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His chest continues to rise and fall with carefully controlled breaths. When I glance up at his face, the muscle in his jaw is working overtime. His eyes never leave Nicolo, tracking him like a predator watching a rival enter his territory. But beneath the aggression, there’s something else in his expression—a flash of genuine worry. My stomach clenches.

Whatever’s happening here, whatever history exists between these men, one thing becomes crystal clear—Zeke is afraid. Not for himself, I realize with startling certainty, but for me.

A deadly smile spreads across Nicolo’s face. “Looks like congratulations are in order, brother.”

Chapter 12

Veils of Vulnerability

Ezekiel

My jaw aches from clenching it so hard as I watch Nicolo from across the room. He’s made himself comfortable at a corner table, sipping champagne like he belongs here. Like he didn’t just crash my fucking wedding to send a message.

I’ll have to have a talk with my security detail. Whoever let him in will pay for this.

The bastard meets my stare and raises his glass in a mock toast. That familiar cold smile plays at his lips—the same one I’ve seen right before he orders someone’s death. A muscle ticks in my cheek as I resist the urge to cross the room and wipe that smirk off his face.

Instead, I force myself to stay rooted in place, maintaining a safe distance from Eve. She’s across the room with Lydia and Olivia, still unsteady from the gin but laughing at something Sebastian just said. The sound of her laughter hits me in the gut. So free, so untouched by the darkness that’s followed me here.

I catch Eli’s eye where he stands guard by the door and give him a subtle nod. He shifts position, angling himself for a better view of both Eve and Nicolo.

The crystal tumbler in my hand is empty. I’ve been drinking scotch like water, trying to dull the edge of rage and fear. But I need to stay sharp. Nicolo didn’t come alone—I spotted his entourage of men outside.

“Beautiful bride.” Nicolo’s voice carries across the space between us. “Though perhaps a bit … unexpected. A detective, Ezekiel? I thought I taught you better than that.”

I growl, and it only makes him chuckle.

“This is going to be fun,” he says with a hint of danger under his veiled humor.

Ignoring him, I shift my attention back to my new wife. I’m going to have to increase her security, something she’s undoubtedly going to hate me even more for.

Eve meets my hard stare, says something to her friends, and then makes her way toward me. Her eyes narrow, mouth set in a determined line. Despite the slight sway in her steps from the gin, there’s a fierce intensity in her gaze. She’s beautiful when she’s angry—which seems to be most of the time lately.

“What’s he doing here?” She jerks her chin toward Nicolo, who’s leaning against the wall on the other side of the room like he owns this place. “And don’t you dare brush me off, Zeke. I’m not stupid. I saw how the room changed when he walked in. This is bad, right?”

The scent of gin mingles with her perfume as she moves closer. I resist the urge to reach for her, to pull her against me and shield her from Nicolo’s lion gaze. Instead, I take another slow sip of scotch, letting the burn ground me.

“You’re drunk,” I say flatly. Her cheeks flush with indignation. “This isn’t the time or place for this conversation.”

“Bullshit.” She steps closer, lowering her voice. “I may have had a few drinks, but I can see perfectly well how everyone in this room is walking on eggshells. Your brother looks readyto shoot someone, and Eli hasn’t moved from that door since Nicolo Moretti walked in.”

I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to glance at Nicolo. “Eve—”

“No.” She cuts me off, pressing a finger into my chest. “I just married you. The least you can do is tell me what kind of danger I’ve walked into. Marrying you was supposed to protect me, not put me in more danger.”

The raw vulnerability in her voice catches me off guard. For a moment, I see past the anger to the fear underneath—the same fear that’s been churning in my gut since Nicolo walked in. But I can’t give her what she wants. Not here. Not now. Not with him watching our every move.

“Go back to your friends,” I say, my voice harder than I intend. “You’re too drunk to handle this conversation right now.”

Her eyes flash with hurt before hardening into emerald steel. To her credit, she ignores my command and stands her ground.

“That’s enough.” I growl, wrapping my fingers around Eve’s wrist and pulling her away from the reception. She stumbles, the gin still making her unsteady on her feet. I guide her down the dimly lit hallway, away from prying eyes—especially Nicolo’s.

Finding an empty study, I usher her inside, close the door behind us, and click the lock securely in place. The room is dark except for a small desk lamp casting shadows across antique furniture. Eve yanks her arm free and stumbles backward until she hits the edge of the mahogany desk.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I demand, keeping my voice low despite the anger coursing through me. “Getting drunk at our wedding? Really?”

She laughs but it’s like venom. “Wrong with me? I just married a criminal to save my life. Excuse me if I needed a little liquid courage.”