Page 88 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 5-8

“And then your grandfather got you into the mercenary business?”

He inclined his head. “Yes. And I will admit to you there were more blurry lines back then. It wasn’t crime for the sake of it, but still not the most palatable of career choices.”

“You alluded to this, but your men, are they from your father’s family?”

“Some. Though others are from different crime families, and they wanted out. That is what I thought Renzo wanted. But he’s taken my sister.”

“It’s one of your men that took your sister?”

“Yes,” he says, his voice hard. “And I don’t know where they’ve gone. If I did, his life would be forfeit. But unfortunately, it’s a damn sight easier to make yourself scarce in this world when you have endless resources than you would think. But then, that is why you’re here.”

There’s a vulnerability to that statement that surprises me. I wonder if it’s because he can’t see me. I wonder who else he would share this with. Certainly not his men.

I shouldn’t care about his vulnerability. Or his sister.

“I should like to see more of the island,” I say.

I go deeper into the closet, and I see a gold bikini. A bandeau top and bottoms that mimic that same design, that tie at the hips. It’s adorable, and cheeky, I imagine quite racy for its day.

“You can have whatever you want in here,” he says.

“Why?” I ask.

“I…don’t know. Because you appreciate it. And while it is sentimental in a way, I do not understand why it matters. You do. Consider it part of your payment.”

Immediately, any sweetness to the gesture that he just performed is undermined. But, that’s all for the best. I don’t think I should find anything he does sweet.

He’s a gangster, not a teddy bear. Whatever he says, he’s a killer. And I get to classify him as a gangster if I feel like it, because not doing it is just splitting ridiculous hairs.

“Well, I would accept. Although, I don’t have a place for all of it.”

“When all is said and done, you’ll be able to afford your own custom walk-in closet, won’t you?”

“Well. Yes.” It was true. And why I had taken all this on in the first place.

I feel guilty for how much I want it. Because I’ve gotten a taste of something that doesn’t feel like running flat out—ironically during my kidnapping—and I’m just tired.

“You said you wanted to see the island?”

“Yes,” I say. “I would like to see it. I haven’t been very many places.”

“You’re from Alaska, and you’re living in Rome.”

“True. But that’s basically it. Well, there was the commercial fishing. So I saw a good amount of the Pacific Ocean. But I can’t say that it was good sightseeing. Honestly, I haven’t done a lot of good sightseeing in Italy. I’ve been busy working and going to school full-time.”

“Then we shall prepare a place for you to go and enjoy the beach.”

“Thank you,” I say.

I’m surprised at how accommodating he’s being. It seems unusual. And more than that, highly suspicious. But I’m not really in a position to question him. I didn’t want to be locked in my room. And now he’s letting me have some freedom.

And I remember. I remember that I’m trying to do something to give myself power here. I remember that I’m not supposed to be getting choked up about custom wardrobes and beautiful fabrics. I move to him just slightly, arcing one of my hips out. My shape is exaggerated, now that I’m pregnant, and I’m very aware that even though I have a rounded bump of a stomach, which may not be his thing, I’m also curvier everywhere else.

“That’s very kind of you.”

He laughs, a hard sound. And then he moves toward me, reaching out and gripping my wrist, drawing me toward him. My breath rushes out of my lungs in a gust. I find it impossible to stop my thoughts from racing forward. Panic winding its way around me. “Let’s not play games, you and I,” he says, as he moves in and closes the distance between us.

His mouth so close to mine I can breathe him in with ease. His mouth so close to mine, it’s like we’re sharing air, and I’ve never experienced anything like it.