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I liked him there, heavy in my chest, an anchor in this moment, and looking back at the last six years knowing someone had been there every step of the way wanting me, protecting me the way no one else ever had.

So I gave myself one last evening with him.

A last attempt to know the man behind the ghost, to absolve him of these potential crimes.

To spend time with him the way I yearned to.

And to distract him, so that when the time came, he’d be lulled into a false sense of security as the damsel went to rescue the man in distress.

I had a shot of Amaro liqueur in the office with my men to settle my nerves before I headed home to meet Luca, having arranged for us to meet at the house for another date.

A date with my husband who was not my husband.

A man who might be torpedoing his entire family’s outfit just for a chance to be with me.

My heart throbbed like a wound in my chest as I took the elevator up from the basement to face him.

He was waiting outside the elevator bank in the foyer, hands clasped behind his back, posture erect like a soldier’s, eyes intent on the doors as they opened to reveal me. Before I could even step outside of the enclosure, he was on me, pressing me against the wall with his big body, one hand in my hair to tilt my head back for a devastating kiss.

I held on like a shipwreck survivor, clinging to him with such desperation I wondered why he didn’t question it.

He tasted cold and clean, like the arctic ice that filled his gorgeous eyes. I loved the feel of his huge hands, one fisting my hair, the other palming my neck. Man-killing hands that were soaked in so much blood he’d never be able to wipe them clean, yet they held me with a fierce, protective claiming that made me feel simultaneously like I could float away and be anchored in the moment for eternity.

“Hello, wife,” he said when he wrenched himself away from my demanding mouth.

There was a tiny smile tucked into the corner of his mouth, pink lips against ink-black stubble. He was so beautiful it was almost impossible to process, especially up close as I was, able to count his eyelashes and his sharp white teeth.

“Hi, husband,” I returned a little breathlessly. “Are you ready for our date?”

He made a sound that was practically a purr, the growl a hunting jungle cat might make lying in the sun. “Yes, I am looking forward to what you have planned for us.”

“We’re taking a break from finding Dario to find you,” I said honestly, cupping his rough cheek and scoring my thumbnail through the stubble there. “If that’s okay.”

A small breath escaped his lips as if I’d hit him in the sternum, like I’d shocked him.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “That’s okay.”

“Fill me in while we drive to our destination?” I suggested, trailing a hand down his arm so I could tangle our hands together before I stepped forward to press the elevator button for the basement again.

He did so without hesitancy, exhibiting a trust I wasn’t used to. “Felipe Malatesta reached out to Lando for a meeting. Apparently, he wants to renegotiate terms around our international exchange. He senses blood in the water after all the shit that’s cropped up for the Outfit, and he’s trying to press his advantage.”

Ah, so Lando and Luca had no idea that Felipe could have Dario for himself, or that he knew Luca was just a very convincing stand-in.

Part of me yearned to tell him, but trust had to be earned, where affection, somehow, did not. I felt it burn in my chest like I’d swallowed a second sun as his thumb swept back and forth over our clasped hands when we stepped out into the garage.

“We plan to meet him on Tuesday night, which gives us two days to figure out what the hell he wants and make sure he doesn’t get it,” Luca continued. “I’m not convinced he doesn’t have something to do with the Sicilian faction Joey said he was working for. Felipe is either incompetent to have a rival network operating under his nose, or he’s involved, and I’m inclined to think the latter, even though he’s always seemed like more of a mouthpiece than the brains behind the Cosa Nostra.”

“Why do you say that?” I questioned casually as we walked toward my gorgeous Lamborghini, and Luca plucked the keys from my hand before I could make my way to the driver’s side.

I didn’t protest. Men like Luca and Dario would never let their wife drive them around. Not because they believed I was a bad driver, but because they believed they could keep me safer behind the wheel themselves.

“Just a sense I’ve got from the rare meeting with the Sicilians and conversations with Dario. He’s never decisive, always needing to break from a meeting for a phone call or an evening before he comes back with an answer,” Luca explained as we got into the car and he adjusted the seat for his large frame. “It’s suspicious in its own way.”

I agreed. Whatever was going on with Felipe, it was obvious he was up to something even if it wasn’t holding Dario hostage.

“So where am I taking us?” Luca asked, reaching over to grab my hand and tangle it with his over the gearshift.

I stared at our linked fingers, the winking diamond in my engagement ring and the gold of his wedding band side by side, and my throat hurt.