Page 55 of Filthy Little Regrets (Princes of NYC #2)

thirty-three

CASSIA

I don’t know how long we stay on the couch, kissing one another like it’s doomsday, and in the last seconds of our lives, the only thing that makes sense is to lose ourselves in each other.

It kills me that he thinks I was scared of him.

He gave me a chance to leave, and the truth is, I’m probably naive.

The thought of leaving him is akin to deep diving in the ocean without enough oxygen.

I’ve been running from love for so long, I forgot what it was like to be in the thrall.

Our love is addictive. The fallout will destroy us both, but I can’t stop and I don’t want to.

What I feel for Mace is unlike anything I’ve ever known.

It’s soul deep, everything I’ve ever wanted, and more than that, everything I’ve ever needed.

When we finally break apart, I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his neck, breathing in his cologne, clutching his shirt. “Why aren’t you mad at me?”

“Should I be?” he murmurs, running his finger up my spine .

“The FBI?—”

“They’ve been after me for years.” He sighs and lifts a shoulder. “It’s nothing new. What are they holding over you?”

I bite my lip, wishing he was angry. It would be easier if he was pissed. Instead, I’m drowning in guilt over something he doesn’t seem to care about. “The wire transfer and something Rose and Dare helped me do.” For the sake of transparency, I take a breath and tell him about Rayce and Ryker.

“They absolutely deserved to die,” he tells me, misreading my hesitancy.

“I know, but somehow Paige has pictures, and she was using them against me.” I lean back. “I should have told you as soon as she approached me.”

He lifts a shoulder. “If I had been forced into a marriage with a man I hated, I probably would have done the same.”

“What did she tell you earlier?” I ask.

“That I help her bring down the Marinos or she’ll put you in jail.”

My mouth falls open. That fucking bitch. She has everything she needs to do it too.

Mace tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I told her to go fuck herself.”

No! Fuck. I grasp his shirt. “Maybe we should leave the country.”

“Here’s what we’re going to do?—”

Four rapid knocks sound on my door. Both of us go completely still, breaths held, waiting for whoever it is to leave. But they knock again. Mace tips his head. Expecting someone? I press my eyebrows together. No.

Setting his jaw, he places me on the couch and stands, striding to the door. I feel sorry for whoever is on the other side. I know he’d never hurt me, but he’s a danger to whoever tries to threaten his peace. I chew on my cheek.

Mace stops at the door, checking through the peephole. “Who is it?” he asks, loudly enough to be heard from the other side.

“Dr. Greco.”

“Greco?” Mace mutters to himself, face scrunching.

Dang it. I missed my therapy appointment. “It’s okay,” I tell Mace, touching his arm. “It’s my therapist.”

“ She’s your therapist?”

“Uh, yeah? Is there a problem?” Instead of waiting for an answer, I open the door and smile at Dr. Bianca Greco.

Her rich brunette hair is pulled back, revealing simple makeup that highlights richly hydrated skin that I envy.

She can’t be much older than me, but it’s part of why I like her.

I’m done with old dudes questioning my feelings.

“Hey, Dr. Greco.”

She glances at Mace first, lips pursed, then at me. “You missed our video session and I got worried.”

Last I knew, therapists didn’t do house checks. She’s overstepping. I really like Dr. Greco, though, so I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. “Uh, yeah, sorry, something came up.”

She hums, squinting at Mace again, her eyes moving over him, spotting the ring on his finger and then shifting to my black diamond. Her eyebrows lift.

It’s not like I had planned on keeping it a secret from her. Besides, with Mace here, he can help me convince her this is all perfectly normal. “Do you want to come in or?—?”

“Only if you’re comfortable with that. I really came to check on you. I was...” She trails off and her cheeks redden. “Worried. ”

Softening, I nudge Mace aside and open the door all the way. “I’ll make some coffee.”

Dr. Greco assesses my loft the way I imagine Agent Smith would, checking each corner for hidden danger, but she’s the furthest thing from law enforcement. Mace takes a seat at the island, eyeing her. They’re both acting fucking weird.

“So,” I say as I pop a coffee pod into my machine. “How have you been?”

She clears her throat and smooths her form-fitting black dress. “I should probably be asking you that.”

I lift a shoulder. “And you probably shouldn’t be here, right?”

She takes a seat, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Like I said, I was worried.”

“Hmm.” While the first cup is brewing, I lean against the counter, watching my husband stare with far too much suspicion to make me comfortable. “Do you two know each other?”

Mace’s head whips in my direction. “Not like that.”

A smile cuts across my face. I wasn’t jealous, but I love that he was worried.

Dr. Greco drums her fingers on her arm. All these nervous ticks she’s displaying are out of character. She’s usually so composed. I’m the one who’s meant to be a bundle of nerves. “Mace and I have met before.”

“And where was that?” I slide the first coffee to her and start the next, glancing over my shoulder with an arched eyebrow.

“He knows my husband.”

“Oh?”

Mace nods in confirmation. “Enzo Greco.” The way he says it means something. It would be great if I knew what .

“Okay.” I grab the finished coffee and stand across the island. “Well. I guess you’re wondering about this.” I flash my ring. “Mace and I got married. You’re probably thinking it’s too fast and I’m being rash about it, but it’s done. We’re happy.”

Dr. Greco slides her gaze to Mace. “Can I have a moment with my patient? Alone.”

He squints at the hard tone. Great. Here comes the don’t tell me what to do. “Cassia?”

He’s asking me?

Yeah, I’m asking you he says with a simple look.

I grin. I realize the bar is low here, but when a guy like Mace—who could snap his fingers and get whatever he wants—defers to me?

That’s not something I take lightly. Him giving me power over my own fate is part of the reason I don’t want to leave.

I’ve had every chance to say no when it really counts.

“I’ll be fine.”

Reluctantly, he gets out of his seat, stopping at Dr. Greco’s side and murmuring something low enough I can’t hear. She goes ramrod straight. I need to figure out what the fuck is going on as soon as possible. Why is he being so weird?

She scowls after him, and as soon as the door is shut, she’s out of her seat, rushing around the island. “I heard about the marriage through the grapevine. Are you okay?”

I rear back. “I’m fine.”

“Cassia,” she says, tone urgent. “I don’t have time to explain, but I know about being forced into marriage. I know what men like Mace are like.”

“What are you saying?”

“Made men are all the same.” She grasps my arm. “Please, let me help you. ”

The plea takes me off guard. Actually, everything she said has me reeling. What does she know about the mafia or arranged marriages? Unless, is she saying what I think she’s saying?

“Bianca, are you okay?” Why is she so afraid?

Her face crinkles, brown eyes filling with worry. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you. Let me help you get out of the country. You can stay with my nonna while we figure out how to get rid of Mace.”

“Whoa, whoa. I don’t want to do any of that. Mace isn’t a made man.”

“Mafia or not, he’s made in his own way. These men, they don’t care about us.” She’s trembling now.

Unease swirls inside of me. “I swear to god, I’m okay. Mace is...sweet.”

She frowns, hand falling away. “You’re not ready. It’s okay. We can handle this when you are, but it’s better if we do it now. The longer you wait, the harder it is to get out, Cassia.”

I can’t tell if she’s still talking about my situation or hers.

I haven’t really pried into her life. Although she wears a ring, there are no pictures of her husband or any family in her office.

I assumed it was for safety reasons, but the way she’s acting.

..it’s cagey and, frankly, kind of sketchy. “Do you need help?”

She gives me a look. “I’m the therapist.”

“No, not like that,” I say, shaking my head. “Are you safe?”

Recoiling from the question, she takes two steps back, breathing in. “I’m sorry. I crossed the line coming here. You’re okay otherwise?” She’s avoiding the question.

I let it slide. “Yeah, I’m okay. The medicine is working, the breathing techniques help.

I...guess you know about Mace, so I don’t need to tell you about that.

” It’s not surprising gossip spreads through the mafia networks like wildfire.

“He’s good, Dr. Greco. I mean it. He treats me like I’m a queen. ”

She glances away, but not before I see the doubt flashing across her face. “The offer stands. You have my number. Call me when you need help.”

“I won’t.”

Her lips press into a thin line. “We’ll see.”

A hard line embeds itself across my forehead. Bianca grabs her purse and quickly glances around, checking every corner before moving. Concern swirls inside of me. Something isn’t right. It’s probably not my place to pry. She’s my doctor. I’m her patient.

“Dr. Greco?”

She pauses at the door. “Yeah?”

“What did he tell you?”

“He’d kill me if I hurt you.” She twists her lips at my answering smile, shakes her head, and leaves the apartment, casting Mace a withering glare.

Mace slips in before the door shuts. “What did she say?”

“She thinks she needs to rescue me and that you’re a terrible human being. Actually, she said all made men are.”

He releases a breath, half-turning toward the door like he might go after her, but then he shakes his head.

Okay. That’s fucking weird. “What’s going on?”

“The Marinos hate the Greco family. That is the boss’s wife.”

“I’m sorry. What?”

“Enzo Greco is the boss. Vito hates him, and Bianca was a bargaining chip and given to the wrong family.”

“Given?” I growl, slamming my cup down. “What does that mean? ”

“You know what it means,” Mace says softly. “Like my dad wants to do with my sisters, Bianca’s dad traded her to a man twice her age for power. Now her dad is the Marino underboss, and her husband, Enzo, is a piece of shit.”

I can only guess at what Mace is implying, and I’m too afraid to ask. Bianca dedicates her life to helping people...but who is helping her? My lip curls. “That’s disgusting.”

“One hundred percent.”

“We have to help her.”

Mace grabs my waist and pulls me close. “Baby, I love that heart of yours, but this is the mafia we’re talking about. We help her leave one family, she’ll end up with another, and someone will retaliate against us.”

My heart aches, throat dry at the thought of leaving her in a situation she’s clearly not happy in. He’s right, though. What can we do?

“About the FBI,” Mace says. “I have an idea.”