Page 79

The back room used to be a place for cheap thrills and quick fucks, a goddamn brothel. I tore it down and built theGrotto, a private, members-only fight club. Velvet booths line the walls for the high rollers, and the bar hastop-shelf liquor stocked to the ceiling, better than any overpriced joint in the city.

Dead center is the cage with solid iron bars, reinforced floor, and enough room for two men to beat the shit out of each other. No weapons. No rules. Just fists, blood, and who’s man enough to walk out. You come here to drink, bet, and watch men bleed. Just raw violence and money changing hands. This is where the real action is.

Yeah, fights still break out outside the cage. Booze and big egos will do that. But at least now, the only blood on the floor belongs to men dumb enough to earn it.

Then there’s Liv.Fuck.She walks beside me, and I swear every guy in the room notices, like I don’t already see it. That black floor-length gown hugs her in all the right places. The sleeves skim her arms and are as soft as cashmere. But it’s the back that kills me. It’s completely open, exposing smooth skin down to the curve of her ass. I was ready to rip it off her before we left, skip the whole opening, but she shot me a look and started ranting about Tom Ford. I was two seconds from hunting down whoever that was until she burst out laughing, calling me an idiot. Turns out he’s a designer, not some guy. I don’t know about damn dress designers. I just know she looks damn good.

Her hair is pinned up, red curls falling loose around her face, highlighting her green eyes and that mouth that drives me insane. I match Liv in a black-on-black Armani suit. It fits like it was made for me, because it was. It’s custom, but nothing flashy, just sharp enough to make it clear I don’t play around.

My hand rests on the small of her back as we walk through the casino. Her skin’s warm under my palm, soft against the tailored edge of my suit jacket. People part as we pass, curiosity, envy, and recognition in their eyes.

Let them look.

Tonight’s supposed to be about business shit, networking, shaking hands, keeping the investors happy. But with Liv beside me, radiant and fucking breathtaking, my mind drifts to how fast I can get her out of that dress.

We pause near the VIP tables, where an investor talks my ear off. He’s some old prick whose handshake feels as limp as his portfolio and reeks of cheap cologne. I don’t think twice when Liv’s hand slips out of mine. I can still hear her chatting with the guy’s trophy wife, a girl young enough to call me sir.My men are stationed everywhere, security cranked up, Kota and Nathan keeping eyes on Liv. She’s fine.

Until she isn’t.

My vision narrows at some asshole who’s got his arms around Liv, like they’re old friends. Fingers twitch toward the gun tucked under my jacket. One second is all I need. This fucker looks about mid to late twenties, wearing a suit that looks like it’s for someone bigger and taller.

I’m moving before my brain catches up, leaving the investor mid-sentence. The guy spots me, panic flashing across his face as he throws his hands up like that’ll stop me.

“Hey, I’m her family, man. I mean no harm.”

Family?Bullshit.

I see no resemblance. Liv’s nothing like this prick with black hair and dull brown eyes. He’s still standing too close, breathing her air, and that alone has me itching to cave his face in.

Liv stiffens beside me. It’s not relief, not warmth, just confusion written all over her face. The bastard notices and keeps running his mouth to Liv.

“It’s me, Ezra, Tito’s son. I’m glad you’re okay. Nobody knew what happened after you were taken. We thought you were dead.”

Ezra. Tito’s spawn.Tito has more bastards than I can count. Half of them are from women he never knew or would claim, none of them worth a damn.

Ezra keeps talking, each word making me want to snap his neck. “Leah Morano’s daughter, right? Or Leah Johnson... if you’re still going by that name?”

Leah Johnson.The name sparks something, but I can’t place it. I pull out my phone, my thumbs flying across the screen, to Kota.

Me:Have Seb run both names. Leah Morano and Leah Johnson.

Liv goes pale like all the blood’s been sucked right out of her. Her fingers in mine turn cold. There’s fear, panic, and something feels off,like she’s more stunned than anything else.

“You done catching up,Dolcezza?”

I don’t look away from Ezra. Not once. My eyes stay locked on his, daring him to try something stupid. To breathe wrong. To give me any excuse.

Liv swallows hard, forces a weak smile, and nods. But I see the tremble in her fingers, the panic she’s trying to bury.

I turn, wrap my arm around her waist, and keep walking, my rage simmering beneath the surface.

Ezra’s completely oblivious to the fact that I’m one second away from crushing his skull into the floor. Instead, I shift my focus back to Liv. Her face is stilllocked in that expression, frozen between fear and something I can’t read.

Good.She should be scared. Because when I get to the bottom of this, there’s no telling what the fuck I’ll do.

35

Liv