Page 3

3

KENDRA

I balance the bottle of prosecco between my arm and hip as I knock on Griffin's door. The hallway of his apartment building smells like someone's cooking curry—not unpleasant, just unexpected in this upscale neighborhood. I check my watch. Eight o'clock on the dot. Right on time, as usual.

Griffin had texted me earlier about hanging out tonight. Said he needed some company, which isn't like him. Griffin's never been the needy type. Usually, he's the life of the party—always surrounded by people, always on. That's what made his text strange. Something felt off.

I knock again, harder this time. "Griffin? It's Kendra."

A thud sounds from inside, followed by what might be a muffled curse. My instincts kick in—something's not right with this picture.

The door swings open, but it's not Griffin standing there.

The man who answers is tall with broad shoulders that fill the doorframe. Dark hair slicked back, expensive watch glinting on his wrist, suit tailored to perfection. But it's his eyes that catch my attention—cold, calculating, like he's constantly running numbers behind them.

"Well hello there," he says, voice smooth as aged whiskey. "Griffin didn't mention he was expecting such lovely company."

I straighten my spine, meeting his gaze directly. "And Griffin didn't mention he already had company."

His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Just finishing up some business."

Something in his tone makes my skin prickle. I glance past him into the apartment, catching sight of Griffin standing stiffly in the living room. His brown hair is disheveled, his blue eyes wide with what looks suspiciously like fear.

I take a step forward, but the man doesn't budge.

"Armando," Griffin calls out, voice strained. "We were just finishing up, right?"

Armando. The name registers somewhere in the back of my mind. I've heard Jazz mention that name before—something about the Mantione family.

I duck back, pretending I've forgotten something, and step away from the door. "I'll just wait out here."

Instead of leaving, I press my back against the wall beside the doorway, listening. Thankfully, neither of them say a word to me. But Armando also doesn't shut the door.

"Like I said," Armando's voice drops to a menacing whisper, "your deadline's coming up. I don’t appreciate waiting for what's owed to me."

"I'll get it," Griffin says. "I just need?—"

A dull thud interrupts him, followed by a groan of pain.

"That's a reminder," Armando says casually. "Next time it won't be just your ribs."

My heart hammers against my chest. Without thinking, I step back into the doorway.

Griffin is doubled over, one arm wrapped around his midsection, face contorted in pain. Armando stands over him, adjusting his cufflinks like he just checked the time instead of assaulting my friend.

"What the hell is going on?" I demand, stepping into the apartment, prosecco still clutched in my arm.

Griffin's head snaps up. "Kendra, don't?—"

Armando turns to me, that cold smile returning. "Nothing that concerns you, sweetheart. Your friend and I are just settling a business matter."

"Business doesn't usually involve punching," I say, moving toward Griffin.

"Kendra, please," Griffin pleads. "Just go."

"Not until someone tells me what's happening." I plant my feet, crossing my arms.

Armando chuckles, the sound chilling. "You've got a brave friend here, Griffin." He looks me up and down appreciatively. "She doesn't know what kind of trouble you're in, does she?"

"It's nothing," Griffin insists, straightening with obvious effort. "Just a misunderstanding."

"Doesn't look like nothing to me," I challenge, glaring at Armando.

He seems amused by my defiance. "You want to know what's going on? Your buddy here got in over his head at our tables. Thought he could beat the house." Armando shrugs. "House always wins."

"Griffin?" I look at him, waiting for him to deny it.

The shame in his eyes tells me everything.

"How much?" I ask, my voice tight.

Griffin shakes his head. "Don't worry about it."

"Seventy-five thousand," Armando says casually. "Plus interest."

The room seems to tilt beneath me. "Seventy-five thousand dollars?" My voice rises. "Griffin, what were you thinking?"

"I was on a streak," he says weakly. "Then I wasn't."

Armando checks his watch. "Touching as this is, I've got other stops to make." He straightens his jacket. "Two days, Griffin. Or we move on to breaking things that don't heal."

I step closer to Armando, my heels clicking deliberately against Griffin's hardwood floor. The prosecco bottle feels heavy in my hand now. I could swing it if I needed to—not that I would, but the weight is reassuring.

"I'll take care of it," I state, my voice steady and firm.

Armando's laugh fills the room—deep, dismissive, and utterly patronizing. "You'll take care of it? Honey, this isn't some overdue library book. This is seventy-five thousand dollars, plus interest."

I lock eyes with him, refusing to flinch. "I said, I'll take care of it."

"And how exactly do you plan to do that?" He looks me up and down again, his gaze lingering inappropriately. "Though I'm sure we could work out some kind of payment plan that would be mutually beneficial."

My lip curls with disgust. "I'll speak to Luca directly."

The change is immediate. The amused glint in his eyes dissolves, replaced by something wary and cold. His posture stiffens ever so slightly.

"Luca Mantione?" He tries to sound casual, but I catch the edge in his voice. "And what makes you think the Don would give you the time of day?"

"That's my business," I reply coolly. "But you can tell the rest of your crew that Griffin's debt is now my concern, and I'll be discussing terms with Luca himself."

Armando steps closer, invading my space. I force myself not to back away. "You know who Luca is?"

"I know he's running things now. And I know he prefers to handle business directly." I'm bluffing, pulling fragments of information Skye has mentioned, but my face betrays nothing.

He studies me for a long moment before stepping back. "Forty-eight hours," he says finally. "That's all I'm giving you." His eyes flick to Griffin. "Or I'll start taking my payment a different way."

Once the door closes behind Armando, Griffin collapses onto his sofa, face in his hands.

"Jesus, Kendra. What the hell did you just do?" He looks up at me, blue eyes wide with panic. "You can't just name-drop Luca Mantione like that. Do you know what he's capable of?"

I set the prosecco down, suddenly not in the mood for celebration. He knows that he was just at a wedding with Luca and didn't even tell me about this.

What else isn't he telling me?

"No, Griffin, what I want to know is how the hell you got mixed up with the Mantiones in the first place. Gambling? Really?"

He has the decency to look ashamed. "It started small. Just a few hands of poker at the Emerald Oyster. I was winning at first, then—" He gestures helplessly. "I kept thinking I could turn it around."

"Seventy-five thousand dollars worth of 'turning it around'?" I rub my temples, feeling a headache brewing. "You should have called me before it got this bad."

"I never wanted to drag you into this." His voice cracks. "I'm so sorry, Kendra."

I wave him off. "I'll handle it."

But as I walk away, a chill runs up my spine. I just made a promise I'm not entirely sure I can keep. I don't actually know if Luca will help me. He's only loyal to one person really—his wife.

I just have to pray she can get me out of this.