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“I’d expect nothing less,” my uncle coos, being the Romanos’ biggest brownnoser. “You know I’m here to help in any way I can.”
“This weekend?” I blurt out, unable to stop myself as my gaze snaps to my uncle. “You’re leaving that soon?”
“Sure am, darling,” he drawls. “I’ve got business to attend to.”
Yeah. And drugs to sell and fake boobs to put in women’s chests.
I’ve had my suspicions for a while now that my uncle was wrapped up in some bad shit. But I didn’t know his trips to Italy consisted of him bringing drugs back to the States to sell. What’s worse is that he’s likely selling them from his office. To high-profile clients for a shit ton of money. All of this … well, it could help put his ass behind bars. And that right there is the silver lining.
Truthfully, I don’t care if Beckett stays in Italy or not. My uncle is an evil man, and having him around is just like having another monster near me. But his wife, Natasha, as materialistic as she might seem, I want her here. I think there’s more to her than meets the eye. She’s not even that much older than I am, and part of me thinks Beckett swooped her up and led her to believe he was a better man than he actually is. And now, she’s like me. Stuck.
“I have a fundraiser event this weekend. You’ll go with me.” Enzo looks me up and down, absolutely disgusted. “There will be a shipment of clothes delivered to your room. For fuck’s sake, don’t embarrass me by looking like you live on the street.” He starts toward the door, only stopping just before it. “Even though we all know that’s exactly where you belong.”
Pulling the door open, he walks out. And once he’s gone, I feel like I can finally breathe again. Though not a lot. Because even though he’s not in the room, there are still two devils looking at me.
I’ve never felt more homesick in my life, which is crazy because I don’t even have a home right now. The only person I have left in my life is Walker. And he thinks I drank Beckett’s Kool-Aid and now do whatever he tells me to do out of weakness. He doesn’t know my real reasons for being here, and I won’t tell him either. Because if Walker knew the truth, he’d insist on protecting me. Right now, that would only make things worse.
I got myself into this mess, and now, I need to figure out how to do what I came here to do.
I lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, asking myself what the fuck I got myself into. I knew Beckett Benson was a snake of a human being, but I didn’t realize he was the type to force his own niece into marrying someone as evil as Enzo Romano.
His niece stood in the room, reminding me of a dove. People immediately connect them to greed—greed and hunger. But deep down, they are independent, quiet, observant, and most of all, smart.
She looked around, pretending it was a normal situation she had just been thrown into, playing the part that it was all fine. She didn’t flinch, nor did she pale. She simply took in her surroundings, making it seem like she was happy to be there.
But still, how she’s found herself wrapped up with someone like Enzo Romano is mind-boggling. The dude has been suspected of not only sending deadly and debilitating drugs into the United States, but is also believed to be involved in major sex trafficking crimes. I have no doubt that Beckett is well aware of all of this. Hell, he’s probably involved too. Yet just hours ago, there he was, delivering his innocent, sweet-looking niece on a silver platter.
That room was filled with filth, making her the only pure thing. She stood there, pretending to be strong. To be immune to things like a man about to get shot in the back or drugs being packaged up for delivery, off to ruin people’s lives. But I could see through it easily. She was terrified. From the back of the room, I watched her stare as her soon-to-be husband pushed the barrel of his gun into a stranger’s back. And even though I couldn’t see her once I was outside, I imagined her flinching when she heard the gunshot, indicating I had done my job and killed him.
In a world filled with vultures, it’s always easy to spot a dove.
In this job, I see sexy, seductive, stunning women daily. All too eager to throw themselves at whoever wants them.
Seeing her walk into the room was different. She came in, and everything in the room looked less shitty. I tried not to stare, instead looking away quickly before she saw me watching. But for those measly few seconds, I saw her. The pain in her eyes was unmistakable. And I could see her asking herself what she had gotten herself into.
A beautiful woman with fear in her eyes, though she hid it well. And now, she thinks I’m a murderer. Even though I didn’t shoot anyone. The man she thinks I killed is a detective too. And right now, he’s in a secret place, believed to be dead. But knowing she went to sleep tonight after looking at me like a murderer bothers me. And what bugs me even fucking more is that I care.
I have no business caring what she thinks of me. I’ve gone six years without looking at a single woman lustfully, and I’m not about to start tonight.
She’s not my problem, and I’m not about to make her my problem either. This job is so much bigger than just one person, even if that person has the face of an angel and eyes filled with broken promises. I can’t save her. It would put everything I’ve spent the past few years working on at risk, not to mention jeopardizing the entire mission. Rossi has worked too hard for me to do anything of the sort.
The weirdest part of this arrangement is that I don’t even get to stay in my own fucking place. I’m here in this mansion they call the crew complex, which is basically the size of a hotel. It houses all of the Romanos’ employees. And Beckett and his wife are staying here too. But much to my surprise, so is the dove.
I assumed she’d be moving in with her fiancé, but a few hours after her arrival, I overheard Enzo talking to Beckett in his study, demanding she stay here until he wants her around. Apparently, he likes to have women come and go, and having his fiancée at his home would fuck that up for him.
Her uncle, a man who should be protecting her, chuckled before slapping his shoulder, saying, “Attaboy.”
Basically, Briar was brought here as a plaything for Enzo to use when he sees fit. But listening to him talk about how attractive he found her made my stomach churn. Or hearing Beckett promise that in a few weeks, his business partner would be giving her breast implants to match her pretty face.
His fucking niece. And he’s talking about giving her fake tits.
Through the fitted deep red dress she wore, I could tell she already had perfect tits. Her hips were curvy, and her legs weren’t toothpicks, but strong and smooth.
Why the fuck am I thinking about her legs? I’m here to protect her and her fiancé, for fuck’s sake.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I all but force myself to picture some damn fluffy sheep jumping over the moon so I can count them until my mind shuts the hell off and I can fall asleep.
It’s already after two a.m., and morning is coming way too soon. And then I can wake up and do it all over again—all while being stuck in the presence of Briar James.
