Page 33

Present

L eo’s office reeks of cigar smoke and whiskey, thick and cloying, a scent that lingers like bad memories. He’s pacing when I walk in, his jaw tight, his hands balled into fists.

“It was fucking you, wasn’t it?” he demands, turning on me with the kind of rage that shakes the walls.

I don’t flinch. I tilt my head, feigning mild amusement, letting his fury roll right off of me. “Good afternoon to you too, Uncle.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Evany!” he roars, slamming a fist against his desk. The crystal tumbler beside him rattles but doesn’t spill. “Rocco and Alessio Falcone were hit two nights ago, and I know damn well it wasn’t sanctioned.” His eyes bore into mine, dark and accusing. “It was you.”

I scoff, crossing my arms. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because you’re reckless,” he snarls. “Because you’ve got an agenda of your own. Because you’re your father’s daughter.”

I step closer, my voice even, measured. “I wouldn’t dream of starting a war between the families, Leo. That’s bad for business, and I, unlike you, prefer business thriving.”

His eyes narrow, calculating, but he’s not stupid. If he had proof, he wouldn’t be yelling—he’d be disposing of me.

“If I didn’t order the hit, and you didn’t go rogue,” he finally says, his voice quieter but far more dangerous, “then tell me, Evany, who did this?”

I meet his stare, letting just enough doubt flicker across my features. “I don’t know.”

Silence stretches between us thick and suffocating. I hold my ground.

“This is bad,” he mutters. His jaw flexes, a muscle ticking at the edge of his cheek, but I don’t waver.

Finally, he exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face before leveling me with a warning look. “You stay put.

That evening, I overhear him on a call. His voice is low, sharp, edged with the kind of tension that only comes when men like him are afraid.

“We can’t do this over the phone. No one’s safe right now,” Leo mutters. A pause. Then, clipped and certain, “New York. Wednesday. No more delays.”

I don’t have to hear the rest. The panic in his tone says enough.

They’re scrambling.

And I’ll be there to watch them fall.

I return to my apartment, moving through the space with precision, my fingers quick on my laptop as I book a flight under the alias I’d prepared months ago.

The ticket to NYC is one-way, just in case.

A new name, a new identity. I secure a hotel room under a different alias, clean, precise. Every detail accounted for.

But before I go, I have one more stop to make.

Truman answers his phone on the third ring. “Kid?”

“I’m in Atlanta.”

Silence, then a sigh. “Where?”

“Your place.”

He hesitates. “I’ll be there soon.”

When he arrives, his expression is tight, wary. “It’s only been two days.”

“I know.”

He studies me, his gaze sharp and searching. “Things are escalating.”

I swallow. “I’m ready to collect what’s mine. What has always been mine—my father’s hard-earned legacy. I’ve waited patiently for this moment for years. For them to be exposed, caught off-guard.”

His jaw tenses, pain flickering behind his eyes. “This goddamned revenge scheme is going to kill you, and I can’t bear to lose you.”

Something in my chest tightens, but I shove it down. “You make me weak,” I whisper. “One kiss, one brush of your hand—it’s like a drug. It’s all bad for me, but I never turn it down. And now you want me to be strong and just what, Truman? Run away with you?”

“Yes.”

I laugh, but it’s hollow. “How can you ask that of me now? After so much time? I’m so close now.”

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, his hands are on me, his mouth claiming mine, desperate, his kiss tastes like regret.

We lose ourselves in the fire that’s always burned between us.

I moan into his mouth, my hands clawing at his back, pulling him closer, closer, until I can feel every goddamn inch of him.

He breaks the kiss, his breath hot and ragged against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin as he growls, “I’m not asking.”

Before I can say anything, he’s lifting me off the ground, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His hands grip my ass, squeezing hard, and I whimper, my core throbbing with every step he takes toward the bedroom.

He kicks the door open, and then I’m being tossed onto the bed like a rag doll.

He stalks toward me, ripping off his shirt.

His chest is a masterpiece, all hard muscle and smooth skin, and I can’t help but lick my lips as he unbuckles his belt.

He’s on me in an instant, his hands tearing at my clothes like they’ve personally offended him.

My shirt is gone, my bra follows, and then he’s sucking my nipple into his mouth, his lips and tongue working me until I’m writhing beneath him, my hips grinding against nothing but air.

The needy sounds escaping my throat drive him wilder, and he shifts lower, his mouth blazing a sinful trail down my stomach.

The anticipation is nearly unbearable, making my whole body taut with longing.

He yanks at the waistband of my jeans, pulling them off in one determined motion, leaving me in just my panties.

His eyes darken as he stares at me sprawled out for him, like he’s ready to devour me whole.

My breath catches when his fingers slip under the edge of my panties, teasing me until I can barely think straight.

“Please,” I beg, desperate for more.

A wicked smile curls his lips as he drags the last bit of fabric down my legs and tosses it aside.

He lowers himself between my thighs, exhaling hot against my skin, before diving in with a deep hunger that sends shivers up my spine.

His mouth on me feels like fire and silk, each stroke of his tongue pushing me closer to the edge.

My hands grip the sheets as a tidal wave builds inside me—intense and unstoppable. My back arches, pressing closer to him, and then I’m falling apart, blissful and breathless as pleasure crashes over me in surges so strong that it feels like they might never end.

He leans back on his heels, watching with a triumphant glint in his eye while I come down from the high he’s given me. Then he’s over me again, kissing me deep while one hand tilts my chin up and his other arm wraps possessively around my waist. I can taste myself on him as he kisses me senseless.

The hard length of him grinds against my stomach, teasing and tormenting until I dig my nails into his back with a moan. He breaks the kiss, breathing hard, eyes gleaming with a mix of raw desire and fierce impatience.

“I love you,” he rasps.

I barely have time to brace myself before he plunges deep inside me, filling me completely in one intense thrust that knocks the air from my lungs. I gasp as he stills for a moment, our bodies perfectly fused.

Then, it’s like something snaps inside him. He moves with a relentless rhythm, each drive more intense than the last, and I match him, meeting him with equal urgency. Fireworks explode behind my eyelids every time he takes me to the hilt, the friction and heat sending sparks through my veins.

“I love you, too,” I groan against his neck.

I can only cling to him tighter, consumed by the way we seem to unravel each other so completely.

My legs lock around his waist as I angle my hips for more—more of this wildness, of him—and a keening cry escapes my lips when he shifts just right, hitting a spot that makes everything spin into bliss once more.

My body tenses again with sweet overload as another climax barrels through me, even fiercer than the first. He doesn’t stop—doesn’t slow—a man undone and untamed above me until his own release hits with a shudder that rocks us both.

He tilts my face to his. “Don’t go.”

I wrap my arms around him, snuggling into his body.

“I’m here all night.”

When dawn breaks, I slip out of his bed, dress silently, and leave without a word. Always careful not to wake him. The goodbye is something I cannot stomach. Not with him.

On the way to the airport, I text Marcy.

The Commission is meeting. They’re panicked. This is it. Be ready. If anything happens to me, you know what to do.

I don’t wait for a reply. I tuck my phone away and stare out the window as the city blurs past, my pulse steady, my mind razor-sharp.

It’s time.