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"I'll compensate her exceptionally well. She can even retain rights to the paintings and sketches if she wishes to sell prints at my event."

"It might not be about the money for her."

It might be about me specifically. The hatred. The resentment. The electricity she experienced when we touched—must have experienced, because it coursed through me like wildfire. She likely resents that attraction now, having allowed herself to feel it with a mob boss.

"You're correct. It’s not about money. It's about vision. Her painting reveals someone with extraordinary vision—with tremendous ambition. She'll embrace this opportunity because she's an artist."

"You've deduced all this from a single portrait."

"I would discern this merely by examining how she's captured the sparkle in your eyes. It's as though they contain genuine vitality."

"Whereas in reality, I'm a dead-eyed psychopath," I remark dryly.

"It's refreshing to see you happy."

"Even if only in artistic representation."

She sighs.

"If you do this, Mother, I want her to be kept safe. You understand my meaning."

Mother will use her security personnel to ensure her protection.I refuse to let her become collateral in this lifestyle. Though violence has diminished recently, we remain perpetually prepared to assert dominance when necessary.

"Yes, yes, naturally. You worry too much."

"Perhaps you're right. I worry you don't worry enough."

"So, do I have your blessing to contact her?"

"I wouldn't characterize it as my 'blessing,' but the decision belongs to her, not me."

I could add that I want to see her again, despite recognizing it may not serve either of our best interests. After our near kiss, that intimate contact, I maintained silence. We parted awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. She clearly intended to establish that nothing would develop between us, yet I sensed her desire in those fleeting glances, those momentary lapses in her defenses.

We'd share that scorching connection before she remembered—before she withdrew again. Or attempted to.

I work for a while before receiving Adrian's call.

"Hey, Nico, how you doing, my man?"

My cousin's enthusiasm sounds forced. He exhibited the same forced cheerfulness when I appointed him as my consigliere. I explained it was because we'd observed his management of my uncle's businesses following my uncle's demise. We withheld that we required closer scrutiny of him—of his loyalty.

When I informed him, he grinned and hugged me."I thought you were going to operate solo forever."

"I believe it's time I accepted some help,"I’d replied.

If he demonstrates loyalty, he'll maintain his position as my public consigliere, and I'll expand my territory. If not, then...

I prefer not to contemplate that outcome. Adrian irritates me, but I've known he was a kid. Yet this lifestyle shows no mercy. Sienna understands that reality.

"Nico?"

"I'm here."

"Viktor is prepared to meet at the Vine."

"When?"

Adrian hesitates. "Now."