Page 24

“You’re saying our only option is toactuallyget married?” My voice sounds strange even to my own ears.

“Yes.” He doesn’t hesitate in his reply.

The walls of his office close in around me, and suddenly I can’t breathe. My chest tightens as memories of Ryan flood back—the way he’d controlled everything, how trapped I felt, how worthless he made me feel when I couldn’t give him children.

And now here I am again, backed into a corner with no real choice.

My hands start to shake, and I grip the edge of Zeke’s desk to steady myself. The smooth wood beneath my fingers grounds me, but barely. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision.

“Eve?” Zeke’s voice sounds far away. “Eve, breathe, love.”

I try, but the air won’t come. My strength leaves me, and I start to sink. Before I can fall, strong arms wrap around me, pulling me against a solid chest. The familiar scent of his cologne—sandalwood and something spicy—fills my nose.

“I can’t—” I gasp. “I can’t do this again. I can’t be trapped again.”

His hand strokes down my back, steady and sure. “Shh,” he murmurs into my hair. “Just breathe with me. In … out … in … out…”

I focus on the rise and fall of his chest against mine, trying to match my breathing to his. Slowly, the panic recedes. The room stops spinning, and I become acutely aware of how tightly I’m gripping his shirt.

“I promised myself after Ryan,” I whisper against his chest, “that I’d never let anyone control my life again. That I’d never feel powerless.”

His arms tighten around me. “I know, love. I know.”

The endearment, spoken so softly, brings tears to my eyes. “How is this any different?” I ask, hating how broken my voice sounds. “Being forced to marry you or die—how is that a choice?”

I pacethe private back room that Zeke took me to while he gets my friends, my heels clicking against the concrete floor in a frantic rhythm that matches my racing pulse. The dim lighting and thumping bass from the main club create a surreal atmosphere, like I’m trapped in some twisted nightmare.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.

My hands shake as I run them through my hair, probably ruining the curls Lydia had helped me perfect earlier. Marriage. To Zeke. The thought sends another wave of panic crashing through me, my stomach churning.

I still feel his touch on my skin from earlier. Still smell his cologne clinging to my clothes. Still taste him on my lips after that searing kiss we shared before everything went to hell.

The worst part is I want to feel that again despite the cage he put me in.

“Fuck.” I mutter, whirling to face the wall before spinning back around. The motion makes my head spin, or maybe that’s just the two gin martinis I downed after Zeke dropped his bombshell.

How did I end up here? One minute I’m working undercover, trying to catch rapists connected to a local mafia gang, andthe next I’m being forced into marriage with a man who hurt me when he vanished. A man who, apparently, has deep connections to one of the most notorious crime families in New York.

My chest tightens as I remember Ryan’s constant criticism during our marriage. The way he slowly stripped away my independence until I felt like nothing more than an incubator that failed at its one job. The crush of his disappointment when month after month, no baby appeared.

Now here I am again, backed into a corner. Marry Zeke or die. Some choice.

And I believe him. I’m on the wrong side of the mafia’s radar. They won’t hesitate to take me out. It means my investigation is getting close to finding answers.

A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat. God, what am I going to tell Leo? How do I explain to my seven-year-old nephew that his aunt is suddenly marrying a virtual stranger because the alternative is being murdered by the mafia?

The door to the private room flies open, and Lydia and Olivia rush in. They’ve ordered fresh drinks—three gin martinis glinting in the dim lighting. My friends’ faces express concern as I collapse into the plush sofa along the wall.

Without a word, I grab my martini from Lydia and drain it in one long swallow, welcoming the burn. The gin does nothing to calm my trembling hands or steady my racing heart.

“Eve?” Lydia reaches for me, her fingers wrapping around my wrist. “What happened in there? What did he say to you?”

I laugh, but it comes out as more of a sob. I meet each of my friends’ worried gazes and decide to just let it out. No use lying to them.

“He says I have to marry him.” The words taste bitter on my tongue. “The Columbus mafia recognized me earlier tonight and connected me to my undercover work. Now they want me dead.”

“Oh my God.” Olivia’s face goes pale. “Eve, they’ll kill you.”