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“I’m glad he’s dead,” I whispered to my reflection. “I’m glad Gio fucking killed him like the worthless piece of shit he was.” The tears were falling down my cheeks, but I didn't bother brushing them away.
And despite being so angry, I could feel my heart racing. I felt unwavering despair and fear fill me. It was a fear I hadn't felt since I was a little girl, hiding—metaphorically and literally—from my father’s wrath.
I didn’t know what I was afraid of, but I knew itwasn’tGio.
In fact, as I thought about him killing that man, then taking me back to his place and tending to me, I felt something powerful coursing through me.
I was afraid of what had happened to me. I was afraid of what would come if my brothers found out Gio was the one who intervened and helped.
There were so many things that could go wrong with Gio being the one who killed my attacker.
My brothers might see it as a betrayal that he hadn’t contacted them right away and told them what happened. I was afraid that revealing Gio's involvement could escalate tensions between him and my brothers, potentially leading to a violent conflict or, God, even a war between the two factions. They might see Gio’s actions as a challenge to their authority, or an infringement on their territory, which would then put Gio in great danger.
There were so many things rolling around in my head on what could—and would—go wrong if my brothers found out any of it.
I closed my eyes and pushed all that worry awayso there was only one thing now claiming my thoughts.
Visions of Gio and… this heat I suddenly felt, which I wanted to feel more of.
9
GIO
Iscrubbed a hand over my face as I sat in my dimly lit office, the heavy wooden desk clean and organized because I hadn’t been home in far too long.
I came back to the West Coast just days after the incident with Tatiana Petrov. It had nothing to do with me “running” from a problem I’d created for myself, though I knew I should have fucking walked away and let her handle her own shit by herself.
Truth be told, I had a marriage to arrange for Claudia, one she wasn’t fucking going to take kindly to.
But hell, I couldn’t think about that now either—not with so much on my damn mind.
Tatiana shouldn’t havebeen at the fight to begin with, but fuck me, I’d seen her pressed against that wall being choked out, and something in me shifted and then snapped.
I’d left Desolation because I had business to handle here and an urgent phone call with Carmine, the Head of Italy.
And I needed to get far away from anything remotely related to Tatiana because I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.
The faint scent of cigar smoke lingered in the air, and the flavor of whiskey coated my tongue.
I was staring out my office window when my cell rang, the burner phone reserved for only the most important calls.
Already knowing who it was, I ran my hand over my jaw, the scruff scraping along my palm. I answered and leaned back.
“Carmine,” I kept my voice even. Whenever Carmine Lucchesi called, it was never a good thing. He always wanted something, and that was usually to get someone else's hands dirty with blood. “It’s good to hear from you.” It wasn’t.
“Gio.” His voice was smooth, yet there was an underlying tension. “È così bello parlare di nuovo con te.”It’s so nice to speak with you again.
He was full of shit.
“What can I do for you?” I stood and poured myself another drink because I fucking knew I’d need it for this conversation.
“I have a matter of utmost importance that requires your immediate attention.”
I went back behind my desk and took a seat, a sense of foreboding settling over me. I took a long drink from my whiskey before I responded. “What do you need from me?”
I heard him inhale as if he too were smoking a cigar. “We have a problem in Desolation," Carmine began, then exhaled whatever smoke he’d just filled his lungs with. “A Russian mafia member, Maksim Volkov, has been causing us significant trouble.”
I sifted through my memory for an answer as to why that name sounded familiar. And then it clicked. He helped “clean up” messes with Arlo Malkovich, Ruin’s expert fixer. But Maksim wasn’t just some piss-on help boy. I knew he had a blood relation to a higher-up in the Bratva, which made taking him out even trickier.
