Page 2

Just get on your flight, and it will be okay.

I find a seat near my gate and sit down, pulling my case close like a shield.

Looking around the gate area, I search for the broad shoulders, expensive suit, and charming smile that hides the monster underneath.

But no one is watching me.

He's not here.

But he could be.

Because he has eyes everywhere.

My flight is announced over the loudspeaker, and I stand on shaky legs.

It’s not until the plane takes off that I can finally breathe.

2

DANTE

Present Day

"You can bury your head in the sand all you like, Dante, but this marriage has to happen," John Marco says from the couch behind me.

I don't turn from where I stand at the window, staring out at the city sprawling beneath me. The twilight sky is streaked with color as the sun bleeds into the horizon.

Below my office, the casino floor hums with the steady rhythm of money, light, and sound. My kingdom. Built on the bones of the empire my father left behind and the ruthless decisions I've made since.

Sixty stories above me is the penthouse I rarely use because I live and breathe this casino and would sleep here if it didn’t give my brother another reason to become insufferable.

"I'm not burying my head in the sand," I say to the glass. "I'm ignoring you. There's a difference."

"I beg to differ."

I glance over my shoulder. John Marco is sprawled across the leather couch against the far wall, with one arm draped along the back and a glass of Macallan balanced on his knee. He's wearing a three-piece suit in a shade of lavender and custom-made Italian leather shoes.

He looks completely at ease. Which means he's about to be completely unbearable.

"John Marco."

"Dante."

"Drop it."

"Not going to happen, big brother." He takes a sip of his scotch, completely unaffected by the warning in my tone.

My twin brother is seven minutes younger than me, and our personalities are vastly different. He is wildly flamboyant and mischievous, yet he is also the most brilliant strategic mind I've ever encountered. He was blessed with a photographic memory and the ability to switch between charming and witty to cold and calculating in seconds.

I didn’t get the photographic memory. But I got the cold and calculating in abundance.

Which is exactly what you need when you rule an empire.

“This has to happen, Dante,” he says. "If you want to avoid an eventual hostile takeover, you need a bride. This organization is built from old-school mafioso values. Our family created those values and has reigned at the helm for almost a hundred years. You're expected to produce an heir."

I turn back to the window. An heir. The continuation of the Di Zaro bloodline. The next generation of a dynasty built on blood, loyalty, and tradition that has survived nearly a century of wars, betrayals, and federal investigations.

My father understood that code. He lived and died by it.