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“Offer them some drinks,” Gio growled at his men. “We’ll be right in.”

His men nodded and walked back to the main house. We both watched their retreating backs and then Gio turned to me. “You’re coming with me,” he said in a tone that allowed for no argument.

He gave me his arm, and when I looked reluctant to take it, he leaned closer and whispered: “Unless you’d prefer the basement again?”

The air from his voice skimmed my ear, and I shivered at the contact. I didn’t entirely hate the proximity. My brain turned into a jumbled mess. One part chided me for liking how good it felt to have him whisper in my ear, while the other told me to do whatever was necessary to avoid the basement.

Without another word, I took his arm.

He led me back into the mansion, and my heart hammered against my ribs as we made our way through the hallway. Gio was a dangerous and powerful man. I gauged that from his treatment of me and the dozens of armed men in this oversized prison he liked to call home.

His brothers would be just as dangerous. I tried to calm my mind as it raced in petrified terror of these men I was about to meet. I imagined them as cunning, dangerous, and out for my brothers’ blood.

What if they convinced Gio to take it further in his interrogation? My knees nearly buckled in fear of that thought.

“Walk,” Gio said impatiently.

“I am walking,” I snapped back, though my legs felt a little like jelly.

One moment, I was running so close to freedom, and now, I was being marched into a roomful of his family members.

We paused outside the large double-sided doors for the living room. “You will behave in front of my brothers,” he looked down at me through furrowed brows as his hand reached to push open the door.

It wasn't a request. I nodded nervously.

The thought of meeting more men like him made my throat constrict.

I braced myself for whatever was to come as we entered the sprawling living room. Four men looked up at us. The family resemblance was unmistakable, and I had to force myself to remain standing instead of running out the door.

My gaze darted from one to the next, and I didn’t know what to do. Should I have smiled? Should I have averted my gaze?

I didn’t want to get on the wrong side of the group. My life kind of depended on it.

A tall, lanky man grinned in my direction. “Finally decided to join us,” he said to Gio, and then his gaze slid to me. I forced myself not to shrink back.

“What brought you here?” Gio asked.

“We were bored,” said another. He looked younger than Gio, and he shrugged playfully in my direction in a way of saying what’s Gio going to do about it? Instinctively, I smiled at his playful motion.

“This is Larissa,” Gio said, nodding in my direction. “She’s my guest for a while.”

My head snapped toward him. Just Larissa? Not Larissa Ajello, sister of our enemies? Not the prisoner I've taken ?

The tall brother stepped forward, extending a hand. “Hello, Larissa. We hope the Lebedev treatment is to your liking.”

I hesitated before taking it, half-expecting some sort of trap. “Thank you,” I managed, the words feeling foreign on my tongue.

I tried to rack my brain for if that last name Lebedev meant something, but came up empty. I’d never heard of the Lebedevs.

“These are my brothers,” Gio made introductions around the room. “Federico, Dante, Luca, and Achille.”

Each nodded in acknowledgment. Federico, tall and lean with calculating eyes; Dante, whose smile didn't quite reach his gaze; Luca, younger with a restless energy about him; and Achille, who regarded me with open curiosity.

None of them looked at me with the cold contempt I'd expected. There was more than a little curiosity, yes, but not the straight-out aggression I'd braced for. In fact, they were friendly.

My mind raced, piecing together the facts. Gio hadn't revealed my last name. He simply called me Larissa. Why? What game was he playing?

And then it clicked—he didn't want them to know he'd kidnapped me. For whatever reason, he was keeping my identity a secret, even from his own family.

Which meant I had leverage.

I forced my shoulders to relax, my lips to curve into something resembling a smile. If Gio wanted to pretend I was a guest, then I'd be the most inquisitive guest they'd ever encountered, understanding that I could use this opportunity to gain information.

“Gio’s home is beautiful, and he’s a lovely host,” I said, letting my gaze wander appreciatively around the room. “I wasn't expecting something so...warm.”

“What were you expecting?” Luca asked, leaning forward with interest. “A dungeon?”

I laughed whole-heartedly. Beside me, I felt Gio stiffen.

“Besides, the whole dungeon thing is more Dante’s style,” Achille said with a smirk. “The rest of us prefer being civil.”

Dante rolled his eyes but didn't contradict him.

“Now,” I said in an overly casual tone. “Where are those drinks?”

“Tsk,” Federico shook his head at Gio. “Some host!” His brother came over and gave me his arm. I left Gio’s and took his as he walked me to the bar. When I looked over my shoulder, I saw Gio frowning at me in warning, as though asking what it was I was playing at.

I gave him an innocent smile and turned my attention back to Federico.

“Red or white?” he asked as I reached for a wine glass.

“White, please.”

He poured me a drink, and we walked back to join the rest. “So… how long are you staying here for?” he asked.

Around me, I saw the others pause in conversation, eager to learn more about their brother’s guest.

“I plan to play it by the ear,” I said, non-committal in answer.

“And what brings you to New York?” asked Dante, without a smile. Something told me he was the one I needed to watch out for. The one who didn’t trust.

“Never been before,” I shrugged.

“And where is it that you are from?” he fired back immediately.

Beside me, I felt Gio stand straighter, his nervous energy rubbing off on me. “She’s—” he tried to intervene, but I cut him off, taking control of this situation. For some reason, I knew that if I allowed him to speak for me, I wouldn’t be able to bond enough with the brothers to get a foot in for an invite to the rest of the evening.

“I’ve lived in plenty of places,” I said with a smile. “My family moved a lot, but mostly we’ve been in the US.”

“You’ve spent time overseas?” Achille asked excitedly.

“My childhood in Russia,” I explained with a warm smile. There was nothing wrong with dangling that one truth in front of them. I knew they were part of a crime unit of some sort, and their last name told me they had Russian blood. I could be anyone from their world.

Gio watched every exchange with bated breath, but by now, he had realized I wasn’t going to give up his dirty secret. Yet, he hovered over me, his presence like a cloud.

“Will you be joining us for dinner, Larissa?” Luca asked, and I felt Gio stiffen beside me.

Before he could answer for me, I smiled brightly. “I'd love to, if it's not too much trouble. I'm absolutely famished.”

Gio's fingers twitched against my arm—a warning. I ignored it.

Luca’s eyes fell on Gio. “You might get bored…with talk of shop.”

I pretended to look disappointed when Achille scoffed. “We have no work to talk of tonight. Don’t be a bore, Brother. Or are you afraid we’ll run her off?” he wiggled his eyebrows at Gio.

I knew then that Gio was caught in a trap. His brothers had invited me for dinner and had made it clear they’d like my company. If he said no now, it would look strange.

As I predicted, Gio turned to me with a pained smile. “Join us, please. ”

And just like that, I was in charge of the evening. I could now learn so much about Gio and his family—information I knew I would later use for leverage. A small, petty side of me wanted to flaunt it in Gio’s face, and without a second thought, I linked my arm through his and gave him a big, cheery smile. “Lead the way!”

He paused for a moment, his eyes traveling from my face to where our arms were interlinked. Just then, I realized what I’d done. I felt the heat of his skin crawl through my clothes, but I couldn’t exactly extract myself from the touch now without raising suspicion. I felt my ears redden, my cheeks flush and then, Gio smiled sweetly, as though he saw right through the racing of my heart.

“Of course,” he said with a smile of his own, telling me game on , as he led me to the dining room. I could feel his gaze on me throughout the entire walk, and once we reached the table, he placed a hand on the small of my back, causing me to nearly jump at the current that traveled up my spine while he pulled out a chair and helped me get settled.

I finally found myself seated between Dante and Luca, with Gio directly across from me. His gaze never left me as servants brought out the chowder.

“So, Larissa,” Federico said as we began to eat, “how did you and Giovanni meet?”

Gio's eyes narrowed. I took a deliberate sip of my soup before answering.

“It was quite unexpected,” I said honestly, just enough to deflect a follow up. “He showed up when I least expected it.”

“That sounds like Gio,” Luca laughed. “Always where you least expect him.”

I nodded, my smile tight. “He's full of surprises.”

“And what do you do, Larissa?” Dante asked, his tone casual, but his eyes sharp; I didn’t miss that.

“I work with my family,” I answered vaguely. “We're in…imports and exports, mainly.”

“Imports from where?” Dante pressed.

I twirled my spoon in my soup. “Russia, primarily. We have...connections there.”

“And your family name?” Federico asked, his tone deceptively light.

I felt Gio's foot nudge mine under the table—a warning. Without wasting a moment, I accidentally spilled my wine all over the table.

“Oh dear!” I gushed, jumping out of my chair as Luca handed me some napkins. “How clumsy of me!”

A few minutes passed by as a new plate was brought out for me. I used this time to dab the tablecloth clean.

The conversation shifted as the next course arrived. I dug into the meatloaf and chewed slowly, thinking of ways to learn more without raising an alarm.

“This house must have quite a history,” I said, putting down my fork. “How long have you owned it, Gio?”

“It’s been our family for three generations,” Federico answered on behalf of his brother. “Our grandfather acquired it when he first came to America.”

“From Russia?” I asked innocently.

“Our maternal family came from Italy,” Dante nodded. “While our paternal has roots in Russia, as you must know already.”

“Of course,” I nodded.

Lebedev. I turned the name over in my mind again. My brothers had mentioned many crime families over the years, but couldn’t recall them mentioning this family.

“And now you've brought those roots here,” I continued, keeping my tone conversational. “Building an empire of your own, I imagine.”

“Something like that,” Dante replied, his gaze suddenly more penetrating. “We've established ourselves in various...industries.”

“Shipping,” Luca offered.

“Real estate,” added Federico.

“Security,” Achille said with a smirk that suggested 'security' meant something entirely different.

I nodded as if this was all perfectly normal dinner conversation. “Diversification is important in business.”

“Indeed,” Caspian agreed. “And what does your family specialize in, Larissa?”

I felt Gio's gaze boring into me. “Protection, mainly,” I said, thinking of my brothers. “Ensuring that those under our care remain...unmolested by outside interests.”

By the time dessert arrived, I had pieced together some information about the Lebedevs. They controlled shipping routes along the eastern seaboard. They had connections in high places. They were expanding their territory.

All useful information that my brothers would want to know—if I ever got back to them.

As dinner concluded, Federico rose from his seat first. “I'm afraid we should get going. It was a pleasure meeting you, Larissa. I hope we'll see more of you during your stay.”

The others followed suit, offering polite goodbyes that felt surreal given the circumstances. Within minutes, Gio and I were alone in the dining room, the silence stretching between us like a taut wire.

“What the hell was that?” he finally asked, his voice low and dangerous.

I raised an eyebrow. “Dinner? I believe it's a common evening ritual among civilized people.”

His hand slammed onto the table, making the crystal glasses jump. “You know what I mean. The questions. The probing. What game are you playing?”

“Me?” I laughed, the sound sharp and brittle. “That's rich coming from the man who kidnapped me, then introduced me to his family like I was some girlfriend he'd brought home.”

He stood, circling the table toward me. “You're gathering information. I saw it.”

I rose to meet him, refusing to be intimidated despite the way my heart raced. “And you're hiding the fact that you kidnapped me. Why is that, Giovanni?”

He moved closer, crowding my space as he slammed his fists on the table on either side of me, his body bracing over mine as I was half-forced on the edge of the table. I could smell his cologne, and beneath it, the heady remnants of heat on his skin. His eyes simmered on mine, burning right through me.

“I still think you're a spy,” he whispered, sending a shiver down my spine. “Tonight, you proved just as much with your line of questioning.”

“And I still think you're paranoid,” I whispered back, tilting my head up at him until our lips were mere inches away. “And clearly keeping secrets from your own brothers.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, I thought he might kiss me. For a moment, I forgot everything, including who he was. Who I was.

We stood perilously close to making a mistake, and my trembling knees urged me to stop denying it. The realization that part of me wanted him to was more terrifying than any threat he'd made, so I instantly averted my gaze and tucked my shoulders down.

I heard him release a breathy sigh, the remnants of which I swear I felt on my lips, and then he stepped away.

“You’re going to cause trouble, Ajello,” he said as I walked past him.

“I’ve never been afraid of a little trouble,” I shot back, and when I did, I saw him give me a smoldering, dazed look.

The next thing I knew, I was walking to my room, and he was at my heels. “What is it you plan to do with this information you seek on my family?”

“Nothing if you let me go,” I hissed at him as we climbed up the stairs.

“Were you sent to spy on just me, or my entire family?” he asked.

“Do you even hear yourself?” I shrieked in near annoyance as we reached my door. “I told you already. I. Am. Not. A. Spy.”

And just like that, the moment was gone. Just like that, anything I felt for him burned away in the face of my anger, and I turned away from him.

I made it three steps away from my room door before his hand closed around my wrist, spinning me back to face him. “This isn't over,” he warned.

“Like you’d ever let me forget,” I replied. Then I yanked my arm free and strode for the room, my head high despite the trembling in my legs.

He followed me to the door, watching as I turned the handle. “We'll continue this conversation tomorrow,” he said, his tone making it clear it wasn't a suggestion.

I looked at him over my shoulder, taking in his powerful frame, the intensity of his gaze, the way his presence seemed to fill the hallway.

“No,” I said simply. “We won't.”

And then I stepped inside and slammed the door in his face, the heavy thud echoing with finality.

Alone at last, I leaned against the door, my breath coming in short gasps. Lebedev. The name still meant little to me, but I knew one thing for certain—these people were dangerous, and Gio most of all.

Not just because he'd kidnapped me or because he was clearly Bratva from the nature of their business and conversations. But because when he'd stood so close, looking at me with those whiskey eyes, I'd forgotten to be afraid.