charity boards with her mother, and I need to keep the peace.”

I nodded. Minnie had outlined it all early in my relationship with Charles.

“This isn’t the time, but can we have lunch or dinner sometime soon? Charles’ finances will change, but that will not affect his financial responsibilities to you.” Minnie placed a hand lightly on my arm. “You will always have Chuck and me.”

“What do you mean? Is there something I should be worried about?” I asked, suddenly panicking, my thoughts racing through everything Charles was required to cover.

“You are taken care of, I promise. Harper’s school and the financial support, which isn’t enough in my opinion, won’t change at all.” Minnie sighed, tilting her head to the sky. “We warned him to get his act together. That showing up to work wasn’t enough.” She stared at me, lips in a tight line, and shrugged. “There’s a morality clause in his trust fund that we can exercise if we feel it’s appropriate. It’s gotten to that point.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, alarm bells ringing in my head.

“He’s a father. He has a child and responsibilities to Harper. You should have told me he wasn’t exercising his visitation, that he wasn’t showing up when he was supposed to. Instead, he’s out,” she waved her hand around before bringing it back to my wrist and giving it a soft squeeze, “partying and making every excuse under the sun on why he’s a terrible father and Chuck and I won’t allow it anymore.”

The door slammed open. Charles stormed out, face flushed.

“This is a mistake, Mom,” he snarled at Minnie. He trailed her arm to where it touched me. With a menacing step forward, he sent me the most hateful stare I’d ever received. “This is all your fault.”

Enzo was in front of me, blocking Charles. “Take a step back.”

“Or what?” Charles challenged.

Frozen, I waited to see what Enzo would do. He was stronger, faster, and I had no doubt that he could wipe the floor with Charles.

“Charles,” Apple called out as she exited the restaurant. “My driver is coming around the corner.” She looked at Minnie, and it was like I didn’t exist to her, which was fine by me. “Minnie, always a pleasure,” she said with as much of a smile as her Botoxed face would allow.

“Is it though?” Minnie said with a wince.

Apple walked to the curb, Charles following her. Their heads were bent together, whispering and glancing back at us until a black town car pulled up.

“Well, I think I’ll go have a martini.” Minnie turned and walked back into La Luna.

Donovan pulled up a moment later. Enzo ushered me into the car.

Enzo leaned toward me, placing his arm on the headrest, almost wrapping it around me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

Despite Charles showing up, the day had been full of surprises and fun. The morning had floated by in a blur of drawing, page after page, my creative muse finally flowing freely. It was rare that I had time to sit and draw when the inspiration hit.

I wasn’t alone while doing it, either. Enzo wasn’t handing me sharpened pencils, but he was there. Every time I glanced up, he was there, leaning against the wall or in a chair, typing away at his phone.

With him, I was completely at ease. To create and not feel rushed to do so was fulfilling in a way I didn’t know how to describe. It was a rare chance to breathe and dive into a world I didn’t often have the time to be in.

It was like I was myself or the version I wanted to be, and it was because Enzo gave me the opportunity to experience that.

How did I express that to him?

I did my best not to worry about Charles, but the thoughts of what he could and would do to Harper were always there in the back of my mind.

“Has he ever been violent before?” Enzo asked.

I whipped my head to him so fast I think I pulled a muscle. “No. He makes nasty comments, can be demeaning, but never physical.”

“Has he ever threatened you?”

I couldn’t help but snort with laughter. “Yeah, plenty.”

Only a few weeks ago, he threatened to take Harper away. It clicked.

“But he’s never been physical, and he doesn’t have much follow-through with any of his threats. He wouldn’t...” I stopped there, afraid to put the accusation out in the universe.

“Hire men to break in with the intent to harm you?” he asked. “I’ve seen people do worse because of less. I’ll take care of it.”

Charles wasn’t a good person, father, or husband. But he wouldn’t go so far as to hire someone to hurt me.

Right?

CHAPTER 16

Enzo

This was painful. I rolled over the bed in the guest room. The mattress was fine. Stiffer than I liked. The windows were open, letting in the breeze, with the curtains halfway down to keep out some of the light.

None of that was an issue.

It was the stiff cock I woke up with that was horrible. It was Serena, padding around my room, naked in my shower, that was slowly driving me out of my mind.

After everyone went to bed, I stayed up trying to find more leads, but I had nothing.

The dead ends were making me want to put a bullet through the wall. The money traced back to a shell company linked to other shell companies, and I didn’t have anyone capable of breaking through the bank’s encryption to identify the account owner.

I was at a standstill. My gut told me there was a simpler answer: Charles Clearwart. He was petty and vindictive. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had money tucked away.

The only bright side was finding that the shipment the men lost a few weeks ago. Somehow, they were surprised I didn’t congratulate them for fixing their screw-up. The mistake shouldn’t have happened to begin with.

My phone lit up, and sure enough, Serena was in her studio, up before everyone else, already working.

It might have been creepy to watch her through the cameras the way I did, but then I thought of the night in her studio, searching to find her, and stopped caring about how it seemed.

I needed to check on her—for my own sanity as much as her safety.

Rolling out of bed, I stretched and started getting ready for the day.

I didn’t spend time around kids. No one I knew had any. If I had to bet, Harper would still be funnier than any kid I’d ever come across. Smarter, too.

First, she convinced me she needed a double chocolate muffin. It wasn’t hard when she looked at me with those big, disappointed eyes and a frown. How did Serena say no to her?

She demanded a song about big girls not crying, belting out every third word. It wasn’t until she was buckled in that the meltdown hit. One I never, ever want to experience again.

I held her tiny hand as I walked her into the reception area. She skipped along, unaware of the eyes that were on us. Moms wearing pearls smiled at me. The teachers eyed me with more scrutiny.

At least I knew Harper was in good hands. Anyone who eyed me with suspicion was good to teach Harper.

“Bye, Enzos.” Harper hugged me and ran into her classroom. I chuckled to myself at her mispronunciation of my name, which was slightly different each time, and left. I could correct her, but I liked it.

It was our special thing.

Donovan drove in silence while I reviewed a report on my phone.

Two men were in my office. One sat behind my desk. The other lay out across the small couch in the corner.

Both men looked up from their phones when I entered, stood, and started clapping for me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“We wanted to offer our congratulations on finding your balls in person,” Marcello said and started clapping for me again.

I tilted my head back and stared at the ceiling, hoping I could find my patience there.

“And you?” I asked Rafael.

“Bored. And someone has to keep him in check when Adrienne is gone,” Rafael said.

“What’s Mrs. Parisi up to this week?” I asked, pushing Marcello away from my desk and standing behind it.

He shrugged. “Saving the world or scaring a dictator. It’s Wednesday.”

Rafael laughed. “She’s been gone for a few days and hasn’t called him. He was going stir crazy.”

A bored Marcello was a recipe for disaster.

“Since both of you are on this side of the country, let’s run the numbers,” I said, pulling out my laptop.

We went through Panorama’s numbers, new projects, and what was about ready to sell.

“The shipments?” Marcello asked. “Our men back in Augusta ran into some problems getting our cargo on the ships. Then we lost one or two containers in transit.”

I let Marcello rehash information I already knew. He was unaware of the misplaced loads because they had been found. He stressed over the smallest details.

“Yes. Everyone is playing nicely right now,” I said.

Must have been the sunshine, or the fact that most of the leaders had fled to the Hamptons—either way, no fighting, no broken arguments.

We had something like NATO, where we agreed to terms, including who ran which territories and the like.

When I first heard about it, it sounded ridiculous. But having lived with the rules for a bit, I realized it worked.

There was none of the ‘80s fighting, where people were killed on the street because they were selling the same products on the wrong blocks. Bribing was easier, and if something went wrong, everyone knew who was responsible.

No one wanted the government to keep track of us. We were already under enough surveillance with our phones and cameras at every light, recording our movements.

“We just need to make sure the money is getting washed through the new construction sites. Is Giulia still gone?” Marcello asked.

“Yeah. She’s still in Sicily, I think.” I shrugged. “Haven’t you spoken to her?”

“Not in a few weeks. She gets moody.” That was Marcello’s way of saying she did something stupid again and he had to put his foot down.

Giulia was his sister, though it was a secret for most of Giulia’s life. She lived with their mother’s side of the family, hidden away so no one, especially Marcello’s father, could use her like she was a piece of property to be sold.

When she was twenty-one, fresh out of college, Marcello gave her a job. She wanted nothing to do with the Cosa Nostra; she hated everything the brotherhood stood for, but wanted to be closer to Marcello, so she said. It spiraled from there. She became more entitled the longer she worked at Panorama. Then it all got blown to hell when Adrienne showed up.

One outburst and she showed everyone exactly who she was, undoing everything Marcello had done for her in the process.

There was animosity there, so I kept tabs on her to make sure nothing she did could be traced back to us.

“So, we want the details,” Rafael said, clearing the paper off the table.

“Details on what?”

“Adrienne said Serena and her daughter were living with you. That something happened.” Marcello looked at me like I was missing a few screws. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. A group of thugs broke into her studio. I was passing by, noticed, and saved her.” I gave them the shortest version possible.

“Who did you hire to do that?” Rafael asked. “I might be in need of their services.”

“Passing by? Do you expect me to believe that you were conveniently in the area when she was in danger and came to her rescue like some superhero?” Marcello rolled his eyes.

“Yes. Like I do every night. I passed by her place. And one of the guys I kept on her building notified me of the break-in. Lucky I was only a few blocks away.” I turned to Rafael. “I didn’t pay them to scare her, so she’d come live with me. What is wrong with your brain?” I pointed to my skull to help drive my point home.

“It’s a good plan,” Marcello agreed. “I wish I had thought of something like that when I was dealing with Adrienne.”

“Why would you think sending people to break into the home of your future wife, who is an assassin, was a good idea? She’d kill the first two and torture the third for fun because they interrupted her beauty sleep.” Rafael gave Marcello an incredulous look. I snickered at him.

“That’s true.” Marcello sighed. “Anyway, is that what Adrienne was muttering to herself about? I heard Serena and break-in, but nothing else, and you didn’t call me.”

“What are we? Old men gossiping over Scopa?” I said. “I was a little busy making sure everything was perfect, so they’d stay.”

“They will,” Rafael said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You’re thoughtful.”

“Smart,” Marcello added.

“Detail oriented.”

“Adaptable.”

“Willing to kill anyone who touches either of them.”

“Please stop. You're inflating my ego,” I deadpanned, interrupting their list of what they thought were my good qualities.

“Let’s get out of here and eat at La Luna. I have to see Martina, or she might skin me alive,” Marcello said and headed to the door. Rafael and I followed, so his mother-in-law didn’t kill him for not stopping by to say hi while he was in town.

CHAPTER 17

Enzo

I watched, slack-jawed and a little afraid, as Harper inhaled the snack Martina made for her. Normally, Harper spoke a thousand miles a minute, but with Martina’s food, it was crickets.

It was a sandwich, peanut butter and white marshmallow fluff, and some other kid-friendly food I had never seen before.

“Remind me never to let her get too hungry,” Donovan muttered. “She might take a finger off.”

“I like chicken fingers,” Harper said, finally coming up for air. “And French fries. They’re so yummy.”

I nodded, watching as Harper shoved so much food in her mouth that her cheeks were puffed with it. Donovan maneuvered the car through the city, honking periodically when someone seemingly forgot how to drive, until we hit the highway.

“What’s in that?” I asked, risking my life as I leaned to take a peek.

“Goodness.” She rubbed her stomach. “I have energy now.”

“Want to throw around the ball?” I asked. There was a rugby ball somewhere in the house from the last time Marcello and Rafael were around.

“I’m a great kicker. I always get picked first for kicking games at school,” Harper said and drank some juice.

Hearing that gave me some relief. I saw how the moms at the school treated Serena—like there was something wrong with her—and was worried it translated over to how the kids treated Harper.

If it was the case, I was prepared to throw my weight around. I’d never played school politics or whatever manipulations were done in the education system, but I could learn.

I put my arm over the headrest and leaned in. “That’s great. This game has kicking and throwing.”

“Oh my gosh. That’s so exciting. I can catch too.” Harper jumped in her seat.

Her excitement filled the car. For the rest of the car ride, I held Harper’s attention, telling her the basic rules of rugby. I knew being around Harper would be amazing. She was part of Serena, so that was a given.

There was always a tiny piece of me that worried Harper wouldn’t like me. With each smile she gave me, it was like I’d won a prize or something. I wanted to keep winning her smiles and giggles right alongside her mother.

Traffic was unusually light, and we pulled up to the house faster than normal.

“What do you want for dinner?” I asked as I opened the car door and unbuckled Harper from her seat.

“Mac and cheese,” she said. I should have guessed that. I’d spent four days with her, and she had mac and cheese for lunch and dinner for each of them. She tried breakfast, but I had to put my foot down.

I had a plan tonight to introduce her to other kinds of noodles. I was oddly excited about it.

When we walked through the door, both of us seemed to have a one-track mind. We searched for Serena.

We never had to try hard to find her. Since she got her new studio, she lost track of time, and we dragged her out three days in a row.

I followed Harper as she veered into the living room and nearly stepped on her when she suddenly stopped. I looked over at the body on the couch.

Serena lay on the couch with a dark eye mask on and an iced pack on her neck. All the curtains were drawn; only a little light seeped through the edges.

Panic lanced through my body. Did I need to call a doctor? Take her to the hospital? Did I have any medication in the house? What was wrong with her?

“Shh.” Harper put a finger to her mouth. “It’s quiet time. Mommy’s head hurts.”

Harper tiptoed out of the room and waved at me to come with her.

“It’s a migraine. I’ll get up in a minute,” Serena said so low I almost missed it. She was in pain. I could hear it in her voice.

I went to her spot on the couch and bent down. “What do you need?”

“Migraine meds, a dark room, sleep, and water,” She said.

“Got it.” I slid one arm under her back and the other under her legs.

“What are you doing?” she gasped, pulling the mask off her eyes to glare at me.

They were bloodshot. She was pale, and I needed to do something useful to help her feel better.

I brought her to my room, and placed her on the bed, under the covers. Closing all the blinds, making sure there wasn’t an ounce of light penetrating the room, I went to the bathroom and Googled how to help with migraines.

After reading through the recommendations, I pulled out two headache pills, a cold damp towel, and a glass of water, and brought them back to her.

“Try this,” I said, rolling the peppermint scented concoction onto her temple and the back of her neck. It had headache relief on the label, something I’d kept on hand for my own occasional headaches. “Sleep. I’ll bring you up a cold bottle of water and a sports drink, and keep dinner warm for you for whenever you wake up.”

Serena only nodded. The pain had to be significant if she was struggling to speak.

I closed the door behind me and went to find Harper, who was watching TV in the living room.

“Is Mommy okay?” she asked. “Does she need me to doctor her? I’m a great doctor.”

For some reason, that comment was a punch to the gut. They had been alone, Serena constantly taking care of Harper regardless of how she felt. I’d known it was like this, but facing a real example—wondering how Serena handled barely being able to stand and still do everything Harper needed—brought it into focus.

“Yeah, she’s okay. I helped her. Is that okay?”

Harper sighed. “It’s fine, but you’re not better than me. I'm the bestest.”

I nodded. “Yeah, you’re way better than me at this. Maybe you can tell me what you do to help Mommy while we cook dinner. How does that sound?” I asked.

Harper nodded, which was a relief because if Harper was upset or didn’t want to do something, good luck to anyone who tried to convince her otherwise.

Something vibrated. I touched my pocket, but it wasn’t my phone. A devilish smile lit up Harper’s face as she pulled out a phone from under her and answered.

She tapped the screen and yelled, “Who this?”

“Hi,” an unfamiliar woman’s voice said on the other end. “I’m looking for Serena Washington, the designer.”

“Yeah,” I called out as I took the phone from Harper, who only giggled. “This is the right number. How can we help?”

I listened, grabbed a pen and piece of paper, and wrote down what this woman wanted and her contact information.

“Do you have an estimate?” she asked.

“No. All projects are custom-made. I’ll have Serena contact you,” I answered.

Serena’s phone went off again. And again.

By the time I finished playing Serena’s secretary, I’d filled multiple pages with people wanting Serena’s work.

“Your mom works too hard,” I said absentmindedly to Harper.

“Yeah. Mommy’s the best.” Harper agreed. “Food. Food.”

“Fine. Let’s see what we have.” We went to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

“There’s nothing in there,” Harper said.

“Yeah. Let’s order out.” I grabbed my phone and sent our order to Donovan. I knew what Harper and Serena liked. We had ordered before, and reciting every menu item to Harper—who made a barfing sound at each one before I was finished saying it—was an event I’d rather avoid.

“Food ordered, what should we do now?” I asked.

“I have an idea.” Harper ran off.

I followed, knowing I’d follow the Washington girls anywhere they wanted me.

CHAPTER 18

Serena

“Ugh,” I groaned as I rolled over in bed.

The day slowly filtered back to me. Working in the studio on a custom project. Then the telltale sign of a migraine forming behind my eyes. The double vision that came on fast and the rush to lay down in a cold, dark room. I had time before Harper got home to get over the worst of it, so I closed my eyes, praying some sleep would fix it all.

A flash of strong arms and a warm body lifting me, whispering to me to rest, and then nothing after that.

I pulled the eye mask off, not remembering putting it on, but not questioning it. The room was dark. The alarm clock said it was after seven. Did I sleep through the night? Did Harper come in, and was I so out of it that I didn’t wake up? Couldn’t wake up?

My heart started racing, and I scrambled out of bed. My head ached, reminding me why I was knocked out for who knew how long. I rubbed my eyes, bumping into the wall as I made my way down the hall and to her room.

Except it wasn’t Harper’s room. It was a big open room, a walk-in closet with suits hanging on three of the four walls, cabinetry, and a mirror.

The sleep fog dissipated as I went to one of the suits. Rubbing the fabric between my fingers was familiar. I pulled it down. My tailor’s tag was still attached, from six months ago.

A niggling feeling pushed me to investigate further. I started pulling down more shirts, pants, and jackets. All of them had my tags.

I went row by row, wall to wall, grabbing randomly to confirm my suspicions. I had tailored every item of clothing in the room. None of them had been worn.

Confusion and frustration bloomed in me. Why spend thousands of dollars on tailored clothing and never wear any of it? Did he not like my work?

A throat cleared behind me. I spun around, knowing Enzo was there. I should be embarrassed for being caught snooping, but the frustration was slowly morphing into anger, and I found I didn’t care about being caught.

“What is this?” I asked, waving my hand around the room.

“You weren’t supposed to see this. Not yet.” Enzo sighed, a frustrated look on his face as he took a cautious step inside. “Why didn’t you come find me when you woke up?”

He was staring at the wall of suits.

Look at me.

“I’m not answering you until you tell me what I want to know,” I said, refusing to back down an inch.

He turned to face me, shoulders straight. His face had changed from frustration to resolve, like he’d made a decision and was going to move forward with it.

“That’s complicated, and I’m not sure you’re ready to hear it.” He held out a bottle of coconut water. “Drink this. It will help.”

I snatched the bottle as soon as I realized I was thirsty. "You’d be surprised by what I can handle. If I can handle my entire life blowing up on Page Six, I can handle whatever this is.”

“Right.” Enzo stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Come posso dirlo?”

He undid the top two buttons on his shirt. “I have been trying to find a way to,” he stopped. “No. That’s not the right way to say this. What I meant it was⁠—”

“Do you not like how I tailor your clothes? Is that why this closet is filled with them? If you don’t like my work, why did you keep coming back?” I cut him off, firing back questions that I couldn’t keep contained.

My work was one of the only areas in which I excelled. One I was proud of, and if he really didn’t like what I did, it was going to be a blow.

Enzo stayed silent, which only deepened my self-consciousness about my work. “Is this all because you feel sorry for me?” I asked, my voice quieter, more fragile than I meant for it to be.

“No.” Enzo jumped on that like a lifeline. “Your work is amazing. I love it. I don’t think you charge people enough for what you do.”

“There are thousands of dollars of unworn clothes here, Enzo. What am I supposed to think?”

“That maybe I wanted an excuse to see you? To talk to you?” he said, his voice even.

His answer short-circuited my brain. It was like I couldn’t comprehend such a simple possibility.

“I need you to explain it in plain terms for me.” It would kill me and my fragile, closed-off heart if I misinterpreted his meaning.

“Lay it out for you?” he asked.

I nodded.

For a moment, he didn’t move. And that gave me time to really look at him.

Enzo filled the space in front of me like he always did—big, solid, a brute of a man who seemed carved from muscle and ink. But it was his eyes that caught me first. Dark. Intense. Almost painfully soulful as they searched my face, like he was trying to read every thought I hadn’t said aloud.

My gaze drifted downward before I could stop it.

His shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing the sinewy strength of his forearms, the dark tattoos curling over muscle that flexed when his hands shifted at his sides. Big hands. Dangerous hands. Hands that could break bones… or hold someone together.

They made my stomach flutter.

He looked almost unsure of himself for a heartbeat, as if he were standing on the edge of something and deciding whether to jump.

Then his gaze locked onto mine.

The hesitation vanished.

And suddenly he was moving toward me, slow and deliberate, prowling forward like the sleek panther I’d once accused him of being.

My pulse skipped.

Because I knew exactly what that made me.

His prey.

But the realization didn’t scare me.

It sent a warm, electric tingle down my spine.

Three steps and he was in front of me.

One of his hands slid around my waist, warm and firm, pulling me closer. The other came up to cradle the back of my head, his fingers threading gently into my hair.

My breath caught.

His nose bumped softly against mine.

I closed my eyes and fisted the hem of his shirt, gripping the fabric like it was the only thing tethering me to reality.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then his lips brushed mine.

Lightly.

Testing.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

And then the pressure deepened, firm and certain. Enzo was kissing me.

Lorenzo Lombardi was kissing me. This was a dream. It had to be.

Pushing up on my toes, I deepened our kiss, needing more of it. Of him.

His arm banded around my waist, lifting me as he walked us back until I hit the wall.

His hard body was pressed against mine, not an inch separating us. It was like he was kissing me with his whole body.

Entrapped and completely unwilling to escape, I curled a leg around his waist, his hand to my thigh holding it in place as I nipped at his lip.

“Si,” he said. My body was a live wire.

One kiss and everything in me awoke. I was touch-starved, and he was the cure.

I slid my hands under his shirt, scratching at his stomach. His muscles flexed under my hands. Tugging his shirt up, I got stuck halfway, the fabric catching on his broad shoulders.

He ripped his mouth away.

Grabbing my wrists, he leaned his forehead against mine.

“Sarai la mia morte,” he said and laughed. It wasn’t loud, but his body shook, jostling mine in the process.

I was out of breath, the thrill of kissing him still running through my body.

“Why did you stop?” I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could take back the words. The last thing I wanted to seem was desperate.

The man whom I had the biggest crush on—the man who saved my daughter—had just kissed me.

“Perché.” He dragged his nose from my temple down to the crook of my neck, shoving his face there. “Look at what you do to me.”

I forgot how to speak. All I wanted was for us to keep kissing and find out how far we would go.

He bit my neck, and I jumped, tightening my leg around him instinctively.

“There are so many things I want to do to you. I don’t even know where to start,” he said, voice muffled.

“Okay,” was all I could manage.

He pulled back, his mouth pulled down in a frown. “We won’t. Not tonight.” His cheek twitched. “We should discuss this before we go any further.”

I didn’t like the frown or the fact that he was putting distance between us. Did he know this was the most alive I had felt in years?

A flash of anger hit me.

“No. I want to know. Not tomorrow. Not later. Right now,” I said, anger spilling over. I was tired of second-guessing myself with him, constantly making sure I wasn’t assuming too much, and it was exhausting.

“We’ll talk more when you’re fully recovered,” he stated. I narrowed my eyes at him, readying for a fight when he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I’ll leave you with this: you’re mine. Harper is mine. This house, with me, is where you belong.”

His? I’d never been someone’s. Not when I was a kid or when I was married. Maybe the kiss had altered something in my brain, and I wasn’t thinking about what that term encompassed completely.

It was also unsettling. In my limited experience, which was what I’d seen of Martina’s relationship, men in this world were possessive. Territorial. Would Enzo be like that? Crazier than Flavio, Martina’s husband?

Flavio definitely had a screw loose when it came to Martina and other men being near her. When he came into a room, every man, with the exception of her son Sly, ensured they were at least two arms’ lengths away.

As unsettled as I was at the prospect of Enzo acting like Flavio, I was wholly excited. He said where I belong.

I’d never felt as though I belonged anywhere. It was part of the reason why I left my small town in New Jersey. To find my place.

And maybe I had, in the most unexpected of ways.

He tugged my hand, pulling me out of the room. “I’ll wear the clothes you made. I always do. Sometimes my clothes get ruined because of work, and these are my backups.”

I wanted to ask more questions about how his clothes were getting so ruined that it was easier to throw them away than to take them to the cleaner, but I decided against it. There was some information I’d rather be unaware of than have answers.

When we got to the kitchen, he pushed me to the stool. He pulled open the bottom drawer of the fridge, where a plate sat.

“Here,” he said, pushing the plate and a fork my way. “Drink this.” He placed a sports drink and an aspirin in front of me. “Take this when you’re done eating. I read that this will help.”

I dug into my food, not hungry but knowing if I didn’t eat, the migraine would come back with a vengeance.

“There is a mini fridge in the studio filled with drinks and snacks.” He shook the bottle. “Since you can’t be trusted to take care of yourself and eat, I’ll be forced to do it myself.”

“I can take care of myself,” I said. “I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

“Yes, I can tell from the migraine that took you out for hours because you forgot to eat or drink,” he shot back.

He had a point, but I wasn’t going to agree.

“I was in the zone,” I said, shoving food in my mouth so I couldn’t say anything else.

“Every two hours, one of my men will stop in to make sure you’ve had something to eat and drink.” He propped his chin up in his hand, with an elbow on the counter. “If you give them grief, then I’ll be the one doing the check-ins.”

I know it was supposed to be a threat, but after that kiss, I didn’t take it as such. Instead, it was the more appealing option.

“There is something else we need to talk about.” He pulled a notebook out and pushed it to me. “This system you have is terrible. I lost my place twice while taking names and potential orders.”

“It isn’t rocket science.” I pointed to the first name on the list. “This one. I’m unsure if I want to work with her.”

“The way you organize yourself, I’m not sure how you know who gets what and when.”

I rolled my eyes at his dramatics. To him, it was disorganized, but I wrote everything down and had yet to miss a delivery.

“That one,” he nodded, “is the mom of one of the kids Harper goes to school with.”

“She is and doesn’t like me, thanks to Apple. I’m not sure I want to work with someone who already thinks they’re above me before we’ve ever so much as said hi to one another.” I snapped my head up. “How did you know she’s a mom?”

“I know every family that goes to school with Harper.”

“Did you run background checks on her class?” I asked. Enzo smiled and nodded. He could get away with a lot with a smile like that. I ignored the dazzling smile and focused. “That’s invasive. Everyone there comes from New York society. Where is my little rugrat?”

“Asleep. She had a long day. After she inhaled her mac and cheese, she washed her face, changed into her pajamas, and fell asleep.”

I blinked because, yes, Harper could do all that by herself, but she never did without prompting and never this early.

“Are you a miracle worker?” I asked. Getting Harper into bed before nine was a trial on the best days.

“No.” He shook his head. “Back to the families: they might be high society people but that doesn’t mean they don’t have demons or something to hide. I’m not going to fall down on the job because I didn’t do my due diligence on potential threats.” He shrugged like it was that simple.

Maybe to him it was. To me, it was hard to wrap my head around how thorough he was being.

“Back to your order requests. The T next to the names means they need a tailor. The C means it’s a custom project. I told them all you’d call them back to get more information, mostly so that I didn’t have to write down what they said since I'd mess it up anyway.

“Personally, I think you should take the custom jobs first, if they’re interesting, and fill the spaces in with the tailoring. They cost more, and you expand your creativity with them,” he said.

I always took tailoring jobs. It was fast work that brought in money. It was the cornerstone of my business.

Custom jobs were more money, but also riskier and time-consuming. People were finicky and changed their minds. One day they’d love the fabric; the next, they’d hate it.

“It’s a thought, was all.” Enzo came around the counter and stood next to me. He twirled a lock of hair that had fallen out of my ponytail around his finger. “You don’t have to give up tailoring, but you have a gift. You should let your creativity flow. There are three custom requests. Talk to them. If it interests you, go for it.”

I bit my lip, wondering what they wanted me to make. Long ball gowns? A suit that was cut in all the right ways to fit a woman’s body? Something soft and silky?

“The other thing: you need to update your website.” I sighed, knowing that was for damn sure. It was another thing that fell to the wayside because I had to prioritize, and fixing a website didn’t even make the top ten.

Enzo continued, “I’ll have a guy at work look at it. There’s a contact number, but you should have a form for people to fill out so you don’t have to field calls. That’s insane. Look at how many people called today while you were sleeping.”

“Are you always this dramatic? Is it the Sicilian blood in you that’s prone to theatrics?” I asked him, flashing him big innocent eyes.

“I am not dramatic. This is no way to work.” He raised his eyebrows. “Your mother called. I answered, but she asked that you call her back.”

She needed more money. It was the only reason why she would call.

“I’m going to look at her finances.” I snapped my head up from the notebook to glare at Enzo.

“Lorenzo, don’t you dare,” I retorted hotly.

“When was the last time you sent her money? Is it the same amount every month or different?” His matter-of-fact tone told me I could argue until my voice cracked; he was still going to do it.

“Maybe she had some unexpected issues, or her electricity bill was higher than normal,” I countered because that was always what I told myself.

“Maybe, maybe not. I’ll let you know when I find out.” He turned my face to him with a finger under my chin. “You have a kind heart with a steel backbone. But even steel bends when it's under too much weight.”

I didn’t have it in me to fight him. Even if I did, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. He was right to question what Mom was spending money on. She told me she needed it because they were struggling with bills. If she was being reckless with it, then I needed to put an end to the Bank of Serena.

“She’s bad with money, and my stepdad was struggling to find a job until recently. I’ve been helping her pay the bills since I could work at seventeen.” I let him know because I did have a backbone and had boundaries with money and my mom. I had to. “Opened my own account the day I turned eighteen at a different bank so she couldn’t get to the money I made while I was at school. She wasn’t happy, but when I started sending checks, she stopped yelling about it.”

Enzo’s face darkened as I told him more about my relationship with my mother. Was I embarrassed that my mom used me like an ATM? A little. It was the way she was talking, like I owed her for giving me the basics.

Was it toxic? Yeah. It was also the reason why Harper had no relationship with her and why I barely did. She was on the periphery of our life. We both knew it was better this way.

I didn’t want to get into how Mom cleaned out the money I saved for college. How that broke me and was the nail in the coffin that forced me to create boundaries with her. It would devolve into my compulsion to work, and how I knew how quickly money could disappear

“Is there anything else you want to commandeer while we’re at it?” I asked, exhaustion seeping into me again.

I did everything for myself, by myself. Getting a car, college, or apartment hunting—every decision had my name alone on it. There was never anyone to share a decision with or ask for their opinion.

There was a not-so-insignificant weight that lifted off my shoulders at the idea of having someone there, in the trenches with me every day. For someone else to worry with me.

Could I let the reins loose? Not fight him at every turn?

I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to try.

“Not at the moment. I’m sure I’ll find something else.” He took my empty plate, washed it, and put it in the dishwasher. “Come on. You look ready to drop where you stand.”

I couldn’t even argue. It was a struggle to keep my eyes open.

He could have this one. When he found something, it would be hard not to take over, but I would try.

I headed back to my room. Each step felt like I was being dragged underwater. Exhaustion weighed me down, like it did every night at this time, reminding me that no matter what eight hours of sleep was a pipedream.

When the bed magically appeared in front of me, I face-planted.

Enzo muttered words under his breath, none of which I understood because he did it in Italian, and pulled the covers over me, tucking me into bed.

“Sleep, amuri miu.” He walked to the door, stopping with his hand on the frame. “You’re a good mom, Serena. Harper is a smart, caring girl. You should be proud of how much you two love each other.”

I fell asleep with those words ringing in my head.

CHAPTER 19

Enzo

“Did you listen to anything I said?” Rafael threw a crumpled piece of paper at my head.

“Yes,” I lied. I hadn’t heard a word since he started talking. All I could think about was Serena. Kissing her was life-altering, not that I expected anything less.

The reality was so much more.

I was a planner. It was why it took me so long to make a move on Serena. The circumstances had to be just right.

They weren’t now, but everything was still falling perfectly into place.

I’d thought about kissing Serena, among other things I imagined doing to her body, a near shameful amount.

One kiss. That was all it took to blow every fantasy out of the water.

It was all I could think about. The feel of her lips. Her body under my hands.

Cazzo, nothing was better. The cute moan she made.

Another ball of paper hit me, bounced off my forehead, poked me in the eye, and rolled onto the floor. I glared at him.

“Say it.” He rolled his eyes and closed his laptop.

“What?” I barely comprehended his words, my brain automatically drifting back to Serena.

“What’s on your mind? We aren’t going to get anything done with your head in the clouds.” He motioned to me. “Speak. I’m waiting.”

“Serena,” I started, but didn’t know what I wanted him to know.

“Stop. If you’re telling me you finally got her into bed and you’re here instead of still there with her, I'm going to question your sanity.” Rafael’s incredulous face made me smile.

“Of course not. She’s in my bed, but not with me. Not yet. Soon.”

“Let’s go over it,” Rafael said.

“Go over what?”

“Cazzo,” Rafael huffed. “The plan. I know you have a plan. It may take another year for you to act on it and get her into bed, but I know you have one.”

“I don't have a step-by-step plan on how to get her into my bed.” I rolled my eyes. He made me sound predictable. What I had planned was anything but predictable. The hard part wasn’t creating it; it was getting Serena to go along with it.

We needed uninterrupted time together. Where we only had each other and a bed within easy reach.

“You do. I watched you create a studio for her. Paint a pink princess room for her daughter. Create a second closet from all the suits you paid her to alter so you could find an excuse to talk to her.”

“You’re making me sound pathetic,” I said.

“You are pathetic. Or a simp as I think the kids call it now,” Rafael said. “It isn’t a bad thing. This is how you always wanted it to be. Adrienne said it was good to know a man was more in love with you than you were with him. It gives them power or something.”

I grumbled, not answering him. I pushed a file to him, but he ignored it.

“I’m waiting,” Rafael said. “How am I supposed to help if I don’t know what the plan is?”

“Are you going to hold helping me over my head for the next ten years?” I asked.

“Of course. And it’s fifteen, not ten. So, tell me, what is it you have up your sleeve?” Rafael pressed.

I stared at him. Rafael wasn’t one to offer help with women or anything outside of the Cosa. The brotherhood was his life, and he enjoyed it. He wasn’t the one I would’ve thought to go to for help with a woman.

He didn’t care about long-term relationships.

He liked a challenge, chasing after a woman, but was easily bored when it stopped and moved on, leaving a trail of broken hearts. Those broken hearts would haunt him someday, of that I was sure.

He was also the one who had offhandedly suggested building the studio for Serena. Who purposefully got blood on me after torturing someone and suggested I go back to Serena for a new suit.

The man who poked at me every chance he got about how slowly I was moving with Serena. He didn’t get why.

“Remind me what you’re doing in New York, again?” I asked.

“Bouncing between New York and the West is what I’m supposed to do. I haven’t been around in three months, and look at you,” he waved a hand at me, “a lovesick puppy. So, tell me your plan so I can make sure security is in place for Harper. If I have to play Best Zio in the world, I need to start planning now.”

I tilted my head back, staring at the ceiling. What I wanted required a lot of work. There was still the unknown threat of someone paying to break into Serena’s apartment hanging over my head.

I was an excellent marksman. Torturing and killing didn’t bother me. It was part of the job I did to keep the Cosa up and running. I did it for the family.

Rafael was a touch better at all those things than I was, not that I’d ever tell him. He approached wet work with a focus and ruthlessness that neither Marcello nor I could match.

He wouldn’t let anything happen to Harper when I wasn’t around. That was the nail in the coffin. There was no one better to protect her in my absence.

“Fine.” I stood up, suddenly needing to move around as I told him my plans.

We went back and forth, both on how to ensure Harper would be safe and on how to make something magical happen so Serena would fall in love with me.

“I think we have it all sorted out.” Rafael stood. “Let’s get those two in a room and hope for no bloodshed.”

I nodded. Everything else I could control. Two women like Minnie and Martina in the same room? That, I couldn’t.

“Ready for this?” Rafael asked.

“Yes.” I think.

I held the key card to the reader, saying a quick prayer that we weren’t about to walk into a murder scene, and pushed open the door.

Rafael pushed me in with a hand on my back.

The two women sat on opposite couches, staring at each other.

The plate of food I had sent up was untouched, and the small knives left to cut the cheese were still on the table.

“Martina.” Rafael moved around me to Martina and kissed her on the cheek. I did the same.

I looked at the woman on the other couch, who sat ramrod straight, her face a blank mask.

“Minnie Clearwart. Nice to see you again,” I said.

“I wish I could say the same. I don’t appreciate cryptic messages or being put in a suite with someone I barely know glaring at me for ten minutes.” She eyed the room. “Regardless of how nice the suite is.” She adjusted her position, crossing her legs with practiced elegance. “If this is because of the scene Charles created at La Luna, I am sorry. Chuck shouldn’t have told him we were cutting him off there. It was in poor taste.”

“This isn’t about him,” I said. “This is about Serena.”

“What has her imbecile of a son done now?” Martina asked.

“Ladies,” I said, knowing that despite Minnie knowing her son was an ass, she’d still defend him. “I’m in need of both of your help.”

“Whatever Serena needs, I can help with,” Minnie said. “She knows I’m only a call away.”

“Me, too,” Martina said, narrowing her eyes at Minnie.

“Ladies, let’s take a step back. This isn’t a competition,” Rafael jumped in. “This is a meeting of the minds. Of two women who love Serena and Harper and want the best for them.”

Martina scrunched her nose, a telltale sign that she was ready to continue arguing. Minnie tilted her head in one motion, looking down her nose at Rafael.

This meeting was going down in a blazing inferno, fast.

“I called both of you to fill you in and ask for your help,” I said. “Mostly with Harper. Serena and I need uninterrupted time together, which means Harper needs someone to watch her.”

“She can sleep at my house. We’ll cook, watch movies,” Martina said. “She’ll love it.”

“Or she could stay with me for the weekend. I’ve been meaning to ask Serena if I can introduce her to horses and horseback riding,” Minnie countered.

“Why don’t both of you watch her?” Rafael asked. I sent him a grateful look. I should have foreseen it, though—neither of them willing to let the other win, already trying to one-up each other with activities so we’d have to pick a favorite.

“Both of us?” Martina wrinkled her nose.

“Yes. It has been brought to my attention that Harper hasn’t had time with either of you. Rather than breaking up her days or having the two of you fight over her time, this is what I was thinking.” I outlined my idea for them.

By the end, both women were nodding.

“We’ll be providing security,” Rafael added at the end.

“You think Flavio will let your men watch over me?” She barked out a laugh.

“If he wants to add to the detail, then he has my number. I know you care for Serena, but she’s mine now, and I will protect her. My men will die to protect them.” I stated, leaving no room for doubt. Many of the younger guys, like Donovan and Angelo, would jump at the opportunity to stand guard for Serena and Harper.

In barely two weeks, the two of them had won over every man they came across in my house.

“Do we need security?” Minnie asked.

“Yes. I won’t have Harper traveling without someone there to ensure she’ll be safe. It’s not a chance I’m willing to take,” I said.

“That’s fine.” Minnie shrugged. She pulled out her phone. “If we want a girls’ weekend, we can split the day.” She looked at Martina. “There is no such thing as too many people loving Harper.”

“I don’t like your son,” Martina said. “But I understand what it's like to have an idiot son. If mine was smarter, he’d have beaten Enzo to Serena, but,” Martina raised her hands, palms up, and shrugged, “we cannot help being stupid.”

“Yes, my son hasn’t made choices I’m particularly proud of.” Minnie sighed. “I got Serena and Harper in my life, so he isn’t all bad decisions. He clearly can make some good ones when the spirit moves him to.”

Martina rolled her eyes.

The door opened; Rafael and I were on our feet, guns in hand, in a second.

“Well, that’s a welcome,” Sylvester ‘Sly’ Vinci said as he walked into the room.

I glared at him as he walked around me and headed to his mother.

I hadn’t forgotten that Martina tried to set him up with Serena. He probably flirted with her, too.

A sharp jab in my ribs made me turn my glare to the cause.

Rafael leaned in and said, “Knock it off. He’s not here to steal your girl. She’s too smart for him.”

I sighed, rolling my shoulders to release the tension. Serena was too smart to fall for a pretty smile and flattering words.

“Why are you always following me?” Martina stood, hands on her hips. “I told you I don’t want you hovering.”

“It was either me or Dad. I doubt you wanted Dad to show up and make a big deal because you’re in a hotel room with another man.” He walked over and kissed her on the cheek.

“Did he miss that there was another woman,” she pointed to Minnie, “and two men who he knows. They’re your age.”

Sly shrugged and smiled. “You know he’s the jealous type.” He turned and nodded to Rafael and me.

“Fill me in on what this is so Flavio doesn’t come up here to shoot you.”

Martina slapped her son on the back of the head and went over to Minnie. “Here is my number. Text me. We can sort it all out.”

She came to me and kissed me on the cheek. “We’ll take care of her. You make sure you give Serena the night she deserves.”

Before she left, she turned to glare at her son. “Maybe, while you’re talking, you can ask him what it’s like to find a woman worthwhile and settle down. Instead of whoring yourself out.” She slammed the door behind her.

“She makes it sound like it’s a bad thing. There is nothing wrong with spreading the love,” Sly said, nabbing a cheese slice from the untouched platter.

Minnie stood up. “Well, this has been eventful. Martina and I will work everything out. Harper won’t miss a beat.” She sent a sweet smile my way. “Charles screwed up with Serena. Please give her everything my son wasn’t capable of.”

She left; the door closed quietly behind her.

“Fill me in,” Sly said.

CHAPTER 20

Enzo

It was time. I walked down the path that led to Serena’s studio.

What if she said no?

No. She was going to say yes. Especially after the kiss, knowing how much she wanted me—though not nearly as much as I wanted her—she’d say yes.

Would she try to find every excuse she could think of? Yes, but I planned for each one. Serena’s excuses were predictable: Harper and work.

Serena needed reassurance that everything in her world would be taken care of if she took a night off.

Raising my fist to knock, I stopped myself. There was no need to announce myself, and there was always the chance she was so into her work she’d ignore me, thinking I was one of the runners who came down every hour to make sure she ate and drank.

Slipping into the studio as quietly as possible, I couldn’t help but smile at what I saw.

Serena was bent over the table, folding a piece of fabric. Her tongue peeked out of her mouth as she concentrated on her task.

I leaned back, ready to wait for however long she needed me to. The last thing I’d do was interrupt her concentration.

Watching her work was a privilege. The way she focused, how she lit up when she had an idea.

I recognized the fabric as the one I bought. What was she making? One of the half-finished drawings I’d seen or something else?

She let go of the fabric, stood up, put her hands on her hips, and nodded.

I cleared my throat, knowing this was a perfect time to get her attention.

Serena squealed, jumping a foot off the ground, and turned. Her hands whipped out and karate chopped at the air in front of her.

Covering my mouth with my hand, I tried my best to muffle my laughter.

“Enzo,” she said, a hand coming to her throat. “Can you make some kind of noise next time?”

“I tried. That’s why I did that throat-clearing cough?” Cazzo, she was cute. “How’s the work coming along?”

“Great. I finished all my work, which is exciting since it’s so early in the day. Now I get to work on the side project.” She pointed to the table.

I knew she was done with all her scheduled work. My guys finished her deliveries an hour ago.

“So, you have the weekend free?” I asked. As long as I took this part slowly, I was guaranteed to get what I wanted.

Serena and I are alone for the weekend.

“Yes. Hard to believe, but since you’ve helped with the delivery part, and one of the guys helped create that QR code for everyone’s deposit, it has made things so much faster.” She pulled the fabric off the table and went to one of the mannequins.

She put the half-created skirt, or maybe it was a dress, I wasn’t sure, on the mannequin using pins to hold it up.

“That’s good. Have you had a chance to look at the deposits?” I asked. I knew she hadn’t, for the sole reason that I had instructed my men to charge ten percent more on their deliveries.

The moment Serena saw it, I’d hear about it. I knew she’d rant about how high-handed I was being by butting into her business. She was afraid to charge more. She needed to see that people would still come back to her if she did, because she was undervaluing herself.

“Not yet. I only get the notification that they’ve paid, but I’ve been so busy that by the time I’m done, my fingers and eyes hurt too much to look at a screen.” She was walking around the table, cleaning up the fabric and putting it into a container.

She had the same routine every day. I waited, knowing she wouldn’t stop until the pins were put away.

“Serena,” I said, walking up to her, getting so close she took a small step back. “We’re going on a date.”

Idiota. I didn’t mean for it to come out as an order.

“Excuse me.” Serena narrowed her eyes at me.

“I’ve planned an evening for us,” I said. “Harper will be with Martina and Minnie for the night”—or the weekend if all goes well— “and we will have our date.”

She blinked and stared at me. Did I break her? Why isn’t she saying anything?

I said the wrong thing. I should have asked about Harper having a sleepover. That was an overstep.

My phone went off in my pocket. I grabbed it, glancing at the screen. Relief washed over me.

Perfect timing. It was like I planned it.

Martina’s face popped up, a little too close. “Let me talk to her.”

I held the phone out to Serena. “Mommy! Gran and Marty came to get me. We’re having a sleepover. I’m so excited.”

Harper gushed over the phone. Serena’s face went from confused to resigned, and I knew that, whatever internal battle she was dealing with, I had come out the victor. All because of Harper.

I was going to get that kid whatever she wanted, not that I wasn’t before, but it was a sky’s-the-limit deal now.

“That sounds so fun,” Serena said. “Can I come?”

“No.” Harper hung up the phone.

“Should I call back?” Serena asked, confused that her daughter hung up on her, like it wasn’t a regular occurrence for Harper to walk away in the middle of a conversation when she was done participating in it.

“No.” I closed the distance between us. Softening my voice, I twirled a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail around my finger.

“Serena, come on a date with me. I promise you won’t regret it.”

She closed her eyes and nodded.

I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the dock before she changed her mind.

CHAPTER 21

Serena

There was a small boat on the dock.

Helping me onto the boat, Enzo sat me on the small bench next to him and started the boat.

We pulled out into the water, and I tried not to freak out. I was going on a date with Enzo Lombardi.

The guy I’d had a crush on for the past year. A man I never thought I stood a chance with had somehow managed to get me on a date with him.

He didn’t have to try very hard to convince me. Harper was with Martina and Minnie, who waved to me in the background when I had a two-second conversation with Harper, doing whatever they had planned.

Work was a lame excuse. Plus, I already told him I had finished my work for the week.

And if I was honest with myself, I wanted to go on a date with him. I wanted to be wined and dined by Enzo Lombardi.

I wanted Lorenzo Lombardi, and I was finally going to allow myself to believe I could have exactly what I wanted.

If only I had time to prepare. I’d imagined what it might be like to go on a date with him, but in those daydreams, I was wearing a sexy dress. My hair was curled and perfectly styled, skin was glowing, and my makeup had never looked better.

Instead, I was on a boat in cutoff jeans, a faded grey tank top, hair that desperately needed washing, and fresh work sweat.

I couldn’t focus on any of that. Instead, I closed my eyes and reminded myself to live in the moment. How many women got to say they went on a date with their crush? One who liked me in the same way I liked him.

We went out into the ocean. With every bounce of the small boat, my stomach flipped—from the waves or from him, I wasn’t sure. My hair pulled out of my ponytail, flying behind me in the wind.

Where were we going? After a few minutes at high speed, Enzo slowed down the boat, allowing it to glide to a stop next to the biggest boat I’d ever seen.

“Whoa,” I whispered.

A massive, shiny black boat floated in the middle of the ocean. The closer we got, the more details came into focus.

It wasn’t a boat, but a yacht. Sleek, polished, gold accents reflected from the sun, giving it a luxurious glow.

Enzo slowed the tiny skip boat and guided us around to the back.

A man in a formal black-and-white suit came to the landing, caught the rope Enzo threw to him, and wrapped it around a loop.

“Come.” Enzo held out a hand and helped me out.

He grabbed my hand, placing one foot on the small platform attached to the boat, and kept the other on the slip we had arrived at. He helped me onto the platform and joined me.

My legs shook as I tried to find a way to stand on the yacht.

The boat rocked hard. I threw my hands out, trying to keep my balance and not fall into the ocean and embarrass myself.

Enzo grabbed my waist and hauled me off the small landing and onto the boat in one swift move, so fast it took me a moment to realize what had happened.

Another man dressed in an identical suit to the first stood in the center of the floor and bowed. “Welcome to Omerta,” he said with a thick Italian accent.

“It means code of silence,” Enzo whispered in my ear, so close his lips brushed the sensitive skin below my ear. Tingles ran down my spine.

I started to examine the area, trying to find something to distract myself with other than how Enzo was still holding me. If I didn’t, I was going to focus too hard and say something stupid.

White leather couches lined the outer perimeter; light wood accented the area. Further to the back was a fully stocked bar with another man behind it.

“This is yours?” I asked, spinning on my heels to get a better view. There was more to the boat than I could see from where I stood, but it was big.

“Yes. I had it custom-made about two years ago.” Enzo tugged my hand. “Come. We still have plenty of daylight to enjoy the boat before we need to get ready for dinner.”

I swiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. Maybe if I could sneak off to the bathroom, I could try to look presentable. Like I belonged on this yacht with a man in a suit that cost thousands.

His hand cupped my face. Gazing down at me, a tiny smile transformed his face.

“Thank you for going with this.” He bent down, pressing his lips softly against mine. He brushed the tip of his nose against mine. “Sei la donna più bella del mondo.”

Butterflies took flight in my stomach.

“The only word I understood was bella,” I joked.

“I’ll teach you,” he said, pulling away. “Sí. There she is.” Enzo turned me to face the inside of the boat.

A woman, tall and elegant, with long hair pulled back into a ponytail, appeared from somewhere off to the side, holding a small platter with two champagne glasses.

“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Lombardi,” she said with a smile.

I opened my mouth to correct her. As nice as the title sounded, I didn’t want to cast any illusions or dream too big.

“Thank you. Is everything set up?” he asked.

“Yes.” She turned to me. “If you’ll follow me, Mrs. Lombardi, we can start with your massage before dinner.”

Massage? I looked from the woman to Enzo.

“It’s been a stressful few weeks. Go with her and relax. I have some last-minute work to do.” He brought my hand to his lips, kissing it. “The faster you go, the faster I get to look at you on the hull sunbathing.”

I nodded, the spot where he kissed my hand tingling, and followed the woman.

We walked toward the bar, down a set of steps into a lounge area, then up another set of steps to the front of the boat. Like the back, it had an open area with lounge chairs near the edge and a white couch on one side. On the other side sat a massage table, shaded from the sun. A soft breeze came off the ocean, the quiet broken only by water against the hull and birds overhead.

I closed my eyes, letting calmness wash over me.

When I opened my eyes again, the woman had laid out a robe on the table and stood next to it, hands behind her back, waiting.

“Oh, sorry,” I said, rushing to the table.

“Please, there’s nothing to be sorry for. My name is Lucia. I’ll be your massage therapist for the day, as well as your stewardess for your time here.” She gestured to an enclosed area I hadn’t noticed. “If you follow me, I’ll show you to a changing area where you can disrobe.”

My head was spinning. This was a lot, and I wasn’t sure if the nausea was from nerves or being on the water for the first time.

When I came out wrapped in the small, silky white robe, Lucia had turned the sheets on the table down and stood next to it.

She held out a pill and a glass of water. “Dramamine. Is this your first time on a boat?”

I nodded, thankful this was on hand. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem. If you’ll slide between the sheets, we can start.” She turned her back, giving me privacy as I slid in.

I cleared my throat to let her know she could turn around.

“Mr. Lombardi mentioned you’re a designer and use your hands a lot in sewing. Is there anything else I should know before we begin?” she asked as she situated me.

I shook my head and let her do her thing.

“Bella,” a deep voice whispered in my ear.

I groaned, pushing off the table slightly. Enzo was crouched next to me, smiling.

“How do you feel?” he asked, dragging a thumb across the apple of my cheek. I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch.

“My hands feel brand new.” I pulled the sheet up with me, covering my body.

Enzo’s eyes traveled from my face to my naked shoulders, lingering there. A spark ignited deep in my core at that heat in his eyes.

“Good. We still have an hour or two before dinner. Why don’t you lay out in the sun?” he suggested as he helped me off the table.

“This is a dream,” I said, not meaning to say it out loud.

“It isn’t, but if you let me, I’ll make all your dreams come true.” Enzo scooped me up and carried me up a set of stairs.

We entered another room, this one taking up the entire floor. There was a massive bed against the wall. Windows were open on three sides of the room, a breeze flowing through.

It had a nautical theme, with wood accents throughout the room. A television was on the other side of the room, with a small lounge area.

“Wow.” I gripped the sheet tighter, suddenly aware that I was naked, a bed barely five feet away, and Enzo standing next to it in a suit I had tailored.

He tracked my movements.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“It’s incredible. How big is this thing?”

“Big enough.” Enzo turned and opened the wall next to the windows that gave us a view of the vast Atlantic Ocean. It was a closet, not a wall, filled with clothes. For me. “This should be enough for the weekend.” He reached in and pulled out something that had a lot of strings. “Here is a bathing suit.” He put the smallest bathing suit I’d ever seen on the bed.

“The bathroom is through here.” He pushed another door that looked like a wall. I peered in, noticing the big white bathroom. “Get changed. I’ll be waiting out here for you.”

I grabbed the bathing suit, resigning myself. Whatever I looked like, it was good enough.

The bathroom was bigger than I expected. The shower took up half the room and had no door. The shower head came from the ceiling, a rainfall style that would drench rather than spray.

I made quick work of getting into the bikini, thankful it wasn’t as small as I thought.

It was well-made, covered the necessary bits, and when I turned, I found that it made my butt look good.

Great even. The stretch marks from when I was pregnant with Harper were still there, but I found the sight of them didn’t bother me or make me want to cover myself like they usually did.

Feeling comfortable and confident in my skin for the first time since before I became a mom, I gathered the sheet and left the bathroom.

Enzo was there, having changed from his suit into swim trunks with no shirt on.

“Cazzo, Dio mi sta mettendo alla prova in questo momento,” he said, hanging his head.

“Is this okay?” I looked down at myself, my finger playing with the string that tied my bikini bottom together.

“Yes. Cazzo, yes.” He walked up and gripped my hips. “Let’s go before I try to convince you not to leave this room.”

He led me out of the room and to the front of the boat where there were two beach chairs sat with towels laid out on them.

The sun was still high in the sky, giving us plenty of time to lay out and sunbathe before dinner would be ready. The waves gently lapped against the boat, rocking it. It was quiet and peaceful.

I walked around to one of the chairs. “I can’t remember the last time I laid out like this.”

“You need sunscreen,” Enzo said, holding out a bottle. I reached for it, only for him to pull it out of reach. “Turn around.”

I did. Enzo’s hands rubbed the lotion on my back, fingers slipping under my bikini strings. I needed to focus on something other than his hands all over me.

“I usually use the oil that has sunscreen in it,” I said, trying to break the silence.

“Turn,” Enzo ordered. I did, coming face to face with him. He lathered more on his hands, bringing them down to my shoulders, and rubbing it in, taking his time.

“Oh, I can do it,” I tried, nerves riding me. He was so close, I barely had to lift my hand to touch his picture-worthy abs.

“I need to make sure it’s even. I don’t want you to burn. It will ruin the fun I want to have with you tonight,” he said, his face a mask of concentration as he moved from my shoulders to my chest. A shift of his hands would be all it took for him to cup my breast.

He made quick work of my stomach and legs, getting down on his knee. When he glanced up, catching me staring at him, he winked, dragging a hand up the back of my leg as he stood.

The touch was feather-light, but I still fell into him as he stood up.

“My turn.” He pushed the bottle into my hands. “Do you want to start on my front or back?”

“Back,” I said. I needed a reprieve from having his eyes on me. Somehow, this still felt like a dream I was bound to wake up from.

Enzo turned, finally giving me a closer look at his intricate tattoos.

“How long did it take to get this done?” I asked as I started.

“About six months. It had to be done in phases. The outline first, then the shading. Eight hours in a chair.”

“That’s a lot of time,” I remarked.

He turned, looking down at me. “I’m a patient man when I want something. Six months, a few years,” he shrugged, “means nothing when I know the end goal will be worth it.”

It felt like he was trying to tell me something, but I was too afraid to ask a deeper question to find out what it was.

“Why the devil?” I said, tracing the lines that went from his throat to his chest.

“Because I am the devil to those who cross me. I want them to remember that.”

I nodded, moving on. “And this?” I moved to his chest and shoulders, where the warrior armor was.

“We all have our places in our families. Mine is the protector.” His hands settled on my hips as I continued on my path. My fingers traced the thick lines, the expert shading.

“This is impressive work,” I said as I examined. The artistic part of my brain turned on, admiring the intricate way the lines wove into each other. The way the artist made the armor lifelike.

“Don’t worry, tesoro mio, I’ll let you draw me whenever you want,” he said, jolting me back from my examination.

My face went hot. “Sorry, I was just,” I stepped back, “admiring the work.”

“Admire away. But maybe let’s lie down and relax. We’ve had a taxing few weeks.” He held out a pair sunglasses that were too expensive.

He was right. I had been in survival mode for so long I forgot what it was like to simply be. I glanced at Enzo walking around the open area. The protector. It fit him well.

He made me feel safe. I hadn’t known how unsafe I’d felt until I woke up in his home, with a promise that no one would harm Harper or me.

I was going to hold on to that feeling for as long as I could.

I lay down, warmed my skin, and did my best to turn my brain off as the sea lulled me into sleep.

CHAPTER 22

Serena

“You can do this,” I said to myself in the mirror. I smoothed the dress down with my hands.

The dress was a perfect deep blue that offset the sun-kissed warmth of my skin. Floor-length with a thigh-high slit on each side, it billowed and showed off my legs with every step. The back dipped low, nearly to my waist, the fabric soft against my skin.

It was sexy yet understated. The silk fit my every curve like it was made for me. Adjusting myself again, I felt my nerves flutter in my stomach. The dress didn’t allow for a bra, and because I was feeling particularly daring, I decided to forgo underwear as well.

It was out of character for me to be so forward, but Enzo brought it out in me. I was ready for this, for us, to take that next step, and I needed him to know.

“It’s just dinner.” I twirled my hair up into a messy low bun. “Dinner alone, with the guy you’ve been fantasizing about for the last year. Who organized an entire afternoon for me to relax, arranged childcare, and kissed me until I couldn’t breathe."

I analyzed myself in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman I saw. I didn’t have a hint of makeup on, yet I was glowing.

“Just be yourself,” I said to myself in the mirror one last time and turned. If I didn’t leave the bathroom now, there was a chance I might never do it.

My heels clicked against the hardwood as I walked through the bedroom and down the steps to the dining room.

Enzo stood with his back to me, staring out at the dark ocean water. In dark pants and a thin white shirt, his tattoos were just visible beneath the fabric.

Okay. Here we go.

I cleared my throat, resisting the urge to turn and run back to the bathroom.

He turned, eyes raking slowly from head to toe, then back again, lingering on my legs.

He walked to me, his eyes glittering with heat.

My legs wobbled at the power of his gaze, and I had to cross one over the other to stay upright.

When Enzo was close, he reached out, grabbed my face, and kissed me. This time, I was prepared for the rush, for the desire that ignited inside me when he touched me.

I held onto his shirt, kissing him with everything I had. His hand traveled from my back to my leg, hiking it up and around his waist.

Spearing my fingers through his hair, I pulled at the strands and rubbed myself against him. He growled, the rumbling of his chest sending a swirl of need through my body.

I wanted to climb him like a tree. And I would before the night was over.

He ripped his mouth away from mine, panting.

“Dinner,” he rasped. “Dinner and then I’ll have you for dessert.”

I almost tripped. His words short-circuited my brain. The image of Enzo on his knees, like he had been earlier when he applied suntan lotion to my legs, looking up at me with heat in his eyes, flashed in my mind.

A shiver ran through me.

His hand slid up my thigh to my butt and squeezed.

“Cazzo,” he muttered, “you’re trying to kill me.”

He let me go, setting me a few inches away from him.

“Come.” Pulling my hand, he brought us to a table on the far end of the boat.

The night sky was clear of clouds, with the stars twinkling brightly. The table was set for two, candles lit and flickering in the ocean breeze.

Enzo pulled out a chair and pushed it in once I sat.

A steward came, pouring wine and leaving warm bread on the table.

I waited until he left before I spoke.

“May I ask a question?”

“Ask me anything, though I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to answer,” Enzo said, putting a piece of bread on my plate before serving himself.

“Did you instruct all the men on the boat not to look at me?” I didn’t bother to hide my smile. The fact that all the men purposefully avoided looking in my direction when I was in the room was comical, and I had to know the reason.

“Not in so many words, no.” Enzo shrugged.

“Okay, in how many words did you say it?”

“If they look at you for more than a second, I will rip their eyes out and put them in their pockets as a reminder to keep their eyes to themselves,” he said with so much nonchalance that I burst out laughing.

“Are you always so…” I paused, trying to think of the right word.

“Possessive? Jealous? Protective?” He supplied the words I was too hesitant to say. I nodded. All three fit.

“Only when it comes to you and Harper. You two seem to bring out the caveman in me,” Enzo joked.

“Sir, the appetizers are ready.” The steward placed a bowl on the table filled with different chilled fish. “The rest of the meal is on the cart, with heating trays.”

“Thank you. You may leave,” Enzo said, never taking his eyes off me.

The steward bowed and ran as fast as he could without it being obvious, if the fast footsteps echoing were anything to go by.

“Is everyone afraid of you?” I asked.

“If they’re smart, they are. Only the idiots test me,” Enzo said. He took a fork, speared a shrimp, and held the end out to me.

I licked my lips, opened my mouth, and let Enzo feed me.

After a few bites, during which he alternated between feeding me and feeding himself, I giggled as lime juice dribbled down my chin.

Enzo’s thumb swiped the droplet and brought it to his mouth.

“I am capable of feeding myself,” I joked.

“Why would you do that when you have me?” he said as he gave me the last bite of the ceviche. “If it were up to me, you wouldn’t do anything unless you absolutely wanted to.”

I mulled over his words, thinking of all the things he had stepped in and helped me handle in the last two weeks—setting up a new studio, handling deliveries and payments, dropping Harper off in the morning.

All things that, besides dropping Harper off, I didn’t enjoy and took time away from working on things I wanted to focus on.

“Is that what you want?” I asked softly. “To take care of all my problems or things that I dread doing daily, so I only focus on what I love?” I swallowed, trying to parse out my thoughts in a way that didn’t come across accusatory. “Or is it because by doing all those things, I might feel indebted to you and do what you want?”

“And what do you think I want?” Enzo asked, putting down his fork and narrowing his eyes at me.

“Maybe help with some money laundering or something?” I shrugged.

“The last thing I need or want is to involve you in my business. Martina runs a clean business, and so will you. I won’t allow anything else. Cease with these foolish thoughts.” Enzo stood, picked up the bowl, and carried it to a rolling cart.

He came back with two plates, steaming hot, and placed one in front of me.

Sitting, he sliced into the meat. “I’m a patient man, Serena. This relationship isn’t what you’re used to, and I get that.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, confused. I had relationships, not many, but enough to know what to do in them and how to be a girlfriend.

Enzo sat, pulling his chair closer to me. Our knees were touching. “All I want is you and Harper. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.” He tapped a finger on the table. “You’re used to taking care of everyone and handling everything for the people you care about. With us, I will do that. It is my responsibility to make sure you and Harper are taken care of in all the ways you want. Nothing would make me happier than doing all I can to make you happy. All I ask for in return is you.”He made it sound so simple when it was anything but that.

“You just want me?” I asked because that was a big request, one I wasn’t sure I could fulfill.

“Your time, when it is free from work and Harper. Your body, when you want to give it to me. Your affection, attention.” He waved a fork at me. “You.”

I listened to him and thought about all the ways he was true to his word. He did so much for me without me having to ask. I’d never had more creativity flowing through me or as much energy to get my side projects done because I was sleeping well. And deliveries were taken care of.

Harper had so much room for fun and activities at Enzo’s house, and there was always someone to play with her. She loved being driven to school by Enzo and Donovan.

She had never been happier or more content.

Neither had I, and I knew it was because of the man who sat next to me.

It wasn’t that I was wavering in wanting Enzo. I did. So much.

I was afraid of trying again. Of trusting myself enough to make a decision where I put my heart on the line, only to have it ripped out from my chest.

I barely survived what Charles did to me. And I wasn’t sure if I truly loved him in the way I should have, even though I married him.

Enzo and I had kissed twice, and it was enough for me to know my feelings ran miles deeper with him than anything I had with Charles or anyone else.

If I had to go through losing Enzo, I wasn’t sure I’d make it out the other end.

“Hey,” Enzo said, his voice soft. He dragged a finger up and down my arm. “Where did you just go?”

“Sorry,” my lips twisted in a half smile, “sometimes I get in my head. What were you saying?”

“Serena, amore mio.” His smile was so big there were crinkles in the corners. “If you don’t want to tell me yet, that’s fine. I can wait until you're ready to reveal your secrets. With you, I learned to be a patient man.”

“When were you interested in me? Like romantically?” I thought about interactions since we first met, and kept coming up with nothing.

“Since the moment I first saw you.” Enzo stood, picked me up, and sat back down, with me on his lap. “This is better. You were too far away.”

His thigh was hard and strong underneath me, but even still, I placed a hand on his chest to balance myself.

“You had your hair up,” he motioned to the top of his head, “and were running around. I think you just had an issue with someone because you kept muttering asshole under your breath.” He laughed, and I felt it move through him.

I dragged my hand up his chest and curled my arm around his shoulders, adjusting myself closer. This was a bold move for me, but being around Enzo gave me the courage to act in a way that I wasn’t used to. His eyes twinkled, like he knew how out of my element I was acting.

“I came to you, and you snapped at me,” he continued, dragging his hand up my leg. “I’d never been rejected so fast, without ever speaking, in my life.”

“That can’t be true.” I wasn’t rude to clients. I was professional and cordial.

“You looked at me and said ‘no’. And then when I handed you the note Marcello wrote, you laughed at me, informed me that everyone in the Cosa Nostra was blacklisted, and told me to move on. You didn’t even bother to look at me. You were fearless when many would have cowered and given me what I asked. I knew then that I wanted to get to know you better.”

He kept his ministrations on my thigh, reaching higher with each move until he was at the juncture of my thigh.

“So, you kept coming back,” I said, swallowing. My stomach curled, desire slowly building in me like fire.

“I came back. Over and over, until I got to know you better. Waiting patiently for my chance.”

Sitting on his lap brought us to eye level. His dark eyes scanned my face. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against mine.

I pressed against him, gripping his shoulders as I kissed him back, harder, hoping that I was conveying what I wanted with my body well enough that I didn’t have to use words.

Enzo pulled back, shifting me so I straddled his hips.

He pulled me flush against him, his hands roaming my bare back, the calluses on his palms scratching me in the most delicious way.

I pulled at his shirt, undoing the buttons to get to his skin.

My heartbeat in tune with my clit, and I needed relief. I’d never wanted like this before; my body felt like it was on fire with need.

I ground myself on him, seeking release. Brushing my chest against his with each roll of my hips, I couldn’t stop kissing him.

I felt his cock under me, rubbing my clit, but it wasn’t enough. Clothes were in the way of what I wanted. What I needed.

Enzo trailed kisses down my throat. “There you go, amore. Use me. Take what you need.” He dragged me across his lap. I felt myself dripping down my thigh. I groaned, unable to speak.

I could take no more. I stood, pulling Enzo to stand.

With determination, his words emboldening me, I dragged Enzo behind me as I walked to the bedroom.

Stopping in front of the bed, I reached behind me, undid the zipper, and let my dress fall to the ground.

CHAPTER 23

Serena

Enzo froze. I wasn’t sure he was breathing.

I wasn’t sure I was either. Panic began to claw at me.

The courage his words spurred in me started to dwindle fast. I needed to get my clothes and hide in the bathroom. Be anywhere but here.

Then, he moved so fast he was a blur. He was on me, picking me up and dropping me on my back onto the bed.

Cupping a breast in each hand, he stared down at me. His eyes darkened with lust.

I was breathing fast, excitement and nerves warring inside me. His weight was heavy, pinning me down. I had to spread my legs wider, stretching to accommodate his size.

“Look at you,” he said, brushing the hair caught under me out and fanning it on the bed. “Perfetto.” He gazed down, dragging his eyes from my face to my hair. The lust turned to hunger in his eyes, like he hadn’t eaten in days, and he was starving. “Now you’re ready to come on my tongue.”

My breath hitched. I grabbed his shirt, suddenly scared of what might happen next. I was unbelievably unprepared to be fucked by a man like Enzo.

He must have read the nerves on my face. “Don’t worry, ciata miu. I will make you come until you can’t take it anymore. Then I’ll feed you berries, lick the honey off your body, and do it again.”

He bent his head to my breast, sucking my nipple. A jolt of electricity ran through my body. I whimpered, my legs curling around him, trying to keep him right there.

“Lorenzo,” I started to say, with no idea how to finish the sentence.

He flicked my nipple with his tongue. “I like how you say my name. I want to hear you scream it.” He worked his way back up my body and kissed me. Hard, long, and wet. “Can you do that? Scream my name?”

I nodded, unable to form words. I would do anything to get his mouth on me.

“Lorenzo,” I pleaded. He was teasing me now, his mouth hovering over my body, just out of reach. He laughed, bending down and kissing my throat, sucking on my pulsing vein.

Oh my god. This was happening.

He left light, soft, sucking kisses down my body until he nestled himself between my legs.

He held one foot, his thumb tracing the dainty clasp that wrapped around my ankle. “These make your legs look a mile fucking long. I'm going to buy you a hundred of these, so I can torture myself when you wear them.”

He gripped my hips, yanking me to the edge of the bed. A surprised squeak came out of me.

Enzo kissed one thigh, then the other, placing my legs on either shoulder. “I want to feel your heels on my back. Mark me, amore.”

My heart raced as he bent his face to my pussy, taking in a deep breath and groaning. He said something in Italian, and I vowed to dedicate myself to learning that language.

I fisted the sheets as he licked, his tongue slowly swirling on my clit. He did it again, savoring, taking his time with each swipe.

I gasped, a hand shooting to his head, trying to keep him there.

He ate at me, building me up. I had never felt like this, an ache growing in me.

“Oh, god,” I rasped out. My body moved on its own, seeking his lips, his tongue for more.

I yanked at his hair, uncaring if it hurt him, because I was so close and I needed to get there, or I was going to die.

“Please, Lorenzo, please,” I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper.

My heels dug into his back, and I knew I was marking him the way he demanded. The way I needed to.

He sucked on my clit, long and hard.

My back bowed off the bed as the pleasure rolled through me. I had no control over my body or the way I cried out as the pleasure overwhelmed me.

Panting, I opened my eyes, chest heaving as I tried to orient myself. That this wasn’t another dream.

Enzo kneeled between my legs, his lips and chin glistening with my release.

“Perfetta,” he said as he brought one leg up, kissing my ankle and undoing the straps. He did the same to my other leg. “You taste like heaven.”

He stood, ripping off his clothes like they were on fire. Finally, I got to see him, all of him. The tattoos, a work of art, wrapped around his body. His skin was tan from our time in the sun.

Everywhere I’d touched while rubbing in the lotion, marveling at the intricate designs, I now wanted to trace with my tongue. I wanted to get close and follow the lines that went below his waist, connecting the designs from his chest to his legs.

The warrior armor. The protector. My protector.

My heartbeat pounded. After all the fantasizing, all the wanting—he was right there, waiting for me to reach for him.

He stared back, not moving as his smile reached his eyes. Giving me time to take my fill, my eyes bouncing to the areas of tattoos I had wondered about but never got to see.

My eyes made their way down until I reached his cock. His hand was wrapped around it, giving it slow, languid pumps.

“Oh,” I whispered, blinking.

His cock was big in length and girth. At the very tip, a curved barbell gleamed.

I stared at it, mouth falling open. I’d never seen a piercing like that, though I knew they existed. He was big already, and with that added? How was it all going to fit? What would it feel like?

Anticipation shot through me. I bit my lip, unsure how to express myself with words.

“Don’t worry, amore, it’ll fit,” he said as he crawled up my body. “The piercing will help me take care of you.” Wrapping his hands around my waist, he flipped our position.

I gasped as I tried to reorient myself. Straddling him, I spread my legs on either side of his body. I leaned forward, bracing my hand on the pillow next to his head, and did what I had wanted to do since the moment I saw the art on his body.

I traced the lines of his tattoos lightly with my finger, following with soft kisses.

He shifted under me, his cock between us. He moved his hips in tiny, short circles that forced the tip of his cock, and the piercing against my clit.

I stopped, my hips joining his motion. My body felt like it was on fire in the best, most excruciating way. Enzo muttered under his breath, the words coming out so fast and in Italian that there was no chance I would understand what he said.

But I didn’t need to know, because one glance at his face—brows furrowed in concentration, bottom lip caught between his teeth, cheeks flushed—told me he wanted me to come.

Needed me to almost as much as I did.

I sat up, ready to ride his cock, when he wrenched me up by my hips and placed me on his face. He sucked, and a shudder ran through my body. It was too much. I’d never felt like this before. I tried to lean forward, but his arms wrapped around me, locking me in place. “Enzo,” I cried out, begging for more, desperate for him to push me over the edge.

His tongue flicked out, and it was the last thing I remembered before I felt the white-hot euphoria take me, rolling over me in waves I never wanted to stop.

My throat hurt. The world was slowly coming back. I was sitting on Enzo’s chest, his face dripping wet with my essence. He licked his lips, eyes on my center as his fingers spread me open.

“You’re the best meal I’ve ever had,” he rumbled. “I can’t wait to gorge myself on you every day.”

My mind was clearing, but I couldn’t piece together what he meant by that, though it was obvious.

Enzo leaned over to the small nightstand, opened the drawer and pulled out a string of condoms, and ripped one off.

“After tonight, we’ll talk about this.” He held the condom up to my mouth. “Open.” I did. “Close.”

I did as instructed, biting the condom wrapper as he tugged, ripping it open.

In fast, practiced movements, he put on the condom and added lube.

“You’re ready for me,” he said as he grabbed my hips.

Sitting up, he placed me on his lap, his cock between us. His legs were bent, giving me something to lean on.

“We’ll go slow. I want to savor every piece of you tonight,” he said.

Rocking my hips, I rubbed my pussy on his cock.

“It’s been a long time,” I said, suddenly anxious as I placed my hands on his chest for balance. What if I were bad at this? What if I didn’t remember how to have sex?

“Amore, none of that matters. It’s you and me. I won’t stop until you’re limp from pleasure, and I’ve wrung everything I can out of your body. And when you wake, I’ll do it again.” He lifted me, pulled his cock up, and brushed it against my clit before notching it inside me.

My hips jerked, and a zing raced up my spine.

“I’m going to take my time with you,” Enzo said, shifting my hips.

With the help of gravity, and Enzo thumbing my clit, making me wetter, I slowly took him.

Enzo muttered in Italian, never breaking eye contact with me.

“Look how good you’re taking my cock,” he said. I whimpered, so full of him, and he wasn’t even all the way yet.

Then he was there, all the way in, and I leaned back, gripping his thighs as I squirmed.

“Cazzo, you were made for me. Made to take my cock. Look at how perfect we fit.” He rocked his hips, pushing deeper.

“Lorenzo.” My nails dug into his thighs as I gasped, his cock hitting that spot I could never reach.

“I like how you say my name.” He kept his pace slow and deliberate. “I want to hear it every night, when I have you just like this, impaled on my cock. At my mercy, begging me to give you what only I can.”

“I need,” I started, but couldn’t speak. I was having an out-of-body experience.

All I could do was feel. My body is begging for release, for more.

“You need me.” He bit one of my nipples, and my body clenched. “I’ll give you whatever you need, I promise.”

He sat up, gripped the back of my head, and brought it down to meet his. The kiss was hard and frenzied. I moaned into his mouth,

He started moving inside me in earnest, taking control and moving my body on his.

The ache took over, building in me.

“Lorenzo,” I said, begging.

He bounced me on his cock, and I held on to his wrists, letting him take over.

I opened my eyes and stared down at Enzo. His brows were furrowed, eyes on my face. I leaned down, placing my hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, and kissed him. I was so close, my body was shaking like a live wire, and all I wanted was to kiss him.

His rough hands skated around my body, making me shiver. I was so close, but I needed more and had no idea what that more was.

“Lorenzo,” I whimpered, not knowing how to say what I needed. His chest rumbled under my hands, and the vibrations reverberated through my body.

The pressure built, but it wasn’t enough. My body demanded more.

He brought a hand to the back of my head and whispered, “I feel how close you are, amuri. Let yourself go. I need you to let go, and I’ll give you everything.”

His words shot straight to my soul.

He’d give me everything. I knew he would. He already had, in so many quiet little ways, that it was impossible not to trust his words.

I closed my eyes, sat up, and let my body take over. Shutting down any thoughts that weren’t about us, my pleasure, or our bodies.

I let go, and I could hear Enzo below me murmuring, “You’re magnifica. Just like that. Look at how you’re taking from me.”

“I’m so,” I stuttered. My breath hitched, and I let out a soft cry.

“Use me,” he said, slamming me down hard and rubbing his thumb against my clit in tight, fast twirls.

My body jerked. I clawed at his chest, uncaring if I made marks, and threw my head back.

A bubble burst, filling me with euphoric bliss.

I moaned louder than I ever had.

Enzo flipped us over, his mouth covering mine, taking my moans and growling in return. I wasn’t finished, the orgasm still pounding through me as I felt him build me up again.

“Again,” he growled, his hips pounding into me at a brutal pace. Each time he pulled out, his piercing rubbed my clit, sending shockwaves through me. “I want to see you come again.”

It was an order I was all too willing to follow. I wanted to see him on top of me, owning my body. A picture of masculine perfection.

“Mine,” I said, the word spilling out of me.

I sent a vicious grin and bit my bottom lip. “Yours.”

He leaned back, lifted my hips up, and pulled out, rubbing the tip of his cock and Prince Albert against me. “Press your hands against the headboard.”

Greedily, I did, stretching myself and arching my back.

“Cazzo, I can’t wait to fill you up. With my cum,” he slid into me in one hard pound, “with my babies.” Another pound of his hips sent shockwaves through me, my hands pushing back against the headboard. I didn’t move, just took what he gave me.

“For the rest of our lives. All yours.” He didn’t stop this time, just kept pounding his hips into me.

Each declaration spurred me on. Made me want this for the rest of my life.

I had never had this much passion for someone—I knew I needed this forever, or it might break me.

Enzo kept his punishing pace, and I curled my legs around his hips, arching my back, my body begging for what I couldn’t say.

His hips stuttered, Italian spilling from his mouth, and he bent, biting my nipple, and throwing me over the precipice. The wave of euphoria washed over me, blurring my vision and taking over my body.

I barely noticed him pulling out of me, his cock glistening my release, hands wrapping around himself as he pumped.

His cock jerked, cum spurting out in long ropes onto my chest.

I stared down at his release covering my chest and stomach. For some reason, I was almost disappointed that none of it was in me, sealing the promises he made.

Yet it was infinitely hotter, seeing it on me.

Enzo fell to this side, propping himself onto his forearm as he stared at me.

“A mess,” he said, reaching out and rubbing some of his cum into my stomach. “A perfect, pretty mess I’ve made you.”

I turned my head to him, closing my eyes. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk. My body was too tired and sated from the power of the orgasms Enzo had given me.

I didn’t open my eyes when the bed dipped, and Enzo’s warm body disappeared. I barely flinched in surprise as he cleaned me with a wet cloth.

He was taking care of me. A bolt of emotion I wasn’t familiar with hit me.

Tears pricked my eyes, and I squeezed them shut.

This was so embarrassing.

“Hey.” Enzo pulled me across his body until I was using him like a bed.

“Sorry, I don’t know why this is happening,” I said as a tear leaked out of the corner of my eye.

“I got you.” Enzo rubbed my back, and my swirl of emotions calmed. “I know. I felt it too,” he said into my hair as he helped me calm down.

It took me a few minutes. As always, Enzo was patient, silently stroking my back until the world felt steady again.

“I don’t know why that happened,” I said, trying to wrestle with emotions I didn’t understand.

“It can happen, I’ve heard. There’s nothing to be worried about.” Enzo kissed the top of my head. “Sleep, amuri mio. We’ll do it all again in the morning.”

Lying on Enzo, I closed my eyes and let the rhythm of his heart sing me to sleep.

CHAPTER 24

Enzo

“Sir,” a panicked whisper shook me awake.

I was awake and slipping out from under Serena in a second. “What?”

“There’s been a breach in the perimeter. Six, possibly more, are coming in fast.” With that, my man ran out of the room as fast as he could.

I got out of bed, slid into my boxers, and turned back to the bed. Serena slept on, her blonde hair splayed out on the pillow. Sated and sleepy, exactly as I wanted her to be.

It killed me that I had to wake her up, but her safety came first. I would kill those who thought they could disturb her sleep.

“Serena,” I said, shaking her shoulder.

She whined, pulling the blanket up higher. Cazzo, I hated having to do this.

I shook the bed and raised my voice. “Wake up.”

I ripped the blanket away, hating how she curled into a ball to keep warm as the cold air hit her.

All I wanted was to give her a night she’d never forget. One that would show her how much I could add to her life.

I leaned over, grabbed her by the shoulders, and shook her. “I need you to wake up.”

“Fine,” she whined. I needed her to move faster than this. I needed to move faster than this.

Her eyes fluttered open. She jerked back, the intensity of my face likely surprising her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. I picked her up and headed to the closet.

“We’re under attack.” I placed her as far back in the closet as I could, turned, and went to the nightstand. Grabbing the small handgun I kept in the drawer, I undid the safety, picked up the linen blanket, and returned to her.

I crouched, holding the gun out to her. “Take this. If anyone opens this door that isn’t me, point and shoot.” I pulled the blanket around her. It was black, helping her blend into the darkness, and covering her naked body.

“I don’t want to do this.” The fear in her eyes made me hesitate.

“Amuri, I don’t want you to either. I need to go out there and remind people what it means to attack me.” I pointed to the gun. “This is a last resort, one that you won’t have to use, but will make me feel better that you have it.”

She closed her eyes and nodded. “Okay. Go.”

I kissed her hard and fast, then closed the door.

Pressing the knob on the wall next to the closet, the panel slid open, revealing a collection of guns. With practiced hands, I grabbed the holster, strapped it to my leg, added extra ammo, and picked up the gun.

I left the room, closing the bedroom door behind me, and moved toward the hull of the boat.

The only sounds were the waves lapping against the boat. Then an odd splash, one of rhythm with the water.

I scanned the edge, keeping my breath calm and my gun raised.

A black blob appeared over the edge. I didn’t think, only pointed, relaxed, and took my shot.

This had to be a one-shot, one-kill situation. Any excess gunfire might alert the others in the group that we knew they were here.

My aim was true, as whoever tried to come over fell back into the water with a loud splash.

More gunshots rang out in the night. No yelling , no excess noise. Just the shots, then silence.

We were surprising them as much as they had surprised us.

I had run drills with my men for situations like this, so we were never unprepared. They called me paranoid, but looking at how efficient we were, I knew they wouldn’t make the same comment.

We needed to be lethal and never underestimate our enemies.

I listened, searching for the off-cycle splashing as I quietly made my way toward the back of the boat.

I came into full view of the hull, spotting two more bodies pulling themselves up over the deck at the same time they spotted me.

I took my shots, moving faster than they could reach for their weapons. They collapsed, dark blood leaking onto the wood floors.

Spinning, I noticed I was the only person in the area: none of the other men had come back here.

A mistake.

Where were my men? If they were all at the front, there was no one patrolling. No one was ensuring we had no blind spots.

I had killed three, but there were at least eight. Or was it nine reported to be approaching?

The numbers didn’t matter, but the chance that one of them made it through our defenses because we were too focused on getting to where we thought the action was left us wide open.

My heart ratcheted into my throat. It was an easy path to Serena. If it were me, I would’ve studied the boat layout and known exactly where to go.

I had to get to her. I promised her safety, that she wouldn’t have to use the gun, and I’d keep that promise to my dying breath.

I sprinted back to our room. Whoever was here had come for her. Just like last time.

The door was open, and a tall person in a black wetsuit stood in front of the closet, reaching for the handle.

I slid across the floor onto my side, skin tearing from the impact. It was wet from the person who thought they could harm the woman I’d devoted myself to.

I had to be careful with my aim. One stray bullet could go through the closet and hit Serena. The person turned. I could see the man behind the mask smiling as he raised his gun.

I didn’t let him get a shot off. I pulled the trigger, the bullet burying itself in his calf. He yelled, falling to his knees.

I stood, took aim, and pulled the trigger. The next bullet found his shoulder— his gun arm.

Another press of the trigger, and his knee shattered as he fell to the side.

I stood over him as he screamed in pain. “Faccia di culo.” I put a bullet between his eyes, shutting him up forever.

Maybe this would serve as a warning to whoever was after Serena.

I stepped over the dead body and pulled the closet door open. I saw the glint of a gun and called out fast—before she could shoot me by accident.

“It’s me, Serena.” There was a gush of air and a hiccup, tearing my heart apart. I couldn’t imagine how scared she was. What was she thinking, being forced to hide while someone came to hurt her for a second time?

Serena crawled from the back of the closet and into my arms. Her body shook as she cried.

I sat down, pulling her closer, and rocked her. There was nothing I could do but comfort her as she worked through her emotions.

Was the threat over? I wasn’t sure, but I had to trust my men to do the jobs I trained them for. Being with Serena and ensuring she was safe was my only priority.

The only thing I could do as I held her in my arms, where I had wanted her for what felt like my entire life, was pray that this wasn’t the beginning of the end.

That she saw through the brief moments of violence to the love and happiness I could give her and Harper.

I was asking a lot, maybe more than I deserved, but I clung to hope as I held her, keeping her face turned away from the dead body on the floor.

After a minute or so, her shoulders stopped shaking, and her breathing evened out.

“Tesoro mio, we need to move.” I stood and put her on her feet, holding her steady as she swayed. Reaching into the closet, I grabbed the first dress I could find. “Arms up,” I instructed.

Serena let go of the blanket she had been clinging to and raised her arms. I slipped the dress over her head, continuing to block her view of the body.

“Sir,” one of the men called, entering the room. “The threat is neutralized. We have the dinghy pulled up and ready to go.”

I looked over my shoulder, allowing my anger to show on my face. “I want to know how this happened.” I wrapped an arm around Serena, leading her to the door. I glanced down and found her face ashen, staring down at the body.

“Hey.” I tipped her chin up to look at me and not the mess on the floor. “I told you that anyone who tried to harm you wouldn’t breathe for long, si? I meant what I said.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but none fell as I urged her to move.

“Okay, Lorenzo. I think I believe you now.” She spoke so softly, I almost missed it.

We walked down the steps and to the hull, which was clean of the bodies I had left.

My men stood in a line, hands behind their backs, heads bowed.

One took a step forward. “We apologize. This will never happen again.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to her for putting her in danger with your lack of diligence,” I snarled.

As if they practiced it beforehand, all five men got down on one knee, heads still bowed, hands fisted and pressed against their chests. It was a pose of subservience, of an apology that didn’t need words because in my world, actions spoke louder than words.

I glanced down at Serena. Color had come back to her face, and she no longer looked like she was seconds from screaming and running away in fear.

I leaned down and whispered in Serena’s ear. “They’ll stay like this until you tell them to rise, and not let it happen again.”

“I have to say it? Not you?” she replied, keeping her eyes on the men.

“Yes. This is for you, not me,” I said.

“What should I say?” she asked, reaching down and squeezing my hand.

“Whatever you want,” I said, wondering what she’d come up with.

She took a step forward, gripping my hand so tightly I was sure she was going to break a knuckle, and stared at my men.

“Rise.” Her voice was raw from crying but held strong.

The men obediently rose and lifted their heads, but kept their hands fisted over their chests. As one, they said, “Improvements will be made.”

I nodded in approval, though none of the men were focused on me. They stared at her, waiting for her instructions.

She turned back to me and said, “I’d like to leave now.”

I bowed, and the other men followed suit, then jumped into action. “Come vuoi, mia regina.”

helped her into the dinghy and pulled away from the yacht.

Hopefully, my plans weren’t ruined as I steered us to our next location.

One that was locked down completely.

CHAPTER 25

Enzo

Heads were going to roll.

The men knew they had made mistakes, which was good, but I needed to know what went wrong. Who did I entrust with Serena’s safety? Who had failed?

It seemed that, though I made it clear I was not one to be screwed with or attacked, someone wanted to test me. Like they wanted to see how far they could push me before I snapped.

They were skilled killers: their approach said as much.

Questions circled in my head as I drove. Was this an attack on me? The second the thought popped into my head, I knew this had nothing to do with me. They went straight to my room, where she’d most likely be.

Which meant someone had escalated from causing fear to doing real harm. But who was it?

Too many questions, not enough answers. I had my suspicions, but I wasn’t ready to share them with Serena.

If I could go back and shoot those idiots who ruined what was the best date in the history of dates, I would.

We were at our second stop, hours earlier than I anticipated. Unfortunately, this was the hand I was dealt. I only hoped it didn’t scare Serena away.

She was shivering and quiet, and I could see she had a thousand things running through her head.

Merda, she held a gun. One that I gave her to protect herself and feel safe. I had a feeling she’d never held one, let alone known how to use it. I needed to talk to her about that and remedy it quickly.

I pulled the dinghy to the dock and helped Serena off, the sunrise casting a warm glow on the expansive back lawn.

While my home in Queens was impressive, it was still a brick monstrosity I’d built because it was what people expected a made man’s house to look like.

My villa had touches of my home country in every detail. Outside, whitewashed concrete, red-tiled roof, and shutters. Inside, color, mosaic tiles, and arched Moorish doorways.

If I could, I’d spend all my time here, but this place wasn’t meant to be lived in daily. It was an oasis I’d built as a side project once the money started flowing into the brotherhood again.

We walked up the flagstone path, Serena quietly holding my hand.

I pulled out my phone, brought my arm around Serena’s shoulders while keeping hold of her hand, and dialed Rafael’s number.

“Sí,” Rafael answered. I opened my mouth, but never got the chance to speak before he continued. “I heard. I’ll take care of it. Take care of Serena. Enjoy your time together.”

“It’s all screwed up,” I huffed, speaking in Italian. I didn’t need Serena to listen in. “It was perfect. Now it’s fucked to hell.”

“Everything that you hoped for?” Rafael teased me about what a romantic I was being with her, but I didn’t care.

He could tease me all he wanted. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do, no lengths I wouldn’t go to, for Serena to know how special she was to me.

In the last few hours, she was faced with the cold reality of what it meant to be in my world.

I only hoped it didn’t scare her. Something of this magnitude was bound to push her into reconsidering.

“Yes.” I watched as she ventured further into the house. It was an open floor plan, so I could watch as she walked around, taking in the grandness of the rooms. “But none of it matters if they scared her away.”

I saw her walking away with vivid clarity, Harper in tow, because this was too much for her. The idea of it created ice-cold fear in me—that I couldn’t do my job, could make her feel safe enough to stay.

I would understand if that was her choice, but I’d do everything in my power to convince her otherwise.

Rubbing my thumb against Serena’s knuckles, I tried to use the feeling of her hand in mine to ground me. Remind me that she hadn’t turned and run away. Yet.

“Call in reinforcements. I want eyes on every angle with her,” I said, not wanting to say Harper’s name. Serena might not know Italian but she’d home in on me mentioning Harper. She hadn’t brought her up yet, and I had to assume it was because she was still in shock and not thinking clearly.

There was some yelling, muffled voices, and the phone call beeped. I pulled it away and saw I’d been hung up on.

Serena walked ahead of me, slipping out of my embrace to the balcony that overlooked the pool, yard, and ocean beyond.

There was a breeze, making Serena’s hair and dress flow behind her. With the sun rising, she looked like an angel.

My phone rang once, then stopped. It rang again seconds later. Martina.

“Sí,” I said, ready for her to read me the riot act.

“Give the phone to Serena,” Martina ordered. “Rafael put you on speaker. I heard every word. Give the phone to her.”

“Serena,” I called out, walking to where she stood on the balcony. She turned and gave me a small smile.

I held the phone out. “It’s for you.”

Confusion twisted her face as she took the phone. “Me?” I nodded and pointed to the name.

“Oh boy,” she muttered and brought the phone to her ear. “Hello,” she said, wincing. Martina’s voice was loud enough that I could hear it from a foot away, though I couldn’t make out the words.

After a moment, she laughed, eyed me, and walked into the house. She paused in the kitchen, looking left and right, before turning left down the hall toward the small bathroom at the end.

I followed her, standing back to give her space as she walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

I tried not to worry about what Martina was saying to her. It was hard.

Martina was straightforward, never one to mince her words to save someone else’s feelings. She wasn’t cruel and was always there to offer a hand to help after you were able to digest her sometimes harsh delivery.

I walked to the door, ready to barge in, begging for another chance to do this day right, but stopped myself.

Serena needed space to process this. If the last time were anything to go by, she’d recover quickly. Hopefully, whatever Martina said didn’t make Serena reconsider being with me.

“No, I’m fine,” Serena said, her voice echoing. “I’m glad Harper’s okay, but it’s early, and I don’t want to wake her up.”

I should leave, give her privacy, but I needed to know what she was thinking. I braced my hands on the doorframe and leaned in. Thank god for tiled bathrooms and their acoustics.

“I had to hold a gun. That would freak anyone out,” Serena said, her voice getting louder. “No. Should it matter that I didn’t use it?”

Serena went silent. What was Martina saying? If only she had put her on speaker.

“I don’t blame him at all. It’s not like he asked to get attacked,” Serena said. I had rarely seen her get annoyed, only with her ex, but I could hear the annoyance in her tone now.

“Like I said, I’m not mad at him. I’m a little freaked out and tired,” Serena said. “No. I am not talking about that. But if you’re not going to leave it be, it was,” she trailed off and then laughed.

The twisting in my stomach eased. Laughing was a good thing.

“I’d never felt so cared for. He was,” she stuttered. “Yes, I want him. I’m not an idiot, but I’m also worried he’s doing all this extravagant stuff to win me over, and then what if, once he has me, he shows me who he really is?”

My head dropped as I took my first real breath since being woken up. She wanted more. Everything else was secondary. Trust took time to build. She’d been burned in the past. I was moving into familiar territory.

“He’s what?” she gasped. “Why would he think that?”

Listening to one side of the conversation was killing me. Martina seemed to be helping, but it was hard to know how much from Serena’s responses.

“What do I do, then?” She laughed, and it almost brought me to my knees. Her laugh was everything. “Yes, that’s where we are.”

I waited, seconds ticking by, but didn’t hear Serena speak again.

Standing there, I gripped the doorframe, trying to talk myself out of ripping the door off its hinges and begging her to talk to me.

It felt like half the day had gone by when the door opened again. Jumping back, I stared at her, preparing myself to go along with whatever she wanted, even if it ripped my heart out.

“I saw there was a hot tub outside,” she said, handing me the phone as the call with Martina ended. “Can we eat something while we’re in there? I’m a little hungry.”

I replayed her words as she moved past me.

Staying where I was, I watched here move down the hall, praying this wasn’t a dream. When she reached the end, the straps of her dress slipped from her shoulders, the dress pooling at her feet.

She was naked, her long blonde hair flowing down her back. The sun shone through the windows, highlighting her body.

The sight of her went straight to my cock.

“Are you coming?” she asked, winked at me, and disappeared into the living room.

I sprinted after her, ripping my boxers off as I went.

Martina was getting whatever she wanted when I saw her. A private island? Done.

I heard Serena’s flirty giggle, the one that made my chest ache.

She picked up her pace, nearly making it to the steps before I caught her by the waist. I swept her up, her laughter echoing as I carried her down the steps toward the jacuzzi.

She squealed, her laughter filling the air, easing the panic and worry that had consumed me earlier.

I stepped into the jacuzzi, holding her in place as I sat her on my lap.

There was a fruit and cheese platter waiting for us; the men on the grounds knew to stay out of sight.

I took a piece of melon and held it out for Serena to bite. She straddled me, my stiff cock notched between our bodies.

“What did Martina say to you?” I asked as she ate from my hand. Cazzo, I was going to feed her like this for the rest of the day.

“She calmed me down. Talked some sense into me.” She put a hand on my shoulder, adjusting her position, and inadvertently rubbing my cock. This was the best, most painful position I’d ever been in. I wasn’t going to move an inch, though. “She pointed out that I knew the dangers before I said yes to you. There’s danger every day, and I shouldn’t shy away from someone I like because something a little scary happened. Plus, she pointed out that if there was anyone who would keep Harper and me safe, it would be you.”

She had that right. Though I don’t think she realized how far I was willing to go to ensure they stayed safe. I wouldn’t say having men sneak up on us in the dead of night, intent on killing us, was merely a little scary, but what did I know?

“It was intense. I’m sorry it happened at all,” I said, holding out a chocolate-covered strawberry for her.

“I’m okay; nothing bad happened other than being scared. Once the shock wore off, it didn’t shake me as much as I thought it would. Probably because I knew you were there, handling the situation.” She pulled my wrist to her mouth and finished the strawberry.

I leaned in and kissed her neck, allowing myself to linger there. That small drop of trust was worth millions of dollars.

“I’ll protect you and Harper with my life.” I fed her more fruit, loving the content expression on her face as she chewed. A little juice leaked from the corner of her mouth, and she leaned in to lick it away, needing to touch her.

“This isn’t how I planned for the second day of our date to go.” I admitted.

“I think it was perfect,” she said, turning her head to look out at the pool and the ocean. “I’ve never had a chance to slow down and take a day for myself. It feels almost wrong for Harper to be with other people, so I could do something like get a haircut.”

I’d heard of this feeling—Mom Guilt.

“If you don’t take care of yourself and keep running on empty, you’re no good to anyone,” I said, hoping to ease her mind. “Harper needs to see that you care about yourself, too.”

She wrinkled her nose at me. “You sound like Minnie and Martina.”

“They’re right. Taking time for yourself helps,” I said.

“So, you’re saying I should slow down?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Yes,” I said, rubbing a hand on the small of her back.

She sat up and gripped my cock, placing it near her entrance.

“I know what I want to slow down this time.” She slid down, taking me in one move.

I groaned and held her in place.

“I can do slow,” I said, wrapping my arms around her.

“I’d like to see that.” She bent down and kissed me.

“I can’t believe this.” Serena’s face was full of childlike wonder as she looked out of the helicopter window. I didn’t bother to look out. There wasn’t a chance I was missing her reaction.

“We’ll be landing momentarily.” The pilot’s voice beeped into our headphones as we neared a tall building with a helipad on top.

Serena reached over and squeezed my hand, vibrating with excitement in her seat.

Arranging a helicopter to pick us up was easier than I anticipated. I made sure that we’d circle the city, giving Serena time to enjoy the experience. Luckily, the hotel Martina and Minnie had picked out had a helipad on top, something not many places in the city had.

Thanks to a connection Minnie offered, we were able to land there when it was typically only used for emergencies.

We landed and got out, running to the door while the wind from the helicopter whipped around us.

The door closed, and Serena jumped into my arms and kissed me. Flipping our positions, I pushed her into the wall and gripped her ass while she ground down on me.

She pulled away, tilting her head, giving me room to kiss down her neck.

“We can’t do this here,” she gasped as I sucked on her pulse. “Lorenzo. We can’t. Anyone could see.”

Only the thought of someone coming up on us, witnessing Serena’s pleasure—something that was meant for me—made me stop.

Resting my head on her shoulder, I gathered the last of my strength, dragging her down the front of my body as I set her down.

“Feel free to throw yourself at me anytime, amore,” I said, holding her hand as we descended the steps.

The elevator waited for us to take us to the penthouse suite. When the elevator opened, we heard shouting.

A man’s voice—not Rafael. I sped up and used the key card to gain entry.

Che vada tutto a quel paese. What was Charles doing here?

He stood over Minnie, face red. Martina wasn’t in view, which made me think she’d taken Harper to another room so she didn’t have to deal with her dad yelling at her grandmother.

Anger, hot and fast, whipped in me, and it took everything I had to rein it in before I acted on it. I gripped Serena’s hip, trying to keep myself composed.

If I could, I would’ve stormed over, dragged him out by his hair, and thrown him into one of my warehouses for days.

Then I would’ve taken my sweet time beating him into submission and having him crawl back to the women he just disrespected.

The door closed loudly behind us. Minnie and Charles turned, both glaring at us, but with different meanings. Minnie glared in frustration, like she was mad we showed up on time. Charles was angry. As his eyes went from me to Serena, who still held my hand, he processed what this meant.

The second it dawned on him, his face grew angrier, and his ire went from Minnie to Serena in an instant. He stomped over to us. I moved forward, putting myself between Serena and him.

Serena could handle herself, but I wasn’t going to allow him to try to intimidate her any longer. He needed to know she wasn’t alone, and it wasn’t his mother he had to worry about.

It was me.

“She’s coming with me.” He pointed his finger over my shoulder at Serena.

“No, she isn’t,” I said.

“You left our daughter so you could whore yourself out to him. You’re unfit. She’s coming with me.” Spittle flew out of Charles’ mouth as he raged. Gently, I pulled Serena closer to my back.

I looked down at Charles, allowing the anger to show on my face. He’d been a big fish in a small pond for a long time. He was finally going to get a dose of what the real world had to offer him.

“Harper had a great sleepover with her Nonna and another woman who she considers a Nonna. It was your weekend, one you decided you didn’t want to exercise, so your mother did.” I took a step closer, forcing Charles to look up at me. The door behind me opened and closed loudly. I didn’t take my eyes off Charles. “If I were you, I’d think very carefully about your next move.”

“Very carefully,” Rafael pipped up behind me.

“No, I’d rather see what he thinks he can do. It would be entertaining,” I said, playing along.

“He isn’t very smart. It might be fun to see what stupid shit he’ll get himself into.” Sly joined in. “Then we can show him the error of his ways.”

“It would be a good learning experience, no?” Rafael said. I felt him come to my side. Sly flanked me on the other side. “Let him try so we can show him how Papa’s money can’t buy him out of the grave.”

That sounded like a great idea to me. Harper would mourn him, but I’d make sure it wasn’t long.

“Charles.” Minnie’s tone was harsh. She poked him in the arm. Charles stared at me, then took one step back. “It’s time for you to go. You have embarrassed me enough to last a lifetime. Don’t make the situation worse for yourself.”

“Fine.” He aimed his vicious glare at me. “This isn’t over.”

“I look forward to seeing what you think you can do,” I said, winking at him. Charles mashed his mouth closed, glancing at Sly and Rafael before sending his hateful glare back at me.

He walked around me, giving me a wide berth as he slammed the heavy door behind him.

Serena jumped from behind me, racing to Minnie. “Where is she?”

A door opened on the far side of the room. With the little scene Charles created, I hadn’t had a chance to see the suite they’d rented for the weekend.

The room we entered was large—dark wood offset by plush furniture in buttercream and soft neutrals, with windows lining the far wall letting in the light.

It screamed old New York money. I didn’t need to see the adjoining rooms to know they’d have a similar vibe.

One door was open. Serena was just inside the room, bent over, hugging Harper. Martina stood behind them, trying and failing to hide the anger on her face.

“How long was he here?” I asked Rafael who’d come to stand next to me.

“Maybe fifteen minutes, including the time you were here. We watched him head to the elevators, and I followed him,” Rafael said.

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“He’s a problem.” Sly joined. “Ma is pissed. We’re lucky she didn’t cut him.”

“I want him handled,” I said. “Preferably without Serena knowing.”

She might get mad about me stepping in, but I’d seen the desperate look in Charles’ face. He was losing what mattered most to him, money and the prestige that came with it.

“I have some connections. I’ll call you when I know something,” Sly said. I cast him a side-eye because he was being helpful rather than difficult, which wasn’t like him.

“He made Ma mad.” Sly shrugged. The Vincis didn’t mess around when it came to family. I appreciated their vindictiveness more than ever.

“I’ll call Adrienne. I have to update Marcello anyway, and he’s never far from her when she’s home.” Rafael nudged me forward. “Go get your girls. I might as well make myself useful since I’m sticking around.”

I nodded and headed to Serena and Harper. This is why we wanted to rebuild the Cosa: for family, support, and money.

When I got closer, Harper picked her head up from her mother’s shoulder. Her face was tearstained, red, and splotchy. She ripped away from her mother and ran to me. I barely made it to a crouch before she barreled into me, wrapping her arms around my neck and squeezing tight. I hugged her back, feeling her body shudder as she took deep breaths. Each shudder killed me.

Her little body fit perfectly in my arms, just like her mother did.

I held her, trying to sink as much love and comfort into the hug as I could. She was scared because her poor excuse of a father had barged in and did fuck knows what until we got here.

“You okay?” I whispered in her ear. She shook her head and held me tighter.

All I wanted was to cocoon her in a protective bubble so all she felt for the rest of her life was love, happiness, and acceptance. To be spoiled and know that she was the best thing in my life.

It was one thing to scare Serena, who was an adult and understood his manipulations. But to scare Harper? She was too young to understand her father’s anger or why he showed up threatening her mother.

He’d sealed his fate. Before, it was putting him in his place. With the tiny girl in my arms whom I’d come to love as my own, I was going to make him pay.

“It’s okay. Mommy and I are here.” It was a punch to the chest, realizing how much I loved this little girl. How quickly and easily it came.

I looked over Harper’s shoulder to Serena, who looked surprised and had tears in her eyes. She gave me a watery, thankful smile.

As if she needed to thank me. She and Harper were my world. She’d get the picture soon.

I picked her up and walked over to Serena, who had a brave face on. I knew it was all a facade. She was scared. Charles had a unique hold over her, rattling her when nothing else did.

That was about to change.

CHAPTER 26

Serena

Anxiety has been my constant companion lately. Sitting on the chair at the cutting table, I stared out the window, replaying every second of the past weekend.

It felt like life took a complete one-eighty. I had been living in a bubble, focused only on work and Harper.

Despite the recent events, it was chaos in the best way.

Maybe I should run screaming in the other direction. It would be smart.

Someone had hired men to find us in the middle of the ocean to attack us. I had to hold a gun. I saw a dead body.

Any one of those things would make someone second-guess their decision to stay.

Yet, it never occurred to me to leave. I would've shot someone if it meant getting back to Harper.

I just needed time to process. I needed time to work through all my emotions. The way Enzo held me, like I was fragile, made me mad in hindsight.

I’d been through a lot in my life. I wasn’t some delicate flower that would wilt when something bad happened. Martina was right when she had pointed out that this was his life. That attacks like this were par for the course in his line of work.

Could I handle it?

The scene of Harper running to him, holding him like her life depended on it, and him hugging her back just as fiercely, was embedded in my memory. It kept replaying in my head.

It was that moment I knew I had fallen head over heels in love with Lorenzo Lombardi.

Which scared me. So much, and I didn’t know how to navigate that fear.

But yes, all the scary moments were worth it for the good ones. If there was one thing I could trust, it was that Enzo would do everything he could to keep us safe. He’d proved as much.

What concerned me was Charles and his mess. I didn’t understand why he didn’t move on and let me do the same. He had gone on dates, done whatever he pleased, both when we were married and since our divorce.

I had rules set in place because I didn’t want a bevy of women running through Harper’s life, but I hadn’t considered that rule when it came to Enzo.

Being with him was so effortless. Moving into his place felt like the natural choice. He’d shown me not only that he was reliable, but he was kind. Kinder than I’d ever known.

I put down the fabric I was sewing, knowing I wasn’t focused on the task. I didn’t want to prick myself because I was zoning out and ruin the garment with blood.

Stepping out of the studio, I walked up the paved path hoping we had Dr. Pepper in the fridge. The mini fridge in my workspace—which had magically appeared the day after my migraine—was empty.

The sun glinted off the glasshouse, catching my attention. I changed direction and walked toward it. Enzo had pointed it out to during the house tour, but I’d never been inside.

Hot, humid air swirled around me as I stepped inside. The door snicked shut quietly behind me.

Big trees lined the walkway, with lavender flowers and a few others I didn’t recognize. I touched the leaves as I walked further in, only stopping when I spotted a familiar back bent over, digging into the dirt, weeds scattered around him.

“Hey,” I said, forcing myself not to whisper. For some reason, since we had sex, I’d felt uncharacteristically shy around him—like that night hadn’t set my world on fire and shown me what it was like to be with someone who cared about my pleasure.

Enzo turned in his crouch, a half-smile on his face. His hands and pants were dirty. His face had a smudge of earth on his chin.

“Hey.” He smiled and stood. “What brings you in here?”

I walked to him and shrugged. “Frustrated. Feeling uninspired.”

The rest dried up in my throat. I couldn’t admit that my mind was so clogged with everything that happened over the past few days that nothing was flowing, and I just needed somewhere to exist without thinking.

And without being aware, I found him.

“You’ve had a lot to deal with,” Enzo commented. He move out of sight, and I followed, curious as to what he was doing.

He washed his hands up to his elbows, splashing some water on his face and running a hand through his hair.

When he turned, the water droplets fell from his chin onto his torso, creating a clean line down the center of his dirt-speckled chest.

“Amore mio, if you keep looking at me like that, I might not be able to control myself,” Enzo said, suddenly inches from me. I blinked, shaking the haze I’d fallen under as I tracked the path of the water.

“How was I looking at you?” I asked, aware of every inch between our bodies.

“Like you want to devour me.” He slid a finger under my chin and tipped my head up.

“Or maybe it’s because I want to be devoured,” I whispered, my heart pounding.

I was in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, before I could blink. His hands cupped my butt, pulling me tight to him as he carried me.

Bending my head, I held his face in my hands and kissed him. I raked my hands through his hair, loving the feeling of it in my hands.

Enzo swept everything off the table with his arm and set me on it.

I’d never wanted anyone as much as I wanted him. I barely understood it, but the need to be closer, to have him inside me, was a thrum beneath my skin.

“Tell me what you came here for,” Enzo said, pulling my hair and forcing me to look up at him. Even with the added height of the table, I’m still not tall enough to be at eye level with him, which, for some reason, only excites me more.

He’s bigger than me in every way, intimidatingly so, yet he shows me how gentle he can be.

“You. I only want you.” I kissed the bottom of his jaw, the only place I could reach.

“You have that.” He dragged down a strap of my loose, airy dress. The summer heat was on full blast, so I’d kept it minimal: a flimsy excuse for panties and pasties. The thought of wearing a bra this morning would have sent me into a rage.

The top of my dress fell to my hips, revealing my almost bare upper body.

“I like these,” Enzo said as he traced the deep blue pasties. “They’re cute, but for another day.” He pulled them off, tossing them behind him. He bent, nipping and sucking at my breasts. I let my head fall back, every swirl of his tongue sending tiny jolt of pleasure through my body, straight to my clit.

I pulled his pants, undoing the button and zipper. Enzo made me feel bold, like I could take anything I wanted, and I rode that empowering feeling as I shoved his pants down his hips and grabbed his cock.

“Impatient,” he said as he bit my ear. “Take what you need, amore. It’s already yours.”

I pumped his cock, fingers dancing over the cool metal of his piercing, loving the hiss that escaped him. He gathered my dress, ripping it down.

Enzo threw my underwear over his shoulder and bit my neck.

I moaned loudly, without restraint. This was what it was like to be free—to take what I wanted without second-guessing.

He pushed his hips up, his cock colliding with my clit, his piercing adding delicious pressure.

He did it again, and I guided him into me. He filled me, hitting every erotic spot within me in one motion, his piercing teasing me as he pulled all the way out and pushed back in, slowly.

“I want this every day,” Enzo said as he drove his hips into me. “Every morning, I want to wake up next to you and do this. It’s all I can think about.”

He picked up his pace, and I couldn’t speak. Only soft cries as I ached my back, moving with him.

Enzo slapped my butt so hard I knew there’d be a handprint and lifted me, his arms snaking under my knees to hold me up.

“I need,” I said, but couldn’t finish my sentence, as the pressure swirled deep in my core.

“I know what you need.” He pulled out of me completely, then thrust himself back inside, his Prince Albert flicking my clit, making me cry in pleasure.

I could barely hold on; my nails dug into his back and shoulders, trying to find purchase.

My body seized as pleasure pulsed through me, and I silently screamed my release.

Distantly, I felt my body move as Enzo chased me from behind.

His movements stuttered before he planted himself fully inside me. I felt his cock kick, his piercing grazed that hard-to-reach place, and I came again, hard and unexpectedly.

My back bowed, and I ground into him, my body taking control in wild, frantic movements. I wanted this every day for the rest of my life.

I waited as I came down from my high, wrapping my arms around Enzo and holding him.

We were both panting, clinging to each other, not wanting an inch of space between us.

I hadn’t come in here for this. For him. The moment I laid eyes on him, it was like everything else fell out of my head. It was surreal, not having the weight of being a mom and a business owner on my shoulders, afraid to take a day off, dragging me under the water, fighting for air.

With Enzo, I was just Serena Washington, the woman. A woman he saw and wanted above all else. Who didn’t see Harper as a burden, but as a blessing, giving her the love and attention that she deserved.

My heart was so full I was afraid it would burst.

“You want to tell me what’s wrong?” Enzo whispered in my ear. He kissed my neck, rubbing my back.

“I’m worried,” I whispered back, burying my face in his throat.

He pulled me to stand, and cum leaked down my thigh.

Enzo cursed and closed his eyes before opening them and following the droplets as they went down my leg.

“We didn’t have that conversation,” he said. It took me a few seconds to catch what he was referring to.

We’d just had mind-blowing sex, without protection. I waited for the panic that I could get pregnant to set in, but it never came.

I shrugged, smiling, and let him know. “We’ll be more careful next time. Though…” I bit my lip. “Maybe I should get an IUD just to be safe.”

Enzo bent down, leaning his forehead against mine. A finger dragged up my thigh, collecting the cum. He rubbed it into my skin, enraptured by the sight.

“Whatever you want to do,” he said. “I’ll take you to the doctor if you want that. Or if you don’t, I’ll put condoms everywhere so they’re within reach when we need them.”

He slid my dress on, one strap at a time, and stepped back.

“Keep me company while I take care of a few things in here,” he said. I nodded, and he picked me up, bridal style, and carried me to a lounge chair.

I turned, following him as he walked past the table we’d used, and bent down behind it. When he stood, he had a bottle of wine and a clean wine glass in hand, pouring before I could ask. I eyed the contents on the floor, noting nothing had broken in our haste to tear each other’s clothes off, but the gardening tools and dirt were scattered about.

“I’ll clean it up,” Enzo said as he rounded the table and handed me the wine. “For now, relax.”

And I did.

I wasn’t sure how long we spent in the greenhouse, but when Enzo decided he was finished, the sun was lowering, the heat of the day easing.

Enzo hoisted a bag of pistachios he’d harvested over his shoulder and held my hand as we made our way back to the house.

“I didn’t know you were into gardening,” I said offhandedly. There was so much more to him, and I felt like I was barely scratching the surface.

“My mother was. She had a pistachio farm in Bronte that her family tended. It was how they made their money. She demanded to keep working there after she married my father, and taught me how to tend to them.” Enzo opened the door to the house. Cool air slammed into me, and goosebumps rose on my arms. I went to the kitchen sink and washed my glass.

“Really? I didn’t think women were allowed to do that kind of thing” I said, cautiously. Besides Martina, who I knew was the outlier, I’d worked with other women who were a part of the mafia world, tailoring their clothes. None of them worked, perfectly upholding the Mafia wife stereotype.

“My father would’ve done anything to keep her happy. He planted trees at his home and begged for her help to keep them alive when he was first courting her,” Enzo said. He placed the bag on the table and took out a bowl. I went and sat next to him.

“She wanted nothing to do with this world and told him she wouldn’t go on a date with him before he got a chance to ask. But she pitied him when he told her the trees were dying and came to help. She came every other day, showing him how to care for the trees to make them thrive, while he did everything he could to show her how great they could be together.”

“Really? And she didn’t see right through him?” I asked.

“Oh, she did. But by then she’d gotten to know him and they’d fallen in love,” Enzo said, cleaning the dirt off a nut.

“Here,” he said. Holding my hands, he showed me how to clean the pistachios, removing the dirt and loosening the shells that were ready to be peeled.

It was easy, once I knew how to crack them. We worked, quiet contentment falling over us.

“Is that why you have the greenhouse?” I asked after a while.

“Yes, and no,” Enzo said, tossing a nut in his mouth. “I have a lot of good memories of my mother and me in the groves, harvesting and laughing. She taught me how to have patience, that everything good in life comes when we nurture and grow it. But I also like it. It gives me time to think through issues and plan when I need to.”

“I like that,” I said. I swallowed, nervous to talk to someone about what was plaguing my mind. “I’m worried about Charles. I know we talked about it before, but he is really vindictive. Our custody agreement outlines everything we’re supposed to do. I broke it when I didn’t notify him that I was dating you and that you’d be around Harper. And there is a timing thing that we have to have been together for more than ninety days, which we haven’t.”

“And you’re afraid he’s going to be a weasel and punish you because he’s a poor father and an even worse partner by using those to his advantage?” Enzo guessed. I nodded.

“Yes. And despite his trust fund being potentially revoked, he does have his own money. Not as much, but he’d spend every penny he had to hurt me the way he thinks I hurt him.”

“Do you want to know what I would do?” Enzo asked.

I thought about it. “Yes. I do.” I’d never been able to have someone to volley ideas or thoughts—not with my limited circle of friends and family.

“When I deal with men like this, I go to them, on their turf, and throw them off balance. I come prepared to fight,” he said. I was tempted to ask for an example, but knew it was better if I didn’t know any details.

“When do you think I should do this?”

“We,” Enzo gave me a long look that said I was insane to think I was going to do anything alone, “should plan. I’ll look into a few things, and we’ll get to work.”

CHAPTER 27

Enzo

I sighed, closing my eyes as Donovan pulled the car to the curb.

“I’ll be late,” I said. “Don’t stay up and wait. You need to sleep.”

Serena sighed on the other side of the phone. I hated being away from her and Harper. We’d fallen into a rhythm over the last few weeks.

I made a conscious effort to be home for dinner, where we all ate. Sometimes, some of my men stopped by; some days, it was just us.

Then both Serena and I got Harper ready for bed. Over the last few days, Harper had declared that I was a better storyteller because I changed voices for each character, so I had the honor of reading her as many stories as she wanted before she fell asleep.

It was perfect. Every night was better than the last.

There were going to be days when I couldn’t be there—I knew that. But it didn’t mean I had to like it.

“Okay. I hope everything is okay,” she said. I could hear the worry in her voice.

“Yeah, angelo mio, it’s only a last-minute meeting,” I said. “Ti amo.”

“One of these days I’m going to learn Italian so that I know what you’re saying.” Serena laughed.

I hoped she didn’t. That way I could tell her things she wasn’t ready to hear, but I was ready to say, like telling her I loved her, without her really knowing.

“I’ll be waiting for you in bed,” Serena said and hung up.

I tapped my phone on my thigh, debating if I should even bother with this excursion.

“Get out,” Rafael said as he opened the car door. “We didn’t come all this way to sit in the car and stare at the place.”

He adjusted his suit jacket and glared at me. I rolled my eyes and followed; Donovan and Angelo were close behind us.

We walked down the street and stopped at the doors of a building that took up half a city block.

It was the Art Deco style New York was known for, with a black flag bearing white letters that read “The Lexington Club.”

The most exclusive club on the East Coast. Famous for being selective, one of the country’s most elite and sought-after memberships. There were only two ways to become a member—through legacy, where fathers passed it down to sons, or by invitation.

Some billionaires couldn’t even get an invite.

And they had extended one to me several months ago.

I had never used it, but seeing as my target was a frequent member, it was high time I exercised my membership.

“Let’s do this. I’m missing story time,” I said.

“Oh no, not story time.” Rafael mocked me with a smile. He looked at me and raised his hands. “Kidding. Kidding.”

We went up the steps. The doorman opened the door and greeted us.

Stepping inside, it was like being sent back in time. While there were some modern additions, the owners had kept the integrity of the structure.

It was old-money opulence, reminding me of the show Serena made me watch about the Gilded Age—tall ceilings, thick columns, wide wooden staircases that shone with polish.

Men milled around on leather couches and at tables, some with laptops, drinks at hand.

“This is going to be fun.” Rafael clapped his hands and started walking to the staircase on the left. He knew where the target was.

Two floors up, we reached the closed double doors. We could hear music, not too loud but noticeable, and low voices. The stench of cigars seeped through.

I stood back as Donovan and Angelo threw open the double doors, causing everyone in the room to turn our way.

Women in skimpy lingerie jumped. Some were standing; others were in men’s laps.

They recognized us immediately. Some of them knew me specifically—they were Dmitry Popov’s women, the man who ran the Russians.

The women moved, walking in single file out of the room without being told.

Rafael stood at the door, bowing like a butler as the women exited, smiling as he said, “Thank you, ladies. You’ve been wonderful.”

Donovan cut the music off.

“Get out,” I said loudly.

A guy in a rumpled button-down shirt stood up, his eyes glassed over in a way that I knew he was on the wrong side of tipsy.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he yelled.

I sighed, shaking my head. Donovan, Angelo, Rafael, and I pulled out our guns, aiming them at various men.

The room went still.

“Get out.” I said again, my voice low and menacing

Everyone scrambled to their feet and rushed for the door.

I stepped in front of one—the reason I’d come.

“Not you.” I tapped him on the shoulder with my gun. “You sit down.”

Charles Clearwart’s face went red as he watched his friend run out of the room, leaving him behind.

Nudging him to the chairs in the center of the room that faced each other, I made him sit in one while I took the other.

Donovan and Angelo took their positions standing behind him, while Rafael took his position behind me.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, man, too,” I paused, because in my eyes, Charles wasn’t a man; he was a pathetic weasel, “you.”

“If this is about that bitch,” he snarled.

I raised my eyebrows. Donovan reached over and tweaked Charles’ ear, as a mother would a misbehaving son.

He screeched, moving to stand. Angelo shoved him back in his chair.

“Don’t call her that. Ever again.” I held my gun, resting it on my thigh.

“Not unless you have a death wish,” Rafael added.

“Serena and Harper are mine,” I stated.

“The fuck,” he started, but Angelo reached over and slapped his Adam’s apple, causing him to gargle the words and cough.

I waited until he finished wheezing. This was important, and I didn’t want him to pretend he didn’t hear me.

“Stop talking,” I ordered. I promised Serena I wouldn’t cause him real damage, so I had to resort to these childish antics so I could confidently say to Serena, without lying, that I did not hurt Charles.

“I think he should keep trying to move. Donovan and Angelo need to practice their torture techniques.” Rafael shrugged. “They’re young but creative.”

Donovan and Angelo stood taller at the compliment.

“You fucked up your life,” I started. “You ruined the best thing in your life. Now, you’re left watching Serena and Harper thrive without you.” I leaned forward. “That must burn you. That they’re doing better without you than with you. That they don’t and never will need you.”

“I am Harper’s father. She’ll always need me,” Charles said. I wanted to punch him in his smug face.

“No. She won’t. Not when there’s someone else taking care of her. Tucking her in at night.” I tilted my head. “Calling me Daddy.”

Charles thought he had some sick ownership of Serena and Harper.

“I’m her dad. She knows that.”

“Harper’s smart. Soon, she’ll realize you’re nothing but a sperm donor. A waste of space. She’ll stop calling you Dad, stop caring when you don’t show up. Because I’ll be there. Doing everything you were too weak to do.”

Charles opened his mouth, but he had nothing to say that I needed to hear. I motioned to Donovan, who pulled some fabric from his pocket. Angelo held Charles still while Donovan shoved it in his mouth, pulled out duct tape, and wrapped it around the idiot’s head.

Donovan and Angelo moved so fast that Charles barely had time to react. He tried to stand, but Angelo held him down. When he tried to pull the duct tape off, the two men worked in tandem to tape his arms to the chair.

I looked at Rafael, surprised. Where the hell was Donovan carrying that much duct tape?

Rafael shrugged, smiling. He always enjoyed a good show.

“Do I have your attention now?” Charles shook in his chair, unsuccessfully trying to break free. He tried to yell, but the noise came out muffled. “Good. Let’s get some things clear. Keep fucking with Serena, and I’ll put a bullet through your eyes.” I raised the gun, aiming it at his head. “This pathetic custody shit? It’s done. If you decide to continue, I will tear apart everything you care about. You’ll have nothing left when I’m through with you, if I don’t decide to put you six feet under and put us all out of our misery.”

I love how enraged Charles got the more I talked, yet he didn’t move a muscle.

I lifted my nose, making a dramatic show of sniffing the air. “You smell that, Raf?”

Rafael mimicked my actions. “Yeah. Smells like fear.” He looked at Charles, amused. “You piss yourself? I almost didn’t believe my brother when he told me what a waste of space you were.” He shook his head. “Looking at you now, he was being nice.”

I placed my elbow on the arm of the chair and rested my chin in my hand.

“You fucked up the best thing in your life.” I stood and put the gun in my waistband.

I headed to the door, Rafael walking beside me. Donovan and Angelo opened the double doors for us, and we left the Lexington Club with Charles’ muffled curses following us out.

CHAPTER 28

Serena

When Enzo said he’d look into things with Charles, I thought it would take a week, maybe two.

Not the next day.

“It’s okay,” Enzo said as we got on the elevator.

He’d found out through his network that Charles was meeting with his lawyers today. One specialized in family law, and when Enzo showed me the picture, I recognized him from my first meeting.

“If you say so.” I was so nervous. We were dropping in uninvited to a meeting Charles was having with his lawyers, armed with a list of every violation he’d made against our divorce decree and custody agreement.

“I do” Enzo said.

The elevator doors opened. Enzo grabbed my hand and pulled me out.

He flashed what I liked to think of as his polite smile at the secretary. Tight, no teeth, and nowhere near his eyes.

Nothing, I noted, like the ones he gave me. I was surprised how different it was.

She stood, and Enzo shook his head. “We know where we’re going.

We breezed past her and went down a hallway.

My heart tried to escape my chest as we came to a glass conference room with a frosted strip across the middle, making it hard to see inside.

Enzo opened the door, gesturing for me to enter first.

Let’s get this over with. I rolled my shoulders back and walked in with my head held high.

Charles stood in the corner with Apple, holding hands. Two men sat at the table, pulling papers from their briefcases and opening their laptops. There was a big whiteboard with a black line down the center. One side said Harper, the other Trust fund.

“Great, everyone is here,” Enzo said, walking into the room as if he owned it.

Charles turned, stunned. I wish I could’ve taken a picture. I would have it framed and hung in my studio as a reminder of how much joy I felt in this moment.

“You need to leave,” Apple said, disgust etched on her face. If it could move, I imagined there would be a wrinkle in her nose like she smelled something rotten.

“Considering this has to do with my family, I think we’ll stay.” Enzo pulled out a chair, gesturing for me to sit, then unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat next to me.

The door opened, and Rafael walked in. “Sorry, we’re late. Did you start without us?”

Behind him walked a tall woman, her hair slicked back in a low ponytail, wearing a red power suit that fit her to perfection. She wore big, black-rimmed glasses and dark lipstick that shouldn’t have worked with the red suit, but she pulled it off expertly.

I knew her. Antonia Mancini. She was a high-powered family lawyer, known for winning big for her clients if they were in the right tax bracket. She’d partnered with the Feds recently to take down a pedophile ring in California a few months back.

And when I came to her office years ago, she’d told me no. Not only because she thought I couldn’t afford her, which was true, but also because she knew Charles and his cronies, who would try to drag out our divorce for as long as possible, and she didn’t have time for it.

She kindly gave me multiple referrals she thought would get the job done without costing as much, and it saved me in the end. Antonia was right that Charles and his lawyers would prolong our divorce until I couldn’t afford it anymore. Luckily, Minnie swooped in and helped me on that front.

She looked past me to the two lawyers. “Hello, boys, did you try to start without me?” Her smile was sharp, and her tone was condescending.

Both men stood up, sputtering.

“Aw, it’s okay. But let’s not waste any more time.”

She pulled out folders, flipping them open and pushing them down the table.

“I’ve gone over the divorce agreement and custody arrangement,” Antonia said, taking out more files.

I tried to lean toward the folders to get a peek, but they were too far away. Each man looked at the array of papers, passed them to one another, then to Charles, with Apple looking over his shoulder.

“I’ve also had the opportunity to look at the stipulations of Charles Clearwart Junior’s trust fund and found several violations.” She tapped a finger on a paper. “ As you can see, the evidence is damning. That morality clause is ambiguous at best, but there are several other clauses you’ve violated, right, Charles?” Antonia tilted her head, reminding me of a leopard preparing to pounce on her prey.

“These are forged,” Charles said, throwing down the papers. They scattered, a few flying my way, landing just within my reach.

I took one step, grabbed some of the papers, and scanned them. It took a minute to fully comprehend what was going on.

Charles was snorting a white substance off what appeared to be an exotic dancer’s behind. Another was his throwing cash onto a large group of people while holding a bottle of liquor in his hands.

On and on the pictures went—Charles doing what I’d consider slightly illegal, all of it compromising.

He was always a partier, needing to be at the newest club openings, spending the most money. Charles was of the mind that being seen in the right places would help him make business connections, when really it was an excuse to justify his behavior.

Apple picked up a picture, then moved to another. She rolled her eyes, like the scenes of Charles with women didn’t faze her in the slightest.

I didn’t know the ins and outs of their relationship, but even those pictures had to strike a chord with her.

If Minnie knew the extent of Charles’ actions, she would be devastated and embarrassed.

I finally found my voice, throwing the paper on the table.

“Good to see things haven’t changed,” I sighed.

Before, when I faced Charles, it was him and his army versus me, and sometimes my lawyer. But I had my own army behind me now.

And I felt powerful. Like Charles could throw anything at me and it wouldn’t sick. I was Teflon.

“We’ll buy these off you. How much? For these and any copies you have?” one of Charles’ lawyers asked.

Antonia let out a short, derisive noise that could’ve been considered a laugh.

“Not for sale. If you think this is all we have, then you don’t know your client very well,” Antonia said. “Let this be a warning. Harass my client about her child, bring up pathetic and thinly veiled threats about the decree and custody, and you will have a blood bath.”

She leaned over the table. I was thankful I wasn’t at the end of her glare. “I will bring this before a court, a jury of Serena’s peers, and watch as I tell them about your pathetic, philandering client who only remembers he has a child when it’s convenient for him. I’ll bring up the way he raked her over hot coals when she wanted to leave after he publicly embarrassed her and splashed himself all over Page Six while she was giving birth to their child alone. Every bit of information about his past that you don’t want anyone to see, I will parade around and make you a laughing stock for letting this get so far. Try me, Henry. Please. I haven’t had fun in months.”

She put her laptop back in her bag and snapped it shut.

“Let’s go.” She walked out of the room, and I followed, ignoring the eyes on my back.

I had a lot of questions. So many, I wasn’t sure where to start.

After we loaded into the elevator, I opened my mouth to speak, but Enzo shook his head.

Okay, got it. Keeping my mouth shut until we’re gone.

We loaded into two cars, Enzo and I in one. Antonia got into the other, glaring daggers at Rafael, who held the door open for her with a serene smile.

Once the door was shut and the car started moving, I turned to Enzo.

“How long?” I asked.

“Can you be more specific?” He pulled out his phone, thumbs typing away.

“How long have you been following Charles?” I clarified my question. One picture, I noticed, was taken months ago, around Christmas.

“We met two years ago,” he said, so nonchalantly that the words took a second to penetrate my brain.

Two years ago, I'd told him to get lost. He mentioned it before, but I still struggled to understand the depth of how long he worked to get me exactly where I was.

He didn’t even hide it. He practically shoved it in my face. My mind spun, trying to wrap my head around the idea that he’d been doing this for months before we were anything. I wanted to be angry, maybe a little violated at how thoroughly he’d done his research on my life, but instead all I felt was relief.

I had been making notes but had yet to come up with a plan to remove Charles completely from our lives. There were steps, and Minnie complicated that process. Yet, this was the path forward. Enzo made what would’ve been another emotional, hellish experience smooth and easy.

“How did you get Antonia here? I went to her years ago, and she turned me down,” I said.

“I didn’t. Rafael did. I don’t question how he gets things done; I just appreciate that it gives me the results I need.” Enzo shrugged and pulled me close. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I took the rose-colored glasses off a long time ago when it came to him.” It still stung that he chose to spend his time partying and doing nothing rather than spending it with our daughter.

“It’s his loss,” Enzo said. He kissed my forehead. “And his loss is my gain.”

We pulled up to his office building. I’d been here before, dropping off his suits to his secretary. It was a tactical decision for me. I didn’t want to know what I was missing, what I thought I’d never have the chance to experience.

Enzo swiped his key card, and we went up the elevator to the executive floor. He nodded to his secretary, an older woman, who smiled at us as we walked past her and into his office.

Rafael and Antonia were waiting for us. Rafael was lounging on the couch, taking up as much room as he could.

Antonia pushed herself into the corner of the couch, annoyed expression on her face as she furiously on her laptop. I sat across from her, nerves twisting my stomach.

“Good, you’re here,” she said. “Let’s get a game plan together.”

“Good, you didn’t start without me.” Sly bounded in. He flashed a flirty smile at Antonia, who grimaced.

“Tony, it’s good to see you.” He winked. Antonia gagged, and I had to stifle a laugh.

“I could’ve gone the rest of my life without ever seeing you again, Sylvester,” Antonia said, rolling her eyes and focusing on me. “If you’re done with your theatrics, I’d like to get to work.”

“Please. You know how I love to watch you work.” Sly sat in the chair next to me, never taking his eyes off her.

She sighed and turned to me. “Charles Clearwart is an asshole. How you managed to stay with him for as long as you did is a testament to your patience. As for your case, there are valid violations of the custody agreement on your part, which I highlighted in yellow.” She handed me a folder.

I opened it and flipped through the pages. There were a few sections that were highlighted in yellow, most of what I expected; a few I didn’t. There were twice as many orange-highlighted sections, hitting almost every bullet point within the document.

“The orange highlight is Charles?” I asked.

“Yes. I have verified proof of each breach in the contract. Multiple examples in some cases. I’ve also had the opportunity to look at the rules around his trust fund.” She handed me another folder.

“I was told his access to the fund was being revoked due to a morality clause violation,” Antonia continued, not looking up from the pages in front of her. “Take a look at these.”

She handed over another folder. The words were in legalese, which, to me, was as foreign as the Italian Enzo was constantly muttering.

“The highlighted sections are his violations. There are stipulations and clauses that leave little grey area. Should he violate any of them, the trustees have the right to withhold the funds. He gets a percentage of the fund every year, which for him is ten million dollars.” She sighed. “Why they are choosing to invoke the morality clause is more about the fact that his family can no longer ignore how frivolous he’s being. It reflects badly on the family and their business. A thirty-six-year-old man-child who frequently screws up deals is not a good look.”

She waved another folder, but didn’t give it to me. “Those pictures are the tip of the iceberg. Junior is bad at business and has no idea how to properly cover his tracks when he crosses into the wrong side of the law. For every indiscretion you have, he has three. Hopefully, his team will understand that and have a come-to-Jesus talk with him that will make him back down.” She sighed. “I’m even less concerned about his trust fund. His family is serious about enforcing the rules, and they have before. I’ve seen them do it.”

“Didn’t your father have to handle some contract issues that he’d signed without reading or sending over?” Sly asked. She gave me a long-suffering look but didn’t acknowledge that Sly had spoken.

Antonia flipped her ponytail over her shoulder, placing her laptop on the coffee table. She typed without looking up. “My father has known Charles Senior for most of his life. My family firm oversees all their funds. Charles Junior has been running amok and has only gotten sloppier in the way he handles clients and investors since he stepped into the role his father handed to him.”

She looked up from her laptop and frowned at me. “He’s a loser with a lot of money and self-entitlement. He’s the father of your child, but I can’t imagine what it’s like to deal with his sorry ass every day. That must suck. I’m sorry I couldn’t help before. I am glad you took my recommendations. Your last lawyer did well. I’ll finish it for you.”

“It was helpful. And the last guy was honored that you suggested him.” I smiled at the memory. The shocked look on my previous divorce attorney’s face when I showed him her actual recommendation still made me laugh. He couldn’t say yes fast enough.

“Good. He should be.” She closed her laptop. “I’m heading back to my office. Read over the files. I made annotations with my suggestions for the next steps. Email me if you have questions or ideas that overlap. I also want you to send me every communication you’ve had with him in the last two years. Any hostile or what you perceived as retaliatory behavior. Don’t leave anything out.”

She stood up.

“I’ll walk you out.” Sly stood up, too.

“No. I can leave perfectly fine on my own.” She wrinkled her nose. If she didn’t look so murderous, I would’ve thought the action looked cute. “I know where the door is.”

Antonia strutted out, so fast there was a poof of smoke behind her.

Sly turned to Enzo and me. “It’s been fun, guys. Ma will be in touch. She wanted me to let you know.” He pointed at Rafael; “You’re still the biggest asshole I know.”

He rubbed his hands together as he walked to the door. “Got to go catch my girl before I lose her again.”

Sly prowled out, like a man on a mission.

“Should I be worried?” I asked. “Antonia Mancini is the best. I don’t want him running her back across the country.”

“I will make sure that doesn’t happen,” Enzo reassured me.

I flipped through the folder that detailed the custody agreement. It was four pages long, detailing every rule and aspect of my life as it pertained to Harper. Each page had one yellow-highlighted section.

Charles had pushed certain clauses that fell entirely on me to fulfill, like putting Harper in golf and tennis. We were to split the costs.

“This clause is crap.” I pointed to the section for Enzo. “I enrolled her in specific tennis and golf programs, because look,” I pointed to a line, “he went as far as to stipulate where it was acceptable for her to take the classes. She hated them. It was torture for both of us. She wanted to be an ice princess and a soccer star. Charles vetoed it because he sucked at soccer as a kid, according to Minnie.”

“I’m not going to force her to go to things she hates when she’s interested in other things. And the responsibility always fell on me to get her there.” I read the other sections.

The one about meeting our respective partners was highlighted, but a note in the margins made me hopeful.

“He was awful.” I gripped the pages. “He still is, but he showed me exactly who he was during this process.”

“I cared about him.” I swallowed, unable to look up. “I don’t know if I loved him, but marrying him when I found out I was pregnant felt like the right thing to do. And then he disappeared.”

“He missed Harper’s birth because he was at a meeting that went over and didn’t hear his phone ringing. At least that was his excuse.” I never believed that story. “I filed the moment I got out of the hospital, after I saw pictures of him on Page Six, partying with Apple. There were some others of him leaving with her and some of those influencer models. Once he was outed, it was like he went harder to be seen and photographed.”

“Charles fought tooth and nail, even though I knew he didn’t want to be in a relationship and had no intentions of being monogamous.” I sighed.

“He was used to being a little prince. Everything was handed to him; no one pushed back and told him what he was doing was wrong,” Enzo said. “Where does Apple come in? They were attached for a long time.”

“I think she was behind the pictures leaking to the media.” I’ve never been able to prove it, nor do I care at this point.

“If you want to put a stop to him yanking your chain in a permanent way, let me know,” Rafael said.

I opened my mouth, then promptly shut it.

“Well, that’s enough terrorizing people for me.” Rafael slapped his leg and stood. “It’s only noon, so who knows? Maybe I’ll find someone else to bother while I twiddle my thumbs and wait for your call. Remember, if he’s dead, he can live in Harper’s memory as less of an ass.”

Rafael strolled out, closing the door behind him.

I got up and went straight into Enzo’s waiting arms. I wrapped my arms around him, finding calm and solace in his embrace.

In my last battle with Charles, I realized how alone I was in the world. I took every punch he threw at me, got in a few of my own, but still, I came home every night to an empty home and no one to lean on when I cried tears of frustration.

Those months put me in survival mode, and I recognize now that I never stopped. Every day felt like I was barely keeping my head above water.

I hugged Enzo tighter, hoping I didn’t screw us up because it felt like I finally had a partner to weather the storms and bask in the rainbows when it was over.

“I’m looking into Apple,” Enzo said as he rested his cheek on the top of my head. “There is something we are missing. She's deep into this mess with him; I just don’t know how far.”

“She’d do just about anything for Charles,” I said, though my voice was muffled since my face was still pressed against his chest. I pulled back an inch to speak and because I needed air. “They’re similar. They’re together but not, and that’s how they both like it. I heard Apple was sleeping with a married man a month or so back.”

“That’s good to know. I’ll investigate that angle.” We stayed in each other’s arms, silent and swaying.

After a while, curiosity got the best of me.

“Were Sly and Antonia a thing in the past?” I asked.

“A thing?” Enzo pulled away and rounded his desk. He opened a drawer, grabbed some papers and his computer, and stuffed them in a briefcase I’d never seen him carry before.

“Sly isn’t known for being,” I paused, trying to find the right words.

“The man will stick his dick into anything. It’s going to get him killed,” Enzo huffed. He came back to me, holding my hand as he pulled me to the door. “He’s a shrewd businessman. But with women? I’m surprised Martina hasn’t killed him yet for his antics.”

I giggled, remembering how Martina groaned that one day she’d be planning Sly’s funeral because he was going to anger the wrong woman.

“Let’s get lunch, amore. Then we can look at the documents some more and send Antonia our notes.” My heart skipped a beat at his use of the term our.

“Okay.”

CHAPTER 29

Serena

I flung the windows open. The studio was stiflingly hot.

The fans did nothing but blow hot air around and move the fabrics I was trying to cut.

Or maybe the fans were working, and I didn’t notice because I was anxious and frustrated since my meeting with Charles. He was quick to react. So far, I’d heard nothing.

The man only worked when it came to causing me misery. The more pain he could cause, the happier he was.

After reading Antonia’s notes, I made some of my own, adding context and color where I could to give her as much to work with as possible. I gathered all correspondence with Charles, sent over all missed visitation notices, and everything else that pertained to him, Harper, and me. There were so many pages that it could’ve been a thick book.

After Antonia read through everything, she told me I was a saint and had more than enough to win. It didn’t matter if Charles had the judge in his pocket; the violations of our divorce decree and custody were irrefutable.

It was validating to know I wasn’t blowing Charles’ failures out of proportion. I’d worked hard to keep a level head for Harper’s sake, but it skewed my perception of right and wrong. I tried to keep the guilt at bay—the guilt of letting Charles’ behavior go unchecked—reminding myself that I was acting now.

Then there was Apple. I had no idea why she was so interested in tearing me down. I left. She won. Yet, I was still the subject of her torment, like she was a high school bully.

I considered what Enzo had mentioned about the attacks potentially tying back to Charles or Apple.

Charles wasn’t capable of the level of sophistication. He was careless, and no doubt would have left breadcrumbs trailing back to him.

Apple was mean and manipulative, but she was never violent. She used words, whispering in people’s ears, to get what she wanted without getting her hands dirty.

But there was no one else I could think of who would want to hurt me.

I wanted to call Minnie, but I hated that she was already in the middle of the never-ending war between Charles and me.

The fresh air filtered into the room, blowing the sheer curtains around. Picking up my drawing pad, I went over to the slightly oversized wicker chair that appeared in the corner a week ago and flipped open an empty page.

I shut my brain off and drew what instinct demanded.

The picture slowly took shape, and I realized I was creating a grove of pistachio trees, reimagining what I thought it looked like where Enzo grew up with his family.

He looked like an even blend of his parents. There were pictures of them scattered throughout the house. Like the ones of Harper that were slowly being added to his walls, and her drawings hanging on his fridge.

Enzo gave us so much that it was hard to keep track. A home, safety, happiness, support. A princess bedroom for Harper. Those were the first things that came to mind. If I sat longer and thought harder, I could fill pages with everything he was providing for us.

What was I giving in return? Headaches? Ruined plans? Killing? Sleepless nights when Harper had a nightmare?

When I added it all up, it seemed so unbalanced.

Stop. You can’t keep a tally sheet.

“Am I interrupting?”

I jumped in my chair, narrowly missing falling off.

“I’m putting a bell on you, so you don’t sneak up on me anymore,” I muttered as I righted myself on the chair.

“What do we have here?” Enzo said. I froze, realizing too late what had happened. Somehow, in my surprise, I threw my sketch pad across the room. The one that had my drawings of Enzo.

Please talk about one of the mannequins. I prayed.

I turned to face Enzo, who was flipping through my book, a smile on his face.

“A lot of these pictures of me aren’t finished. Why?” He flipped the sketchbook around, showing me one of the many half-finished drawings. This one was a full-body mapping of the tattoo on his throat, but stopped there.

I shrugged, standing with my hand out, making a give-me motion. God, I couldn’t even look at him. I was so embarrassed. It wasn’t a few pages in that book. At some point, I had dedicated an entire notebook to drawing different parts of Enzo.

From him in a suit, to what I’d imagine was underneath before I knew. I hadn’t opened it up until now to draw the pistachio grove.

“This one is nice, but the body is blank when you know I have tattoos here.” Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as he set the notebook on the table and undid the buttons to his shirt. I turned to him, unable to look away, embarrassment washing over me. We were together, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to admit how long I had been crushing on him.

“You see, I saw you start with the tattoos here.” He pulled off his shirt and dragged his hands down this body, stopping at his ripped abs. “It seems you forgot that I have more.”

Enzo pulled off his belt, the buckle clinking as it hit the floor.

Michelangelo would have salivated over him, a body made to be drawn and immortalized.

“I think this is something I need to rectify,” he said, walking to the table in the middle. He lifted it with ease and set it aside. Next, he grabbed one of the big chairs near the three-way mirror and put it down where the table had been.

Directly in front of me.

“I'm sorry it took this long to give you what you need.” Enzo pushed his pants down, taking his briefs with them as they hit the ground. He kicked off his shoes and socks, leaving him stark naked in my studio.

He walked over, grabbed the notebook and a few pencils, and handed them to me.

In a daze, I took the notebook and pencils.

“This could take a while,” I said, flipping to a fresh page.

“Take all the time you need,” Enzo said. “Now, how do you want me to sit?”

He plopped down on the chair, legs spread, one hand on the armrest, the other hanging lazily off his thigh, barely covering himself. “Like this?”

I swallowed; my throat felt like sandpaper. I’d taken figure drawing classes before, and more than once, the people were barely dressed.

I’d had the chance to see Enzo naked plenty of times by now. It was almost like he was allergic to clothes when we were in the confines of our room.

This was different. It was intimate, with only the two of us and the summer breeze flowing in. I pushed out every thought that wasn’t drawing or professionalism, squared my shoulders, and steadied my hands.

Analyzing him, I said, “Lean more to the left.” I nodded when I liked the way his position revealed more of the tattoos I’d been obsessing over. “Unflex your hand and let it hang naturally.”

I slipped into my drawing zone, put pencil to paper, and started.

Time passed, how much, I couldn’t say. The lines flowed, shaping Enzo. He watched me, quiet and intent. In any other scenario, I might have hidden, shy and unused to that kind of attention, but right now, I was in my element. Nothing felt more natural than drawing and creating, regardless of who was watching me.

I made a disgruntled noise, erasing a line that I hated with passion. Starting over again, I bent close to the paper, satisfied with the next try.

Enzo chuckled, keeping his voice low. He did that every so often, but I didn’t bother asking him what amused him.

I was too focused to care.

Glancing up, I did a double-take. Enzo was fisting himself, the piercing glinting at me as his hand went up and down, slowly jerking his cock.

“Keep going,” he said. “Ignore me. I can wait.”

I bit my lip, gripping my pencil hard. The sight of him made my mouth water.

His abs flexed, drawing my eye upward to the gladiator armor that traveled up his right arm to his shoulder. Each leg was tattooed with a war scene, Greek Gods Ares and Athena hovering over each. On his left side, fabric twisted upward, tying into the warrior armor on his right— all of it unmistakably Greek.

I wanted to drag my fingers across his body. To be beneath him as he slowly snapped his hips, wringing every bit of pleasure from my body.

Trying to keep focus, I turned my attention away from his abs and cock.

“I thought you were Italian, but this is Greek.” I pointed at his arm.

“Yes, but my mother was half Greek. She’s from Lampedusa, which is an Italian island, but many Greeks moved there for one reason or another,” he said, rubbing his arm. I nodded, noting to investigate that area more when I had the chance.

I looked at his face. His eyes darkened, filled with lust. I adjusted my position, squeezing my thighs together.

This felt like a game of cat and mouse. Who was what, I wasn’t sure.

I wanted to know more about his tattoos. About how he grew up. Questions about living in Sicily rose, but I tabled those for another time.

“How long did it take to get all that done?” I asked, taking a break to analyze his body once more.

I drew the corded muscles of his arms, memorizing the way his biceps flexed.

We could do this every day, Enzo laying himself bare as I took my time, drawing every inch of him until it was perfect, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“Years. Started at seventeen, with my back, and finished around twenty-five, right before I moved here,” he said. “How’s the drawing?” He leaned forward, like he could catch a glimpse from where he sat on the other side of the room.

I closed the book. Taking my time, I dragged my eyes up his body, lingering on his cock. A shiver raced down my spine. I wanted to be bold, walk over and climb atop him.

“It’s coming along. I don’t hate it,” I said, as I watched him drag his thumb across his Prince Albert piercing. It was leaking, a white bead of precum forming at the top that Enzo expertly wiped with his thumb. “Your tattoos are a challenge to get right.”

I stood up, placed my notebook on the couch, and walked over to him.

Enzo spread his legs, making room for me as I knelt.

Staring up at him, I pushed his hands away, replacing them with mine.

“Open,” Enzo ordered.

Obediently, I did, sticking my tongue out and dragging it up the length of his cock until I reached the tip, where I flicked his piercing and kissed the tip.

Enzo hissed, sweeping my hair into his hands.

I took him in my mouth as far as I could. His hips jerked, forcing him deeper, and tears formed in the corner of my eyes. I bobbed my head, taking my time as I built up a rhythm.

He was coming undone, his moans urging me on as I sucked his cock.

Just when I thought Enzo was about to come, he bent, sweeping me up in his arms, and flipped our positions. In the blink of an eye, he was under me, taking up as much space on the couch as he could. I was on top, gripping the back for balance.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me? What would I do for you?” he asked as he dragged his hands up my thighs.

Gripping his hair, I tipped his head back and gazed down at him.

He was perfection and he was all mine.

“Maybe,” I said and kissed him lightly on one corner of his mouth, then the other.

Enzo’s hands slid up my body, took my shirt with them, and pulled it off me.

“I would have waited a hundred years to be with you. Sei l'amore della mia vita,” he said and kissed me.

“I have no idea what you said, but I liked the way it sounded.” I giggled, feeling light and so happy I was afraid I would burst.

We kissed; long, slow, luxurious kisses like we had all the time in the world and nothing else mattered outside of these four walls.

“I said you are the love of my life,” Enzo whispered in my ear. My heart skipped a beat. My hands clawed at his shoulders.

Is he saying what I think he’s saying? I was barely holding myself together, still half convinced this was a dream.

“Sometimes, the words come easier to me in Italian. It has more passion than English,” he continued, oblivious to my freak-out. “I’ll teach you, so you don’t have to wonder if what I’m saying is good or bad.”

He picked me up again and brought us to the floor, on the plush carpet.

When he started kissing a path down my throat, I couldn’t take it anymore.

I seized a fist of his hair and wrenched him up. “Did you just call me the love of your life?” I asked, my voice breathy, like I’d just sprinted a mile.

“Yes. I did. And yes, you are. Did you think I didn’t feel that way?” He angled his head to the side. His gaze bounced around my face, which I knew showed the pure shock that was running through my body.

“Ugh, cazzo. I did not do my job well if you are surprised by this.” He brushed his nose against mine. “I thought you saw how much I love you, but you need more. That’s good.” He pinched my chin between his fingers. “I love you, Serena Washington. I’m going to marry you. If you want, I will give you more babies and make Harper a big sister. Harper can call me whatever she wants, but I hope one day, one of the names will be Dad.”

Hope, and happiness, and fright welled up, and I did the only thing a woman could do when the man of her dreams professed his love to her and wanted her daughter to call him Dad.

I cried.

Big, fat tears rolled out of the corners of my eyes. Enzo tenderly brushed them away.

It took a few minutes for the tears to slow and the hiccups to stop enough for me to speak.

“It’s okay, amore. That means love, by the way.” He smiled. “I know you love me. Not for as long as I’ve loved you, since it took you so long to get that I wasn’t being generous when I moved you in.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “It’s not my fault. I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Please. Dream as big as you want. Then tell me so I can make them come true.” He silenced me with another kiss and returned to his descent on my body.

“Mommy, where are you?” Harper screamed from somewhere beyond the studio.

Enzo’s head shot up, eyes wide.

“Enzo,” she screamed, still adding an L before the O in his name.

“Go.” I pushed Enzo’s shoulders. “Get clothes on. She’s going to be here in two seconds.”

He rolled off me, both of us scrambling to our feet, frantically looking for our clothes. My shirt was barely over my head when the door flew open, and I yanked it down so hard I heard the seams tear.

Enzo had shoved his legs into his boxers, barely managing to pull them over his ass in time.

Harper wrinkled her nose. “Are you fixing his pants again?” She put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot. “Is it hard to find clothes in your size? I can help; I always help Mommy and tell her when clothes are ugly. Let me know when you want to go shopping.”

She spun on her heels and walked out.

“Don’t take her shopping,” I begged as he buttoned his pants and gathered his shirt and shoes. “She’ll run around the store, completely stress you out, insult your clothing choices at least three times, and you will spend too much money on her for absolutely no reason other than she blinked her pretty brown eyes at it.”

Enzo shrugged as he walked over to me and kissed me. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll ask her what day she wants to go.”

He winked at me and sauntered out of the room.

I went to the bathroom, splashed water on my face to wipe away the tears, and headed into the main house, feeling like I was walking on Cloud Nine the entire time.

CHAPTER 30

Serena

One more. With tired, trembling hands, I pulled the last thread of the miniskirt I was designing.

I sat back, rolling the tension from my shoulders as I admired my work. Would it win me a spot in New York Fashion Week? Probably not.

It would get me more clients, of that I was sure. It was going to be worn by a socialite turned film director, debuting at a film festival in New York. We’d spent over two months working on her outfits—all custom-made, of course. Every piece was tied back to the themes of her film, and I loved that my clothes were part of her storytelling.

Tailoring was consistent work, but I wanted to do more custom work, and I hoped this was a step in the right direction.

Checking the clock on the wall, I found I was done earlier than usual.

I hustled to the house and found Donovan at the kitchen island, a sandwich halfway to his mouth. He kept his eyes on me as he shoved half of it in and tried to talk.

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth,” I scolded, “You’ll choke. And since you’re here, I take it Enzo hasn’t left to get Harper?”

Donovan shook his head.

“Great.” I clapped. “Can you take me to get her?” I wished I could drive, but it had been years since I was behind the wheel, and Enzo not-so-subtly insinuated that I wasn’t to leave without a bodyguard.

I missed getting my girl from school. We were inseparable for so long, since it was just the two of us. Now we had people. Our circle expanded, and I loved it, especially because Harper loved having more people around, even if she was often the only child.

Probably because all it took was a smile or a frown to get the men who were always guarding the house to trip over themselves to get whatever she wanted. She was the little princess.

Still, I needed some time with my girl.

Donovan and I climbed into the car.

“Relax. I’ll let you know when we’re there,” Donovan said and began to drive.

When I was tired like this and in the back seat, I sometimes got motion sickness. That was the last thing I needed to deal with today. I wanted to get my girl and go home to love on her and watch a movie. Putting on one headphone and keeping the volume low so I could hear if he needed me, I closed my eyes as I listened to an audiobook.

Something hit me in the face, and my eyes snapped open. I must’ve dozed off when we hit traffic.

Taking out my headphones, I looked in the review mirror to see Donovan.

“Sorry, I fell asleep,” I said.

“Someone is following us,” he said. His knuckles were white where he held the steering wheel.

I sat up straight and turned, trying to find the car.

“Three cars back there is a white sedan. One car back and two rows over, there’s a blue sedan,” Donovan said as he checked his side mirrors.

“How far away are we from Harper’s school?” I asked. How long had I slept? It felt like both an hour and a minute.

“We’re in Long Island City. We haven’t made it to the bridge,” Donovan said. He pulled up his phone and shot off a text. “I let the guys know what was happening. Enzo is in a meeting and might not have his phone on him. The guys will update him.”

My heart was pounding. It was happening again. I could play the break-in as a random act and the yacht attack as someone out to get Enzo. But it was just me in the car. The only thing that tied all three attacks together was me.

“Someone is after me,” I whispered, panic rising.

“Hold on,” Donovan said. The car launched forward. He turned the wheel hard to the right, the tires screeching as we narrowly missed an oncoming car and went down a side street.

Hands shaking, I found Enzo’s number and dialed. He always answers when I call. I didn’t care if he was meeting with the president of a foreign country. I was calling him until he answered.

It barely rang once before he answered.

“Amore,” Enzo said. “I-“

“We’re being chased,” I said in a strangled voice, fear bleeding into every word. “They’re going to get me this time. They’re going to get Harper.”

My baby. What if they already had her?

“I won’t let them have you or Harper,” he snarled. “Donovan knows what he’s doing. He was trained for this. I have men getting Harper right now.”

Those words should have reassured me, but all I could feel was cold fear rushing through me.

The car jerked. My head hit the window. Pain blossomed at my temple.

“They hit us,” I said, closing my eyes, rubbing my head, and taking calm breaths.

It didn’t work.

We were rammed from behind again, the hit on the side—the car tilting with the impact.

“Hold on,” Donovan said as the car righted itself.

“I’m scared,” I whispered into the phone.

“You’ll be okay. Harper needs her mom, Serena. Focus on getting safe and coming home to us,” Enzo said, his voice calm. I tried to absorb his calmness through the phone, but it didn’t work.

My head jolted back, my body slamming into the door as we were hit from the side and the back.

I screamed in terror, grabbing the handle above my head to stay in my seat.

“Put him on speaker,” Donovan ordered, his shoulders relaxed, hands steady on the wheel. Hands shaking, I missed the button twice before hitting the icon.

“Speaker!” I yelled. It was hard to think through the adrenaline spike.

Donovan said in a clear voice, “We’re passing thirty-first and forty-seventh. Two cars are making contact. No license plate.”

A car crashed into our side, my passenger door bending with a loud screech. My phone flew out of my hand.

“Serena.” Enzo’s voice came from somewhere in the car where my phone had landed.

“Serena, focus on me,” Donovan demanded.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push the fear deep down so I could listen.

I looked at Donovan’s eyes through the rearview mirror. Used that as my anchor point.

He nodded, turning his eyes back on the road. “When I say run, run. Don’t look back. Find a place to hide. Now move to the other side of the car and hold on.”

I nodded and did as he instructed. The window rolled down. Sitting behind the front passenger seat, I saw how focused Donovan was. His eyes were scanning the road, weaving between cars as best he could.

“Serena, ready?” Donovan yelled. “I need you to be ready.”

He careened over a curb, narrowly missed a car, and spun us out.

“Run. Now.” Donovan ordered, grabbing a gun from the center console. I didn’t need to be told twice. I flung the door open and sprinted down the sidewalk.

Shouts and car doors slamming behind me made me run faster.

Thank God I wore sneakers.

I sprinted, never looking back. Something nicked the ground in front of me, concrete spraying up.

A bullet. As if I needed a reason to run faster than I already was. I pumped my arms, willing myself to run faster, and turned into an open garage receiving center. The doors that led to the back were wide open, and I dashed inside.

A few overhead lights illuminated the massive space, leaving it shrouded in shadows.

Find a place to hide. That was what Enzo had done every time there was some danger. There were boxes everywhere, some half-open. I slid between two on the bottom shelf, boxing myself in on three sides, with no real way to see anything.

Please let this be good enough.

When I crouched down, trying to make myself as small as possible, my hand brushed something sharp. I followed the edge, careful not to cut my finger, until I found a dulled edge that wouldn’t slice me when I held it. It was dark, but I could tell it was something made of steel, about the size of my hand.

Good. If they found me, I’d have a surprise waiting for them.

There were shouts, echoing through the large space. My heart pounded. Beams of light flashed above me. I covered my mouth, trying to hide the sound of my breathing.

Be small. Be invisible. I willed myself.

The box I was hiding behind moved.

My stomach dropped, and a scream crawled its way up my throat. A man appeared, poking his head into the small hole he had created.

“Found her,” he yelled. I sent a punch to his nose, like I'd learned in the self-defense course I took years ago. The man shouted, and hurried footsteps came my way.

“She punched me,” the man said, and then the heavy box was removed, revealing me to a group of men, who all had smiles on their faces.

One of the guys moved closer, reaching for me. I took a step forward and then swung my leg up, nailing him in the balls.

If they thought taking me was going to be easy, I’d show them just how painful I could make it for them.

CHAPTER 31

Enzo

“Find them,” I snarled as I pulled my house door open so hard that one of the hinges broke off. “I want their heads on a spike. I want their boss on their knees, begging for their life. Call everyone. They search and don't stop until Serena and Harper are home and everyone else is dead.”

“We’ll do it, brother. I promise,” Rafael said. He’d been with me when Serena called. He was careful not to touch me. I could count on one finger the number of times I felt this scared and angry and out for blood. When my parents died, the only thing to blame was wet roads and rain. “We’ll do all that and more. Donovan was right near some of our spots. We have men scouring the city for Serena.”

I was going out of my mind. Harper was picked up. My men had picked Harper up from school and stood next her while she waited for Minnie. Minnie would be under guard until I was sure the danger had passed.

I couldn’t lose her. Not when I’d just gotten her in my life, just won her love, just made plans for us.

I wouldn’t allow it.

The phone rang. “Did you,”

I didn’t get to finish my sentence when the guy who ran my warehouse, Gino, let out what sounded like a painful breath. “Boss, you’ve got to talk to her.”

I froze where I stood. “You found her.”

“Yeah, and she’s going feral on us. Broke my nose. Tony can’t feel his left nut. She’s got a sharp steel thing that she swipes at us.” It took me a second to fully absorb what he said. Then I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

“Put me on speaker,” I said.

“She can hear you.”

“Amore, please put the weapon down. These are my men,” I said loudly. “I think you ran into one of my warehouses.”

“She did, boss,” a man called out.

“Enzo,” Serena said. I could hear the fear in her voice, which only made me want to rage and tear apart the city, looking for whoever made her feel anything but safe.

“Yes, mio amore, please put the weapon down and let my men bring you home,” I said. “I’m proud of you for fighting back. Maybe we should look into some self-defense classes for you.”

There was some rustling, and then Serena’s voice rang loudly into my ear.

“I took a self-defense class a few years ago.” She paused. “How do I know it’s really you and not some computer with your voice?”

How could she make me smile when moments ago I was willing to kill everyone to find her?

“Remember a few days ago when you were drawing me naked and,” I started.

“Enzo!” Serena shrieked, cutting me off. “You’re still on speaker.”

“Come home. Please. I need to hold you.” I added, “Harper will be here soon with Minnie.”

“She’s safe.”

“Yes, and has a full escort from school. Minnie is very excited by it, according to Rafael.” Serena let out a breathy laugh.

“I’ll be home as soon as I can, but I’m keeping the shank, just in case one of these guys decides he wants to switch sides for fun.” She groused. “I love you. See you soon.”

“I love you,” I said. She hung up, and I leaned back against the wall.

Rafael clapped me on the shoulder and smiled at me. “Glad she’s safe. When you’re ready, we’ll crack some heads and get answers.”

“She loves me,” I said. It still wasn’t real to me, like I was living in some sort of alternate reality.

“Of course she does, brother. Who doesn’t love you?” Rafael said.

The door flew open, and Adrienne Parisi walked in, armed to the teeth with guns and knives. “Everyone should really love me, actually.”

She raised her eyebrows at me. “When is Serena getting here? There is something I need to tell you both.”

Some of the other women that Adrienne worked with filtered in quietly behind her.

“The drive from the warehouse shouldn’t take this long,” I complained, pacing up and down the front walkway.

I was impatient, ready for this nightmare to end. Harper was inside with Minnie, playing, none the wiser that we almost lost her mom. Minnie eyed everything with wonder, cataloging what she liked to ask about later.

“She’s fine.” Adrienne sighed, arms crossed, leaning against the door.

I didn’t bother answering her because there was no way Serena was fine, and she shouldn’t be.

The car pulled into the driveway, stopping at the curb. I was running before the door opened. Serena gingerly got out, and I scooped her up in my arms.

She was alive, in my arms, and for the moment, everything was perfect.

“Enzo,” she whispered. “My neck.”

I loosened my hold immediately, taking her in with a critical eye.

There was a bruise forming on her arm, her hands had scratches, and her jeans were covered in dust.

I carried her inside, holding her like she was as delicate as the finest china, letting the relief wash over me, dispelling the thought of never seeing her again that had clung to me since her call.

I brought her to my office, the one I barely used, and sat on the couch, cradling Serena.

Adrienne, Rafael, and Minnie filed in behind me.

Adrienne sighed and stared at the ceiling. “I hate when I have to be the one to deliver bad news. I send Jessen to do it, but she’s on strike.” She cracked her neck and started.

“It looks like Apple Livingstone has more than two brain cells to rub together. I called the security company to make some threats, which was a lot of fun for me, and they gave me some information. Peyton traced the money through multiple shell companies and found that Apple had formed all of them. She was the point of contact, gave the orders for every attack, from the break-in to the boat, and I’d put money on this instance as well. Charles’ name is on some of them, but from what we gathered, he was using the companies to fund money offshore, not realizing she was skimming some of it for whatever her plans were.”

“She wants me dead?” Serena asked. She slumped in my arms, as if the information were weighing her down.

Adrienne looked at Serena with fire in her eyes. “Yes. She’s wanted you gone since she found out about you. She’s been waiting in the wings for years for Charles to finally forget you and hit her breaking point recently over some missed visitation day or something. Jessen would probably have a better idea of what’s wrong with her, but I’m betting it's a lot.”

None of what Adrienne said surprised me. Shell companies were standard, as were offshore accounts, and hiring someone to do our wet work when we needed to keep our hands as clean as possible.

But that was the world I lived in, and this was mild compared to what I’d witnessed in the past.

Cupping Serena’s face, I tilted it up to me. Tears streaked her face, mascara leaving black tracks, eyes red and puffy. It made me want to burn everything down, make the streets run red with blood, if only to remind and warn everyone of the consequences of Serena getting hurt.

“How are you doing with this?” I asked. Her eyes were sad and resigned. “It’s okay to not be okay.”

“I don’t know what I expected. Thankful that maybe there’s a chance Charles wasn’t aware of everything Apple was doing, but he’s a part of this in some way.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Hurting me was one thing that I could maybe understand. But involving Harper like that? Endangering his daughter?”

“Yes, that’s another thing,” Adrienne interrupted. “They weren’t only after you. There was a second, smaller unit dispatched to snatch Harper, unharmed, and bring her to a location.”

“Which was?” I prompted. I assumed as much. Whoever was after Serena knew Harper was the fastest way to get what they wanted from her. It was why I had men waiting for her every day at school. No one saw them, but that was the point.

“A small airstrip out on Long Island. There were three people on the manifest, filed five minutes before I showed up. The flight is to Ecuador, which has no extradition.”

That was the nail in the coffin for me. Both Apple and Charles were going to die; it was only a matter of time.

“If you want, I can bring you there to confront them,” Adrienne offered. Serena stood up before she finished.

“Of all the screwed-up things I’ve had to deal with, they thought they could take her?” She limped as she paced back and forth. “What a bitch. I’m going to strangle her.” She brought her hands up, mimicking the action. “She thought she could take my daughter and what?” She whirled, facing me. “Did she think she could replace me as her mom? That monster wasn’t born with an ounce of maternal instinct. The one who was the reason it was hard for my daughter to make friends at school?”

Serena screamed. “I’m going to break her for thinking she could do this. For scaring Harper. I’m going to make her feel every bit of fear she made us feel. Over and over again.

“And Charles? He’s a fucking idiot, but even he can’t find a way out of this one. I’m going to break him, maim him, make him regret every time he let Harper down.” She turned to Minnie. “I know he’s your son, and you love him, but he deserves every single thing I’m going to do to him when I see him.”

Minnie’s face was stricken, but she nodded, seemingly accepting Serena’s potential actions.

I liked this angry version of her. Serena dealt with a blow and moved on. It was impressive, admirable even, but everyone had their breaking point. She had finally reached hers.

There was a bloodthirsty woman who came out when the people she loved were threatened.

“We’re going. Give me a minute to change my clothes.” Serena walked out, shoulders back, rubbing her neck.

Minnie was in the chair, her face in her hands, shaking her head. “I thought Charles had tapped out my disappointment. Now, I can say I’m disgusted by his actions.” She stood, straightening her clothes. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to play with my granddaughter, and hopefully she’ll remember there are some good people on this side of the family.”

She left the room, and I felt sorry for her. Her son was an adult who consistently made poor choices that hurt everyone around him.

“She took that better than I thought,” Adrienne said and left.

I would go to that airstrip and follow Serena’s lead as best as I could. When the time was right, I’d make sure neither would be alive, but not before Serena was at peace with it.

Harper and Serena’s safety and happiness were my only priorities.

“She’s a good one,” Rafael said and clapped a hand on my shoulder. We were standing in my office, staring at the door. “Nice choice. I was worried for a bit there, with the way you were a pathetic sap over her, but I get it.”

“I wouldn’t call it pathetic.” I said, smiling. Rafael gave me a look that said be serious.

“Fine. It was, but it was worth it. One day it’ll happen to you the way it happened to Marcello and me.” I laughed at the sour expression on his face. “It will. I bet she’ll be a mix of Serena and Adrienne, soft in all the ways, but won’t give you an inch. Really make you work for it.”

Rafael laughed and headed to the door. “I don’t think she exists. You know I enjoy playing the field too much to settle.”

I followed him out, shaking my head. He was wrong, and one day, his bed-hopping is going to bit him in the ass.

Serena and Adrienne were waiting for me at the front door.

“I’ll drive,” I said, opening the door for them.

The plane on the tarmac wasn’t the smallest there, but it wasn’t the biggest either. The staircase was down, and people were moving around, probably the flight attendants getting everything ready for the flight.

I wanted to run up the staircase and kill them all for taking part in this farce, but I knew that wasn’t right. They likely had no idea what was going on.

I squeezed Serena’s hand. Her leg bounced like she needed to move to contain the riot of emotions running through her.

Patience, cara mia, we’ll get our revenge. I wanted to reassure her verbally, but I knew she needed to work through some of this on her own. Come to terms with what was about to happen.

Hopefully, no one died too soon. Torture was more fun when I could draw it out.

We waited in the car as other airplanes moved around and into different hangars, but none obstructed our view.

Adrienne leaned over to Serena in the back seat and whispered in her ear. I watched them in the rearview mirror, narrowing my eyes at them as Serena smiled at whatever Adrienne said.

Serena seemed to relax, but it was not enough. She fidgeted the entire way, and I wished I could offer her the comfort I knew she needed. But I needed some space to calm down, too. It was going to take a lot for me to hold back and not kill Apple and Charles for the harm they’d caused.

A black town car pulled in, gliding to a stop near the plane.

“That’s them,” Adrienne said and got out of the car. I waited for a second, turning to Serena, who hadn’t moved.

“You ready for this? If not, we can turn around and make another plan,” I said. Options. Serena needed to know she always had options.

“No.” She swallowed and looked beyond me, through the windshield. “This ends now.”

With that, she got out of the car. I jumped out, came around the hood, and stayed slightly in front of Serena as we walked to the two people climbing out of their car.

Good, we could get this over with and leave it in our rearview mirror.

They were oblivious to us as they went to the trunk.

Charles noticed us first, stopping whatever argument he and Apple had. Apple turned, freezing when she saw us. Her eyes went as big as saucers, and her face turned as red as a tomato.

She stood up, crossed her arms over her chest, and took on a stance that screamed spoiled princess who always got her way.

“Did you think you would get away with it?” Serena asked when we were close enough. “Did you think you could take my daughter and what? Pretend to be her new mommy? When is it going to get through that thick skull of yours that you will never have what I have?”

“Again, with the dramatics.” Charles rolled his eyes. “What are you even doing here? Trying to ruin my vacation?”

I wasn’t sure if he was stupid or playing it. For Serena’s sake, I hoped he was just as stupid as he looked.

Serena’s gaze cut to Apple. “Do you think Harper would ever accept you? Would ever call you mom?” She leaned forward. “She hates you.”

My girl was out for blood, and I was ready for her to unleash.

“Do you think you can intimidate me using your new mafioso boyfriend? I would say it’s beneath you, but everyone knows how you are,” Apple sneered. “You’re nothing but a gnat.” She waved her hand. “Fly away, gnat.”

“Blackwater Security ring a bell?” Serena asked. “It seems, Apple, that you’re skilled enough at redistributing funds undetected, but not skilled enough to cover your tracks or your money properly.”

Color drained from Apple’s face. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out that you tried to kill me and take Harper?” She took a step closer, coming to stand next to me. “Did you think you’d get away with it?”

Charles was behind Apple. I kept my eyes on him, waiting for him to breathe wrong so I had a reason to kill him.

“And you.” I’d never heard Serena talk like this, so angry and disgusted. “The only good thing you did was help me create Harper. You’re nothing but a sperm donor, and the sight of you disgusts me. She isn’t someone you can pick up when you remember she exists. Get on that plane and don’t come back for her. It’s not like you would anyway.”

“Apple, what is she talking about?” Charles asked.

“Yes, Apple, tell him all the plans you made,” Adrienne said. Somehow, she managed to make herself invisible through all this, even though she got out of the car with us.

Where before she was simply Adrienne, now there was an air of menace about her that made it clear she was armed to the teeth.

Apple did a quick study of her, reached into her bag, and pulled out a small revolver.

“Get away from us,” she said, holding the gun up, her hand shaking.

“Seriously? You try to kill me, and you’re the one who’s afraid for their life?” Serena scoffed. “Go ahead. Board that plane and try to run away.” She took a step closer. Apple leaned back, like she was preparing to dodge a fist. “Just when you think you’re safe, that you’ve gotten away with trying to ruin my life, I’ll find you. There is nowhere safe enough for you to hide.”

I smiled. Charles noticed, and the color drained from his face. I hope he remembered what I told him at the club.

Serena had no idea how accurate her threats were. I had men waiting for them to arrive and keep track of them until we were ready to act. There were a lot of people who would be after them.

Either way, whatever happened to Charles and Apple wouldn’t trace back to us.

Apple slowly backed away, pushing Charles back with her. “Stay away from us. Harper was a little snotty kid. I only wanted her because I knew it would hurt you.”

Apple grabbed Charles’ hand, pulling him along behind her. He allowed himself to be dragged, flashing a confused expression our way.

He stopped at the base of the steps, forcing Apple to stop and turn around. She jabbed her finger into his chest, a sneer on her face. His body went stiff, shoulders straightening, chin lifting as he bent down to get in Apple’s face.

We stood there, watching them argue for another minute before Apple turned and went up the stairs. Charles followed like the obedient dog he was.

Apple glanced back at us every other step, like she was worried we’d run up after her.

“They really think this is over once they board the plane, don’t they?” Adrienne said.

I looked back at the plane. Jessen stood in the doorway in a flight attendant's outfit, Christina beside her, in what looked like a pilot’s uniform.

“Is Christina flying the plane?” I asked.

“Yes. She’s never flown this size before and wanted to.” Adrienne shrugged. “Do you think Charles is oblivious or does he choose to be until something slaps him into reality?”

“He lives in a different world, girl,” Serena said. “Good riddance.”

“Come on. Let’s go home and see if we can feed Harper something that isn’t mac and cheese,” I said, grabbing Serena’s hand.

“Have fun, lovebirds. My ride is here,” Adrienne said as a motorcycle roared around the receiving building.

I rolled my eyes as Marcello pulled up and handed Adrienne a helmet. He saluted me, and I knew I’d be hearing some nonsense about bothering his wife with my problems soon enough.

Serena and I walked back to the car and headed home.

We’d play the long game, but I wasn’t going to let Apple get away with harming my girls.

I’d make sure they paid for every second of torment they inflicted on Serena and Harper.

CHAPTER 32

Serena

An chorus of cheering echoed through the house as I came inside.

I spent the day creating a mood board for a client. It was almost perfect, and I couldn’t wait to send it out. It was for an actress who had seen my designs on a director at a premiere.

The work was creatively draining but also exciting. I hadn’t even realized the afternoon had slipped away entirely.

That had been happening more lately. I was a workaholic by necessity—bills didn’t pay themselves. I crammed work into Harper’s school hours and after her bedtime, with client pickups and orders filling the gaps in between.

All that to say, I rarely had a chance to get lost in my work because I was never able to zone out in a way that allowed me to be creative.

That was a thing of the past now that we were living at Enzo’s. His men dropped off the garments and took payment. Food magically appeared on my worktable at one o’clock on the dot.

It was amazing. I didn’t know that life could be like this. As much as I loved what I did, tailoring was draining and could be monotonous. The tedious tasks wore me down.

Enzo had strong-armed me into letting his men step in, but if I was being honest, I didn’t put up much of a fight.

I took off my slippers near the back door and followed the noise.

It led me to the big living room.

I stopped in my tracks, jaw on the floor at what I found.

Enzo wore a white soccer jersey, with a thick black stripe under each eye. Donovan and Angelo were similarly dressed, with Donovan’s hair painted green and Angelo’s red. Angelo bounced a soccer ball like it was a basketball on the ground.

Four Pizza boxes littered the table, along with cups, soda, and a few beers.

None of that was what had me staring in shock.

What did was my daughter. Her face was painted in red, white, and green stripes. Her pigtails were uneven, some hair completely falling out, like someone had pulled the strands out in a fight. She wore an identical jersey to Enzo, whose shoulders she sat atop.

She raised her fists and screamed and screamed, “Viva Italia.” like she was rallying an army into battle.

The three men stood, yelling words in Italian that I had no hope of understanding.

Harper saw me and pointed. “Mommy!” she shrieked, then she pointed at the massive 70-inch TV, balled her fists, raised them over her head, and screamed, “Football!”

I blinked at her. Did I stumble into an alternate reality?

Tentatively, I stepped into the room and looked at the TV.

They were watching soccer. The score was 1-0, favoring what I assumed was Italy from the ITA.

“Come sit,” Harper called, motioning to the spot next to Enzo. She stayed on his shoulders, her face lit up with the biggest smile.

It did something to my chest, seeing the two of them together like that.

I always worried about the man I found, if I ever found him, and how he’d be with my little girl. Would they bond? Would it take time? Would I set off a chain of events that would make Harper hate me and have to go to therapy for years on end?

Turns out, I had nothing to worry about. Enzo slipped into the role of the fatherly figure seamlessly, like he’d taken classes and practiced.

I sat next to Enzo, while Harper stayed on his shoulders, for the rest of the game.

I cheered when they did, winced when there was a missed goal. Donovan, Enzo, and Angelo sometimes spoke in Italian, but I was picking up on some of the words.

I wouldn’t be able to put a sentence together any time soon, but I could curse someone out if need be.

I ate one of the last slices of pizza and hung out with my family, enjoying a game I knew nothing about.

Rubbing the expensive moisturizer on my face, I looked at my reflection. My hair was longer, my skin glowed, and the pressure of the world wasn’t on my shoulders anymore.

Turning, I leaned on the countertop as Enzo appeared in the doorway. He raised his arms, gripping the doorframe above his head, making his muscles pop.

Pair that with the white tank top and grey sweatpants, and he could’ve been the cover of some men’s magazine.

“Is she out?” I asked.

Enzo smiled. “Yeah. Had to read her four stories, but finally got her eyes to close.”

I laughed, walking over to him. When I got close enough, I wrapped my arms around him and lay my head on his chest. His arms came around me, and he pulled me into our room. Keeping his arms around me, we swayed without any music.

We didn’t do this every night, but most nights ended with Enzo slow dancing with me in our room.

He spun me out, then twirled me back into his arms.

After a few more minutes, he whispered in my ear, “Let’s get to bed, mi amore.”

He pulled me into our bed, held me close, and I went to sleep, knowing I’d get to do it all over again tomorrow.

A knock at my studio door made me jump. I was so excited to start my work, and I hadn’t bothered to put on the ambient music I usually did.

Enzo stood in the doorway, in a suit I had tailored, the top two buttons undone.

I checked the clock that hung above the door. It was early afternoon.

Dammit. I forgot about lunch.

“Come on. I have lunch.”

I smiled and followed him out. He grabbed my hand and held it while we walked to the patio, where a spread of food was laid out.

Donovan and Angelo sat at the table, each with a plate in front of them.

They sat up straight when we approached.

Both men glanced at each other, then back at me, rushing to stand as I sat.

They moved, grabbing their plates as Enzo loaded one with antipasti, chicken, and an assortment of food and placed it in front of me. A glass of wine appeared next to me.

I looked at Enzo, trying to figure out why everyone was so jumpy.

Pushing the plate away, I sighed. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Enzo said, chuckling.

“Then what’s with the fanfare. These two,” I pointed to Donovan and Angelo, “look like they’re about to jump out of their skin.”

Donovan and Angelo stopped fidgeting immediately.

Enzo looked at them and raised his eyebrows.

Angelo cleared his throat and took a step forward. He was always the quieter of the pair.

“There is a five-and-under soccer league,” he said and handed me a brochure. “We, with your permission, of course, would like to sign Harper up and be the coaches.”

Both men stared at me with a desperate hope.

“Harper did seem to enjoy the soccer game,” I said. I wasn’t a sports person, but that didn’t mean Harper wouldn’t find joy in them.

“She did. We’ve been kicking the ball around before dinner. She has great hand-eye coordination,” Angelo said.

“What’s the schedule like?” I asked.

I was going to let Harper join, but I liked how eager and hopeful they were. It was adorable. They took part in shootouts and whatever other things Enzo had them do. It was easy to forget that they were still very young.

I wasn’t even sure they were of drinking age. An uncomfortable feeling ran through me. I should know that, especially because of how much they’d been there for Harper and me.

“Practice is Tuesdays and Thursdays at five fifteen. It will last for one hour, typically,” Angelo said. “We played soccer our entire lives. We’ve taken some coaching courses during high school.”

“Okay.” I shrugged. “Sounds like fun. When do we need to get the equipment by?”

Enzo laughed. “I will get Harper everything she needs. Don’t worry about it.” He nodded at the men. They turned and left, high-fiving each other as they entered the house.

“Thank you for saying yes,” Enzo said, sliding my plate back to me. “They’ve been very stressed about asking.”

I laughed. I took a few bites before I asked, “Why? It’s a great idea. Harper is an active little girl. She can be shy in new situations, but since she’ll know the coaches, she’ll feel more comfortable.”

“You know Donovan and Angelo were scouted, offered some scholarships, and all that in high school.”

“Really? Then why,” I stopped, unsure of how to ask my question.

“Why are they here, working for me when they should be in college, enjoying a carefree life?” Enzo supplied. I nodded. “Some things happened, family issues, but that’s for them to tell you if they want to.”

“Okay.” I trusted them. With how nervous they were, I knew they cared about doing a good job. “What about the team? How are they going to recruit them?”

Enzo smiled and threw an olive in his mouth. “Let’s say they’ve been talking to some teachers and nannies at Harper’s school.”

“Got it.” I sipped some wine and adjusted my position to face Enzo fully. He licked his bottom lip, pushed his chair back, picked me up from mine, and sat back down with me in his lap.

“This is better.” A finger twirled my hair. I rolled my eyes, pulled my plate over, and ate while Enzo answered emails from his phone.

The summer sun warmed our skin, and my previous exhaustion washed away.

Never would I have thought life could be so good to me.

CHAPTER 33

Serena

“Are you going to tell me where you’re taking me?" I asked. We were driving in the car, but Enzo wouldn’t tell me where we were going.

Apple and Charles disappeared three weeks ago. Besides helping Minnie mourn for her son, it was as if he had never existed. Charles had already been a ghost in Harper’s life, and now it was true.

Apple was a different story. Days after she disappeared, her firm made the news—she was the ringleader of a Ponzi scheme, stealing millions from investors.

There was a warrant for her arrest, but no one could find her.

Still, it was a constant worry she’d sneak back in and come for Harper, or me. Day by day, that worry eased, but I knew it would always be present in some way until I knew she was out of commission.

One day, I’d tell Enzo to find her. Then I would tell him what I wanted to do with her.

We drove slowly down a dark street, streetlamps flickering, giving an eerie vibe. The area was deserted.

The neighborhood was run down. Chain-link fences lined the sidewalks, blocking entry to the boarded-up buildings. A broken-down car, with its front and rear bumpers missing, was parked half on the street, half on the pavement.

Enzo stopped the car in front of a small house on the corner. The lot was larger than expected, a strip of overgrown grass running between the cracked pavement and the disintegrating stoop.

The house itself was falling apart. The front door hung off its hinges, a section of siding was missing, showing the boards beneath. Windows were boarded, and the ones that weren’t had been smashed in, sharp glass shards left on the sill.

Enzo climbed out, came around, and opened my door. I stepped out into the chilly night, eyeing him warily.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“I have something to show you,” Enzo said and ushered me into the house.

The stairs creaked as we walked up them. It was dark and dank inside. The air was stale, like there hadn’t been anyone here in years.

“A lot of horror films start this way, right before you lose your mind and go on a killing spree” I whispered.

“What are you talking about?” Enzo stopped walking.

“Haven’t you seen any horror films? It always starts with the wife,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Well, let me know when you’re ready for the ring.” Enzo turned and headed toward the back of the house.

My stomach flipped. That was the third time he mentioned a ring. I wasn’t ready for that yet, but soon, I knew I would be.

He opened the door to the basement and hesitated. “Once you see what’s down there, if you want nothing to do with it, then we walk away. You know nothing. You saw nothing. It’s up to you.”

“Okay. Just saying, I think that’s verbatim something a man said in a movie right before he ran through the city with a machete,” I said, and followed him down the steps.

“I need to monitor what you’re watching. It’s putting wild ideas in your head.” Enzo huffed out a laugh.

I hit the bottom, and Enzo turned on the overhead light. It flickered, barely lighting up the room. But what it did light up made me freeze.

A woman was tied and gagged to a chair in the center of the room. Her usually long brown hair had been cut short and was matted, darker with grime. Cuts lined her arms and dirt streaked her face.

Apple looked at me with so much hate in her eyes. I almost took a step back to get out of her line of sight.

Almost.

But then I remembered myself, where we were, and what she had done to me.

All the fear and anger that had lived in me for the weeks she tormented me came bubbling up. The woman who had spread lies about me, making it nearly impossible to make friends with any of the moms from school.

The woman who did everything she could to demean and belittle me whenever she could.

The anger overwhelmed me, blinding me to anything else. I marched across the room, raised my closed fist, and slammed it into her face.

The impact hurt my hand, but I ignored it, hitting her again.

I grabbed her face, gripping it tight between my fingers, and made her look at me.

“This ends now. No one will ever see or hear from you again.” I pushed her face away and backed up. I didn’t bother removing the gag. There was nothing she had to say that was worth hearing.

I turned my back to her and walked to Enzo. Placing a hand on his chest, I let his heartbeat steady me. “What now?” I asked.

“Whatever you want.” He took my hand and pulled me back up the stairs. He closed the door, locking it behind him.

He took us to the front yard and held out a lighter.

“Light it up, drop it down over there.” He pointed to a spot on the grass next to the front steps. “Then, we walk away and never concern ourselves with her again. A threat eliminated.”

I thought it over, flipping the lighter in my hand. Was that what I wanted?

Yes, it was. I knew I wouldn’t feel one ounce of remorse over it. I wouldn’t think back and second-guess my actions, wondering if there had been a better way.

This was the better way. She didn’t deserve to go to jail at some luxury Club Fed.

I flicked the tip, lit the Zippo, and walked to the dry spot. I threw it down and walked back to Enzo, taking his hand.

Quietly, we got back into the car and started down the street. A loud BOOM shook the car, and the sky turned orange and red as the house exploded.

I smiled to myself, feeling like I could finally relax.

“Charles is still out there,” I said, musing as the cool fall air floated through the car.

Adrienne and her team at Bridge City had quietly inserted themselves in the manhunt. After dropping Charles and Apple somewhere in Eastern Europe, they’d track them, waiting for Enzo’s signal to bring them back.

Or at least Apple. I wasn’t sure what had happened to Charles yet. He hadn’t contacted Minnie, as far as I knew, but he also hadn’t made any purchases from his bank, according to Adrienne, who sent in daily reports.

It didn’t matter where Charles was, because while he was mean, antagonistic, and bitter, he was never truly the threat that Apple had been. And now she was nothing but burned ash in a basement.

“He is. When you’re ready, we can handle that, too.” He held my hand, rubbing his thumb along my knuckles. “Whatever happens, we’ll do it together.”

I smiled, kissing him as we drove home.

To Harper. To our life.

On top of the stairs, I leaned on the railing and stared out over the expansive backyard at Enzo’s villa. When he brought me here last time, I hadn’t had a chance to explore, opting to spend my time getting to know Enzo instead.

When he suggested we get out of the city and come here, I couldn’t pack our bags fast enough.

For weeks, I expected the cops to break our door down and drag me out in cuffs.

When I finally expressed my fears of getting arrested to Enzo as he held me one night, he promised to take care of it.

Two days later, news of Apple’s death made the news, with speculation aimed at the people she had stolen from.

My name was never mentioned. No one asked to speak with me. It seemed, for all intents and purposes, I was in the clear.

A tiny yell made me search for the cause of the noise. I found it easily.

At the patio near the pool sat a large table with an umbrella overhead, and a child-sized replica right next to it.

My shoulders shook as I laughed at the scene.

Harper was wearing a crown, a princess dress, and plastic heels. She had her favorite tea set out, along with a mix of fake pastries and real ones.

All of that was normal. What I wanted framed was the group of grown men crammed into the tiny seats wearing princess garments. Donovan had clip-on earrings, Angelo had a crown, and two other men had somehow squeezed their feet into Harper’s plastic heels.

“Amazing.” I turned and found Minnie a foot behind me, her phone up, snapping pictures of Harper and the guys. “I’m framing that.”

I wrapped my arms around her in a tight hug. While what happened to Apple made headlines, Charles’ name was never mentioned.

I assumed he was in hiding, somewhere different from Apple; otherwise, he would have shown up by now.

He could stay there for all I cared. There was a worry I had that he would pop up at the worst time and cause as much destruction as he could, but I’d cross that bridge when I needed to.

Minnie pulled back, motherly affection on her face. “You look so happy.” Her eyes went glassy. “Love looks good on you.”

I laughed, pulling her through the massive doors that were left open and into the kitchen. Harper was having too much fun having teatime with the guys; I’d bring her up when she was done.

“This place is amazing. It’s like stepping into an Italian Villa,” Minnie said as she dragged a hand across the countertop. “I know Statuario marble when I see it.”

Enzo walked into the kitchen, with Charles Senior following.

“Thanks for coming. There is something Serena and I wanted to talk to both of you about.” I side-eyed Enzo. What was he talking about?

He came over, grabbed my hand, and motioned for Charles and Minnie to follow us.

Enzo walked down a hallway, through the door that led to the garage, and to a door in the back corner.

When he opened it, I expected to see another hallway, since I knew there was a small building on the other side of the garage that I hadn’t explored yet. The house was too big, and this was only my second time here, so much of the house was still a mystery to me.

Instead, some stairs led down. Enzo flicked a switch, and the lights came on, illuminating our way down the steps.

Enzo went down, and while this was probably a good time to ask questions, I followed silently instead.

The room was made of concrete and smelled dank. There was a tool chest against the wall that Enzo leaned against.

A tarp covered part of the floor and the back wall.

In the center of all that was a man, tied to a chair, with a black bag covered his face.

That was fine. I didn’t need to see the face to know it was Charles.

I heard Minnie’s sharp intake of breath as she came up next to me. She brought her hand to her mouth, her hands shaking. Charles Senior crossed his arms over his chest, looking madder than I’d ever seen him.

“It took time to extract him from his hiding spot properly, but no one knows he’s here. We don’t need him hanging over our heads, wondering when he’s going to show up and try to implode our lives,” Enzo said, his voice carrying a dangerous edge.

Charles must have been able to hear us. While Enzo talked, he shook, trying to stand or rock the chair. Enzo must’ve gagged him because he tried to yell, but it came out muffled.

“If it were up to you, what would you do?” Charles Senior asked. Minnie turned to her husband with a surprised face.

“I’d kill him, make it look like an accident, so there’d be a record,” Enzo said with no emotion.

“No.” Minnie’s voice broke on that one word.

Charles turned to her, his face softening. “He’s taken it a step too far. We tried, for years, to make him see the light, baby. If Enzo hadn’t gotten to Harper first, he would have kidnapped her because he knew it would have hurt us.” He leaned his forehead to hers, the most tender I’d ever seen him be toward her. “He’s only going to try and hurt us. I don’t know where we went wrong, but we need to let him go.”

Minnie’s back was to me so that I couldn’t read her face, but her heartbreak radiated off her.

She pulled back, her voice cracked. “I can’t ask you to hurt him. But he needs to go. We can’t keep protecting him when all he does is hurt us.”

I closed my eyes, my heart squeezing in my chest. That had to be one of the hardest decisions Minnie had ever made in her life.

Enzo nodded, walked over to Charles, and pulled off the hood.

Charles’ mouth was covered with multiple layers of duct tape. His face was a mess—dried blood under a broken nose, two black eyes, a busted lop, sweat and dirt clinging to his skin.

Enzo shrugged. “He tripped.”

I took one last look at the man I had hoped would step up and be a parent. Be a dad that Harper could rely on, and have that cherished father-daughter relationship.

Then I went up the stairs, knowing that was the last time I would ever have to look at him again.

Epilogue

SERENA

I sat on the portable chair and buried my face in my hands.

I was not a sports girl growing up—my mom didn’t bother signing me up, and I had no interest anyway. But if Harper wanted to try something, I’d find a way to make it happen.

Soccer was the sport everyone in the house watched, and what Harper loved.

Now, every Saturday morning, I was in the car driving to a game while Enzo gave her a pep talk in the car.

The team was made up of all girls, each from a family connected to Enzo’s underworld.

Enzo had described it as a brotherhood, a family, and I didn’t truly believe it until I watched those men come together to cheer on their daughters.

“Where’s the card, ref?” Rafael screamed from the sidelines. The ref, who couldn’t be older than twenty-three, turned and glared at him.

I stayed silent, remembering the last time I reminded Rafael that this was a child’s soccer game and they hand out cards like professionals. He scoffed, tried to pressure the refs at halftime, and promptly got himself kicked out.

“You’re going to get kicked out,” I said, picking my head up. “Again.”

Rafael was kicked out so often that it was easier to count how many games he made it to the end of.

He looked down at me, an incredulous look on his face. “That was an illegal tackle.”

“I’d hardly call the girl throwing herself on the ground and accidentally tripping someone a tackle.”

He shook his head. “It is a tactic. A dirty one.”

I shook my head, glanced around, and found Enzo standing behind the bench, his arms crossed like he was a bouncer at a club and not watching a game of five- and six-year-olds play soccer.

He was in his custom-made jersey, the one that matched the team, as was Rafael.

Donovan and Angelo stood on the sidelines, each with a clipboard, yelling commands.

It wasn’t that I thought they would do a bad job coaching, but they were coaching a bunch of five- and six-year-old girls. Expectations had to be managed.

Turns out, Harper was not only a natural with a soccer ball, having more foot-eye coordination in her pinky than I had in my entire body.

Donovan and Angelo took the group of girls and turned them into a lean, mean, winning team. They were organized, ran actual plays, and dribbled and passed with impressive accuracy.

Best of all, they were patient. They took their time with each girl, learning their strengths and weaknesses, and coaching them up. The smile on those girls' faces was almost as exhilarating as watching them win every Sunday.

Harper had become attached to Donovan and Angelo, and at some point, they had moved into our house. It was slow, but it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Go!” I cheered from my seat as Harper dribbled the ball down the field, a determined look on her face.

I glanced over to Enzo, who was standing, arms up, ready to cheer like he knew she would make it in.

She passed it to a teammate and ran between two girls who were on defense. The ball went back to her. She pulled her leg back and swung, her foot connecting with the ball as powerfully as she could.

It sailed in the air, up and into the top right corner of the net.

Our side went wild.

The ref blew the whistle, ending the game.

We won, 6-0. I pulled out my phone and texted Minnie and Charles Senior; they were at a friend’s funeral and couldn’t make it. Out of ten games, this was the first one they’d missed.

The game was livestreamed, but I still texted Minnie with a play-by-play every ten minutes. Minnie, however, lived for the sideline drama. She found it endlessly amusing that our crowd was ninety-nine percent men, the mothers off doing whatever they wanted for the morning.

It had been nearly a year since we all saw Charles in that basement. There had been a small ceremony for him a few months later for immediate family only.

I had feared it would cause a rift, but instead it turned Minnie and Charles Senior—who had been a passively involved grandparent—into grandparents of the year.

“Mommy!” Harper screamed from atop Enzo’s shoulders, waving at me.

Enzo turned, flashing me one of his rare smiles, and opened his arms. I walked to them, Enzo wrapping me up, Harper bending over on his shoulders to hug me too.

I couldn’t help but wonder how I got so lucky.

Acknowledgments

First, thank you for making it this far. I hope you enjoyed Serena and Enzo.

Touching on the parts of motherhood that can happen whether you’re a single mom or not like the mom guilt for trying to do things for yourself, or never feeling like you’re doing enough, or protecting your child from the not fun things you experienced while you grew up.

Then finding someone who sees you as the person, not just the mom, was important because it’s easy to lose yourself to being a parent and nothing else.

But for the people that helped make this book what it is:

Nicole: Thanks helping me drive more into the story. As a chronic underwriter on my first drafts, you’ve helped me develop and stretch scenes out, and are always there to help me think through the story I’m trying to tell.

Amanda: Honestly where would I be without you? I probably can think of a hundred things to thank you for, but I’ll keep this one short. Thank you for removing the commas. I love them and can’t stop. Thank you for answering every random question, taking every random half-thought email, and reading whatever nonsense I’ve come up with. I’m sorry I can’t hit a deadline to save my life. I can’t wait to send you the next idea I have because I can’t stay on track to save my life either.

Becky: Your timeliness is something I could only aspire to be. Thank you for creating a community that is so supportive and always willing to help. I’m so thankful I started listening to Buzzing About Romance.

Also by B.A. Chayut

Want more?

Bridge City Security:

Chasing Redemption (Peyton and Reaper: Motorcycle Club Romance)

Courting Wildfire (Tyler and Quentin: Romantic Suspense)

Tempting Secrets (Adrienne and Marcello: Mafia)

Sneak Peek at Peyton and Reaper

Chapter 1

PEYTON

An omission was still a lie, right?

Guilt ate away at me. I’d never lied to my aunt and uncle before. When I told them I had an interview, they were so excited. I neglected to tell them that it wasn’t really a choice.

Since the day they’d brought me home, they had loved me. Showered with me affection and attention, because that was who they were. They treated me like I was their daughter, not a wayward niece who needed a safe place to live. If I told them I was in trouble, they’d burn the world down trying to protect me. I couldn’t let them do that.

I’d screwed up and needed to handle the consequences of my actions. Not hide behind my loved ones, letting them fix what I’d done.

I picked my way through the airport, stopping for coffee and to check the outgoing flights. Dreamed that I was going somewhere exotic rather than the exit.

Running wasn’t an option. Pretty sure the government would track me down and drag me back by my hair.

Six weeks ago, I got the call that ordered me to Washington, DC. As soon as I hung up the phone, I had a plane ticket and a picture of a man labeled driver waiting in my inbox. No name.

The clock had been ticking slowly and painfully since. Fear was a constant companion, keeping me up at night. I’d been so paranoid that I barely opened my laptop once the countdown reached single digits.

The farther I walked, the bigger the cloud of impending doom grew over my head. All the questions I’d had these past few weeks about what I would face were soon to be answered.

After stopping and grabbing a snack and a decent latte, I went to baggage claim. Except I never made it. The man from the picture stood near the escalator, and both of my bags lay at his feet.

The man was far more unnerving in person than he was in his picture. His bald head, serious face, and ill-fitting suit set off sirens in my head. This guy was the poster child for stranger danger. If I hadn’t been expecting him, I would have run screaming in the other direction.

I barely made it to him before he gave me a stiff nod, grabbed my duffle bags, and strode out of the airport without glancing back to check if I was following. I jogged to catch up as he stopped at an SUV with tinted windows. He threw my bags in the back, then climbed into the car. I jumped into the passenger seat, almost afraid he would leave without me. The scathing look he shot my way made me wonder if I’d done something wrong.

After an hour and a half, most of which was spent in standstill DC traffic, Stranger Danger turned toward a nondescript building. He swiped his keycard at the first gate, did an eye scan for the second, and gave a verbal password—“bloodborne”—to get past the guy in Army fatigues at the third.

I stayed silent the entire time, unsure of what to say. He hadn’t seen fit to speak to me or even tell me his name. Which was fine. I didn’t have the bandwidth to carry on any kind of conversation in my overwhelmed state anyway.

He pulled the SUV into a parking spot and climbed out of the car, leaving me in the passenger seat. When he realized I wasn’t following, he turned and waved at me, his agitation clear. He opened the door and strode inside, and his pace never slowed as he marched down hallway after hallway. Finally, he stopped outside a door to an office, and I rushed to catch up.

Five women stood at the back wall, all of them around my age, and I froze when they turned their eyes on me. Stranger Danger nudged me all the way into the room and closed the door behind me, leaving me alone with the other women.

One woman stepped forward and flicked a lock of wavy dark brown hair over her shoulder. “Hey, I’m Adrienne Vinci,” she said with a faint New York accent. She arched one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “My dad was obsessed with the Rocky movies. One of my brothers is named Sylvester. Mom got ahold of the birth certificate before it could be filed, so at least it isn’t spelled like the movie. Bless her. But consider yourself warned. If you do that screaming thing or say ‘Yo, Adrian,’ I will punch you in the throat.”

I blinked a few times, processing the information she threw at me. “Peyton. And don’t worry, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t know who Rocky is.”

Adrienne’s mouth fell open. “Deadass?” Her accent went thicker. “What planet have you been living on?”

A woman with a long blonde ponytail elbowed Adrienne. “Don’t mind her. She forgets how to act sometimes. I’m Isla Riberio.” She said her last name with an accent I didn’t recognize. It was Spanish, but also not. She crossed her arms, showing off defined biceps. “But call me Izzy.”

I gave her a small wave and a tight smile.

Another woman stepped forward and pushed her glasses up her nose. “Jessen Chambers.”

Next to her stood a deeply tanned woman whose long, shiny black hair made me jealous. She shot me a wide smile. “I’m Chris—Christina Mendoza.”

“Peyton Linwood,” I said back, then immediately remembered that I already introduced myself. Heat creeped up my neck, and I knew I looked as mortified as I felt based on the smile gracing Chris’s face. Her kind expression went a long way toward easing my embarrassment.

The tallest of the group stood in the far corner. Rage seemed to pump out of her, signaling for the rest of us to keep our distance. The way she stared at me made me think she disapproved not only of my presence in the room but of my very existence. She didn’t introduce herself. Instead, she turned her head and stared at the wall. Sheesh. What’s her deal?

We all stood silently in the room. I shifted from foot to foot, unable to stay still.

“So…” Izzy drew the word out. “How’d you end up here?” She didn’t seem to be talking to anyone in particular, and for a long moment, nobody answered.

Finally, Chris cleared her throat. “Broke into a Supreme Court justice’s house.” All our heads snapped to Chris. She shrugged.

“And you got caught how?” I found myself asking.

A smile grew on Chris’s face. “I was skinny dipping in the pool and missed the alarm.” She shrugged. “It was hot in Texas.”

Adrienne snorted, then laughed outright. Chris telling her story was the icebreaker we needed.

Jessen was quick to follow. “My dad is a clinically diagnosed sociopath. The government was constantly calling him to run tests and whatever, thinking he was going to snap and go on a killing spree or something equally ridiculous.” She paused and narrowed her eyes at each of us. “I traded my place here so they’d leave him and my mom alone.”

How the hell was I supposed to respond to that? Most of my knowledge of sociopaths came from Criminal Minds. I opened my mouth to tell my story when the door opened. The room, which had grown more comfortable the more we connected, went ice cold.

“Ladies.” The voice sent a chill of recognition down my spine. I’d never forget the voice that commanded me to get on a plane.

The next man who followed him into the office resembled Santa Claus disguised as a government employee. White hair, big belly, white beard, red cheeks. I half expected him to give us a cheery smile and a booming “Ho, ho, ho.”

A younger man with close-shaved nearly black hair stepped in and towered over the other two. He was dressed in what I thought of as a standard military outfit—hunter-green shirt, Army fatigue pants, and brown lace-up boots. A tattoo sleeve of Captain America in action went all the way up one thick arm.

If Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes had a baby, it’d be him.

He scanned each of us, the scowl on his face deepening. I knew contempt, and it was written all over his face. He didn’t bother to hide it.

The man whose call had sealed my fate cleared his throat. “I’m not one for small talk, so I’m going to lay it out for you.” He pursed his lips before continuing. “I’m Agent Brooks. This is Kingston Sazar.” Kingston clasped his hands in front of him and gave a brief nod. “And this is Agent Sparks.” Fake Santa stepped forward with a tight smile.

“You were all handpicked for this assignment for the different skills and specialties you bring to the table. If you’ve been paying attention at all during the last four years, you’ll know our last commander in chief pissed a lot of countries off, reneged on deals, insulted leaders.” It was impossible to miss, even for someone like me who didn’t care about politics. It was all over campus how job offers were being pulled or offered relocation out of the country. Ships with US exports were being sent away because of embargoes. It was a disaster and people were starting to suffer.

“We have a new commander in chief, but we’ve lost the trust of our allies, and we need it back. That’s where you all come in.

“You are now members of an elite black ops task force called the Ghost Unit. You will go wherever is deemed necessary and remove obstacles that our allies are unable to work around, showing them we’re serious about regaining their trust and that we can and will support them. Completely off the grid. No trail will lead back to your involvement or the United States government.

“Kingston will be training you for the next six months, helping you become masters of everything from hand-to-hand combat to guns and reconnaissance, and anything else you can think of. You need to become the best, there is no other option. Six months is not a lot of time, but it’s all we have. You fail, you die. Not because we’ll kill you, but because the people you’re going after will get you first. Let me be clear,” he said, giving each of us a long stare before he continued, “Ghost Unit isn’t some fun name we came up with. From the moment you walk out of this room, you will be a ghost. For all intents and purposes, the women who walked into this room will no longer exist.”

Agent Brooks slid folders across the table, and I opened mine. My eyes skimmed over a bunch of legal terms, snagging on the areas in bold. Eight years. If successful, we’d be released. The job came with pay. Not much, but living expenses would be covered.

“What about our family? I’m the favorite, and there’s no way my dad’s gonna let me disappear,” Adrienne said, shaking her head.

Agent Brooks glared at her. “You haven’t been read into the program, so you’re free to leave. I’ll inform the agents on your dad and brother’s case that their immunity fell through.” His gaze moved to Izzy. “I know you two came as a package deal. You’re more than welcome to leave with her.”

Neither Adrienne nor Izzy moved.

Agent Brooks nodded. “We have an approved list of family members you can speak to. All contact with them will be monitored. They’re currently being notified that you will be unreachable for the next six months, because you’re off doing …” He turned to Agent Sparks—Fake Santa fit him so much better—who shrugged, then Brooks shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Do we get vacation?” Jessen followed up. “Time to take care of ourselves and recoup?”

“Undecided at the moment. We will reassess the option after the first year. This job is fluid, but we need to put in the groundwork for it to take root,” Agent Brooks responded.

“And what if we don’t want to sign?” I asked, my voice so low I wasn’t sure anyone heard me.

Agent Brooks stood up straighter, tilting his head as his gaze went hard. “You should have thought about that before you hacked the United States Treasury. And then left a calling card like the arrogant little white hat you are. Breaking multiple federal laws that could identify you as a terrorist. Laws that come with hefty jail time.” The threat hung in the air, and Izzy sucked in a sharp breath.

“I’m actually a gray hat.” I instantly regretted correcting him, but I wanted him to know that I followed my own code. That I was the one who made the choice, good or bad.

“Let me be very clear. Not signing isn’t an option, despite what Agent Brooks just suggested. That contract is a formality at best. You will be a part of Ghost Unit, whether you want to or not. Don’t make this more difficult for yourselves,” Fake Santa said, sounding bored.

Kingston tossed a few pens on the table. I forced myself to grab one and held it so tight I was surprised it didn’t break and spill ink everywhere. I scribbled my name across the dotted line, sealing my fate.

When I stood up, I glared at Agent Brooks, who only gave me an approving nod. He waited until each of us had signed our names.

“Welcome to Ghost Unit, ladies.”

Happy fucking eighteenth birthday, Peyton.

Chapter 2

PEYTON—TEN YEARS LATER

It was pitch-black out, clouds covering the light from the moon. Crickets were chirping, and a breeze swept through, ruffling the trees.

We couldn’t have asked for a better night for the op.

“Drones up,” I said into my headset as I activated three drones and flew them high in the sky, stopping them once they were hovering over the mansion.

Three of the four screens lit up, giving me the night vision view with heat blobs that represented people in and around the mansion. The fourth screen showed a man watching TV in a penthouse an hour away.

Hunched over my keyboard, I wished I had more room in this van to move. The only thing I disliked about these missions was how condensed my workstation was.

Five heat blobs show up on screen, exactly where they were supposed to be. My knee bounced. Hands suspended over the keyboard, I waited to hit the keys to hijack the mansion’s security cameras. The eight blank screens on the other side of my desk came to life with a single press of a key, giving me real time footage of what the security guards on this massive estate were seeing. The switch happened so fast, the people watching would have no way of knowing that it was a recording from yesterday.

They were blind, and they had no idea. Amused at their incompetence, I huffed a laugh. It made my job easier.

I turned on my mic. “All clear. Wife in primary bedroom, one child in small bedroom in the east wing. Retraction on my count. Three. Two. One.” I started the timer.

We’d studied the schematics of the entire twenty-acre estate, gotten intel from the security team about how often the guards changed positions, and accessed the closed-circuit security feeds. The only piece left was confirmation of where our targets were for extraction, which I’d just provided. We had three minutes and four seconds to secure both the woman and the child, then get them out of the house and through the woods to the waiting car.

As though they had one mind, all five heat blobs moved at the same time. I kept my eyes locked on the feeds from inside the house, watching for anything that shouldn’t be there. The fact that he had cameras not only monitoring the public areas of the house but also all the bedrooms, including the main bedroom where his wife lay sleeping, played to our advantage.

He used those cameras to watch his wife, to make sure she was where he wanted, when he wanted. It made me want to lock him up and leave him for weeks, teasing him with food and water just out of reach. I wished we could wipe his miserable existence off the face of the earth, but he was too high profile.

I kept one eye on the man in the penthouse. Lyle Lowenstein, the scumbag husband who was responsible for our mission here tonight. He didn’t hire us, but if it weren’t for his frequent and vicious abuse, we wouldn’t have needed to extract his wife and child. His money and power granted him immunity. Mrs. Lowenstein had finally summoned the fortitude to file a complaint, only to watch the evidence disappear and the report get buried.

It had taken me less than an hour to dig up three complaints. A deeper search yielded five more. Eight times she’d found enough courage to seek help. Eight times she’d been failed by the people who were supposed to protect her and her child.

It made my blood boil.

If it wasn’t for the private forum I’d created for social workers, so many more lives would’ve been lost. They needed a place to safely vent their frustrations over the bureaucratic red tape, and I needed a way to find the people who slipped through the cracks.

Some situations didn’t call for an extraction and we were able to help without ever leaving HQ. Sometimes more extreme measures had to be taken.

This wasn’t our first rescue mission, nor would it be our last.

The infrared bobs showed exactly where Izzy, Chris, Tyler, Adrienne, and Jessen were on the property. A guard turned the corner and headed toward the wife’s room. I checked the timer, even though I didn’t need it to know that he was early. He wasn’t supposed to be there for another five minutes. According to our intel, the guards checked to make sure she was still in her room at every shift change. The numbers on the clock climbed, screaming at me that we had thirty seconds left before we moved to plan B.

“Position one, beware, guard early.”

“You gotta be kidding me, man,” Izzy muttered.

“Nope, hang on.” Literally.

“Not much of a choice.” Her voice was strained, and I didn’t need to check the drone feeds to know she was holding onto the tiny ledge of the balcony outside the primary bedroom.

My eyes flicked to the feed of the kid’s room, which was on the other side of the second floor. The guards never entered that room, but we were about to wake up a five-year-old and sneak him out his window and into the woods. There was a better than decent chance he’d scream and alert the guards.

“Go.” I barked the order more harshly than I intended. If there was one thing I hated, it was when our meticulously planned missions got shot to hell.

Static came through my headphones. “Targets A and B, secure.”

Another life saved from a dangerous situation. But getting them out of the house was only step one in the process. There was still a lot to be done—relocation, new identities, finding them the resources to start the healing process.

At least we were giving them the opportunity to live, a chance so many others didn’t get.

The timer went off, and I let go of the breath I wasn’t aware I’d been holding as my team moved through the woods. My drones hovered over the area, allowing me to ensure no surprises popped up.

“Not every mission is going to go off without a hitch,” Betty, our boss, said.

“I know. That’s why I had us create plans B through D,” I shot back.

“I’m just saying. If you let go of that perfectionist mindset, you wouldn’t stress out so much when something doesn’t go right and you have to pivot.” Betty leaned back in her chair, not that there was much room in the van. I was surprised that all my equipment fit, let alone an additional chair.

Betty pointed at one of the screens, redirecting my focus to where it belonged. I typed out the code to switch the camera feeds back to normal. “Mind your business,” I said, with no heat behind the words. I loved Betty. She was more like an aunt than a boss.

She was Uncle Wolf’s best friend and she’d pretty much always been a fixture in my life. I don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t approached Ghost Unit with job offers for all of us.

I looked over at her. Eyes closed, head tipped back, her short hair hanging over the back of the chair. Next to Aunt Jeannie and Scarlette, she was my favorite woman on the planet. She’d brought me home, given my family a place to go.

“It’s hard to mind my own when you ladies want to play superhero for free all the time. Someone has to keep you levelheaded and me in the green,” she said, opening a granola bar.

“Whatever. We do paid work too.” I rolled my eyes. We’d made her so much money since she hired us two years ago that she could’ve retired and bought a vacation home in Maui. Betty wasn’t that type though.

“I’m aware. It just pisses me off more because you bring in too much dough for me to complain about the rest.” She huffed. “Savannah told me I had to be nice since we can finally go on that trip to Bora Bora she’s been begging me for.”

I rolled my eyes but stayed focused on the monitors. My favorite part of the entire mission was coming up. The guards would go to check on the woman and find her missing, along with the kid. And after they’d searched every nook and cranny of the ostentatious twenty acres, they’d get the joy of calling their boss and telling him his wife and child had disappeared.

I loved watching them squirm. We just needed to prepare for how the husband handled it. Would he go to the police, or would he hire his own investigators to find her? Probably the latter; Lyle had more money than he could spend in three lifetimes. But our team had zero concerns that he’d find his human punching bags.

They spent less time searching than I would have thought. Less than ten minutes after they discovered their snafu, the guards dialed their boss. Filled with glee, I watched Lyle throw a temper tantrum like a two-year-old who was told he couldn’t have any ice cream.

About the Author

Brittany Chayut has been a bookworm her whole life, always dreaming up different stories. During COVID, she finally put pen to paper and wrote the stories she wanted to read. When she's not working or watching reruns of Criminal Minds or Law and Order SVU, she's running around with her daughter, dog, and husband. 