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Here I sit, hoping I can somehow persuade the head of the Mancini family to help me.

Me.

A nobody from a small family they were eager to slaughter a few months ago just to get us to shut up.

My heart becomes a blur in my chest and nausea curls through my gut, then the door opens and every part of me freezes.

Theresa Mancini glides into the room as if she’s walking on air. She wears an elegant teal sundress that flows around her asif the fabric hovers, almost too scared to touch her body. Her amber hair is curled and held to one side by glistening pins, and her light pink lips pull into a pleasant yet dangerous smile when she spots me.

When she sits, the cushions barely even shift in her presence.

Maybe I’m dreaming.

“So.”

When she speaks, I’m jolted back to hiding in that closet with Roman, listening to this woman order my family to be slaughtered. Now I’m sitting in her lounge.

“Care for anything to drink?”

I shake my head quickly. “No. No thank you.”

“Pity,” she says lazily. “Ihatedrinking alone.”

Still, I shake my head. “Thank you but no, I can’t.”

“You can’t?” She arches one perfectly elegant brow and runs her glittering eyes down the length of my body until they stop at my abdomen. “Can’t or won’t?”

I should lie but somehow the words escape me like her very presence compels me. “Can’t.”

“Interesting.” The door opens and a man enters with a white towel over one arm carrying a single martini. He hands it to Theresa and leaves just as quickly. “You’ve caused quite the stir, Jasmine.”

She purrs my name and an unexpected thrill shoots through me. Theresa is a powerful and beautiful woman. Her family has been on top in the Mafia for generations, using a balance of ruthlessness and generosity to remain as beloved as they are feared. It’s unexpectedly exciting to hear her say my name.

“I heard that getting time with you is a challenge so I did what I had to do.”

“Is that right?” She watches me over the edge of her glass, then takes a small sip. “I wasterriblysorry to hear about thepassing of your father,” she says while not sounding sorry in the slightest. “What a shame. How did he die?”

I suddenly feel like I’m on trial. I’ve been striving to keep the truth a secret to save my mother any further pain, but the look in Theresa’s eyes suggests she already has her answers. This is a test.

“He was murdered.”

“Oh my, how shocking.” Not a single hint of surprise in her tone. “Do you know by who?”

Another test. “I know who I blame,” I reply honestly.

“Fascinating.” A light smile creeps across her lips. “So tell me why you harassed my poor assistant so much that she had to take a personal day.”

“She did? Oh no, I’m sorry, I was just trying to?—”

Theresa cuts me off by narrowing her eyes. “You wanted this meeting, did you not?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Then don’t apologize for how you got it. Tell me why. Your boldness intrigues me.”

She talks like I’m some new toy she’s discovered, but if it gets me what I want then I won’t complain. Drawing in a deep breath, I straighten my back and swallow hard to calm myself.

“I want an alliance. Between me and you. Help me crush the Yakuza into dust and I will cut you in on thirty percent of the drug trade. I know you’ve been struggling to gain a confident foothold in such a competitive market, so I’m offering it to you.”