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“Don’t pretend like you don’t know. The black SUV outside her house? The one that followed her to work this morning? That’s your crew.”

Marcus takes another sip of scotch, watching me over the rim of his glass. “You seem awfully concerned about a cop’s welfare. Especially for someone with your … history.”

“She’s my fiancée.” I lean forward, hands still planted on Marcus’s desk, my face now close to his. The stench of scotch on his breath makes me want to gag. Pathetic. “You’re playing a dangerous game here, Marcus.”

He sets his glass down with exaggerated care. “Am I? Because from where I’m sitting, you’re the one playing games.” His lips curl into a smirk. “A cop for a fiancée? That’s quite the departure from your usual type. What happened to your last woman? What was her name? Clara?”

My blood runs cold at Clara’s name. The memory of her lifeless body, sprawled across my bed in a pool of her own blood, haunts me even now decades later. I’d been careless, let her get too close before I was mature enough to handle those emotions alongside the mafia lifestyle. Nicolo ordered me to take her father out. He’d betrayed him. When I refused, Nicolo had themall taken out, including Clara. Her connection to me got her killed.

I couldn’t let that happen again. Couldn’t let anyone that close. Eve is different though—she wears her badge openly, lives by a code I understand even if I don’t agree with it. There’s an honesty there that Clara never had.

Clara’s murder is what ultimately drove me to leave New York. Why I ran away from Eve when I realized she was a cop. Better to cut ties early than risk another Clara situation. But now here I am, claiming Eve as my fiancée to keep her alive. The irony isn’t lost on me.

I straighten up, letting my hands fall to my sides. “Watch yourself.”

“No, you watch yourself.” Marcus stands, matching my posture. “We all know who you are, what you used to be in New York. Nicolo’s golden boy, brother by choice—until you weren’t. And now suddenly you’re engaged to a cop?” He barks out a laugh. “Do you really expect us to believe that?”

“I don’t give a fuck what you believe.” My voice drops lower, deadly quiet. This time I don’t bother denying my connection to Nicolo. Marcus knows who I am. “Call off your dogs.”

“Or what?” Marcus’s eyes glitter with malice. “You’ll do what exactly? Go running to Nicolo? Tell him his old friend Marcus is being mean to his pet cop?”

My fingers itch to grab him by the throat, but I force them to stay loose at my sides. “You really want to test me?”

“Test you?” He chuckles, reaching for his scotch again. “No. But I am curious how long you plan to keep up this charade. Does she know who you really are? What you’ve done?” He takes a slow sip. “Or is she just another pawn in whatever game you’re playing?”

The muscle in my jaw ticks. I lift my hands slowly, adjusting my cuffs. “Last warning, Marcus. Keep your men away from Eve, or you’ll learn exactly why Nicolo kept me around so long.”

I lean closer to Marcus, dropping my voice to a deadly whisper. “Let me be crystal fucking clear. If anything happens to Eve—if she so much as stubs her toe because of your men—I will burn your entire operation to the ground.”

Marcus’s face pales slightly, but he tries to maintain his composure. “You don’t have that kind of power anymore, Ezekiel. You left that life behind, remember?”

“You think I lost all my connections when I left New York?” I let out a dark chuckle. “Nicolo may be pissed that I walked away, but he still considers me family. How do you think he’d react if I told him you threatened someone under my protection?”

Sweat beads on Marcus’s forehead. Good. Let the bastard squirm.

“And that’s just Nicolo,” I continue, my voice ice-cold. “You have no idea how many favors I can still call in. How many people would love to take a piece out of your territory.” I adjust my suit jacket and dust it off like being in his presence got it dirty. “So ask yourself—is it worth starting a war over?”

Marcus swallows hard, his earlier bravado crumbling. “Look, Gio’s young. Impulsive. He doesn’t always think things through—”

“I don’t give a fuck about Gio’s impulse control issues. Get him and Alessandro in line.” I slam my palm on his desk, making his scotch glass jump. “Eve ismine. She’s off limits. Make sure everyone understands that.”

He nods slowly, reaching for his phone. “I’ll talk to Alessandro. He’ll back off.”

“Smart choice.” I turn to leave, then pause at the door. “And Marcus? This is your only warning. Next time, I won’t be so diplomatic.”

I walk out, Eli falling into step behind me. Marcus may be a piece of shit, but he’s not stupid. He knows exactly what I’m capable of. Nicolo Moretti trained me after all.

And if he doesn’t keep his word? Well, I’ve been itching for an excuse to clean house in Columbus anyway.

“We haveto make this look real,” I say, pacing my office at Club Velvet Petal. Marcus may have conceded and promised to back off, but I don’t trust him. “The Columbus families need to believe Eve and I are actually engaged.”

Sebastian sprawls on my leather couch, feet propped on my desk. “And how exactly do you plan to convince them? Last I checked, she hates your guts.”

“Get your feet off my desk.” I shove his legs down as I pass. “And she doesn’t hate me.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Eli mutters from his position by the door. His massive frame blocks most of the entrance, arms crossed over his chest.

Micah stands silently in the corner, stroking his gray beard. Of all of them, he’s the one I trust most to be level-headed about this. “The engagement needs to be public,” he says finally. “High profile. Something they can’t dismiss as just a cover story.”