Page 2

2

ENZO

T he reception spills across the sprawling garden like expensive champagne—calculated extravagance beneath the Chicago twilight. White silk tents glow with warm light, and flower arrangements worth more than most people's monthly rent perfume the air. Jazz and Nerio spared no expense celebrating their unholy matrimony, bringing together Chicago's criminal elite under the guise of class and sophistication.

I stand at the edge of the crowd, nursing a glass of whiskey while scanning the perimeter. Old habits. Even at a wedding, I'm counting exits, identifying threats, keeping mental notes of who talks to whom. Mingling between the families has everyone on edge, shifting alliances like tectonic plates.

"You're going to wear a hole through that woman if you keep staring," Luca says, materializing beside me with his characteristic silence.

I don't turn to look at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Luca lets out a low, humorless laugh. "Sure you don't." He adjusts his cufflinks—platinum, understated wealth that matches the ice in his eyes. "Kendra. You've been watching her all night."

My jaw tightens. Across the garden, Kendra stands in a navy blue dress that hugs every curve like it was created specifically to torment me. But it's not the dress that has my blood running cold. It's the man beside her—tall, perfectly styled brown hair, expensive watch, leaning in too close as he whispers something that makes her laugh.

"Who's that?" I ask, keeping my voice deliberately casual. I know he told me his name, but I want to know more about him.

Luca follows my gaze, the corner of his mouth lifting in that knowing smirk that makes most men nervous. "Griffin something. They went to school together. Marketing, I think."

I take another sip of whiskey, letting the burn distract me from the urge to cross the garden and introduce Griffin's face to my fist.

"Seems friendly."

"Does he now?" Luca sounds amused. "Interesting you'd notice."

"Just making conversation," I say, eyes still fixed on Kendra and the way she touches Griffin's arm when she laughs again.

"I could tell you something else about him that might interest you," Luca offers, swirling the champagne in his glass with practiced indifference.

"I don't care either way."

"No? Then you wouldn't care that he's up to his neck in debt to Armando. Last I heard it’s nearly eighty grand. Been avoiding him for weeks."

My eyebrow rises at this, attention finally shifting from Kendra to Luca. "Is that right?"

Luca shrugs, straightening his Italian silk tie with those calculated movements that make people forget how dangerous his hands can be. "Not my problem. Armando can handle his own collections." His emotionless eyes scan the reception, uninterested in anything that doesn't directly benefit him. "Unless it somehow affects Skye, I don't give a shit who owes what to whom."

His dismissal only fuels my curiosity. I set my empty whiskey glass on a passing server's tray, my focus returning to Kendra and this Griffin . The band transitions to something slow and jazzy, the kind of music that gives people permission to stand too close together.

Griffin's hand settles on Kendra's waist, fingers splaying possessively against the navy fabric. She doesn't move away. Instead, she leans into him when he whispers something against her ear. Her laugh carries across the garden—rich and genuine—the kind of laugh she's never given me.

I tell myself I'm just cataloging details. Assessing dynamics. It's what I do. It has nothing to do with the way his thumb brushes the small of her back, or how she tilts her head to look up at him, that half-smile playing on her full lips.

"You might want to ease up," Luca says, motioning toward my hand. "Before you snap it."

I look down to find my replacement whiskey glass clutched in a white-knuckle grip. I force my fingers to relax, one by one.

"Eighty grand," I say, more to myself than Luca. "Seems like a lot for someone in marketing."

"Gambling," Luca replies, already bored with the conversation. "Started with sports betting, escalated to high-stakes poker. Armando gave him plenty of chances before word started getting around that the guy can’t pay up. He’s blacklisted and watched right now—at least with us.”

Griffin leads Kendra toward the dance floor, his hand never leaving her body. Something sharp and cold settles in my chest as I watch them move together. Not jealousy—I don't do jealousy. Just annoyance. Professional irritation at seeing someone so clearly in over their head acting like they own the world.

"Funny how debt makes men desperate," I observe, straightening my own cuffs. "Makes them do stupid things."

“It seems like the only thing you find stupid is the way he’s so close to her.” Luca chuckles, the sound as cold and empty as everything else about him. "Thinking of collecting another stray?" he asks dryly, watching my face for any reaction.

I know exactly what he means. First Paige, the chaotic yellow Lab who burst into my life by chasing a squirrel through my yard and demolishing everything in her path. Then Penny, the neurotic Australian Shepherd I found cowering behind a dumpster during a collection. Both disasters in their own way. Both now sleeping on my imported leather couch every night.

"Fuck off," I tell him without heat. We've known each other long enough that he can cross lines no one else would survive. Just like few would talk to a Don that way.

"You've got a pattern, Rossi," he continues, unmoved by my dismissal. "Broken things with big eyes that need saving."

I take another drink instead of answering. On the dance floor, Griffin's hand slides lower on Kendra's back, nearly grazing territory that would force me to separate his fingers from his hand. She shifts subtly, repositioning his touch to somewhere more appropriate without breaking their rhythm.

Smart. Assertive without creating a scene. That's Kendra all over.

"She doesn't need saving," I finally reply, the words coming out rougher than intended. "But her taste in men is questionable."

"And yet here you stand, watching her from across the reception instead of doing something about it."

I shoot him a dark look. "I'm not doing anything about it. I'm making observations."

"About?"

"About how interesting it is that she has no idea what kind of trouble her date is in." I straighten my tie, a deliberate movement to conceal the tension coiling through me. "While I know exactly how deep that particular hole goes."

Information is currency in our world. Griffin might have Kendra's attention right now, but I already have the upper hand. Nearly eighty grand to Armando isn't just debt—it's a noose. And Griffin's neck is already in it.

Kendra laughs again at something he says, her head tilted back, exposing the elegant line of her throat. For a second, my mind flashes to how that smooth skin would feel under my lips, my teeth.

"You're doing it again," Luca observes, that damn knowing smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"What?"

"Looking at her like she's already yours."

I don't answer.

Probably because it definitely feels like she is .