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“He died,” she nods. “As soon as the word spread about his death, your father reached out to Ian. Asked to join forces, so to speak.”

“That’s weird.”

Georgetta is quiet for a minute. She seems to be trying to let me figure things out as much as possible, which is unfortunate because I’ve never considered myself to be that smart. If anything, I tend to move very slowly as I figure things out.

“Dad doesn’t like to join forces.” Most mafia guys like working alone or with people below them. Dad is no exception.

“He has something on your father,” Georgetta finally says, confirming what I already thought. “Something his brother also held over your father’s head.”

“What?” I ask, needing to know. I’m desperate for the information. Anything she can tell me about Ian will be helpful with it comes to moving forward.

“He knows who killed your mother,” she tells me. “And he has proof.”

5

Hours later, I’m lyingin my bed and I still feel like someone punched me in the gut. Ivan Salucci is dead. His brother is running the family now. They both know –knew,in Ivan’s case-who killed my mom. My father doesn’t want anyone to know, so Ian works with my father now.

What am I missing?

Georgetta left shortly after our talk. She headed back to her quarters. Yes, she has her own quarters. There’s a whole wing of the house where servants and employees live, but she’s got several rooms all to herself. That’s one of the benefits of being the main housekeeper, I’ve realized. You kind of get the run of the land.

“What doesn’t match up?” I whisper out loud, staring at the ceiling. Ever since my dad’s party at the hotel a few weeks ago – the one Ian abducted me at – things have been strange. I feel like I’m in some sort of strange dystopian adventure that is going to have a bad ending. That’s the problem with apocalypse stories. They always end badly.

I still don’t know what Ian wants. Me, maybe? Maybe he wants me. Then again, maybe what he wants is to get my dad out of play in a way that’s seamless. He could marry me. If Ian married me, he’d be tied to my family. Then if he offed my dad, it wouldn’t really be a huge deal to anyone. Ian could slide in and weasel his way to the top just like that.

Is that his play?

Maybe I’m overthinking things. In fact, Iknowthat I am. I just can’t stop wondering what he’s got up his sleeve. Ian is dark and deadly and hot as hell. I understand all of that. What I don’t understand is the way I feel pulled to him. Something about him just calls to me. It’s a darkness. A curse. There’s something nasty about Ian Salucci and I want to find out more about it.

I grab my vibrator from my nightstand drawer and slip it between my legs. I’m under the covers. Before I really get started, I tug a pillow from the side of my bed and drop it on top of myself. It’s not much, but the slight added pressure makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I’m not alone. If I close my eyes, I can pretend that Ian is here, hovering over me, pressing me down. I reach for my own throat and grab, holding it tightly.

If he was here, he’d call me a slut. He’d call me a nasty, dirty girl. He’d probably sit across the room and watch me play with myself. He’d say something like, “Show me that tight pussy,” or “Let me see you fuck yourself, Rose.”

When he does this, when he speaks to me like this, I feel like nothing else matters. It’s like every ounce of etiquette that’s ever been drilled into my brain just drifts away and I’m left with the remnants of something else: the remnants of a girl I could be if I had a different life, which I don’t.

Except for this moment.