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EMMY

I expected the changeover, meeting the new Boss, would be emotional for me. Enzo DeLuca had been my boss and a father figure to me. My father had died while working for Enzo decades ago, and he'd been sure to keep an eye on me ever since. His death was devastating, but not totally unexpected. It’s all part of Enzo's line of work.

I thought I was ready to meet his replacement, the mysterious nephew from California. What I hadn't expected was to be blindsided with such a ridiculous need for Alessandro DeLuca the second I laid eyes on him.

I’ve done plenty of research on Alessandro. I love research. He’s thirty-eight and has been a runaway success as the leader of the California faction of the DeLuca family. Both of his parents died ten years ago in a tragic auto accident, and he has no siblings. I thought all the information would make me more prepared to see him for the first time, but I was oh so wrong.

He's tall, at least 6’4, and handsome in a classic way, his dark hair slicked back and his features strong and sharp. A neatly trimmed beard frames his jaw, and the suit he's wearing is tailored to his broad shoulders. Alessandro is tall, and even in his suit, I can see he’s packed with muscle. It's obvious he's powerful, even without the family ring marking him as the next leader, but there’s a sharp intelligence in his deep brown eyes that I’m happy to see. Strong and smart. A deadly combination for me, apparently.

The moment our eyes met, something passed between us. An undeniable, electric pull, and for a split second, I thought I might be dreaming. A shiver started from my toes all the way to the top of my head, making my pussy throb and my nipples tighten.

But then Marco walked out, and the spell was broken. Fucking Marco. I've never liked him, and his interruption only put him more firmly on my shit list.

Now I'm back at my desk, absentmindedly shuffling papers and pretending that every ounce of my concentration isn't tuned into the sounds from the closed office behind me. How am I supposed to work from now on with Alessandro at my back?

The thought of him behind me in a totally different way, naked and pounding into me, flashes through my mind, making me ache between my legs. I nearly drop the papers in my hands.

What the fuck, Emmy. Get a hold of yourself.

There is definitely a spark between us. Or maybe a flame. I’m sure I’m not imagining it.

God, I need a drink. I have a reputation to uphold here in the DeLuca crime family, or it might be more accurate to say a lack of reputation. No one notices me, and even those who do don't give me a second thought. Drinking on the job would be way out of line for invisible little Emmy Moretti.

"Emmy."

Startled, I turn to face the office doors and gulp. Alessandro is calling for me. He's leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, and his dark eyes are fixed directly on me.

"Yes, Mr. DeLuca," I manage to ask, forcing myself not to fidget under his gaze.

"Sandro," he corrects, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Come into my office. I have a few things I want to discuss with you."

I've been in this office a million times before, and it's comfortingly familiar, except for the fact that I'm now alone with Alessandro. He sits in the worn leather chair that Enzo loved so much, and I take the seat on the other side of the desk.

"Do we have a cleaning service?"

The question is unexpected. "We have a cleaning lady. She comes in once a week."

"Hm." Sandro pushes a handwritten list across the desk, his script neat and looping. "I need you to hire a decorator and cleaning crew for this office and Enzo's penthouse. I'm moving in, and from the looks of this place, his preferences aren't going to match what I need from my living and work spaces. These are the parameters and the must-haves. Otherwise, I trust your judgment."

My fingers brush his as I pick up the paper, and again that connection is there, making my heart race. Sandro notices, too, because his lips twist into a smirk.

"Y-yes, Mr. DeLuca."

"Sandro," he corrects again, then leans back. "Now. Tell me about yourself."

"What would you like to know?"

"Let's start with your background. You've been working for Enzo for a long time, haven't you?"

I nod, shifting uncomfortably in the seat. I'm not used to this much attention, and the way Sandro is looking at me makes me nervous. "My father was an enforcer. After he died during a firefight, your uncle took care of my mother and me financially. He hired me to be his assistant when I turned eighteen about four years ago, and I've been here ever since."

Sandro leans forward, his elbows on the desk. "I have a good sense for this sort of work, Emmy, and I get the feeling that Enzo didn't hire you just to be a secretary, right? If my instincts are correct, which they usually are, I bet he hired you to be his eyes and ears when he wasn't around."

He's good. Really good. I swallow. "I'm not sure what you're suggesting."

"You're loyal and intelligent, and that makes you invaluable." Sandro grins. "Don't worry, it's not a secret anymore. Your loyalty will be rewarded. In the meantime, I'll be keeping you very close." He stands, stalking around the desk until his large hands rest on my shoulders. "Very, very close."

My breath catches. Sandro is touching me. Sandro, the new Boss, who's hot and dangerous and is making me feel things I've never felt before. "How close, exactly?"

"Let's just say that I plan for you to have a much more enjoyable time working under me than you did with my uncle." His thumbs press against the back of my neck, rubbing slow circles over my skin. I gasp, and his hands move down my back, tracing the line of my spine. "I take care of what is mine, Emmy, and as long as you're here, you're mine."

Arousal and panic hit me in repeating waves, and the next words that burst from my mouth take us both off guard. "He let me live in the basement apartment," I blurt out. "Mr. DeLuca. The old Mr. DeLuca. My mom retired to Florida, but Enzo wanted me close and---"

He chuckled. "I have no intention of kicking you out, Emmy, but thank you for your honesty. Were there any other special circumstances attached to your employment that I should know about?"

I shake my head.

"Good." He moves his hands, stepping away from me. "I need to speak to the accountant. Please send him in."

"Of course."

"Emmy?"

"Yes, Sandro?"

"Take the rest of the day off. We're going to have a long week, and I want you well-rested."

"Yes, sir." I don't argue. Somehow, working with Sandro for less than an hour makes me feel like I've been here for twelve. "I'll see you in the morning, then. How do you take your coffee?"

"A double shot of espresso."

Dark and strong. It shouldn't be a surprise. "Yes, sir."

And with that, I exit the office, list in hand. I have a series of calls to make, but I might as well make them in the privacy of my apartment, where no one can see how much the new Boss is making me lose it.

The entire DeLuca crime family is in upheaval after the arrival of Alessandro, but none more so than me. Unfortunately, it's my job to keep cool under pressure, and it's been the hardest work week of my life.

It isn't that Alessandro is hard on me. A mafia boss is always going to have an air of toughness, but Alessandro rules with a cool competence. He's out of his office more so than in it for the first few days while the designer worked on the space, moving out a number of Enzo's old things and molding the space to Alessandro's liking.

Instead, he spends the time visiting the rest of the family and allies, letting everyone know that Alessandro DeLuca isn’t going to be hands-off. He's got his fingers on the pulse of Chicago's underground, and that's where he's going to keep them.

When he is here, though, it's a lesson in patience for me every time. I want to be close to him, to give him the opportunity to touch me again like he did that first day, but it never pans out. His smiles are disarming, his voice like rich caramel, but I never have him close long enough to really revel in it.

Instead, I put my efforts into what I'm best at—being invisible. When Alessandro has meetings with his underlings, I'm at his side, head down, taking notes. Later, I'll pass through Bellissimo downstairs, taking my lunch in a small corner booth and listening to the chatter around me. No one paid me a second thought in years, and Alessandro's arrival hasn't changed that. I get the feeling that most of the members of our little organization think that I'm dim, and it benefits me to let them keep thinking that way.

Little mousy Emmy. Always underfoot, but rarely noticed. It’s perfect.

Alessandro's arrival was obviously the talk of the town, but there is one subject that still dominates above all others at the moment—who killed Enzo DeLuca? Thinking about my old boss makes my heart ache, and I'm as desperate as anyone to know who the killer was. But no matter how much eavesdropping I manage to do, the answer never becomes any clearer for me.

Everyone assumes it was a hit from a rival family. But something about it just doesn't sit right with me. The murder was clean, with no sign of a struggle. It made me think that whoever killed Enzo was someone he trusted. No one else would have been able to get so close. The previous Boss might have been old, but he was still tough as nails and always armed. When he was shot, his favorite revolver, inlaid with gold filament, was still in its holster, untouched.

I miss Enzo. Of course I do. But there's an electricity in the air now that Alessandro has arrived, a feeling that the entire organization is turning over a new leaf and modernizing in a way Enzo would have never been capable of. I'm not exactly proud to be a daughter of the mob, but it's all I've ever known, and I can't help but be excited for the change. Progress benefits us all.

It's almost eleven o'clock at night, and I'm exhausted. Today's been a rough one. Marco's been a pain in my ass all morning, and the last meeting we attended was an hour-long fight between Sandro and a local bookie. The bookie lost, but Alessandro still spent most of the day stewing.

I've just finished putting the files away when the office door opens and Alessandro stalks in. He's wearing a three-piece suit, and his tie is already loosened.

"Ms. Moretti." He nods, his voice gruff. "Please tell me that we're fucking done for the day."

"Your evening is clear," I tell him. "Unless there's something that needs to be added, your schedule is clear until nine o'clock tomorrow."

Alessandro nods, his eyes fixed on me. I'm used to his penetrating stare, but tonight it's more intense than usual, and I shift, suddenly uncomfortable. "You look tired."

I try not to flinch at the observation. "I feel it, too. Long day."

"Yeah, no kidding. Fuck, I need a drink. Want to come join me?"

I should say no. It's the responsible thing to do. Alessandro is respected and feared now more than almost any other man in the city, and he's asking me to get a drink after work like we're at some normal office. It's a bad idea, but a really tempting one.

"I'm not much of a drinker."

"Come on, Emilia. I've been stuck inside with my own thoughts all day. I could use the company."

The truth is that I've wanted a chance to talk with him alone ever since he showed up. Something about the way he watches me sends a thrill through my veins, and even though I know that it's wrong, that I should resist the urge, I want to know more about him.

So against my better judgment, I nod. "Okay. Yeah, I could go for a drink."

Alessandro strips out of his suit jacket and hangs it on his office door. At first, I'm confused, assuming we're heading downstairs to Bellissimo for our drink. But when he instead approaches the bar cart in the corner of the office, grabbing a bottle of light brown whiskey, I know I've made an error. We aren't having a drink in public. We're having one all alone here in his office.

Joining him for a drink was already a bad idea, but this? It's a whole other level.

"Do you want a glass?" he asks, pulling two glasses from the shelf.

I nod, and Alessandro pours the liquor, his eyes lingering on the way I shift from foot to foot as I stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. When the tumblers are full, he offers me one. Our fingers touch as I take the glass, and his dark eyes lock onto mine.

"Sit down, Emmy," he murmurs, "before you fall down."

There's a short leather couch against one wall, and it's much more inviting than it has any right to be. I sigh as I sink into it, taking a sip. The whiskey is a little spicy and very strong. Alessandro takes the seat next to me and stretches his legs out, resting them on the low coffee table in front of us.

"You're really doing a great job, you know," he tells me.

"Thank you."

"It's a lot to take on, but I trust you. You're a hell of an asset, and that's important. This isn't going to be an easy transition."

I can tell by his tone that something is weighing on him, so I stay quiet. Sure enough, Alessandro keeps talking.

"The guys that are left are loyal, but not as loyal as they could be. They're questioning my ability to rule. If I have any chance of succeeding here, I have to show them who's boss. That starts with finding out who killed Enzo. Once I find the son of a bitch, it'll shut everyone up."

"Is that why you've been pushing Marco so hard?"

Sandro's brow quirks. "Have you heard us fighting?"

"No," I say, blushing a little. "Okay, yes. But I don't like him either."

Alessandro laughs once. "He seemed sure that Enzo would pass the torch directly to him. He's going to have to get over it if he wants to keep his position."

I smile, taking another sip of my drink. This isn't so bad. Part of me was sure that as soon as I was alone with Alessandro, I'd make a fool of myself. But his presence is comforting. "Why did you want to meet with me, Sandro?"

"Hm." He shifts. "Honestly? You intrigue me, Emilia. I don't think you're being honest with me. Or with yourself."

I swallow, setting my glass down on the coffee table. His words should inspire fear, but they don’t. Why in the world do I trust this man so easily? "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do. You're not stupid. Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying," I say, crossing my arms. “All I do is come to work, do my job, and leave. I’m not hiding anything.”

"That's the problem, Emilia." He reaches for me, his fingers brushing against my cheek. "You aren't living for yourself."

The touch shocks me. It’s so intimate, but comes so easily to him, that it catches me completely off guard. Before I can stop myself, I’m leaning into the caress.

"You know nothing about me," I reply, and his fingers trace the line of my jaw.

"I know you were hired by Enzo as an informant." Alessandro's eyes search mine, and his face is closer than it was a few moments ago. "And that's the reason you've been given such a position of power now. You're smart, talented, and I know my uncle paid you enough that you've probably got a pretty little nest egg saved up. You could have done anything, gone anywhere, but instead you stayed here. Why?"

"Why are you so interested in me?" I counter. The truth isn't anything scintillating, but it’s embarrassing instead. I haven't left because this life is comfortable, and I've been afraid. But I don't dare tell him that.

"You're hiding," he says, his breath fanning across my face. He smells like whiskey and spice. "But there's nothing to hide from anymore. You're free. What are you going to do with it?"

"I have no idea."

"Hm,” Alessandro says again before he leans in, takes my glasses from my face, and presses his lips to mine.

For a second, I'm too surprised to move, but then my eyes flutter closed and I melt into him. Sandro's hands cup my face, and the kiss deepens. I gasp, opening my mouth, and his tongue darts in, sliding along mine. His hands trail down my shoulders, coming to rest at the small of my back. He pulls me closer, and his hard body presses against mine.

He works his hands into my hair, expertly undoing the pins and running his fingers through the long fall of it once it comes loose. Sandro hums in approval. “I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I first saw you.”

It's a kiss unlike anything I've ever felt before. Alessandro DeLuca is the Boss, the man to be feared, and his body against mine, his tongue tangling with my own, is more than I could have dreamed. When we finally pull apart, my cheeks are hot, and my breath is coming in short pants. Alessandro doesn't move away, instead leaning in to press his forehead against mine.

"Don't misunderstand me." When he speaks now, his voice is more like a growl. "I have no interest in letting you go, Emilia. So this is your chance, before I'm unable to let you go. Do you want to leave, start some new life far away from the DeLuca family empire?"

"No." I'm breathless, but sure. There's no part of me that wants to walk away.

"Then it's settled," Alessandro replies. He pulls me into his lap, and I squeak as his hand slides under the hem of my dress, coming to rest on the skin of my thigh. "From now on, you're mine. You understand?"

"Yes, sir,"

"Good."

He kisses me again, and I let him. This time it's long and indulgent, his hands wandering across my legs but never too far. He's the picture of control. Meanwhile, I'm crawling out of my skin with want. The ache between my thighs is so strong that I find myself grinding against him. I've lost all sense of myself, and if it was up to me, I'd give every bit of myself over to him right here and now.

I’d happily lose my virginity here on the couch, consequences be damned.

Alessandro pulls back, giving me a second to breathe. I'm certain he'll want to take things further, but when I lean in to kiss him again, he shakes his head, one side of his mouth quirking up. "You need sleep. You look exhausted.”

Uh, no? I’m not tired at all anymore. In fact, I’ve never felt more alive. “But?—”

“Here.” He picks my glasses up from the table, handing them to me. “Don’t want you blind now, do we?”

“They’re just blue light blockers,” I blurt, keenly aware that the conversation has gotten very unsexy very fast. “I, um … my vision is fine.”

Alessandro chuckles. “Just another part of your disguise, huh? Come on, I'll walk you home."

I'm not sure how to respond, so I nod. Alessandro rises from the couch and holds out a hand, which I take. As he leads me down the hall, I’m a ball of emotions. How can he just stop so easily when a single kiss has me ready to crawl out of my skin?

And now that the seal has been broken, how in the hell am I supposed to work with him like nothing has changed?

I've always known that Sandro was going to be my boss, and that working under him would be difficult. Little did I know it would be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.