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Wants this.

So maybe that makes me a romantic.

Or maybe it just makes me a possessive bastard playing the long game.

She brings out feelings in me I've never experienced before. I realize we've only known each other for a few days, and those days have been among the most stressful days of her life, but she’s handled them like a champ. If she can react to what she's been through like this… she's everything I've ever dreamed of in a woman.

Not to forget last night. When she called me into the changing room… I'm getting hard just thinking about it. She initiated the sex. She seducedme. She isn't the first to seduce me, but she's the first to do it without an ulterior motive.

"I'll make that bastard pay, Gigi. I swear," I promise my sister, whose grief is now written all over her face. That coward, Carlos, took not only my father from me, but from her as well. He robbed her of the experience of her father walking her down the aisle one day. He hurt her. For that alone, he deserves to have his skin peeled off with a potato peeler.

"Just don't get hurt in the process." Gigi's eyes beg me as much as her words.

"Never," I promise, kissing the top of her head and taking her into a hard embrace.

While she does her midnight online shopping, I ready Scarlet's closet. I want her to know that this is where she belongs, that this is her home. That I'm the man who will take care of her for the rest of her life.

A few hours later, I lean back in my car seat while Igio drives me to a meeting with Stephano. As much as I want to prepare for this meeting, my mind keeps wandering to Scarlet. I wonder if she's up yet. Has she seen her closet? I organized all the new things from our shopping trip while I waited for Gigi to come through on her end and deliver the cosmetics I asked for.

Surprisingly, I enjoyed arranging her closet. Imagining her body in the clothesIbought for her satisfies my possessive nature. I want her all mine, from head to toe, and I want the world to know it.

"We're here, boss," Igio announces, ripping me out of my daydream.

Time to put the woman out of your mind and get your head in the game. I take a deep breath and lock my jaw. I'm ready.

“Thank you for coming," Stephano greets me personally at the door of his estate. I notice several security cameras and his not-so-hidden guards by the door.

"I was surprised to hear from you so soon," I say, holding out my hand. He takes it with a firm grip, while his other hand clamps my shoulder in a subtle but deliberate gesture. He wants me toknow this meeting is important to him. I acknowledge it with a nod but say nothing.

"Yeah, well, things are happening," he responds, leading me through the grand entryway. "Come. You're not the only guest."

The moment we step into his office, I catch sight of the man standing near the window. My steps falter for a fraction of a second before I stop entirely. "Is this a joke?"

Marcello, Carlos’s son, turns, his expression calm but serious. "Not a joke, I'm afraid."

I stay where I am, my eyes moving between him and Stephano. I don’t like surprises, and this feels like a setup.

"Come, sit," Stephano gestures toward the deep leather chairs near the fireplace. "We're all friends here."

I stay put, leaning casually against the doorframe. "I’ll stand until I know what the hell is going on."

Marcello lets out a short breath and takes a seat, stretching his legs out in front of him. He exudes effortless confidence—a well-earned confidence.

"I don’t blame you," he says. "You and my father have a complicated history."

I don’t respond. That’s a mild way of putting it.

"Look," Marcello continues, his fingers tapping against the armrest, "I had nothing to do with your father’s death, and I’m sorry for it. It would never have happened under my watch."

One of my brows lifts. That's a bold claim. It’s hard to tell if he’s bullshitting me, or if he actually means it.

"You’re skeptical," he acknowledges, nodding to himself. "I get it. But you and I—and Enrico and Stephano—we all want the same thing. We want our family back to where it used to be. A place where we can trust each other instead of killing one another. Edoardo thinks he’s smart, playing us against each other, but all he’s doing is making us weak in the eyes of others."

I cross my arms, waiting, because he has a point.

"Did you know the Venezuelans made a move on Alan Hendricks?"

My stance shifts slightly. That’s not something I’d heard. The governor is in our pocket, one of our most valuable assets.