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"Is someone after you?" she asks, not yet reaching for the door handle.

"It's part of doing business." I shut the door behind me and walk around to her side of the car, opening it for her and extending a hand. She considers it before looking both ways and standing from the car, ignoring my outstretched hand.

I chuckle at her refusal to let me help.

Seems like my girl is fiercely independent.

Something simmers inside me. A dark thought.I want to strip that independence away from her. Make her dependent on me and only me.

Olivia is quick to make her way to the bar, rushing past me. I reach out, grabbing her arm and tugging her backwards. Her spine meets my chest, and I momentarily lose focus, distracted by the feeling of her body against mine.

"This is a reward, Olivia," I whisper into her ear. She gulps, her throat bobbing with the motion, and my eyes dart to it,relishing the way she reacts to my voice. "You can check in on your grandfather and the bar, but then we leave. Understood?"

She nods.

"Say it," I demand, feeling her shiver as my breath skates across her skin.

"Understood," she recites.

I release her, and she's off, rushing toward the bar and swinging open the front door. I nod to my men to keep watch as I follow her inside.

The bar is nice, but in desperate need of some work. It's clear that it's been neglected since Gino's health has declined. It has good bones, though, with dark wooden beams stretched across the ceiling and the exposed brick walls covered in local artwork. The bar itself is a beast made of mahogany with intricate carvings that have probably been there for decades, but it's dull and scratched, needing a good polishing. Behind it are mirrors with shelving that showcase the lines of spirits. There are tables scattered around the place, their surfaces marked by years of use.

An older man stands behind the bar, but I know it's not her grandfather.

"Joey," she calls him, and he moves around the bar quickly to embrace her. My palm clenches. I don't like the sight of another man’s hands on her.

He pats her shoulders and looks over her like a scared mother who lost her child in the grocery store, checking to make sure everything is intact. And then his eyes move to me, widening at the sight. I take pride in the fear that ghosts his face.

"Why is he here?" he asks Olivia, and even though I want to step in, tell the man to get his hands off her, and announce that she belongs to me now, I wait. I want to hear what she tells him.

She glances over her shoulder at me before turning her gaze back to Joey. "It's okay. He's not going to hurt me."

The aging fellow appears suspicious as his gaze bounces back and forth between us, then he murmurs to her, "What happened?"

Olivia inhales deeply. "They took me somewhere, I'm not sure where, and then he showed up." She gestures to me. She's leaving out a few things, likely for his benefit. Like how she was tied to a chair with a hood over her head and made to wait an entire day before I had a chance to interrogate the woman who watched me kill my uncle.

I'm guessing Joey knows what she saw, and that's why he's so concerned. There's one thing he's not asking, though, and I can tell it's eating him alive as he keeps stealing glances at me.

Why is she still alive?"

"Is he…" Joey doesn't finish his sentence, probably afraid to speak whatever words he's struggling with into existence.

"Letting her go?" I fill in for him with a tilt of my head. Both of them spin to face me. "No," I answer.

"Then…"

"She's mine now," I say simply, glancing around the bar to take in the scenery as if this is all boring to me, just another day in the life.

Joey hisses something low to Olivia, clearly not amused by my statement. Not that his opinion matters much.

I stride over to her, placing my hand on her lower back. Whatever comment Joey was making dies on his tongue and his mouth snaps shut as he looks at me.

"Do you want to see your grandfather or not?" I ask, my tone sharp. Olivia and Joey look between each other, a silent conversation taking place that I'm not privy to.

Pivoting her head, she looks at me. "I'll be right back."

"I'm coming with you."