THORNS OF BLOOD

THORNS OF OMERTÀ SERIES

EVA WINNERS
Copyright © 2024 by Eva Winners
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Photographer: Wander Aguiar
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 CONTENTS
Thorns of Omertà series
Thorns of Blood Playlist
Author Note
Blurb
Prologue
1. Giovanni
2. Liana
3. Liana
4. Liana
5. Giovanni
6. Giovanni
7. Giovanni
8. Liana
9. Giovanni
10. Liana
11. Giovanni
12. Liana
13. Giovanni
14. Liana
15. Giovanni
16. Liana
17. Giovanni
18. Liana
19. Giovanni
20. Liana
21. Giovanni
22. Giovanni
23. Giovanni
24. Giovanni
25. Liana
26. Liana
27. Giovanni
28. Liana
29. Giovanni
30. Liana
31. Giovanni
32. Giovanni
33. Liana
34. Liana
35. Liana
36. Liana
37. Giovanni
38. Liana
39. Giovanni
40. Liana
41. Giovanni
42. Liana
43. Giovanni
44. Liana
45. Liana
46. Giovanni
47. Liana
48. Giovanni
Epilogue
What’s Next?
About the Author
 THORNS OF OMERTÀ SERIES

Each book in the Thorns of Omertà series can be read as a standalone with
the exception of Thorns of Lust and Thorns of Love, which is the story of
Tatiana Nikolaev.

Thorns of Blood is a complete standalone, but it references the events from

Reign of a Billionaire and part of the timeline coincides with Ravenous
Kingpin.

For more things Eva Winners, please visit www.evawinners.com.

 THORNS OF BLOOD PLAYLIST

https://spoti.fi/3BVHk01
 AUTHOR NOTE

Hello readers,
Please note that this book has some dark elements and disturbing scenes
to it. Please proceed with caution. It is not for the faint of heart.
Don’t forget to sign up to Eva Winners’s Newsletter
(www.evawinners.com) for news about future releases.
This is for every woman that no longer cares or believes in love. Because
behind every one of those women is a girl who once cared too much.

“Your worst sin is that you’ve destroyed and betrayed yourself for
nothing.” - Fyodor Dostoevsky
 BLURB

I had spent my life trapped in a gilded cage, surrounded by villains.

The cruel man I was forced to marry saw me as a lesson to be taught,
stripping away every piece of my spirit until all that remained was my
shadow. He left me in darkness, alone, except for the one flicker of light in
my miserable existence: my adoptive daughter.
Then they took her away from me too.
It didn’t kill me, but something deep inside me died that day.
Or so I thought.
Giovanni Agosti kidnapped me to “save” me, or so he claimed.
But I was done being a pawn in anyone’s game. I would show this
captor, with his smoldering gaze and dangerous allure, that no one touched
Liana Volkov without consequences.
Not even the man I found myself wanting.
 PROLOGUE
LIANA

Eight Years Ago

I
always knew I’d been born with violence coursing through my veins,
destined to become the darkness to my twin sister’s light. I just didn’t
know it would be a decision made here, on a frigid December night, that
would put me on the sure path to hell.
The winter air howled with bitterness, welcoming me into its
unforgiving embrace. Every inch of exposed flesh was raw from the cold,
but it didn’t bother me. Not like it did Lou. She hated the cold; I thrived in
it.
The moonless night settled over me like a cloak, guiding me around
every corner of my mother’s compound that I knew by heart.
I found myself holding my breath every so often as I made my way to
the agreed-upon meeting spot. My boots crunched the fresh Siberian snow,
and I thanked whatever higher being was responsible for the gusting wind
masking the sound.
I did my best to cover my tracks, calling on every piece of tracking
information I’d squirreled away over the years. It was what’d inspired me to
pick up this branch from a fallen pine and use it to sweep the powdery snow
over my trail. Because that was the thing about the guards around here—
they loved to hunt, but they loved to brag about it even more.
 And I’d be damned if I got this far only to lead them to Kingston and
Louisa.
A part of me wished it was just my sister and me running away, but
there was no separating the lovers, and there was no way in hell I’d allow
anyone to get between my twin and me. We shared one beating heart, and
the thought of being away from her was inconceivable. So, I’d suck it up
and accept that, at least for the time being, I’d be the third wheel.
If Louisa and Kingston were running, so was I. Especially because Ivan,
that son of a bitch, was trying to use Louisa as a pawn to get closer to the
Tijuana Cartel. He was so fucking greedy, desperate to get his dirty paws
involved in their flesh-moving business. And I didn’t trust my mother, the
great Sofia Volkov, to protect her. No, she’d sign-off on whoever Ivan
decided Lou would marry, no questions asked.
She didn’t like my sister’s aversion to the criminal world any less than
she hated her soft heart. Lou wanted world peace while I wanted to send the
whole fucking world—especially the men in it—into chaos.
The sound of heavy boots nearby sent a jolt of alarm through me. I spun
around, narrowing my eyes while scanning the darkness.
Then a voice whipped through the air.
“Look here. Do we have a runner?”
“Nah, looks like she’s just taking a stroll,” another voice answered. This
one I recognized, and my heart lurched into my throat.
Whirling, I spotted them. Ivan Petrov with the head of the Tijuana
Cartel and his disgusting son. My face paled as I studied the two men
leering at me. Their guards were closing in on me, fast and steady, like
vultures on dead animals.
“Which twin is this?” The older guy’s grin widened. “Not that it
matters.”
Ivan’s eyes narrowed on me. He could never tell us apart. Bile rose up
my throat as an idea flickered in my mind. One that would change
everyone’s lives—though I didn’t know that then.
I was young. Too young to know better. There was a reason they say
teenagers think they know it all. I saw a window to escape the house of
sinners that was about to be burned down, and I took it. It should be easier
to escape the cartel than my mother’s prison that was guarded better than
any president’s house.
 Lou and Kingston were already on their way out, and I refused to be left
behind.
So I took a deep breath and raised my chin in defiance.
“I’m Louisa. What—” I broke off when I remembered Lou was more
reserved, rarely speaking so freely, and then schooled my tone. “What’s
happening?”
Ivan, the fucking idiot, smiled darkly at me. “Louisa, meet Santiago and
his son, Santiago.”
“Let me guess, everyone calls him Junior.”
Suddenly, a strong arm wrapped around my middle from behind and my
whole body turned to ice as I was tossed roughly to the harsh, snow-
covered ground.
“You will show respect.”
I bit my tongue, swallowing my retort. Louisa might have her
reservations about confrontation, but she would not go down without a
fight. I waited with bated breath as one of Santiago’s goons stooped over
me, and then I shifted around and swiftly kneed Junior in the balls. Then I
jumped to my feet, rising all the way up and putting my hands up to shield
my face.
No sooner than I was standing, a weight slammed into me from the side,
shoving me flat onto the soft snow again as a gun cocked loudly. I blinked
to clear the dizziness and found it pointed at me.
Ivan stalked toward me, his face filled with malice. When he was only
inches away, he wrapped his hand around my throat with an iron grip. I
gasped sharply, staring into those black eyes and unwilling to show fear,
until Junior stepped forward and his palm connected with my cheek. Slap.
I hissed and spat a mouthful of blood onto the snow. “You hit like a
girl.”
The words escaped me before I thought better of them.
Ivan stepped back and glanced at the head of the Tijuana Cartel. “She’s
all yours.”
Then he was gone. A set of rough hands reached for me, and I was
thrown over a shoulder. I swallowed a pained gasp and lifted my head to
find Santiago and Junior following behind me.
They looked at each other, their sadistic expressions reaching new
heights.
 Beyond them, the first flickers of dawn peeked through the dense forest,
throwing shades of cerulean, amethyst, and coral across the horizon. I could
make out parts of the compound as my captors led me away, and I threw a
silent plea out to my sister that she’d find her way out of this hell.
It was then I made a vow. I vowed to become their worst nightmare, that
I’d make them suffer. Not even God could save anyone who dared stand in
my way.
The world would see how evil Liana Volkov could be. There’d be no
more villains in this world, only me.
The villainess.
 ONE
GIOVANNI

Present

I
stood in front of the sprawling mansion, wondering if I was making a
mistake. I owed nothing to the Volkov girl, yet here I was. It had been
eating at me for the past eight years. I felt responsible since I did nothing
when I’d first met the other Volkov twin… at her wedding to my uncle.
So there it was. A guilty conscience brought me to the doorstep of
Kingston Ashford and Louisa Volkov in Portugal. Despite the late hour and
being well outside the city proper, Avenidas Novas bustled with people,
music, and laughter.
But all my attention was on the high walls in front of me… Ones that I
imagined offered a sense of safety to those on the other side. A few smaller
outposts were scattered nearby, lowering the risk of snipers, but the
surveillance cameras watching every angle of the property sent a clear
message.
If anyone showed up unannounced, they’d be swarmed by guards and
shot on the spot without hesitation.
I lit up a cigarette, placed it in my mouth, and stepped forward,
positioning myself directly in front of the gate. As expected, the gate
opened and two guards appeared out of thin air. Kingston Ashford had
trained them well.
“Hands up where we can see them,” one of the guards boomed in
thickly accented English. The sound of a clicking gun came from behind
me. “Now.”
Cigarette still in my mouth, I did as I was told, then slowly spun around.
A guard held a gun at his side, his attention on me, while another pointed an
AK-47 in my direction.
“Mr. Agosti?” he spluttered, his eyes widening.
“One and only.”
He relaxed his stance, holstering his weapon. “My apologies, you’re a
day early.”
I smirked, taking the cigarette out of my mouth.
“I’m busy for the next several weeks. I figured my gracious hosts
wouldn’t mind. I certainly won’t make the same assumption next time.” His
brow furrowed and he shared a glance with the other guard, but said
nothing. I motioned at him when he remained immobile. “Now, take me to
your boss.”
He puffed his chest out.
“Right away, Mr. Agosti,” he faltered, his voice hesitant when he
continued, “Or should I call you Mr. Tijuana?”
I gritted my teeth at the last name, the bitter reminder of my mother’s
betrayal and lies. “Agosti is fine.”
The Agosti name was on my birth certificate. It was the name I grew up
with. As a boy and young man, I was proud of it. It garnered respect and
fear.
But it turned out that I wasn’t an Agosti at all. Imagine everyone’s
surprise when Santiago Tijuana reached out, naming me his sole heir. Oh,
the fucking irony.
Of all the people in the world, my mother had spread her legs for
Santiago Tijuana’s brother. And because Santiago—my uncle, as it turned
out—had a sick sense of humor and lost his only son, I’d found myself as
the head of the Tijuana Cartel.
Despite finding out we didn’t share any blood, Mateo Agosti named me
his conditional sole heir—until his son was old enough to take the seat—to
the Omertà side of the Agosti business in Italy. Honestly, at this point, it
wouldn’t surprise me to learn that my brothers Romeo and Cristiano and my
sister Marissa were illegitimate too, considering the numerous affairs my
mother had under her belt.
We made our way across the yard, one guard behind me and one in
front, and I could see blinking cameras watching my every move. Once
inside the mansion, I was led through the hallways and into an expansive
library.
“Ah, Giovanni, you’re here,” Louisa exclaimed, her blonde hair framing
her face.
My gaze darted around the beautiful room full of leather-bound books.
Kingston sat behind a dark wooden desk, and his woman sat on the leather
sofa with their newly adoptive daughter, Lara. Kingston and Lou found her
during one of their missions and took her under their wing.
“You called. I’m here,” I answered. “Although, last time we met, you
claimed to be Liana.” I raised a brow at the elegant woman.
She laughed uncomfortably. “It’s a long story.”
“I bet,” I muttered, acknowledging Kingston with a nod. When I
crossed paths with this woman last November—almost a year ago now—
she believed herself to be Liana. I’d heard that since then, she’d discovered
that she was in fact Louisa Volkov.
A man I recognized as Alexei Nikolaev emerged from the shadows. The
Russian had the same manic, cold ways as Kingston. Those two might as
well be brothers; they had more in common with each other than with their
blood siblings.
We greeted each other with a nod before I strode over and took a seat
across from Kingston.
“You all want to tell me what this is about?”
“Lara, go check in with your instructors and start on your assignment,”
Louisa said softly. “Once I’m done here, I’ll be over.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but Kingston chimed in with a firm
voice, “This is for grown-up ears only, Lara.”
Her shoulders slumped before she nodded and, without another word,
scurried out of the room.
The moment the door clicked shut, I grunted, “I have Omertà business
to handle starting tomorrow, so let’s speed this up.”
Louisa jumped to her feet, making her way over to stand behind
Kingston. Alexei, the forever silent shadow, stood by the door.
“I… we need your help,” Louisa said, and Kingston grunted, rolling his
shoulders and turning to glance at her. She simply rolled her eyes. “We do.
He’s our way into the flesh trade.”
My brows shot up. “Excuse me, what?”
 “You’re head of the Tijuana Cartel,” Kingston said as if that explained it
all. Yes, with my uncle’s recent death, I’d been thrown into operations, but I
had already started making arrangements to end our involvement. In fact,
even before his death, I’d begun intercepting some of his shipments and
placing the women in safe houses.
“I’ve never dealt in flesh trading,” I grunted. “And I certainly won’t be
starting now.”
“Don’t you want to know why we’re interested in it?” Alexei spoke for
the first time.
“Honestly, I’d rather not.”
Louisa locked eyes with me. “I need to find my sister, and she’s
somehow wrapped up in that world. You’re my only way in.”
My brow furrowed, the brief interaction with the young bride from
years ago flashing through my mind. It was truly remarkable how alike the
two were. But the sister Louisa was referring to had more gold than hazel in
her eyes, and I had yet to ever find someone with such unusual—albeit
beautiful—features.
“Your twin is dead,” I said in a somber tone. I’d heard enough graphic
stories about it from my uncle to know it was the truth. “It’s been eight
years since your twin fell into Santiago’s clutches. Surviving him could
have been a possibility, but Perez Cortes…”
No more words were needed. Women didn’t survive Perez Cortes, not
unless the cavalry was sent in.
“No, she’s alive,” Louisa claimed with a stubborn tilt to her chin that
was far too familiar. “We got the DNA off a severed finger that was
delivered to Kingston. It’s my twin’s.”
I shot a look of disbelief at Kingston. Maybe his woman had lost her
mind.
“We didn’t expect this news,” Kingston explained “But Sofia shared
some information before her—”
“Untimely death,” I finished for him. “But you’re not seriously
suggesting I insert your woman”—or was Louisa his wife now?—“into an
auction, again. Because frankly, it was a dumb plan last time too.”
Louisa scoffed. “It was not.”
“It was,” Kingston grunted, scowling. At least he agreed with me. “And
Lou won’t be taking any risks this time around.”
 I wagged my head side to side. I was hesitant to believe their
information. Sofia Volkov was not known for her honesty and compassion,
and I couldn’t imagine that changing, even at death’s door.
And on top of that, I fucking knew nobody survived my uncle and
Perez. Yes, the girl I met eight years ago was no less terrifying—maybe
more so—than Sofia Volkov, but everyone eventually broke. Santiago and
Perez were experts at breaking women.
The stories often haunted my dreams, digging their claws into me.
“You’re singing a very different tune from our last meeting,” I reminded
her. “If I supported the flesh trade, I would have met the same end as my
uncle.” She sighed, but the look in her eyes was one of pure determination.
“I told you before, Louisa. You won’t find closure, only more questions.
Perez Cortes is dead. Do you plan to take over his empire and dig for
information?”
She would fail because Kian Cortes now owned that empire, and he
didn’t fuck around.
“That’s not a bad idea…” she muttered, tapping her chin.
It was a very bad idea, and judging by the expression on Kingston’s and
Alexei’s faces, they knew it too. Unsurprisingly, Louisa was the only one
refusing to acknowledge defeat.
“It might fan the flames of your hope, but it won’t make her any less
dead,” I told her, and saw Kingston wince slightly at my blunt words.
“She’d come for me,” she said as her spine stiffened and she
straightened up. “I won’t stop searching until I find her.”
“Dead or alive, huh?”
“She’s alive.” There was that familiar stubborn expression from our last
encounter again. “I can feel it.”
I shook my head, watching her carefully. “Did it ever occur to you that
maybe, if she is alive, she doesn’t want to be found? She hasn’t reached out,
Louisa.”
“You don’t know her like I do.” She threw her arms in the air. “Besides,
she sent a finger to Kingston. If that’s not reaching out, I don’t know what
is.”
I glanced over at Kingston. On his face was an expressionless mask, but
tension rolled off him in waves.
“Even if she was alive, you might not like the version of Liana you
find,” I warned her. Assuming she was even alive. Surviving my uncle
would be a miracle, but Perez Cortes…? Impossible.
“Maybe, but she’ll be with me,” she claimed stubbornly. “And if you
help me, I’ll be in your debt.”
I sighed inwardly. “You’re already in my debt. I saved you once before.
Remember?”
Maybe I should have shared the bits and pieces of information I knew,
but I didn’t have the heart to extinguish the hope in her eyes.
 TWO
LIANA

I
stood in front of the man sitting in the metal chair, his arms fastened
behind him, his feet tied to the chair’s legs.
I recognized the Courier from the days when he worked as Perez
Cortes’s go-between with the cartel. He’d been given the moniker because
of his exceptional abilities when it came to keeping the women in his care
under… control, let’s call it.
I was one of those women.
And now, I was ready to unleash what had become of the “blushing
bride” he likely remembered me as.
“Welcome,” I greeted him. His features were rigid, jaw tight, and his
face beaten. “It took us a bit to find you.”
He lifted his gaze, those cruel, evil eyes meeting mine, and what he saw
in them caused his grip on the chair’s arms to turn white.
“We roughed him up a bit, Boss,” my assistant announced. “But he isn’t
giving us anything.”
I turned to look at José, my right-hand man, who was a hunk of a man
and had been with me since I escaped the clutches of Perez Cortes and my
husband Santiago Tijuana. When the nightmares plagued me, it seemed like
only yesterday, but it had been three years now of hiding in the shadows, in
my little corner of the world.
Even now that I knew Santiago was dead, I didn’t step into the light.
I had all that I needed right here.
 Tall, dark eyes, dark brown hair shaved close to his head, broad
shoulders and arms that would rival those of a heavyweight boxer. But none
of it mattered to me as much as his loyalty, and he was loyal to a fault. To
his family and to me. And in a way, José had my loyalty too.
He and Kian Cortes helped drag me out of the gutter three years ago,
back when I hadn’t trusted anyone but myself. I’d come a long way, and
luckily José didn’t hold my past against me. He knew my trust had been
beaten out of me.
“Apparently he hasn’t heard of our reputation,” I stated coldly.
“I don’t give a shit about your reputation,” he said through clenched
teeth. Then, as though determined to get his point across, he spat at my feet
and added, “Bitch.”
José took a threatening step forward, but I lifted my hand, stopping him.
I knew he wanted to take him out. He’d done it many times without me
even asking. And if I gave him a nod, he would get rid of this parasite too.
But this was personal, and I’d deal with the Courier myself. He would
pay for every girl he’d ever delivered.
“You haven’t heard how I deal with those who’ve wronged me,” I said
with a tsk, shaking my head. “I may be a woman, but my touch is far from
soft. But you know that already, don’t you?”
“I’m not afraid of you,” he scoffed, but his teeth clattered and the skin
on his wrists reddened from strain.
I smiled viciously. “Stupid, stupid man.”
He laughed. “Everyone knows you don’t like to get your hands dirty. So
what the hell are you going to do to me?”
“Everyone?” I mocked. “Who is everyone, considering the world thinks
I’m dead?”
His gaze fell to my hand, staring at my missing pinky finger. “Perez
started slicing you, huh?”
Not deigning him with an answer, I let out a callous laugh before
nodding at José. A throat punch followed. I took a step forward, close
enough to see the beads of sweat run down my captive’s face but far enough
never to touch him. He was right, I didn’t touch men. In fact, I didn’t touch
anyone aside from Amara.
“Did you feel my wrath?” I said as I crossed my arms over my chest,
my feet inches from his.
“No,” he replied.
 Fucking idiot.
“Ah, but maybe your lovely family will,” I said, and his eyes flashed.
Ah, he didn’t expect my due diligence. A fool, he was. I made it my
mission to learn all there was to know about the men who’d made me. “The
wife waiting for you at home, the daughters who haven’t experienced hell
on this earth… yet.”
Like I had. Like Amara had. Like so many other girls and women had.
Because of greedy, evil men like Perez Cortes, Santiago Tijuana, my own
mother, and… me. How many girls and women suffered because of me and
my involvement in the auctions?
His eyes flew back up to mine and I smirked. “Tell me, Courier, do you
think that because I am a woman that you or your associates will be
spared?” I asked, my voice harder, my eyes burning into his.
His family must actually mean something to him, considering how his
demeanor had changed. That surprised me. I didn’t think he cared about
anyone but himself.
“N-no, miss.” Fucking stuttering. Weak-ass pussy.
“See, I believe in karma.” My voice didn’t waver. “What has been done
to me will be done to all those who had a hand in it. And their families.”
“No, please—”
“No amount of pleading will do,” I said, cutting him off. It hadn’t
helped me, and it sure wouldn’t help this sorry excuse of a man.
Despite my best attempts at keeping the darkness away, memories of the
last time I saw this man flooded my mind like a broken dam.
Light.
I felt light and disoriented, but panic and the need to fight flared deep
inside. Except, I couldn’t move.
I blinked furiously, hoping the large conference room would come into
focus. I pushed my palms against the cool, mahogany wood, standing up,
but for once my Christian Louboutin heels refused to serve me. My Chanel
dress felt too tight; its material scratching my skin.
I swayed on my feet, knocking over a glass of water.
“Take her to Brazil.” I heard the words and recognized the voice. “To
him. He’s expecting her.”
Him.
Perez Cortes. A living, breathing nightmare. The man who’d been
eyeing me as a potential trophy for years.
 A small part of me was truly terrified because, for maybe the first time, I
knew what it meant.
“You… can’t.” Why was it so hard to speak? My eyes fell to the glass
that rolled around the smooth hardwood floors and the realization pierced
through my sluggish brain.
I’d been drugged. To ensure compliance.
The self-loathing for my weak, abused body flared, my heart and soul
filling with numbness. But the strongest feeling inside me was the need to
survive.
“You reap what you sow,” Santiago said, laughing menacingly, and I
knew exactly what my husband meant. “You can kickstart the new and
improved auction.”
The Marabella Agreements. My great shame.
The auctions existed for the past two hundred years, a business selling
off illegitimate mafia princesses. But the business suffered over the last
decade so I revamped the entire thing. I expanded it, including the
illegitimate daughters of notable, prominent figures who fucked over Perez
Cortes and the Tijuana Cartel, among others, and made it accessible
through the dark web.
The idea had struck like lightning when, five years ago, an infant turned
up as a debt repayment from Gio DiLustro, a New York scumbag mobster.
Amara.
Even her name was a sign. I intended to keep her safe at all costs, even
if it meant putting others in danger.
By modernizing the idea and making it more accessible, I made
Marabella more profitable than ever before.
Oh, the irony.
The executer would become the executed.
I had been used and abused over the years, but I persevered. I’d made
myself valuable to ensure survival—for me and my daughter. I should have
known that I’d be stabbed in the back. After all, it wasn’t the first time. But
confidence was a bitch sometimes, because I was so fucking sure that I’d
proven myself to Santiago.
Once again, I discounted how far a jealous woman would go.
The joke was on me though, wasn’t it?
I betrayed the sliver of decency I had inside me and twisted it into
something ugly when I helped with Marabella. It didn’t really matter that
all I wanted to do was to ensure my daughter’s safety, and that so many
other daughters were harmed because of it.
And look at me now.
How did I fucking sleep at night, knowing what I’ve done? I’d become
what I vowed I would put an end to, but it was so much more than that. I’d
become a sinner of the worst kind, but who would have heard my pleas and
prayers?
Nobody.
My mother had taught me to be strong. Heartless. Cruel even.
But I was no match for Perez and Santiago. Yes, I played along, but with
each day, I lost more and more of myself until I no longer recognized the
woman in the mirror.
“Take that freak kid too,” The Mistress chimed in, signaling our time
was up.
She laughed like she’d heard the joke of her life. I wanted to throw her
out the window.
I didn’t know her name, but I did know she used to be his brother’s
mistress and upon his death, moved on to Santiago. But my husband wasn’t
the only thing she’d taken from me. The Mistress had taken something much
more valuable.
That familiar ache expanded in my chest, spreading throughout my body
while hatred and revulsion settled in the pit of my stomach. My hatred of my
body—and for this woman—intensified as the black hole got closer and I
hurtled toward it.
“You heard her, Courier,” Santiago said, his tone bored, like he was
discussing a bad soccer game, not the life of an innocent child and his wife.
I jerked away from the table, stumbling in my heels, my balance
completely thrown off. Commotion ensuing around me told me my
husband’s men descended, but at this point I could only make out shapes.
Dizziness assaulted me, my heart galloping to the point where my body
started to shake.
I wanted to scream my misery and pain into the universe while cutting
every one of these men’s throats. And if I wasn’t drugged, I would have.
But today wasn’t that day.
I stumbled around the furniture, trying to avoid Santiago’s bodyguards,
who had descended on me like a swarm of flies. I could hear laughter in the
background, but I pushed it aside, focused on reaching the back door. Just
as I was about to escape, rough hands seized my hair and yanked me in the
opposite direction.
I tried to fight. I pleaded and begged, but it was all for naught. Moments
later, I felt myself being thrown into a transport van, my eyes unable to
focus on my dark surroundings, the windows all blacked out with a tarp.
There were no seats so I sprawled on the cold, dirty surface— I’d been in a
van like this before. And that was something I’d never forget.
I rose up to my knees, ready to fight again, but the Courier slapped me
hard, making my head spin faster, before slamming the door shut. I
collapsed in a ball on the hard floor, pain mixing with despair.
It was then that Amara’s familiar scent slammed through the fog and
pain. Please, God, I prayed, let it be her. I tried to move, but eventually
gave up. Instead, I fumbled my hand through the scattered blankets until I
found her. She was too hot, her skin clammy and her clothes soaked. In my
struggle, I hadn’t even noticed them dragging her along with me.
I pulled her over to me, forcing myself to murmur soothing words,
although I couldn’t hear my own voice.
The van started and then the buzzing of the engine lulled both of us into
temporary oblivion.
When we awoke next, another nightmare had already started.
I shook my head, chasing the painful memories away and focusing on
the man in front of me and exacting my revenge. He delivered me to hell,
and I intended to make him taste it himself.
There was no more compassion left in my heart. No more tears. Only
fury, and the hunger for revenge.
These days I was all about educating those who wronged me.
Now, I waited for justice to catch up to me. That was all I ever fucking
did anymore.
Waited. Hunted. Hoped.
“José,” I said, holding my hand out, no other words needed. He picked
up the petrol can beside the door and brought it to me. He handed me the
can and I uncapped it, stepping closer to the Courier and wafting it under
his nose. “The last thing you see will be the flames engulfing you. The last
thing you smell will be the flesh burning from your bones. And the last
thing you hear will be your own screams from the pain of it all.”
With that, I began pouring the liquid over him ever so slowly.
 “What about my family?” he screamed, thrashing and pulling at his
restraints. “You psycho bitch.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll handle your family too.” I flashed him a menacing
smile, letting his imagination run wild. There was no place for weakness in
this world. The minute you showed it, you lost your leverage.
A hard lesson to learn.
His family was his weakness, just as Amara and Louisa were mine. It
was the reason I stayed away from my twin. I couldn’t do the same with
Amara. She needed me; she had no one else. It was why I’d taken her under
my wing and called her mine in the first place.
And that damned liver… my mind whispered, but I pushed that thought
aside for now.
Instead, I poured the contents of the container out on the sick son of a
bitch in front of me and dropped it to the floor, the sound echoing around
the room. José was quick to hand me a box of matches.
I took them, my eyes never leaving my victim. I crouched down, level
with the man who delivered me to hell with a smile on his face all those
years ago. The fear in them injected me with power and reminded me that I
no longer needed to be frightened.
“Now, tell me one thing.”
“Anything, anything… Please—”
“I hear the new head of the Tijuana Cartel is moving flesh.” The most
ruthless man in Boston. I heard he was not only the strategist but also the
brain of the Agosti empire.
Giovanni Agosti.
I’d admit to being surprised when I heard the man had ventured into
flesh trading. It was known that the Omertà, which the Agosti family was
part of, stood against it. Not that it mattered to me either way—I planned to
extinguish the entire Tijuana bloodline.
“What about it?”
“I want everything you know about the next shipment.”
“My family––”
“I might spare them if you give me the information.” Key word was
might. I wouldn’t kill them, but I wouldn’t hesitate to have their livers
tested.
“They need me,” he whispered.
“And I need the information,” I deadpanned.
 “I don’t know,” he replied, and then tried to plead with me some more.
“Wrong fucking answer, asshole,” I said as I took a match out of the box
and lit it, the flame flickering. “Any final words?”
“You won’t do it,” he said, but he was fighting harder against his
restraints.
I laughed at his stupidity. “Don’t ever fucking doubt me,” I snarled,
moving the match closer to him. Slowly. A few tense seconds ticked past,
the match burning down the wood, warming my fingers, while I reveled in
his despair.
I was an inch away from dropping it when he blurted out, “Las Vegas.
Two days from now.”
It was all the information I needed. I took a few steps back, seeing relief
on his face before I threw the match at him.
And then his screams filled the air.
I didn’t hang back to confirm the kill. I knew it was only a matter of
seconds.
I walked outside, José right behind me, and greedily inhaled fresh air.
My eyes flickered to the clear blue sky and I let the morning rays wash over
my face. Once upon a time, I had to go weeks without seeing it, and I’d
learned to appreciate it.
After what felt like hours but I knew was only minutes, José opened the
car door and silently nodded as I slid into the back seat.
“What are your orders for the shipment?” José asked when he got in the
driver’s seat.
I would drive myself, but I had never learned to. I never learned how to
swim either. Or dance. Being taken, held captive for years, tortured… Well,
it wasn’t exactly conducive to taking up hobbies. But it didn’t matter, I’d
come out on top.
And now, yes, I wanted to learn those particular skills, but I refused to
ask someone to teach me. Actually, scratch that. I didn’t trust anyone
enough to teach me.
“Send a message to Emory DiLustro,” I said. We’d intercepted a
shipment she’d allowed into her territory, released the girls back to their
families, and replaced it with a new shipment.
“What kind of message?”
I locked eyes with him. “Do we have dead girls from the auctions?”
 He didn’t like that. José was a sinner with a conscience. Unfortunately, I
had to survive, and that meant no room for morals. It was a luxury I
couldn’t afford.
With all I’d done, I could never get out. But it’d be worth it, because I’d
see Amara live to grow up into a young woman, a normal young woman.
“Yes. One of them is Bogdan Dragović’s niece,” he grumbled, not at all
keen to get on the Serbian don’s bad side. Too fucking late.
“Include her with the shipment. Make sure Bogdan gets an anonymous
tip a few days after the delivery.”
I was running out of options and, more importantly, time. If I didn’t find
a match for Amara soon, I’d have to track down her biological mother. And
part of me was terrified of that.
After all, I should know it better than anyone… Blood was thicker than
water.
 THREE
LIANA

Five Years Ago

S
antiago’s home in Venezuela was anything but warm.
Until now.
I stood frozen, staring down at the small, helpless baby in my arms.
And suddenly I felt lost and awkward. It wasn’t exactly a feeling I was
familiar with. Nor was this warm emotion in my chest. I hadn’t felt it
since—
Since the night I lost my own baby.
A fierce protectiveness washed over me for the little one in my arms. I
couldn’t protect my baby then, but I would protect this one.
“Is it a boy or a girl?” I called out to Santiago, who’d just shoved the
bundle at me, not even warning me it was a baby. A real, breathing baby.
“A girl,” he barked, not bothering to look my way as he stood to the
side, arguing in hushed tones with Gio DiLustro. For the first time in my
life, I didn’t really care about the business of mobsters or their schemes.
Instead, I was fascinated by every little wrinkle on the baby’s face,
scared that I would drop her. Or hurt her.
I’d never held a baby before. Never even seen an infant in person. My
mother’s compound in Siberia wasn’t exactly family oriented.
She stirred in my arms, cooing and wrinkling her forehead, and I
couldn’t help but smile. And then she sighed—the most beautiful sound I’d
ever heard—and I felt my heart float away.
 “Shhh, shhh…” I whispered, pressing my lips to her forehead like I’d
seen once in a movie. “We must remain quiet.”
As if she understood me, she quieted down, and I smiled proudly.
“We’ll make a survivor out of you.”
The loneliness and pain of the past few years suddenly seemed to dull
with this baby in my arms. Without thinking, I brushed my fingers across
the baby’s bald head, then gasped in amazement.
“It’s so furry, ” I murmured.
She blinked, unseeing, and I wondered if maybe something was wrong
with her sight.
“Babies don’t have fur.” A voice startled me, and I brought the baby
closer to my chest before lifting my eyes to meet Gio’s dark, cruel gaze.
Usually I was more attuned to my surroundings, but something about this
child made the world disappear. “Although this one might, since she comes
from a long line of bitches,” he sneered.
Santiago laughed, but I failed to find anything funny. “Leave it to you,
Gio, to call your late wife, daughter, and granddaughter dogs.”
I dug through my memory. My mother had made my twin and I learn
the names and family members of every criminal organization, and that
included the DiLustro family. Considering Gio’s wife had been dead for a
while, I assumed this baby had to belong to Emory Amara DiLustro.
“Good luck with the child,” Gio said, ignoring my husband’s comment,
then turned on his heel and left without a backward glance.
My mouth parted in shock. There weren’t too many things that managed
to surprise me anymore, but a man leaving an infant in this hellhole
certainly did.
“He’s not taking her with him?”
“Obviously not.”
We stood alone in the middle of the foyer, Santiago studying the infant
clinically, almost as if she were an object. It rubbed me the wrong way.
I jutted my chin out. “Then the baby’s staying with me.”
My husband’s cold, dark eyes lifted and he shot me a glare. “You can’t
give me a healthy child, yet you want to care for another man’s bastard.”
I gritted my teeth, hiding my anger underneath a mask of indifference.
The sting of his words hit deep, especially knowing I could have had a
healthy child. If not for his mistress.
 Now Amara—my Mara—was the only thing I cared about in this world.
I might be a lot of things, but I was no fool, and Santiago and his guards
weren’t exactly fatherly material. So I would do everything in my power to
keep Amara with me.
“I read somewhere that having children around increases a woman’s
fertility.” Lie. At this point, I was infertile and there was no fixing it, but I
was determined to keep the little girl with me.
“Maybe you can show me some gratitude and I’ll let you keep it.”
“Her,” I corrected.
He wasn’t impressed. “So what are you going to do to show your
appreciation?”
Revulsion and hate curled in the pit of my stomach, but I wouldn’t show
it. Not to him. Not to any man.
“Get rid of your mistress first.”
My husband’s gaze coasted to me in a twisted, disgusting way, and I
knew deep down it was only a matter of time before he forced his will and
himself on me. Again.
“What are you going to name her?” Santiago asked, changing the
subject.
I looked at the baby in my arms, now peacefully asleep, cuddled into me
like she instinctively knew she needed protection.
“Amara,” I said, although it seemed stupid to name her after the woman
who gave her life. Maybe a very small part of me wanted to commemorate
the woman who brought something—a tiny human being—that made me
feel for the first time in years.
That day, I gave too much power over to Santiago. But I knew even
then…
I was willing to condemn my soul to hell for her.
 FOUR
LIANA

Present

T
he complex I had built to keep Amara safe stretched along the craggy
coastline in the part of Venezuela that nobody cared about. The nearest
town was Puerto La Cruz, where all our supplies came from, was
miles away, and best of all, none of the locals bothered us.
The whole property was large, a gated piece of land with three
buildings. Aside from the residence, one housed security personnel and the
other stored our vehicles. The latter had a discreet tunnel system that led
down to the ocean and held my emergency boats.
Hide in plain sight, Kian recommended.
After he rescued us, my plan was to leave the criminal world behind,
keep myself on the straight and narrow, and have a somewhat normal life. I
resorted to maid and housework in a resort to keep us alive. I even ran into
Royce Ashford during my short-lived career.
But it didn’t work.
My temper was too short and my child’s health bills too expensive.
So I took matters into my own hands and I resorted to the only thing I
knew: running a criminal empire.
My first step was reaching out to Kian Cortes.
Then the Casa Segura compound was born, courtesy of Kian. He’d
purchased a large plot of land in Venezuela for me, right under Santiago’s
nose, while my husband and Kian’s brother searched the world for me.
 Of course I had to promise Kian my alliance and allegiance for funds to
kickstart my own “business” and a compound that would keep Amara and
me safe. He came through, and from that day forward, I began becoming
my mother.
Maybe I was paranoid, but after years of being held against my will, I
had no intention of ever being taken prisoner again. I almost died when I
fought my captors. I almost died when I took it in silence. There was no
winning with them. But I would never be silent again.
Shaking my gloomy thoughts away, I focused on the here and now.
My daughter was safe and alive, but the machines surrounding her,
constantly beeping, were a countdown to the inevitable.
I took in Amara’s frail body, wrapped in blankets, and made my way
outside for some fresh air. Her sickness made her too tired to go out and
play, so we made this into our routine.
Every day, I’d take her to the cliffs where she’d stare out to the sea
greedily.
She would often say we lived in heaven, not even realizing she’d met
the devil himself and had no memory of the day she was brought to me.
She’d tasted hell, and there’d be no way we’d ever go back to it. She
deserved better. She deserved the whole fucking world.
The weather was warm, but Amara still shuddered in my arms as I
brought her closer to my chest. As I paced up and down the length of the
worn path on the top of the cliff, I realized I might be running out of
options. The girl needed a liver and there was only one immediate and
guaranteed match that I could think of.
Her birth mother.
Yet, I was terrified of bringing Emory DiLustro into Amara’s life. I
didn’t want to lose her or risk her looking at me differently. I wanted to
remain her whole world, just as she was mine. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be
much left for me after I executed my revenge.
A small, weak voice startled me out of my thoughts. “Mother Liana?”
“Yes, my treasure?” I met her deep blue eyes, dull from the pain. The
sight gutted me, but the knowledge that I could end it by having Emory
brought to me terrified me even more. What if I lost my daughter to her
birth mother?
“Do you miss the cold?”
 I sighed tiredly. I did miss the snow, the ice-capped mountains, and the
frigid air whipping at my skin. When Kian had offered a way out of the hell
Perez kept my daughter and me in, I’d even considered returning to Siberia,
but I knew it’d be the first place people would look for me.
So we stuck to Venezuela, where Amara was safe, and I worked my way
through my revenge list. There was only one person left—The Mistress—
but she’d soon regret the day she was born. She would experience firsthand
what Liana Volkov’s wrath was all about.
“Do you miss it, Mother Liana?” Amara’s weak voice repeated,
reminding me she was still waiting for an answer.
“Sometimes,” I responded truthfully, pacing while cradling her in my
arms. “But being with you is the most important thing to me.”
“You have to promise me something,” she murmured, her eyes darting
back to the vast blue horizon.
“Anything, my treasure,” I vowed.
“When I’m gone, you’ll go where there’s a lot of snow.”
Intense pain sent sparks through my body. Just the thought of being
without her rattled my teeth, and I feared what would become of the world.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I told her, my voice sharper than I
intended. “I won’t let anything happen to you, my beautiful Mara.” I
resorted back to the shorter version of her name, making a promise to her
and myself. “If it’s the last thing I do, you’ll have a long, beautiful life
ahead of you.”
This little human was my last connection to humanity. Yes, my twin was
somewhere on this planet, but that chapter was over and done with. She’d
hate the woman I’d become. The mirror image of our mother.
“I can feel it,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering shut, those dark lashes
stark against her pale hollowed cheeks.
It was precisely at that moment I decided to make a deal with Atticus
Popov and have Emory DiLustro brought to me.
And to do that, I’d betray the only man who’d ever helped me.
 FIVE
GIOVANNI

A
few weeks had gone by since I visited Louisa in Portugal.
After handling the business for the Omertà, I returned to Boston,
which I considered home more than any other place.
“How was the trip?” Mateo Agosti, whose advice I always heeded,
asked as he sank down in the armchair across from mine, a glass of scotch
in hand. He might not be my biological relations, but we were still close.
I gave him a tight smile. “Which one?”
Taking a sip from his drink, he shot me a look. “The one for the Omertà
and the visit to Venezuela for the cartel. Unless you handled something
else?”
I finished half of my scotch in one gulp. “I went to Italy beforehand,
then to Portugal.”
“Why Portugal?”
“Trust me, I’m asking myself that same question,” I muttered.
“Why?”
I shook my head. “I met with Louisa Volkov.”
“A good ally to have on your side.”
I sighed.
“It might not be if she’s wrong.” He shot me a look that demanded an
explanation. “She’s convinced that Santiago’s wife—her twin—is alive.”
“And you don’t think so?” he asked quietly. “Or are you worried she’s
alive and will demand the reins of the Tijuana Cartel?”
 I grimaced. A woman controlling the cartel wouldn’t be perceived well
and might lure too many power-hungry men to seize power for themselves.
Santiago succeeded in remaining in power because he was ruthless and
didn’t hesitate to kill the wives and children of his enemies. Of course, his
alliance with Perez Cortes aided him too.
“No,” I said harshly. “But I find it hard to believe her twin would have
survived Santiago and Perez.”
He gave me a look. “Unless someone helped her.”
“But who?”
Mateo raised his glass, pensive expression on his face. “Maybe his
brother, Kian?”
“I didn’t think the two were in contact back then,” I remarked. “Kian
surely wasn’t part of the cartel business during his brother’s reign. It’s a
known fact that Kian didn’t agree with Perez’s methods and involvement in
flesh trade.”
It was only after Perez’s death that Kian took over.
“From what I gather, Kian wasn’t involved, but he always had a hand in
the criminal organizations. With Perez dead, Kian took over the cartel. It
made him quite the powerhouse.”
“Maybe he’ll be willing to give me answers,” I pondered. “Or at least
point me in the right direction.”
“I met Kian once. He’s my age, you know. Old,” Mateo said quietly.
Much like him, Kian kept to himself, although I wouldn’t call either of
them old. Just because they had silver hair didn’t mean their minds were
any less sharp or they were any less lethal. “The rumor was that he and Gio
DiLustro’s wife had a thing.”
“A thing?”
He inclined his head. “An affair.”
“That must have gone over well,” I remarked dryly, knowing full well
the implications of extramarital affairs among the ruthless families of the
underworld. Put an illegitimate child in the mix and shit always turned ugly.
He shrugged. “As well as you can imagine. Although I always
wondered.”
I frowned. “About what?”
“Not long after Emory DiLustro was born, Gio’s wife tried to run. It
always puzzled me why she took the baby girl but left her son behind.
Unless…”
 He didn’t need to finish the sentence. The meaning was clear as day.
“Unless?” I encouraged him to finish the sentence. “You think Emory
isn’t a DiLustro?”
He nodded. “Possibly.”
I frowned, alarms blaring in my head. “What does any of it have to do
with Liana?”
“Gio handed over his granddaughter to Santiago to settle a debt five
years ago.” Shock vibrated through me, preventing me from finding the
right words as realization sunk in. “That child was then handed over to
Perez. It wouldn’t be unfathomable for Kian to save that child along with
the only mother she’d ever known. Especially if he knew she was his
grandchild.”
I gave a terse nod, my mind reeling with all these theories. Maybe
Louisa was right and her twin was alive and well, hiding somewhere in this
world thanks to the one man who’d always flown under the radar.
“It’s time I pay Kian a visit.”
Mateo nodded. “That would be a good place to start.”

That night I found myself at the Stanford Club that belonged to my brother-
in-law, who happened to be the head of the Boston Irish mafia. The highly
controversial club that he’d purchased for my sister was situated in the
industrial part of Boston and it attracted all sorts: the kind that came for a
dance, good times, and an occasional voyeur show. And then there were the
kind of men that came to get handsy.
Like this little fucker that stood in front of me.
Grateful that my brother-in-law kept an office and spare room especially
for this kind of shit, I didn’t bother holding back. Power rippled through my
arm as I slammed my fist into the moron’s nose, his bones shattering under
my knuckles. Served him right for thinking it was a good idea to grab my
sister’s ass.
My youngest brother, Cristiano, was no less gentle as he punched the
lanky guy in the gut.
“I hear someone touched my woman’s ass,” Declan, my brother-in-law,
said, appearing out of thin air.
 “About time you showed up,” I drawled, my lips curving. Cristiano and
I took a step back, making way for our brother-in-law. “He’s all yours.”
Declan’s club was the most exclusive club in Boston. Obtaining a
membership was difficult and strictly by referral. Needless to say, this man
would be losing his permanently.
I reached for the glass Romeo handed me and swirled the ice in it, and
like the overprotective brother I was, I refocused my attention on my sister
who hung out at the mini-bar in the corner of Declan’s office. I couldn’t
stop worrying about her, despite the fact that she was married. Despite the
fact that she just turned thirty.
I took a seat on the sofa and cracked my knuckles as I watched Declan
work over the punk, a soundproof, one-way privacy glass separating us
from the rest of the club where people were casually dancing. My brother-
in-law charged forward, pressing his knee so far into his gut I could see the
guy’s eyes bulge out. His agile fists heaved punch after punch to his already
inflamed face.
My sister, Marissa, on the other hand, sat at the bar, sipping on a pink
drink while watching the whole ordeal with a bored expression. She was
eager to get out of this office and get back to where people were. That was
who my sister was, a little social butterfly who got into trouble. Often.
Even after learning I didn’t share the same father as my siblings, we had
remained extremely close. It had a lot to do with our mother’s
sadomasochistic activities and constant affairs. Julia—our mother—could
be a real-life she-devil when she wanted to, but that made my siblings and I
even closer. I’d always ensured to keep them shielded as much as I could
from Julia and to be there for them.
“Come on, babe,” Marissa finally interrupted his husband’s punching
session. “Kick him out so we can get back to having fun.”
“Why should he let up?” Romeo questioned. “The idiot was stupid
enough to touch what wasn’t his, and now he’s gotta pay.”
Truthfully, my sister could have handled the perv herself, but she asked
me to handle it on account of her six-inch heels that were apparently both
brand-new and ridiculously expensive. After all, what were brothers for?
“I’m leaving for Brazil tomorrow,” I told Romeo, my gaze never
wavering from the scene in front of us.
“I’m coming along.”
I shot him a look. “No, you’re not.”
 “Yes, I am.”
I let out a sardonic breath. Romeo could be a stubborn fucker when he
got an idea stuck in his head.
“You should stay and help Mateo.”
He scoffed.
“Cristiano can help him. I’m outta here.” He flashed me a grin.
“Someone has to watch your back.”
“And you think your reckless ass will do any good?” Sometimes I
wasn’t sure if my brother was delusional or just downright crazy. “More
like get me killed.”
He started blabbering about what-the-fuck-ever while I tuned him out,
returning my attention to Declan, who was still beating up on the ass-
grabber.
Romeo, who’d found himself sitting beside me on the sofa, nudged me.
“Giovanni, are you listening?”
I turned my head and glared at him. “No.”
“You need me.”
“Like a hole in my head.” I motioned ahead at our brother-in-law. “But
if you want to be useful, put an end to that fight.”
Romeo grabbed his drink, downed it in one go, and then wiped his
mouth with the back of his hand before getting to his feet. “I’ll do that, but
then I’m coming back here and we’re continuing this conversation.”
Romeo yanked the guy, spitting and choking, out of Declan’s reach, his
face bloodied. Declan reached for him again, but Romeo pushed the bleary
man toward two of Declan's younger brothers.
“Get him out of here before Declan kills him.”
Marissa exhaled with a groan as the perv was escorted from the private
room and the premises. She then turned to glare at her husband.
“This was supposed to be a fun night out, not a boxing match.”
“I’m sorry, babe.” Declan grimaced, snatching a glass of whiskey from
the nearby table and making his way to Marissa. Truthfully, despite our
families’ rocky beginnings, their union was the best thing to happen to
Boston in decades. Prior to her marriage to Declan, the Irish and Italians in
Boston were always at each other’s throats. Not anymore. “I’ll make it up to
you,” he vowed.
She arched a brow as he stopped in front of her. “Oh yeah? How?”
 He leaned in and whispered something in her ear. Whatever he said
turned my sister crimson, and I groaned inwardly.
“Yeah, we don’t want to know what they’re talking about.” Romeo
appeared beside me, his mouth stretched into a wide grin. “Should we beat
him up too?”
I arched an eyebrow. “And you want to come with me and have my
back?”
His grin widened. “You won’t be sorry.”
“I already am.”
He grabbed another drink and took a swig of it just as our sister joined
us with her husband, our brother Cristiano right behind them.
“What are you grinning like an idiot about?” Marissa asked as she took
a seat opposite me.
“I want to know too,” Cristiano deadpanned, side-eying me.
“I’m going with Giovanni to South America.”
I snorted out a chuckle. “No, you’re not.”
“Listen, Giovanni,” Romeo pressed. “I’m coming along, and you’re
going to thank me later. The cartel is nothing to fuck around with.”
Marissa rolled her eyes. “He’s in charge of one of those cartels, you
know.”
“But not the one in Brazil.” Romeo slammed his glass of alcohol down.
“We cannot have the head of the Omertà for the Agosti family crossing
borders without protection.”
I nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time to name someone else leader of
the Agosti family in the Omertà.”
Romeo’s eyes narrowed on me. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
I could count on my brother for everything except that responsibility.
Although we were arguably closest in personality and age, the main
difference was that Romeo was the psycho with dubious tastes. He hid his
dark emotions behind a cheerful mask, but even that mask occasionally
slipped, and I was just waiting for the day when it came off completely.
That would be the day Romeo would wreak havoc on this world.
But that was a problem for another day.
I turned to look at Cristiano, who smirked at me and raised his palms.
“I’m the baby of the family. You can’t put that shit on me.”
“Excuse me,” Marissa chimed in, her eyes sparkling. “I am the baby of
the family.”
 I rolled my eyes. “Do any of you want to take on responsibilities at all?”
Marissa made a puke face and wrinkled her nose. “Do I look like the
responsible one?”
I pinned them all with the sternest look I could muster. “You could be.”
Romeo shrugged, grinning. “You’re the only overachiever here.”
Declan’s bodyguard opened the door and all of our heads shifted in his
direction. Through the one-way glass, I could see Declan’s brothers
straightening their cufflinks and strutting like they were on a catwalk as
individuals parted like the Red Sea for them as they made their way toward
us.
Once they entered the office, the door firmly shut behind them. “What
are we discussing?”
Marissa shrugged. “Overachievers.”
They both sneered, and I took it to mean they were more interested in a
life of leisure.
Declan spread his hands. “It seems to be a common thread here.”
“Must be this younger generation,” I muttered.
“They scurry away like rodents when it comes to taking responsibility.
But start a fight and they’ll be there in a heartbeat.”
That got our siblings into a heated discussion as the two of us leaned
back into a chair, watching it all with amusement.
“So you’re seriously going after Liana Volkov?” Declan questioned
while our siblings argued.
I lifted a shoulder. “Got nothing better to do.”
He snorted. “I bet. But a word of caution?”
I titled my head in his direction. “Yeah?”
“No child of Sofia Volkov is to be underestimated.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”
He shrugged. “We’re Irish. Liana Volkov’s father was Irish. What can I
say? We drink Guinness, and we talk.”
I let out a laugh. “I didn’t take you for a Guinness kind of guy.”
“I’m not,” Declan muttered under his breath. “But I do like the talking
part. It’s the best way to get the latest on operations and, in a lot of cases,
blackmail fodder.”
“And what’ve you got?”
He shot me a grim look. “Liana might be crazier and more cruel than
her mother ever was.”
 My jaw ticked.
Yeah, he might not be far off.
It wasn’t a mystery—to those of us who liked to keep tabs on members
of other criminal organizations, at least—that Liana Volkov had been
subjected to intense training under her mother’s thumb. She grew up
surrounded by killers and man-made psychos, but it wasn’t as if she had a
choice. Maybe the woman had simply done what it took to survive. If she
survived.
I could never describe the mix of innocence and darkness in her eyes
that’d captivated my attention from the moment I laid eyes on her. Or
maybe I was just a blind motherfucker who had an unhealthy fascination
with the woman.
My lips curled slightly as I remembered the woman who knocked her
groomsman unconscious. I hadn’t seen Liana since, but a part of me was
excited by the prospect of seeing her again.
Assuming she was indeed alive.
 SIX
GIOVANNI

A
week later, I was bouncing around the back seat of an SUV in the
middle of the Brazilian jungle.
Kian Cortes was one reclusive motherfucker who seemed to
thrive in one of the world’s hottest and most dangerous climates. It was the
only explanation I could think of for meeting him on the edge of the
fucking Amazon, surrounded by wild animals, insects, reptiles, and God
knew what else.
Sweat collected on my brow as we spilled out of the black Jeep that had
picked me up from the airport and drove me through Manaus to the
outskirts of the city. It was where the Cortes compound was rumored to be,
but after hours of driving through the dirt roads, I’d just begun to wonder if
the driver planned to dispose of me in the jungle when he cranked the hand
brake and nodded toward one of the largest compounds I had ever seen.
There was a vast ocean of green on the eastern side and wild jungle
brush to the west, each stretching as far as the eye could see.
Kian Cortes had taken over this compound a year back when he assisted
Amon Leone in retrieving his wife. After Amon, Kian, and their friends had
successfully saved Reina Romero and other women being held here through
the Marabella Agreements and other fucked up deals, Kian leveled the
compound and rebuilt it.
“Follow me.” The driver, a tall, slim guy, led me up the curved concrete
pavement surrounded by climbing trellises full of tropical flowers on both
sides.
 It was difficult to reconcile the carefully tended landscape and happily
chirping birds with a place where misery and pain once ruled.
I had yet to cross paths with Kian Cortes, despite his alliance with the
Omertà, and many others in the underworld and legitimate world alike.
I was curious to meet him but wary. The fact that he was related to
Perez Cortes didn’t win him any favors, but I also knew how easy it was to
be misjudged in this world. Keeping my mind open for the moment, I
followed the driver to the newest leader of the Cortes Cartel.
The trellises ended and I came to a stop in front of the most spectacular
house and compound I had ever laid eyes on. And I’d seen my share.
About fifteen small cottages with red-tiled roofs were positioned
strategically on an incline, with a three-story gray building that stood to the
side with a flat, grass roof. Another section of the compound had fewer
cottages, but they were larger and spaced out by lush colorful flowers.
One building, a brick mansion with French windows and doors with
wide terraces on either side, dominated them all. I imagined its views were
what made up for living out here in the middle of nowhere. A large lagoon-
style pool started beside the terrace and stretched all the way to the edge of
the forest.
It was like a tropical utopia.
The seclusion, grandeur, and scenic views made up a private sanctuary,
surrounded by a private militia.
I started to climb up the stone steps that led to the mansion at the top of
the cliff. I worked out regularly, but even so, by the time I had reached it, I
could feel sweat gathering on the back of my neck. The air at this level was
cold but still slightly humid, and it filled my lungs each time I heaved a
breath in.
But fuck, the view was amazing. I’d climb these steps every day
willingly in exchange for a slice of paradise. Vague outlines of buildings
lined up one side of the city in the distance with the ocean and vast stretches
of dense forest on the other.
My guide led me to a table arranged with drinks and hors d’oeuvres. He
lifted a bronze dome to reveal a salad, cold meat, and fish, all delicately
prepared.
“Mr. Cortes will be with you in a minute,” the butler said, then left me
alone. No security. No staff. No cameras.
 Pushing my hands into my pockets, I admired the view while waiting
for my host. It felt like being swept away in the clouds here, and I tried to
remember the last time I was somewhere so remote.
The sound of footsteps had me turning around, and I watched a man
walking toward me. Tall as me, but definitely older, although no less
dangerous.
Silver hair framed his face, which was all sharp angles and dark stubble
peppered with grays. Thanks to my sister and her friends, I knew it was a
look women found attractive.
It left me pondering why this man was known as a lone wolf.
His tall frame screamed danger and dominance in ways that had all my
instincts rushing forward. I schooled my face into its usual cool facade—the
perfect gentleman.
My Italian suits, suave manners, and charm always fooled people. They
expected less from someone who was arrogant and usually never saw me
coming.
“Nice to finally meet you face-to-face, Giovanni Agosti,” was my host’s
greeting as he extended a hand. “Kian Cortes.”
“Thanks for agreeing to meet with me,” I said, shaking his hand firmly.
Kian nodded, waving me toward the terrace with its sleek bamboo
furniture.
“Quite a remarkable place,” I commented as we sat.
“We like it here.”
“Did you grow up here?”
“More or less,” he answered vaguely before his eyes darted to the glass
doors and he issued a command in Portuguese. An old lady with weathered
skin came out with a tray, carrying steaming mugs of coffee and tea. “I’d
stayed mostly away when my brother was alive, but when the compound
was leveled and he was killed, I rebuilt it.”
She gave me a smile, then spoke carefully, as though she were racking
her brain for the words in English. It had me wondering how many guests
came out here, how often she was able to serve lunch out here in this
garden. “Tea and coffee are locally made, but if you need something milder,
please let me know,” she said, eyes flashing with a hint of Brazilian pride.
It was a challenge if I ever heard one, and I couldn’t hold back a smile.
“Thank you.”
 Then, to prove I wouldn’t need anything milder, I took a healthy drink
of coffee, the warm liquid trickling down my throat. For being locally
grown, it wasn’t bad at all. In fact, it was one of the best coffees I’d ever
had. Deeply rich but earthy, with a discernible bitterness. Very savory.
I shot them a surprised look and Kian chuckled. “It’s my hobby.
Growing coffee.”
“Wow, definitely don’t give up that hobby,” I complimented. “If you’re
selling any, I’ll take a pallet.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Cabrera,” Kian told her, his voice warm, and she
disappeared into the house. Then he returned his attention to me. “Now,
Giovanni, what can I do for you?” he asked, relaxing in his chair.
And it was exactly that—his comfort, his ease around me—which told
me this guy was lethal. He didn’t need the security. He didn’t need to
remove my weapons from my body before meeting me to ensure his own
safety. I may be the newest head of a rival cartel, but this man possessed a
certain quality that told me he didn’t cower.
“I need information on Liana Volkov,” I said, taking a sip of my brew.
He didn’t miss a beat, but something dark flashed across his face.
“And why do you think I have it?” The man’s gaze sharpened on me.
“And if I did, what makes you think I’d share it with you?”
My hand paused on the way to my mouth, my eyes honing in on the
man sitting opposite of me.
“If you know what’s good for you, and her, you will,” I deadpanned.
“Excuse me?” Kian laughed and shook his head. “You have some
balls.”
I clenched my jaw and felt my fingers flex on the mug. I set it down on
the table and leaned forward.
“I do have some balls, but more importantly, I know that Liana Volkov’s
trail goes cold here. Under your late brother.”
“Ever occur to you that the trail goes cold because she died?” Kian
questioned.
“She’s alive,” I said with a conviction I didn’t feel. If her twin claimed
she was, I had to believe so, but that still didn’t explain what possessed me
to agree to this lunacy and help Louisa. I owed her nothing, and I certainly
wasn’t getting anything out of this shit.
Although, if I was honest, my brief encounter with Liana eight years
ago might have had something to do with it. She was unlike any other
woman I had ever crossed paths with.
Her mother had brought her up on deceit and lies. I could relate.
Kian eyed me suspiciously. You could see his mind weighing his
options, deciding if it was worth his time…—and Liana’s—to clue me in on
her whereabouts.
“You’re right,” Kian finally said after a long pause. He eyed me closely,
and I wondered if he could somehow read my thoughts. “Liana Volkov,
although she called herself Louisa when we crossed paths, is indeed alive.”
Not wanting to lose him, I pressed on. “How did she escape?”
He shrugged. “I guess she got lucky.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” I scowled, wondering about this man in front
of me. He was a difficult puzzle to decipher. “Where is she?”
“Venezuela.”
I let out a sardonic breath. Of course she was. How ironic that I was just
there myself. It would have been helpful to know it then. “You mean to tell
me she’s been hiding there this whole time?”
“No better place,” Kian drawled. “Trust me, I was tempted to leave my
brother to the feisty thing and let her kill him, but I feared he’d kill her
protégé first, so I offered her a way out. Of course she took it. For little
Amara’s sake.”
“Who are Amara’s parents and how did she come to be under Liana’s
protection?”
Kian looked as though he’d spoken too freely, but then he shrugged. “A
baby was given to Santiago five years ago to settle a debt by Gio DiLustro;
Liana took her under her wing. That’s all you need to know.”
My brain was turning over all this information, but I knew I had to keep
going while I could. “I only met Liana once, but she didn’t strike me as the
motherly type.”
His jaw ticked, but other than that, his expression remained impassive.
“Well, take what you will out of it,” he said in a measured tone. “But let
me be clear. You don’t want to go around that woman. She’s broken beyond
repair and as psycho as they come. Takes after her mother, I suppose.”
“Is she trustworthy?”
“Enough to protect an innocent child,” he claimed, and I truly believed
that if this man thought Liana was irredeemable, he would have ended her
life, despite that every instinct in my body told me it went against his
character.
 I leaned back in my chair and dragged a hand over my face. “I don’t
even know what to say.”
Kian tilted his head to the side. “I thought you had balls. But if you’re
scared of Liana Volkov, it’s best you stay away. She’ll eat you for
breakfast.”
That brought me up short. “I’m not scared of her. I just can’t believe
she’s alive. Or that Louisa was right about it.”
Kian raised an eyebrow. “If you call that alive.”
“Explain.”
Kian huffed a dry laugh, putting his mug down on the table.
“That woman survived your uncle and my brother, and that crazy bitch
Sofia. You can’t possibly think she came out unscathed.” I felt my teeth
gnash, my hands fisting. “Lia… They broke her, every last shred of her
heart frozen into stone, her insides burning with red-hot hatred. The only
thing keeping her alive and somewhat sane is the girl.”
“So her daughter is her weakness,” I said pensively.
He looked up, meeting my gaze. “You take her daughter away and she’ll
wreak havoc on the underworld.”
“What makes you think I’d ever take her daughter from her?”
I wasn’t the monster my uncle was.
“Because her daughter belongs to Killian Cullen and Emory DiLustro.”
This confirmed some of the information Mateo had shared with me, and
before I could say anything else, Kian continued. “She saved that child, and
it’s the kind of love that looks beyond one’s offenses against others and
only calls to the soul. That child is the only thing keeping her from diving
into the depths of hell and not looking back.”
“Knowing Emory DiLustro, she won’t rest until she finds her daughter,”
I pointed out.
“Indeed.”
“And how is it that you know so much about Liana’s life now?” There
was something about this man that didn’t add up. I knew he kept mostly to
himself, but it was clear he had his hands in different organizations,
collecting favors from prominent and powerful families.
“I keep myself apprised,” he answered vaguely. “Any smart
businessman”—translation, criminal—“keeps tabs on his friends and
enemies.”
 “I feel like there’s something else you’re not telling me.” I studied the
man across from me for any reaction, but there was none. Still, I learned a
long time ago not to ignore my instincts. “Something big.”
He let out a sardonic noise. “There is nothing small about anything that
Liana does.”
“Meaning?”
A heartbeat of silence passed before he asked, “Have you heard of the
Marabella Agreements?”
“Only recently,” I admitted, remembering it came up during one of the
Omertà updates. “Children of prominent figures are sold using it, but the
access to those is limited.”
He nodded.
“Did you know Liana came up with the business plan five years ago and
made it more profitable for Santiago and Perez?” Shock rolled through me.
“Not many people know, but once they find out, everyone will be after her,
just like they were after Benito King.” Benito King had a similar business
going, but called it Belles & Mobsters. “She’ll need protection, and her
secret compound won’t provide that for her or Amara anymore.”
I stored that piece of information for later use, if need be.
“Where in Venezuela is Liana Volkov?” I asked softly.
“She doesn’t want to be found,” he started calmly. “But considering she
kidnapped Emory DiLustro recently and the fact that Killian is about to go
after her, I’ll tell you. If we can avoid any more unnecessary deaths, we
should.”
“Why did she kidnap the child’s mother?” I inquired. “Does she mean to
harm Emory?”
Maybe Liana Volkov was a lot further gone than Kian Cortes realized.
Those who had even the slightest moral compass refused to hurt women
and children. It was an unwritten rule, yet it seemed Liana didn’t uphold it.
“Amara is sick, and if I had to guess, Liana’s desperate to help her.”
“What’s wrong with her?” None of it made any sense, and it made even
less sense that this man knew so much.
“Her liver’s failing,” Kian answered as if that explained it all. “Now, I
need your promise.”
“And what would that be?”
He eyed me and a smirk crossed his lips as he quipped, “You’ll grant
Liana her quest for revenge.”
 I stared at him, my breath coming in short bursts now. I didn’t know
what to expect here today, but it sure as shit wasn’t this. “What is she trying
to do?”
His eyes grew cold. “Find every person who’s ever hurt her and take her
revenge. I believe she’s down to one person.”
“Who is it?” I questioned.
He shrugged, giving me a vague response. “A woman.”
“Fine, you have my vow,” I growled, done playing games. “Now.
Where. Is. She?”
He grinned, pulling out his phone. “I’ll send you the coordinates.”
My phone chimed with the notification and I stood up.
“Thank you for your time.”
“Good luck. You’re going to need it.”
 SEVEN
GIOVANNI

Eight Years Ago

T
his wedding was a lavish affair, with white, red, and yellow lilies as
far as the eye could see.
My uncle stood at the altar with a self-righteous gleam in his eyes,
waiting for his bride.
I only arrived this morning, so I had yet to meet her. However, I heard
plenty about her from my mother, who currently sat next to me in the pew
with a look of disgust on her face. She didn’t like the idea of Santiago
Tijuana marrying some young woman and producing male offspring that
could potentially push me further down the inheritance line.
As if I gave a shit about that.
I was ready for this to be over so I could get back to Boston.
“This is ridiculous,” she hissed, leaning closer so nobody else could
hear her. “He’s four times her age.”
I rolled my eyes. “Love works in miraculous ways.”
Although, I knew firsthand that my mother didn’t believe in love or
fidelity. Needless to say, learning of my true parentage last year came as a
shock.
From birth, I’d been bound to the Agosti empire that my father—or the
man I’d believed to be that—and his family built, and that wouldn’t change
until my death. When my parentage came to light, I was sure that Mateo,
the head of the Agosti family, would renounce me, but he’d surprised me.
 Instead of burning me off the family tree, he made me the head of our
family in Italy, under the Thorns of Omertà. It gave us a wider reach with
my blood connections to the Tijuana family and induction into the Agosti
famiglia.
The music started and everyone turned to look at the bride. Everyone
except for me.
I stared at the elaborate cross made out of gold and decorated with
rubies for blood as soft clicks of heels neared.
The scent of wildflowers fragranced the air as the bride passed the pew
and joined her intended at the end of the aisle. I shot a curious glance her
way, slightly surprised by her size. She was petite, her figure slim beneath a
white satin dress that hugged her body. She wasn’t the type that Santiago
went for; he usually liked them curvy.
It seemed he was smitten by the young woman that currently stared up
at him, a veil covering every inch of her face looking like a snow princess.
But then he lifted her veil and, for the briefest moment, I was
awestruck. Not by her porcelain skin. Not by her beautiful face. But by the
courage and hope that shone in her eyes. By the stubborn tilt of her chin.
No wonder my uncle had changed his type.
“I, Santiago Tijuana, take you, Louisa Volkov, to be my wife. I promise
to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will
love you and honor you all the days of my life.”
Jesus, he didn’t sound sincere in the slightest, and I pitied the young
woman.
It wasn’t long before he leaned in, smiling greedily, as he took her
mouth for a rough kiss. The bride—Louisa—stiffened, her nose wrinkling
for the briefest moment.
The guests erupted into a cheer, clapping and nodding like they just
witnessed a fairytale come true firsthand, not a beauty marrying an old
beastly fuck. But despite it all, Louisa played her part well.
As the day went on and guests took turns complimenting the new
husband and wife, the atmosphere was as relaxed as a mafia wedding could
be. The bride was gorgeous—everyone agreed on that. Except for my
mother.
As each guest went to congratulate the happy couple, one by one, the
first crack appeared. I watched as Santiago instructed Louisa to stand a step
behind him. I also watched as she shot him a glare, her lips a thin line on
her regal face. It pulled the first genuine smile all day from me.
“Congratulations on your marriage,” I said as I extended my hand.
Santiago put a hand on my shoulder, grinning like a fool.
“My heir,” he said in a booming voice. “Unless my wife gives me a
child.” I gave him a tight smile, while Santiago’s gaze settled on his young
bride, who stood there with a stoic expression. “This is your nephew,
Louisa. Greet him properly.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said robotically, extending her hand. I regarded
her closely as our eyes met, but her gaze was distant. I took her hand, cold
and clammy, in mine, but her face didn’t betray a thing.
I moved on, allowing other guests to congratulate the couple, and for
the next few hours, the newlyweds were tied up with well-wishers—fake
and authentic.
Deciding it was time to make myself scarce, I wove through the fifteen-
thousand-square-foot home when I passed a cracked door and found the
bride sitting on the desk cross-legged, drinking her wine and smoking a
cigar. Jesus Christ, who is this woman?
We stared at one another, gazes clashing and challenging. A shift
happened when the corner of her full lips tipped up.
I let out a sardonic breath, debating whether or not to bite.
I shouldn’t. I wouldn’t.
Fuck it, I did.
Pushing my hands into my pockets, I entered the room and found my
uncle passed out next to the desk where she casually dangled her crossed
legs.
“What’s wrong with him?” I questioned.
She shrugged. “Thought he could keep up.”
“Keep up with what?”
“Shots of vodka,” she drawled, her voice too soft to match the hard gaze
she flicked his way.
“Not the best way to start a marriage,” I pointed out. She rolled her eyes
and looked away from me.
“Don’t tell me you believe in love, Mr…”
Lovely, the woman didn’t even remember meeting me.
“He’ll wake up grouchy,” I warned. “And he’s not pleasant when he’s in
a bad mood.”
 “Neither am I.” Something flashed in her eyes and she shot me a glare.
“You didn’t comment on my remark.”
“What remark?”
“Do you believe in love?”
I shrugged. “I’ve seen it a time or two so yes, I do.”
She scoffed. “You sound like a… dreamer.”
Despite how odd this encounter was, it amused me. The girl was
surprisingly resilient, and despite us being strangers, I hoped my uncle
wouldn’t dull that spark in her eyes.
“And you sound like a realist,” I replied. “Not very original.”
She laughed, a sound that reminded me of the first rays of sunshine after
a long, gray winter.
“My twin is a dreamer.”
I frowned. “There are two of you? That’s dangerous.”
She threw her head back and her bell-like laughter filled the space once
more. Then she slid off the table, landing on her feet gracefully, and closed
the distance between us.
Her voice was rough, whispers of sorrow dancing in her expressive
eyes. “You have no idea.”
She brought her thumb to my cheek and skimmed it softly while I
watched her, fascinated. She was unlike any woman I’d ever met.
When she walked past me, the scent of wildflowers lingered behind, and
she never looked back.
 EIGHT
LIANA

Present

A
mara’s surgery was happening today.
The fear I hated feeling crept into my heart and soul, threatening
to suffocate me.
It was the reason I insisted José train with me today. I needed to relieve
this tension before I went to see her. My daughter had an uncanny way of
detecting people’s emotions, and I couldn’t have her pick up on anything
being wrong.
My mother had taught me from a young age that fighting was the way
to work through one’s emotions. My twin hated it, and me… Well, I got
used to it. It wasn’t as if I had a choice.
“Again,” I ordered, breathing heavily. Crouching down, my body poised
to fight, I watched José circle me from my position in the middle of the mat.
My skin was wet with sweat and probably a little bit of blood too.
He grunted, shaking his head in disapproval as he crossed the mat of my
private gym and sprinted toward me.
I kept still, anticipating his charge, but just as he was about to make
contact, I leapt to the side, spinning around and hooking my arm around his
throat, throwing my body down.
I quickly released, landing on his side as José hit the mat hard. His head
bounced off the hardwood, and for a brief second, he didn’t move.
 I stilled as worry swarmed me, but then unexpectedly, a rough laugh
vibrated from his chest.
“You’re getting too good at this,” he said. “You’re kicking my butt at
every turn.”
“Good.” I breathed in deep, trying to steady the chaotic thump of my
heart as I wiped the sweat off my forehead. “The point is to become
invincible.”
He shot me a worried look as he leveled himself up onto his elbows,
quirking one dark brow my way.
“Nobody is ever invincible, Boss.” I needed to be the strongest. For my
own peace of mind and for Amara’s protection. When I didn’t answer, he
added, “You’re a bit distracted today.” He was right, of course, not that I’d
admit that to him. “You’re not worried about Amara’s surgery, are you? Or
is it our guest?”
I was worried sick about the surgery, even more about how Amara’s
biological mother would fare from it, but it did no good to dwell on it. My
daughter was my priority.
“No, not worried. Just thinking about business,” I said back, grabbing
my towel and rubbing it across my brow. I slipped into my slides and
swiped my water bottle, taking a couple of healthy gulps.
He remained quiet and dipped his head, watching me stride out of the
gym and make my way through the manor toward my bedroom.
I stopped by Amara’s room, surprised to find her awake and staring at a
blank TV screen. She’d been sleeping more often than not these days.
“What’s the matter, treasure?” I asked, stepping inside. My bare feet
were silent against the polished floor. “Do you need me to put a show on?”
Amara shook her head weakly, her short curls barely moving, and my
chest squeezed. That fucking doctor better fix this or I’d end him and his
entire family.
I took a seat on the chair next to her hospital bed, taking her small, cold
hand in mine. “Why are you staring off into space?”
“I’m waiting for the ocean images to come back on.”
“We live by the ocean,” I reminded her softly.
She shrugged. “I can’t see it from here.”
God, I hated that Amara was confined to this room, this compound, this
fucking country. It felt like déjà vu. My mother had made us prisoners in
our own home, and the last thing I wanted was to do the same to Amara.
 As soon as she was better, I’d take her far away from here. We’d start a
new life, maybe this time we’d even succeed in finding some normalcy.
“Want to go for a stroll?” I offered, although I knew it wasn’t wise with
her surgery merely hours away. But if that’s what she wanted, I’d scoop her
frail body into my arms and I’d walk the entire planet, to the edge of the
earth.
“You think we’ll learn how to swim one day?” she asked instead,
meeting my gaze. It always gutted me to see maturity beyond her age in
those blue eyes of hers. No five-year-old should ever experience as much
pain as she had.
“I know it,” I promised her. She’d learn how to drive and do all the
normal things that we had missed out on—as soon as she was healthy.
“Promise?”
I pressed my lips to her forehead. “I promise.”
The light in her Mediterranean gaze flickered, and I smiled. It was rare
to see her eyes bright, but whenever I did, it stole my breath from my lungs.
“I can’t wait.” I was about to get up when her soft voice stopped me.
“Could I see their picture again?”
There was no misunderstanding what she was talking about. There was
only one that we ever shared, and it was of her birth parents.
I reached for my phone and scrolled through the images—mostly of
Amara through the years— until I found it. Emory DiLustro and Killian
Cullen.
“Here,” I murmured softly, placing my phone in her tiny, weak hands,
helping her hold it upright. “Your papa’s name is Killian and your mama’s
name is—”
“Emory,” she finished.
“That’s right.”
“I like looking at them,” she murmured, her eyes getting droopy. “It
makes me feel warm inside. Like when you hug me.”
I swallowed, determined not to let my fear rule me completely.
Deep down, I wished Amara were truly mine. My biological daughter,
without the threat of having her taken from me.
To this day, I never could comprehend what drove me to tell her about
Emory and Killian. Maybe it was the hope that if something happened to
me, she’d find her way to them and she wouldn’t be alone in this world.
 “I know,” I said. “I feel the same way when I look at you. It’s love.” I
think. Mothers were supposed to know everything, yet I often found myself
at a loss when it came to the emotions that came to others naturally.
“I love you too, Mother Liana.”
I got to my feet and pressed one more kiss to her cheek. “Okay, I’m
going to take a shower and then I’ll be right back. Before the doctor gets
started.”
Leaving the room, I made my way down the hallway to where I’d put
Emory. She was on the same floor but in a different wing of the house.
Once I arrived there, I peered through the small glass window on the door
to find my captive asleep.
In the past week, the events that’d led me here were put in motion. I
reached out to Atticus Popov and promised him information he so
desperately wanted, in exchange for Emory DiLustro.
Atticus delivered, and so did I.
The events that would make me or break me were about to unfold, and I
couldn’t help but feel slightly anxious about it. I couldn’t fathom life
without Amara, but I also knew if Emory died on that table, the Kingpins of
the Syndicate—her brother and cousins—would come after me. Not to
mention Emory’s husband. We’d have to hide and possibly live on the run.
But then, hiding had been our life. At least this way, Amara would be
healthy.
With a steel determination, I unlocked the door with a soft click and
opened it for my prisoner to find us. Then I headed to get ready for my
daughter’s surgery.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The steady sound of Amara’s heartbeat was the only thing keeping me
sane as the doctor started the surgery. My daughter would finally get her
transplant.
And now the procedure was underway. My precious treasure would no
longer be in pain but on her way to recovery. Finally, for the first time in her
short life, she’d be able to run around free and happy.
 I felt at peace as I watched Amara and Emory, each on their own
surgical table, the old doctor working on the liver transplant that would
keep my adoptive daughter—my protégé—alive.
Suddenly, there was a commotion as a man burst into the observation
room. Tall. Imposing. Out of place in his three-piece suit.
My eyes locked on him, his muscled body wrapped in an expensive suit.
His striking green eyes were hard to ignore, but what captured my attention
was the tattoo on his left hand. A weird symbol in the mouth of a skull. I’d
seen one like that before. On Kian Cortes and my late husband, among
others.
The stranger cut through the silence.
“Liana Volkov.” He didn’t frame it as a question, looking at me like he
knew me. But if he did, he’d be running. “We meet again.”
Shock vibrated through me, and I found myself frozen in place. To the
world, I was dead. I could count the number of people who knew I was
alive on one hand.
My gaze collided with a set of green eyes that reminded me of the
Siberian wilderness in the dead of summer. The scar running along his right
eye though… Yeah, that was a warning that screamed danger.
I was unable to tear my gaze away from him.
Not because I found him attractive, even though there was no argument
there.
But because I had learned to recognize that ruthless expression that
promised agonizing pain all too well. The dominance and power exploded
from him, engulfing me in a storm cloud. It was the kind of darkness that
could only come from men.
When his gaze traveled over me, I shuddered as the black hole in my
mind opened, beckoning me to fall into it and let all my memories brush me
until there was nothing left.
“What is going on here?” The doctor’s voice reminded me of his
presence and spurred me into motion as the invader grabbed my forearm
with long fingers. In turn, I twisted and bent them, but before I could break
them, he shoved me against the wall, making me loosen my grip.
The sound of metal instruments falling had us looking to the source.
The doctor stood, trembling, his wide-eyed gaze pinned on us.
“Keep going,” I barked the order at him, reaching under my dress and
retrieving the switchblade I kept strapped to my inner thigh. Flicking it
open, I took advantage of my attacker’s distraction and sliced at his
forearm.
He barely reacted aside from a grunt and eyes that shot daggers at me.
Grabbing my fingers, he squeezed tight, and I instinctively clawed at
him. He hissed, pushing his palm against my hand, and I felt the
unmistakable tear of my index nail.
My eyes fell to where he gripped it and sure as fuck, my perfect
manicure was not so perfect anymore.
“You broke my nail,” I hissed, glaring at him.
His eyebrow cocked. “Are you kidding?”
I yanked my hand out of his grip. “No, I’m not.” I waved my hand
inches from his face. “Look.”
“Shouldn’t you be more worried about me trying to kill you?”
“As if you ever could,” I scoffed. “Besides, I can handle death. Broken
and chipped nails, fuck no.”
Lifting my knee, I went for his most vulnerable spot, but it never met
his groin. He caught it and tossed it to the side, before his large hand
forcibly turned me around. My cheek met the cold wall and a hand covered
my mouth. I fought against the stranger’s iron grip, biting and bucking.
“Where are you trying to go, wildflower?” His voice and words
sounded menacing pressed against my ear. Who does this guy think he is,
calling me wildflower?
My eyes darted to the doctor, who struggled to keep his attention on the
surgery with me thrashing about, and then a sharp sting poked the back of
my neck.
The heaviness pulled my consciousness down, down, down… Until
everything was dark.
 NINE
GIOVANNI

I
wrapped an arm around the young woman’s back and the other under her
legs and lifted her, her head rolling back and her long blonde ponytail
hanging limp.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The monitors tracked heartbeats of the two patients on the surgical
tables, yet somehow the only heart that mattered to me was that of the
woman who’d fought me like I was her born enemy.
God must be laughing, because the only woman who’d ever fascinated
me was back in my life.
I hated that I had to hurt her. Kian’s words in my mind were a constant
reminder of what she’d gone through. The last thing I wanted was to be
another person causing her pain. Yet, I didn’t have a choice. If I’d left her,
Killian Cullen and his cavalry would have surely killed her. If I’d taken the
child, Emory would have come hunting her the moment she’d woken up
from surgery. It was an impossible situation.
My gaze fell to the unconscious woman in my arms, wearing a dress
with a slit that allowed her to move easier and fight me. The top part of the
dress had wildflowers printed all over it.
She even smelled like wildflowers, just like she did eight years ago.
My arm throbbed where she sliced me. The little spitfire almost kicked
me in the balls too. Jesus, when Kian warned me of her temper, I didn’t
expect her to be so stab-happy. After all, it wasn’t as if I’d come to attack
her.
 I came to fucking help her on behalf of her twin. Circumstances blew up
my planned approach, and now I’d have to deal with the consequences.
Lucky me.
As I stared at Liana’s face, her confident mask had transformed into a
broken, vulnerable expression, and I considered whether I’d made the
wrong call.
Of course, I could still take Liana to her twin in Portugal. It would have
been the smart thing to do, yet for reasons unknown, I decided right there
and then that I wouldn’t.
For her own good and her twin’s.
My guilty conscience called me out on it, but I firmly shut it down.
The strange pull inside my chest, the kind I had felt eight years ago in
her presence as well, was back, and I owed it to myself to see it through this
time. And who better than me to ensure her protection.
So I’d finish this job, but it would be my way.
Liana Volkov was forced into a shitty situation, first by her mother and
then by Santiago. She didn’t choose any of this. She was a victim as much
as anyone, and I’d keep her protected at all costs. Now, I’d just have to
convince her of my good intentions.
I looked down at the woman, her breaths slow and even, as I swept my
gaze over her face. Her long blonde eyelashes rested on pale cheeks,
untouched by makeup. Smooth cheekbones. Her full, parted lips made her
look innocent and so fucking beautiful.
But then so did my mother, who knew exactly how to use her wiles to
manipulate men.
I let out a breath. This mental back and forth was going to get me killed.
The rumble of an explosion forced me into action, and I lifted my gaze
to meet the doctor who was in the midst of surgery. He was placed between
two bodies, a woman’s and child’s.
I didn’t have to be Einstein to figure it was probably Liana’s adoptive
daughter, Amara, and Emory DiLustro.
Which meant Killian Brennan Cullen was here.
“Should I stop?” the doctor demanded, his hands trembling slightly.
“No, carry on, and get the surgeries done.”
Then I turned on my heel and sped out of the house, down the secret
staircase that led down into the cliffs where my boat awaited. Thank God
Kian had given me the schematics of this place.
 The moment my feet touched the deck of my yacht, Romeo rushed over
to me.
“Holy fuck,” he muttered, his eyes lowering to the unconscious woman
in my arms, and he let out a whistle. “She’s fucking gorgeous.” Irritation
crawled up my neck, and I clenched my teeth. “Want me to take her to her
cabin?”
“Over my dead body.”
The words escaped me and his gaze met mine in surprise. Annoyance
flared in my chest. The fact that he wanted to take her from my arms…
Well, for some reason, it pissed me off. She was in my care, so it was on me
to take her to her cabin. Nobody else’s.
She was mine for the time being.
“Wait for me in my office,” I barked, and then proceeded to take my
guest to the cabin on the other side of the yacht, closer to my quarters. This
yacht was my home. Although I owned a half dozen residences scattered
around the world, I rarely stayed in any of them long. This was the sure,
and best, way to stay away from my mother. The woman hated boats,
suffering from violent seasickness each time she stepped on one.
Once inside the suite, I deposited her on the soft bed, her skirt riding up
and baring the smooth, pale skin of her toned thighs.
I pulled the fabric down. Yes, I loved the sight of a beautiful woman,
but it felt wrong to gawk at her when she was in this state. Thankfully, I still
had some morals left.
With that, I turned around and left her in the room, not bothering to lock
it.
The yacht was already in motion to leave the area. By the time Liana
woke up, there’d be nowhere for her to disembark unless she was a good
swimmer.
I made it into my office on the main deck and found my brother waiting
for me.
“How is our sleeping beauty?” Romeo said. “She’s prettier than I
would’ve thought.”
“There is no our here,” I gritted. My brother had a way with women and
they always flocked to him. The idea of Liana falling for his charms had me
fighting the urge to slam a fist into his smug face.
I shook my head at the stupid impulse. The woman probably didn’t care
about any man’s charm and would sooner kill us than entertain our
propositions.
“What the fuck is going on with you?” he questioned, narrowing his
eyes on me. I wasn’t exactly known for being possessive, especially when it
came to women.
I moved behind the desk and took a seat, glancing out the window at the
disappearing shoreline of Venezuela. The tense silence that followed was
coiled tight, ready to snap. I didn’t address the question he asked because I
didn’t have an answer.
“Set a course for Boston,” I instructed, changing subjects.
Romeo’s brow furrowed. “I thought we were going to Portugal next.”
I shook my head. “I changed my mind.”
Romeo grinned, rubbing his palms together eagerly. “Oh fuck. There’ll
be war.”
I rolled my eyes at his eagerness.
“Don’t sound so pleased,” I retorted dryly, although his bloodthirst
might prove useful if that was indeed where we were headed.
“This isn’t a beauty pageant. I know better than to ask for world peace.”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. Sometimes I feared Romeo
would get himself killed with the way he carried himself.
“One day you will,” I told him. “When you find someone to settle down
with.”
“Is that what’s happening today?” he inquired curiously. “You found
your woman.”
Why did he frame it as a statement rather than a question?
Before I could contemplate it further, I heard shots being fired. My
brother and I leapt to our feet, guns already in our hands. My first thought
was an attack, but my captain assured me there were no boats on the radar
for miles.
My brother and I rushed out of the office and down the deck. Two of my
men were dead and a third was whimpering in pain.
“What happened?” I barked.
“The psycho bitch locked herself in there,” he hissed, pointing to the
room. In a few short steps, I found myself in front of it. Lifting my foot, I
kicked in the door. It flew open and bounced back off the wall with a loud
crash, causing objects and picture frames to fall from their shelves and
shatter against the floor.
 When I stepped inside, I found myself staring at Liana standing in the
middle of the room with a gun pointed right at my heart.
“Where am I?” she spat. There was no fear in her voice, no tremble to
her hands gripping the gun.
“How are you awake?” I retorted back.
Romeo stepped in behind me, his own weapon aimed at her.
“Tell your buddy there that I’ll have you on your ass before he ever has
a chance to pull the trigger,” she threatened, jerking her chin at my brother.
The icy gleam in her eyes wasn’t something I was accustomed to seeing
in the opposite sex. Usually they fell at my feet and flirted their way into
my bed. But then Liana wasn’t just any female, was she?
“If you’re going to shoot,” I stated, cocking my head, “better make sure
you kill us both. I have no qualms about killing a woman in self-defense.”
Her lip curled, baring her white teeth.
“Put the gun down,” Romeo snarled.
“I’d sooner die,” she screamed back. “Who in the fuck are you?”
The woman had balls. But there was also something in her eyes that
unnerved me. Not exactly fear. More like… panic. Terror, even.
“I’m Giovanni Agosti. And this is my brother, Romeo. We don’t mean
you any harm.”
“Right. Said no man ever,” she scoffed. “That’s why you attacked me.
Kidnapped me.”
Romeo took a menacing step forward, and she leveled her aim at him.
“One more step, and I’ll shoot.”
I threw Romeo a look that I hoped he interpreted as stand down, but all
I got back from him was an eyeroll.
“What do you want from me?” she demanded.
“You.” It was the truth, for more reasons than one. “Your sister sent
me.”
Her eyes darkened with shadows. “I don’t want to see her.”
“She’s your twin,” I reasoned, surprised to hear her response, even
though it would play well into my plans.
Although, it left me wondering… Why wouldn’t Liana want to see her?
Ever since I’d first met Louisa, her twin was all she cared about. Even when
she thought her twin was dead, she was searching for answers.
Liana interrupted my pondering.
“I can offer you a lot of money if you’ll just let me go on my way.”
 I laughed and threw my arms wide. “Does it look like I need your
money?”
“Then what? Everyone wants something they can’t have.”
I ran my tongue across my teeth, so many ideas running through my
mind. Although, I didn’t think she’d appreciate any of them.
“I hate repeating myself, but I’ll make an exception this one last time,” I
deadpanned. “You.”
Let her interpret that one.
Her brows twitched as if she wanted to frown, but she quickly shook it
off.
Then her eyes darted between the two of us and to the vast ocean
surrounding us. Her brown eyes with their hazel specks narrowed, and I
knew she was probably coming to the conclusion there was nowhere to run.
But her next move shocked me to the core.
She pulled the trigger, the bullet hitting Romeo’s arm before she pointed
the gun at me again.
“Tell your captain to turn this boat around, or you’re next.”
“Now you’re starting to piss me off, wildflower,” I hissed as I rushed
her, darting left to right to avoid any bullets she shot my way.
A loud pop sounded, and pain sliced through my arm. Damn woman
fucking shot me. Before she could shoot again, my shoulder rammed into
hers and we tumbled, her back slamming into the glass window behind her.
The gun slipped through her fingers, and I caught it before it hit the
hardwood. In the next breath, a hard object collided with the side of my
head, and I swore stars burst in my vision. I reached a hand up and felt a
sticky liquid trickling between my fingers and down my neck.
My patience shattered. I reached out my hand, wrapping my fingers
around her throat. Straddling her hips, I tightened the grip, hard enough that
she stilled.
Romeo stood behind me, silent, his anger reverberating off him.
But he wasn’t my priority right now. It was this woman, who wouldn’t
hesitate to kill both of us if given the opportunity.
As if she read my thoughts, I made out a long silver blade from the
corner of my eye and felt Liana slice through my forearm, deep into the
muscle.
With a quick jerk, I slammed the butt of the gun into her temple.
 “Fuck,” I muttered as her body went limp against me. I checked for her
pulse, pressing my fingers to her throat, leaving streaks of blood behind.
Relief slammed into me, feeling it thud steady and strong.
“That was like watching foreplay. In a fucking nightmare,” Romeo
grumbled as he came to stand behind me, holding his bleeding arm. “You
have it bad for this one, don’t you?”
Unable to look away from the unconscious woman, I didn’t even bother
to deny it while Kian’s words of warning bounced against my skull.
 TEN
LIANA

M
y mouth was as dry as cotton. A strand of hair tickled my cheek and
I reached up to move it but found myself unable to. Confusion
clouded my mind as I tried to make sense of my surroundings.
Perhaps I was dreaming, but something felt off. I peeled my eyes open,
blinking against the bright light.
My heartbeat trembled when I saw my wrists secured to the bedposts.
“No, no, no,” I breathed, panic steady but swiftly rising inside me.
Memories of waking up in a different bed, of the nightmares I’d survived,
slowly started to swallow me whole when a voice brought it all to a halt.
“I’m glad to see you’re finally awake.”
Panicking, I looked over to find Giovanni Agosti—the man who signed
his death warrant by kidnapping me—leaning in the chair, his legs crossed
while he typed on his cell phone. The fucker wouldn’t even dignify me with
a look. I wanted him to see my fury, see my promise of his death in my
eyes… and he was fucking texting.
“You’re a dead man,” I rasped, my voice hoarse. “Unless you untie me.”
“That’s too bad.” He continued typing on his phone. “I was kind of
looking forward to getting to know each other.” I stiffened. “With words.
Get your mind out of the gutter.”
My mind was never in the gutter. The man must be an idiot to think I’d
ever want anything to do with him. Or any man for that matter.
“Where is my daughter?” He didn’t answer and the panic bubbled inside
me, clawing at my insides, but I resisted the urge to scream. It’d never done
me any good, and it certainly wouldn’t now. So I changed tactics. For now.
“Tell me what you want,” I snapped, yanking at the ropes on my wrists.
“And getting to know each other is off the table.”
I couldn’t believe my fucked-up misfortune. To be at the mercy of the
Tijuana Cartel. Again. I knew who this guy was the minute he uttered his
name. The tattoo on his hand confirmed it. My chest couldn’t handle it,
every instinct in me fighting the urge to retreat into my own mind or fight
until my dying breath.
“What do you think I want?” he answered, still not bothering to look up.
But there was something about his flat, uninterested tone that pulled me
from the ledge. “Aside from your safety.”
I glared at him, my pulse racing as hatred burned through my veins.
“Just fucking tell me, you… you…” I searched for the word and finally
settled on the one I considered all men on this planet to be, “sick
psychopath.”
“If I’m a psychopath, we’ll get along just great.” He finally raised his
eyes, the flash in his green gaze penetrating me. “I have a proposition for
you.”
I scoffed. “No.”
“You haven’t even heard what it is yet.”
“Unless it involves returning me back to my property and never seeing
you again, I’m not interested.”
“She’s no longer there, you know. Killian came for his wife and child.”
His voice was low and soft, but those words sent terror through me. “But
not to worry. Her parents are ensuring her well-being and safety.”
It was for me to ensure Amara’s safety. She was my child. Yet, it would
seem biology would prevail and I’d be forgotten once again.
All my years of captivity, fury, and bitterness rose to the surface, and
my eyes flashed.
“I’m going to kill you,” I stated coldly.
He flashed me a smile. “Hence the binding.”
“The longer you leave me tied, the longer your torture,” I hissed.
Unfortunately, my threat didn’t have the desired effect.
“You’ll be tied up until I know you’ll behave. I can’t afford to lose more
men on this ship.”
This. Motherfucker.
Images of various methods of torture flashed through my mind.
 “You started this, but trust me, Giovanni, I will finish it.”
This man touched me. Ripped me out of my home and away from my
child. Tied me up. Oh, the ways I would make him pay.
I gazed at the ceiling, knowing the key was to keep a cool head.
“I should have expected nothing less from a Tijuana man. Your mother
cooked up some shit there, huh?”
I must have struck a nerve because the temperature in the room took a
dive, and he was out of the chair and in my face before I could blink. If a
look could kill, I’d be dead.
“Shut your fucking mouth.”
I laughed, pouring all my menace into it. “Or what? I’m only stating the
facts, Giovanni Agosti.” I paused, feigning remorse. “My bad, I should say
Giovanni Tijuana, even though you’re the bastard product of your
mother’s—”
My airways closed as he slammed his palm against my mouth.
Revulsion at being touched shot through me as I stared at him, refusing
to show him any weakness and fully intent on exploiting his.
Just not at this moment.
So, inhaling a deep, calming breath, I ignored the thudding of the pulse
in my eardrums and shifted, feeling the silky sheets cooling my exposed
skin and my temper. Somewhat.
I changed tactics.
“How did you know where to find me?” I questioned.
A heartbeat passed.
“Kian Cortes.”
My stomach sank and lead spread outward throughout my body.
The only man I owed allegiance to after his infamous brother had me
wishing—begging—for death for the longest six months of my entire life.
Against my will, the memories surged.
“Please,” I cried, reaching for my daughter as Perez restrained me,
almost ripping my right arm out of the socket as he jerked me back.
“Please, please… leave her alone.”
He laughed, his dark eyes gleaming with malice. “Your weakness.
Foolish to let me see it.”
I opened my mouth to say something else, but I was slammed against
the rough wall. The air whooshed out of my lungs and unshed tears burned
in my eyes as I prayed for someone—anyone—to save us.
 My reason told me nobody would.
Not my sister. Not my mother. Nobody.
When I let these evil men believe I was Louisa, taking her place in the
sick arrangement my mother’s lover had made with Santiago, I held out
hope that my sister would come for me.
Instead, I was left to suffer alone.
Until they broke me. Until Amara came along.
“We can use her organs,” Perez spat, his eyes locked on Amara’s frail
body. “She’s not good for anything else.”
Letting the adrenaline into my system, I let out a battle cry and threw
myself at Perez with fisted hands, ignoring my aching joints.
“You evil son of a bitch,” I screamed, slamming my fists into his face
over and over again. As long as his guards’ attention was focused on me,
they would leave Amara alone, so I unleashed my fury on him.
Blood pooled from my nose. Tears blurred my vision.
But I refused to stop.
I wouldn’t stop until I took my final breath, which might be sooner
rather than later at this point.
“Hold this wildcat still,” Perez said acidly, a sinister grin on his face.
“Apparently she hasn’t learned her lesson yet.”
One of the guards pulled me back, slamming me against the wall, when
he suddenly fell to the ground. Dead.
“What—”
Another body fell. And another. Perez was the last one to fall to the
ground, unconscious.
My knees buckled and hit the filthy floor, shudders tearing through my
body like a hurricane. I blinked over and over again, my blurry vision
refusing to clear up.
“Amara,” I rasped, but there was no answer.
“She’s knocked out.” I stiffened at hearing an unfamiliar voice. Was it
another guard? What did he want from us? “I won’t hurt you. I’m getting
you out.”
His words trailed off as he brushed my hair off my forehead.
I reeled from his touch, blinking profusely as he slowly came into focus.
An older man with eyes that were almost… kind. Too kind? I’d learned to be
skeptical, and he was no different, no matter what he claimed.
 “Don’t touch me,” I rasped. “If you’re going to help us, do so. But don’t
ever fucking touch me.”
He blew out a breath.
“At least your spirit is still there,” he said. “Can you walk?”
I grunted, shifting and straightening up in answer. Every inch of me
hurt, but I ignored the pain. I would crawl if that’s what it took to get us out
of here.
On unsteady feet, I made my way to my daughter. Her clothes were
filthy and her complexion was deathly pale. My heart trembled in fear as I
reached out to touch her pulse point. I held my breath for one, two, three
seconds… There it was. Faint, but steady.
I bent over to lift her into my arms when the stranger stopped me
midway.
“We’ll be faster if I carry her and you follow along.” Mistrust shot
through me as I narrowed my eyes. He must have seen it on my face
because he sighed. “There will be more guards coming, Liana. We don’t
have time to move at a snail’s pace.”
Shock vibrated through me. “I’m Louisa,” I spat.
He shook his head.
“We both know you’re not.”
My head spun, dizziness overwhelming me from fatigue and days of no
food. But I wasn’t ready to put Amara’s safety into another man’s hands.
“Tell me something nobody knows about you,” I finally said, tasting
blood in my mouth. “Or I’ll kill you.”
A heartbeat passed as he watched me somberly.
With a cold determination on his face, he said, “If you share this with
anyone and betray me, I will punish you.” I swallowed, nodding my
agreement. “Two decades ago, Emory’s mother and I were going to
disappear together.” Something I couldn’t quite distinguish flashed across
his expression. “Anyhow, I promised her that I’d watch over her daughter. I
failed eight years ago; I won’t today. I’m getting you and this kid out of
here.”
“That’s not much of a secret.” I frowned. “Besides, Gio DiLustro, her
husband, would have come after you.”
“Gio would have failed, because nobody can come after The
Syndicator.” My mouth fell open at the revelation. “Now you know my
secret, Liana Volkov. Betray me and—”
 He didn’t have to finish his sentence.
Kian did as he promised that day. I couldn’t even fault him for it
because he did warn me. It turned out he wasn’t joking.
He’d known I betrayed him to Atticus, so he sold me out to my late
husband’s nephew.
But Kian didn’t know I had an ace up my sleeve too.
When I was searching for a donor for Amara’s liver, desperate to find a
familiar match aside from her birth mother to use for her transplant, I traced
her lineage. Imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon one of Kian’s
secrets.
Giovanni headed toward the door and I followed him with my gaze,
planning his demise when he said, “I’ll bring you some food.”
“Go to hell.”
He stopped in his tracks and smiled coldly. “Too late. I believe we’re
both already there.”
Then he left me with my shadows and terrors.
 ELEVEN
GIOVANNI

J
esus Christ.
I would have killed anyone else who’d provoked me like she had.
She had the nerve to not only shoot me but to shoot my brother. That
was unforgivable and she deserved to die for it. Yet somehow, the idea of
her lifeless body had my stomach coiling and my chest tightening.
Because there was one thing I knew for certain. Liana deserved to thrive
and shine, not fight and hide.
This woman had a hold on me. It was a foreign, visceral need, the kind
that I couldn’t explain and didn’t even understand. A hunger that roared in
my chest and bled into my veins.
And then there was the recognition of the danger she represented for
me. Every second she spent in my grasp, my obsession grew and spread like
a fucking cancer.
The woman tripped me so effortlessly that I knew the wisest thing
would be to get rid of her. Take her to Louisa, drop her off at her doorstep,
and never see her again.
But I wouldn’t.
Why?
Because I was a fucking idiot. Maybe I was just as reckless as my
brother, and I was eager to stir up trouble or start a damn war. There was no
doubt that Kingston Ashford would come for her.
Yet here I was, steering a course from Venezuela, away from Europe
and her twin. Why? Because I wanted to explore my fascination with this
woman. I’d take a roundabout way toward Boston, stop at every known
island and conduct business, then maybe even get lost at sea for a bit just so
I could spend time with her and explore this peculiar attraction I felt around
her.
When she was close, all I could focus on was the smell of wildflowers
and temptation. I had never—fucking ever—been fascinated with someone
in this way.
Ironically, deep down, I knew Liana wouldn’t hesitate to end me if
given the chance. She’d proven that, and now she’d found my weakness.
She’d done it effortlessly too, which proved exactly how dangerous she
was. This woman would prod at it, make me lose control. Just as my mother
always made her husband lose his.
Fuck!
I gave my head a subtle shake, clearing my mind as I made my way to
check on my brother while a mixture of fury, regret, and bitterness burned
in my chest.
“Let me guess…” Romeo’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “You
went to visit your little captive.”
“There’s nothing little about her,” I muttered. The woman had an aura
about her that made her appear larger than life.
“But you are holding her captive,” he pointed out. “Why are you so
fascinated with her?”
I shrugged. “Probably for the same reason that you’re a pain in my ass.”
He flashed me a smile.
“It’s what you love about me, and what drives Mother crazy. So I’ll
continue being a pain in the ass.” I rolled my eyes. My siblings liked to
either ignore her or spite Julia. Well, except for Cristiano. He was still on
the fence between his feelings for her, but it was only a matter of time
before he saw her true colors. “Speaking of Mother, she keeps calling me.”
“And you keep answering?”
He scoffed. “Right? I keep sending it to voicemail where she’s leaving
screeching messages.”
“About?”
“Nonsense. You. Business. It’s seriously getting annoying. Can’t you
call her?”
“There’s nothing to tell her,” I deadpanned. “She’s not to get involved in
any Tijuana, Agosti, or Omertà business.”
 He sneered. “I don’t think she got the memo.”
“She refuses to accept it. It’ll probably have to be dealt with
eventually.”
“You’re going to end her?”
It was tempting, but Julia was our mother, and killing a woman didn’t
sit that well with me. “No, but I’ll make it clear that her involvement in
anything business-related will not be tolerated. I don’t want her meddling in
any business affairs.”
“Good luck with that one. I hate to see her reaction when you bring
Liana to family reunions. You know how she is about competition.”
I let out a sardonic breath. “Julia can’t compete with Liana.”
“Maybe, but Julia’s more sneaky. I don’t like your captive, but
somehow I don’t get the sense that she’d stab you in the back. Our mother,
on the other hand…”
He wasn’t wrong about that. Julia would step on a child with her five-
inch-heels to get what she wanted.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, changing the subject.
He lifted a shoulder and turned to me.
“Not bad for being shot by a woman.” I chuckled, and we made our way
down to the lower deck and toward the kitchen to get a food tray. “What?
Don’t tell me you’re okay with the way that savage woman got you.”
“She won’t get another chance.” Then I got straight to business. “Have
you arranged for the shipment to Kian Cortes?”
“It’s already en route.”
“Good.”
I owed him for getting me to Liana before Emory’s family got to her,
but knowing the DiLustros, this wouldn’t be the end of it. They would come
for her, and so would the others. There was no way that Liana would be
able to fight them all by herself.
The best thing that could protect her was to get married to someone
powerful.
Someone like me, my mind enticed. Fuck, I liked that idea more than I
should, but considering her actions—and the fact I failed to protect her
eight years ago, much to my shame—it seemed the only viable option.
Besides, I’d be a fool not to realize this girl was so much more than met the
eye.
 Now how could I convince the woman that had been through hell
thanks to the men in her life of my good intentions? Maybe I could offer to
help her find the woman on her revenge list? Or mediate some kind of a
relationship with Amara by striking a deal with the girl’s biological parents
and the DiLustros.
It was a sound plan, if I might say so myself.
And then if all else failed, I’d bring up the Marabella Agreements.
I found Romeo frowning at me when I looked at him. Did I miss
something?
“What is it?” I questioned.
“You’re up to something, Giovanni.”
“Aren’t I always,” I muttered as I contemplated ways to keep the wild
woman tied to me.
Obsession sure was a bitch.
 TWELVE
LIANA

T
he door opened, and a chill coasted through me as Giovanni’s shadow
moved across the floor, approaching me like the devil in disguise.
He had changed out of his suit and was wearing sweatpants and a
plain white T-shirt. Droplets of water glued his dark hair to his temples,
telling me he’d showered while I was tied up here, even had time to
bandage his wound. His forearms flexed with each step he took closer to
me, the ink peeking out from beneath his sleeve.
“I’m back.” He greeted me with a smile like we were besties, carrying a
tray full of food.
My stomach rumbled, betraying my hunger. The man flashed me a grin.
“Right on time by the sounds of it,” he drawled as he took a seat on the
edge of the bed, placing the tray down in front of him. His eyes flashed with
resentment when I instinctively shifted away.
“I’m not hungry,” I snapped back, my stomach protesting the lie.
Giovanni’s expression contained a warning before he picked up a spoon and
scooped up some white liquid that looked suspiciously like pureed rice.
“Yes, you are.” He brought the spoon to my tightly pressed lips. “Now
open your mouth, or I’ll have to tube-feed you.”
That motherfucking—
I opened my mouth and went for it, baring my teeth and readying to bite
his fingers, but he was too fast, yanking his hand away.
“Come back here,” I hissed. “I opened my mouth like you
commanded.”
 His eyes hardened, holding mine as he gave me his terrifying attention.
“To eat,” he gritted. “Not to bite me.”
“Tomato, tomahto.” I held his gaze and let him see all my hate. “I’ll eat
on my own.”
“Wildflower,” he warned, towering over me like a dark cloud, and
instantly my chest tightened. “You don’t want me as your enemy.”
I scoffed. “Too late, because you’re my enemy.”
He was on me so fast a scream rose up my throat, his fingers prying my
mouth open. But all I could feel was distaste at being touched. Having a
man’s body so close—too close.
“Open your mouth, Liana, or I swear to God, I’m going to shove a
feeding tube down your throat, and I promise you, the experience won’t be
pleasant.”
I went still, recalling the last time I was subjected to that treatment, and
the invasion of unwanted memories that I had worked so hard to
compartmentalize threatened to take hold.
“You’re the same as the rest of them.”
He sighed, almost as if he was exhausted. “I would like to think I’m not,
and maybe if you’d give me a chance—”
I didn’t want to hear it.
“You let them take my daughter from me, you bastard. If you had to
kidnap me, why not wait until after the surgery and take us both?” My voice
rose with each spoken word. “So no, I won’t do anything you demand. I
want you dead, do you understand?”
The strain in the air pulled like a rubber band, threatening to snap.
“I fucking saved you. How about you show some gratitude?” he
growled. “Killian would have ended you the moment he saw his wife and
child in that operating room.”
Resentment expanded in my chest, the need to lash out suffocating me.
“You must have known this day would come,” he said, his tone softer
now.
His words chafed me and I bit my lip, swallowing down my response. I
flipped my gaze to the ceiling, staring stubbornly until my vision blurred. I
refused to talk to him or anyone about my daughter. Amara was mine. I
held her when she cried. I took care of her when she was sick. I protected
her from the people who wanted her dead.
Not Emory DiLustro. Not Killian Cullen. Me.
 Amara and I saved each other. If that didn’t make us family, I didn’t
know what did.
A spoon appeared in front of my face with a curt command. “Eat.”
“I’d rather starve.”
His chuckle was throaty. “Damn, you’re still stubborn.”
My head snapped to look at him. “Still?”
Something that looked a lot like regret flashed in his eyes, but it was
gone before I could comment. “Eat.”
Reluctantly, I parted my lips, wrinkling my nose in disgust the instant it
hit my taste buds. I was right; he was feeding me baby food. I swallowed it,
and when he lifted the next spoonful of it to my mouth, I turned my head
away in exasperation.
“I’ve seen many torture techniques,” I muttered. “Spoon-feeding
tasteless gunk is a new one, even for me.”
“You need to eat,” he growled.
“Actual food,” I spat. “Not this fucking garbage.”
His gaze fell to the tray overflowing with edible food before returning
to me. “You don’t deserve a gourmet meal.” I scoffed. “Unless…”
He trailed off, and my curiosity got the best of me. “Unless?”
“Unless we make a deal.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. Men always had an agenda. “What kind of
deal?”
“You promise to behave.”
“So baby food is really your form of punishment?” I said in disbelief. “I
suspect it isn’t very effective.”
He shoved another spoonful of disgusting slop into my mouth. “You’d
be surprised.”
“I bet. What does it do? Make your victims shit themselves?” I muttered
sarcastically. The man had to be nuts. “Why do you have that crap anyhow?
Have babies on board?”
He rolled his eyes. “No, but I had guests with an infant aboard not too
long ago.”
My lips curled. “What? Did they eat all the adult food and leave you
with this?”
He sighed.
“You’re really not helping your case, Liana.”
 “Fine,” I grumbled, shooting him a scowl. “I promise not to bite you.”
Only kill you. “Now, for the love of God, please give me some of that.” I
nodded toward the tray.
He rolled his jaw, and I knew he was debating whether or not to trust
me. I fluttered my eyes, even forced a smile while I held my breath, waiting
for him to buy it. It didn’t take long.
“Okay then.”
With the room shrouded in silence, he fed me, and I greedily ate every
spoonful he aimed my way. Scrambled eggs and bacon. Fresh fruit. Juice.
Seemingly lost in his thoughts, I studied my late husband’s nephew,
looking for similarities and failing to find them. He had that going for him
at least.
He smelled like pine, cigarettes, and something else. Cinnamon, maybe.
He was built like a brick wall but had the suave moves of a gentleman.
It was all a disguise though, because if you stared long enough, you’d see a
dangerous edge in his tense muscles and a darkness dancing behind those
striking green eyes.
The man held my stare with disturbing interest and suspicion flared
inside me.
“I have a proposition for you,” he said, and something in his expression
made me wary. “Do you want to hear it?”
I remained silent, unwilling to play his stupid games.
Amusement brightened his expression. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”
I gritted my teeth. “I’m not. But you asked if I wanted to hear it, and
I’m sure you know that I don’t, so…”
He muttered a few curses. “Are you ready to hear it?”
“No.”
His chuckle was throaty and dark. “Well, I’m going to tell you anyway.”
“Then why bother asking?” All men were the fucking same. They
dangled the illusion of choices, when in fact there were none.
He ignored me and continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “I propose that we
marry.”
It was as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over me,
freezing every atom in my body. There was no need to think about that one.
“No.”
My curt tone didn’t seem to dissuade him. “I can protect you.”
I smiled sweetly. “I can protect myself.”
 “It would be convenient. You wouldn’t even have to change your last
name. It would save you some paperwork.”
My mouth fell open. The man sure was thick.
“It would be convenient for whom?” I spat when I finally got myself
together. But there was a disturbing gallop in my chest that I’d never
experienced before.
“For both of us,” he reasoned with a straight face.
“I don’t mind the paperwork,” I said, but no sooner had the words left
my mouth than an idea flickered in my mind. My gaze flicked to the open
door behind him and I wondered if there was a way I could kill everyone on
this boat. Except for the captain—I was humble enough to admit I’d need
him.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared.” I hated his smile, all sparkling white
teeth and full lips on a handsome, chiseled face.
“You wish,” I muttered as I fought a shiver. Fuck yes, I was scared. I
valued my independence, had worked incredibly hard for it over the years,
so the notion of tying myself to someone had my world flipping upside
down.
I gazed out the window and said, “I’m not, but you haven’t exactly
proven yourself as a desirable candidate.”
“You think someone better will come along?” I tensed at the subtle
threat. My throat tightened at the idea of any man’s ring on my finger,
keeping me in the legal form of captivity. “No one can save you from me,
and if you agree, I’ll help you exact revenge on that last person.”
I narrowed my eyes on him. “What do you know about my revenge?”
“Enough to know that a woman is on your list.”
“You know her? The Mistress?”
“The Mistress?” Surprise flashed in his eyes, and I knew it right there
and then, he didn’t. “I don’t, but whoever she is, I can help you find her.”
He kept his unwavering gaze on me. “Why is she called that? The
Mistress?” “What did she do to you?”
Maybe he could help me and… I gave my head a subtle shake. No, he
wasn’t trustworthy. Nobody could help me find the woman I was looking
for.
“That’s none of your business,” I deadpanned. “I’ll pass. I don’t need
your help.”
 His eyes glinted like emeralds, shining with a dark edge while his gaze
slid down my body, and suddenly I regretted wearing a dress when he
kidnapped me yesterday.
The heat of his stare on my bare legs scorched, and I had never hated
my body more than I did at this moment.
My skin stretched taut at this unwelcome physical reaction and at the
memories of sadistic things that usually followed. The panicked urge to
flee, to preserve my hard-earned freedom and peace, was thick in the air
between us.
“I can save you.”
I lifted an indifferent shoulder and played it coolly. “See, that’s where
you’re wrong. I don’t need anyone to save me.” Because I’m going to save
myself. Like I’d been doing for the past eight years. “And I don’t need your
help.”
“Yes, you do,” he claimed. “You need help and protection. The
DiLustro family won’t be so forgiving for keeping Amara—their flesh and
blood—hidden from them.”
“I didn’t steal her from them,” I gritted. “Let’s not forget that Gio
DiLustro dumped Amara like she was a piece of trash.”
“You can argue all you want, but we both know who’ll be blamed.” He
was right, but I wouldn’t admit it to him if my life depended on it. “My
resources are vast, Liana. You could have access to them, find the woman
you’re looking for faster. Once the dust settles, I’ll work with Amara’s
parents on some compromise so you get to see her.”
The latter part sounded so tempting. The thought of never seeing Amara
again gutted me, and I would do just about anything to be in her life.
Besides, my instincts told me Giovanni wouldn’t let up until I gave him
the impression that I was considering his “proposition.”
My lungs grew tighter each second, and as distress stretched inside, I
forced the words past my lips.
“I’ll think about marrying you, but if it comes to that, it will be only on
paper. Touch me without my permission and you’re a dead man. And trust
me, I’ll make it long and painful for you.”
Revulsion spread through me like acid at my agreement. I’d rather walk
through hell than be tied to any man ever again. It took me years to wash
the humiliation out of my mouth, but I remembered the way it tasted all too
vividly.
 Giovanni watched me for a long second, something unreadable passing
through his eyes. “Why?”
“Why am I going to make your death long and painful?” I asked, raising
my eyebrows. “Gosh, where do I even start?”
“No, why agree to it?” he questioned.
I let out an exasperated breath. “First you’re making a proposition, and
now that I’ve agreed to consider it, you’re questioning me?”
“Yes, I want to know why.”
Holding his gaze, I waited and waited, until I found my voice. Or
maybe it was courage. “Maybe I want or need sex.”
I tried really hard to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. I really did.
The truth was I could go without sex for another few years, although
there were times I missed… affection. Or something along those lines.
“You just told me if I touch you, I’ll be a dead man,” he pointed out.
It was my turn to sigh.
“Because no human being should be touched without his or her
permission,” I told him, using a tone that I usually reserved for little
children.
“So sex is not off the table?”
Fucking men and sex. Was that the only thing they ever thought of?
“I haven’t had sex in years, if you want to call it that, and I’m not
rushing into anything.” I despised him for dragging my admission out of
me. It made me feel vulnerable, visibly broken. After all that I’d endured,
there was never a single part of me that missed it.
“Are you messing with my head?” he growled, looking at me
suspiciously.
I scoffed. “Just because I make a statement about the lack of sexual
activity in my life, you accuse me of messing with your head?”
Giovanni’s eyes blazed, and it set something inside of me alight. Damn
him. “You want to have sex?”
The man sounded way too eager for my tastes. Jesus Christ, was I
getting in over my head?
“Not until we’re married.” Or fucking ever. Although, there was no
denying that my voice sounded different, huskier and dipped in duplicity,
which I hoped he didn’t recognize. His penetrating stare made me believe
otherwise. “Besides, I’d like to be untied for it.” So I could think of another
way to kill you.
 “And I’d like a kiss.” There was a teasing tone to his voice, but I’d
learned never to discount men.
“In your dreams.” The words flew out of my mouth, and there was no
retrieving them.
“You’re right, you do kiss me in my dreams.” What. The. Actual. Fuck.
“Is kissing where you draw the line?”
He smirked, and I decided it was probably a good thing I was tied up—
for his sake anyway.
“I refuse to be restrained if we are to have this conversation.”
The steady beat of my heart rang in my ears as I waited to see if he’d
bite. One step. Two. And sure as shit, he began untying my wrists. I shifted
on the pillows, away from his heat, rubbing my tender skin as I watched
him out of the corner of my eye.
“We can table the discussion for now, Liana. And I swear on my
siblings’ lives, I will never force you or touch you without your
permission,” Giovanni said, although there was clear disappointment on his
face. “But I hope one day, you’ll trust me enough to allow me to touch you
and to confide in me.”
I stilled, his words brushing against my frozen heart. Would I? I didn’t
think so. Trust and hope were for fools, and I would no longer be one. Ever.
“Is it okay if I stand up and stretch? Or would you like to monitor that
too?”
I was being sarcastic, and there was no way he missed that, but I
couldn’t deny my unease at this whole thing. Who was I, asking for
permission? Liana Volkov didn’t ask for fucking permission. Nonetheless,
here we were, me waiting for this man’s acknowledgement.
Once he nodded his permission, I slid off the bed, my bare feet hitting
the cool hardwood as I pulled my dress down.
I kept my body relaxed and my movements casual as I took a step
toward the floor-to-ceiling window, getting a full view of the ocean
stretching as far as the eye could see. I couldn’t help but wonder how far we
were from Venezuela and my daughter.
Amara. My little Mara.
My chest tightened, but I chose not to dwell on the pain. Self-pity never
served anyone, and it certainly had never helped me in the past.
“Are we in danger of being swept up into the Bermuda triangle?” I
asked casually, my eyes locked on the horizon. I was clutching at straws
here, trying to determine our location, but I had nothing to lose. Let this
man think I was a conspiracy theorist; I couldn’t care less. “I’ve heard of
boats disappearing in it.”
“We’re only two hundred miles off the shores of Venezuela.”
I sensed him more than heard him come up behind me and I forced
myself to slowly turn around and meet his gaze.
“I guess yachts move very slow.”
He cocked his eyebrow. “Have you never been on one?”
“No.”
“Been on a boat at all?”
“No.”
“But—”
Done with his questioning, I shoved him as hard as I could. Shock on
his face as he fell backward was the last thing I saw before I bolted.
The sweet taste of vengeance filled every fiber of my being, spurring
me onward, when he grabbed my ankle. I hit the floor hard, all the air
whooshing out of me, and a vase from the little coffee table smashed,
scattering shards all over the floor.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I gasped as I scrambled for purchase. “I’ll
make you regret it.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he growled through clenched teeth. He
sounded furious, but I couldn’t risk glancing at him. Instead, I focused on
reaching for the crystal ashtray, hatred burning through me, giving me an
extra boost.
Feeling the cool object under my fingertips, I swung it around and it
met its intended target. Suddenly, he released me, and I scrambled to my
feet. I was out of the bedroom a half breath later, adrenaline rushing through
me and fueling me with extra speed, but even before I made it around the
hallway, I collided with a guard.
His gun dropped to the floor with a thud and I dived for it, the move
sending my knees and wrists thrumming with agony. Ignoring it, I reached
for the gun.
My fingers gripped the cold metal and I lifted my arms, aiming for the
man’s heart. Pop, pop, pop. Shots cut through the air, making my ears ring.
Blood splattered all over me. The man’s body fell before I could jump
back to my feet, and my vision went dark as terror took hold of me, feeling
a man’s body on top of mine for the first time in years.
 A scream tore up my throat but I swallowed it, shoving the body off me,
the gun still firmly between my fingers.
Panting, I used the last flare of energy to jump to my feet. I caught sight
of Giovanni at the end of the hallway, his gaze locked on my bloodstained
clothes.
Once on the outside deck, my eyes set on the sunset in the distance. I
was running out of time. Bracing a hand on the rail to support myself, I kept
on going until I reached the stairs, where I stopped dead.
A younger version of Giovanni stood in front of me. The man I shot
along with Giovanni. His arm was bandaged and he wore an expression that
told me he wouldn’t mind paying me back for the transgression.
My heartbeat drummed in my ears, penetrating my heavy breaths and
mixing with the waves crashing against the side of the yacht. More men
appeared. Guards. First mates. Giovanni.
And they all had guns and rifles pointed at me.
If I tried to run, they would fill me with lead.
The first tear fell, and hopelessness threatened to buckle my knees. I
was grossly outnumbered. I was aware of how dumb my plan was, born out
of desperation. Out of fear.
As the wind whipped at my hair and my skin, that familiar cold terror
clawed at my skin. I was again that eighteen-year-old girl with broken
hopes and dreams.
Brutalized. Discarded.
And that terrified me.
I looked over at the rough sea, its depths calling me. I wasn’t sure that
there was any other way of escaping this.
“Liana.” Giovanni’s presence brushed at my back, but I forced myself to
stand still. “There’s nowhere else to go and you know it.”
Goosebumps rose up, something frightening whispering in my ear and
calling me to the edge. I took a step. Another.
“Don’t you even think about it.” Giovanni’s warning reached me over
the wind.
Another step and I closed my eyes, a single name ringing in my ears.
Amara.
 THIRTEEN
GIOVANNI

I
’d miscalculated.
And it took Liana’s body hitting the water to realize I’d gone about
everything, from the moment I took her from that cliffside compound,
the wrong way.
Without thinking, I jumped after her, but the current was already ripping
her out of reach. I watched her head bobbing in the distance, the waves
tumbling her around like a ragdoll.
Fuck, she can’t swim, I realized. She jumped in knowing the risks.
Dammit, dammit, dammit.
I swam harder and faster while Kian’s words rang in my ears, mocking
me for not heeding his warning.
They’d broken her.
I wished Santiago and Perez were alive, only for me to make them
suffer. Maybe gift them to this woman so she could have the final word.
My brother’s voice barked out orders from above, and soon a life raft
was thrown overboard.
I swam in her direction, determined to get her to safety. She fought to
survive, flapping and gasping. I reached her a moment later, grabbing her
wrist right before she went completely under, and drew her to me.
“Crazy woman,” I muttered, banding an arm around her waist as her
labored breathing feathered against my wet neck.
A broken sob tore from her lips, and she seemed to deflate.
 A wave slammed into us and I tightened my grip as she choked and
gagged on salt water. I kept swimming, hard and fast, making my way to
the raft.
I pushed her blonde strands back from her face. “It’ll be okay. Just hold
on.”
Her lips appeared almost blue, and I internally cursed myself. The last
thing she needed was hypothermia to hit her.
Holding her tightly, I continued swimming. It seemed to take hours to
get to the raft. Or maybe it was mere minutes, I couldn’t tell.
“Climb in,” I hissed, looping my fingers through the handle.
She kicked her feet, trying to climb in, but her strength was waning, so I
gripped her thighs and helped her the rest of the way in. I heaved myself
over and fell back against the side, lifting my eyes to the darkening sky.
“Pull us out!” I shouted to my men, locking eyes on Liana. Her wet
clothes clung to her body, revealing her curves. Her teeth clattered and she
pulled her knees to her chest, her eyes darting around.
“You can’t swim,” I deadpanned, my muscles aching from the exertion.
“No.” She didn’t meet my gaze.
“Then why jump?” The life raft rocked as Romeo and the men heaved
us toward the upper deck. “Don’t tell me my proposition sent you diving
headfirst into the ocean.”
Guilt gnawed at me, and I once again regretted our conversation earlier
—regretted my actions since she’d come aboard my yacht. With everything
she’d been through, why did I think it was a good idea to keep her
restrained? To dangle the idea of marriage, even though I offered the option
to find this mysterious mistress she was looking for to avenge all the hell
she’d been through.
Let her find every person who’s ever hurt her and take her revenge. I
believe she’s down to one person. Kian’s words were mocking me while
they played on repeat.
“I’m never going to see her again.”
She stared out unseeingly, and her words came out on a whisper through
clattering teeth. When her eyes met mine, I finally saw the true Liana
Volkov.
And just how fragile and vulnerable she was.
I sat in my bedroom with an unlit cigarette in hand, watching Liana sleep.
After today’s events, I didn’t have enough trust to leave her alone in the
room I had designated for her, so I’d had her tucked in my own bed, which
left me with a choice of the couch or chair to sleep on.
Silence held steady in the room, my brother sitting next to me, and
when I turned, I found his cool eyes taking me in.
He was worried, obvious concern etched on his face, and I found myself
irritated by it. I knew he had something to say, so I waited for him to spit it
out, unwilling to break the silence.
“We should have never gotten involved in this shit. The woman is
killing our men. Four of our men are dead, Giovanni!”
And there it was.
“We’ll compensate their families and ensure they’re well provided for.
They understood the risks of working for a criminal organization.”
Romeo shoved his hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Her sister
should have someone else to deal with this bullshit.”
My muscles tightened, revolting at the idea of another man being
around her. But I forced myself to speak calmly when I answered: “Having
the Volkov twins on our side gives us leverage.”
“Don’t tell me Mother has finally gotten to you?”
I let out a sardonic breath. Our mother—if she could be called that—had
been paranoid of the Volkov girl since her marriage to Santiago. She
worried the girl would have children with him and stand in the way of my
—pardon, my mother’s—claim to the Tijuana throne.
“Mother doesn’t know she’s alive,” I warned, my gaze narrowing on
him. “And we’re going to keep it that way for a while.”
He watched me with those inquisitive eyes, and it was annoying as fuck
that he was one of the rare individuals who could read me so well.
“She’ll feel threatened once she does,” he remarked casually, a smile
playing on his lips. “Are you ready to handle that?”
We both knew Julia had only one purpose in life and that was to keep
her children, and most importantly herself, in power. No matter the cost.
Her calculated ways extended to every single one of us. Marissa was
lucky enough to evade our mother’s interest. My brothers and I weren’t so
lucky. Romeo, Cristiano, and I experienced her schemes and ambition
firsthand. Though, I put an end to it once we were old enough, cutting her
off from any business involving the mafia. In fact, Julia didn’t know much
about my personal life either, because I kept her at arm’s length for exactly
that reason.
“I could protect her, although it’d be easier if she’d just marry me. And
we all saw exactly what she thought of that idea,” I said, and Romeo
winced. And fuck, if that wasn’t a total ouch moment for me.
“Yikes, good luck with that.”
I cast a glance at the woman in my bed, her even breaths signaling she
was in deep sleep. I was trying to appear unfazed to my brother, but in
reality, I was shaken. Liana’s complete disregard for her own well-being
didn’t bode well. She had to have known jumping over that rail meant
certain death, and yet…
“What is it about her that has you wound so tight?” he asked casually,
pulling my focus back.
I shot him a glare that could have killed a lesser man. But the only
reaction I got from Romeo was a low chuckle.
“Don’t you have some work to do?” I said dryly. “If you don’t, I’ll find
you something to do.”
“See? This is exactly what I mean. So sensitive ever since you brought
that woman around.”
“Maybe I should show you exactly how sensitive I am,” I grumbled.
“By smashing your pretty face into the deck of my boat.”
A smile played in his eyes and he put his hands up in surrender. “I’m
just pointing out the obvious.”
It felt like nothing had been the same since I learned Liana was alive. I
didn’t know how to get rid of the edgy sensation beneath my skin whenever
I thought of her.
For fuck’s sake, I’d kidnapped a woman I was sent to rescue. Why?
Maybe to remind her of our meeting eight years ago, which she seemed to
have conveniently forgotten. Or maybe because even after eight years, I
was still fascinated with the woman.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure which was worse.
“Are we going to sit here and watch this crazed woman as she sleeps in
your bed?” my brother asked, leaning back in his seat.
“She’s not crazy,” I growled.
He raised a brow. “Misunderstood, then?”
“You’re about to be misunderstood when I break your teeth.”
 Romeo brought his glass of whatever poison he was nursing to his lips,
trying to conceal his smile. “But can you tell me first what you’re going to
do with her?”
I didn’t know.
The mafia princess was clearly determined to wreak havoc on any man
who dared to get close to her, and I started to question whether the idea of
marriage was untimely.
But the cat was out of the bag, and it was about time I took a wife. It
would be the best way to keep her safe from the cartel, the Syndicate, and
the Omertà.
“Giovanni?” Romeo called.
My gaze slid to the unsuspecting woman. “I’m going to convince her to
marry me.”
 FOURTEEN
LIANA

M
y childhood and teenage years were spent being molded by my
mother, trained and educated on how best to succeed in the world
she chose to live in. Yes, I had the freedom to walk the compound
grounds, but Louisa and I were given very little freedom to make our own
choices. And so, when Santiago Tijuana took me, one prison was
exchanged for another.
I’d been shoved in a dark place where minutes and hours ticked by,
becoming more and more unbearable. The newfound feeling of loneliness
became my only companion, enfolding me into its invisible arms. Locked
in. Silent. Hopeless.
Days, months, and years turned into a permanent nightmare.
Sometimes it was a blessing that I was drugged a lot, because it
somewhat dulled the pain and humiliation of what I had to endure. Then
slowly but surely, I built a tolerance to drugs, and even that small relief was
taken away from me. I prayed for death on so many occasions, having to
endure the vile things Santiago and Perez designed for me. It was where my
aversion to men and any form of touch came about.
Until Amara came into my life.
At first, she was forced to sleep in the basement with the other kids, but
I quickly manipulated Santiago into charging her into my care. She was
allowed into my room, albeit under heavy protection. She kept me going.
Even after we’d escaped and I began my new life of specialized revenge, I
knew Amara would be the one person who’d give me purpose.
 And now she was gone.
It didn’t kill me, but it felt like something had started to slowly die.
And I was once again alone for it all.
The sun slanted across my body now, and I looked out Giovanni’s
bedroom window, wondering for the umpteenth time how Amara was
doing, if she was being held, if the surgery had gone well.
For the first time in my life, I uttered a silent prayer, asking that my
daughter be kept safe and most importantly loved.
My eyes fell to my lap, where my fingers were entwined, and snagged
on the broken nail. I hated the look of unmanicured nails, something about
it reminding me of the darkest part of my life. If I had time to sit and listen
to a shrink, they’d probably tell me it was a matter of control more than
vanity. But I had better things to do, things I should be doing now if I
wasn’t stuck on this godforsaken boat.
I viewed the space around me, scouring it for anything that could help
me out of this mess. The room was bigger and more luxurious than the one
I was in before. The scent that lingered in the air told me it belonged to a
man. And not just any man, but the one who owned the yacht.
I lay in the middle of a king-sized bed with its iron headboard,
comfortable white sheets, and fluffy duvet. The cabin was large and bright,
thanks to the sun reflecting off the ocean and shining through the gleaming
windows.
How long had I been stuck here? Three days, maybe four?
Dammit, I had work to do, product to move and shipments to
coordinate. Hopefully José would continue moving product without delay.
We couldn’t afford to piss off our suppliers or customers.
I leaned back against the soft pillows and took a deep breath, pushing
business out of my mind for now. My muscles and my lungs were still sore,
and I didn’t need a doctor to tell me it had to do with my escape attempt.
As feeble as it turned out to be.
But there’d be no more of that. I refused to play the victim or run.
Giovanni Agosti would pay for daring to tear down my hard-earned peace. I
was done being a pawn in anyone’s game.
I would show him that no one touched Liana Volkov without
consequences.
At the sound of the lock clicking and door opening, I turned to see
Giovanni. And proceeded to freeze at the sight.
 He stood at the entrance, wearing nothing but sweatpants, the waistband
hanging low. I tried to avert my eyes from his bare chest, but they had a
mind of their own as they returned to take in the muscles spanning his well-
defined torso.
Jesus, even his hips were cut.
My brain cells scattered temporarily, and I couldn’t help but admire
him. I hated men, didn’t I?
“Back so soon?” I sighed in an attempt to disguise my reaction.
He straightened from where he’d been leaning against the doorframe,
shutting the door behind him, and his eyes darkened as he strode closer to
me. I was braless under the oversized shirt he gave me after yesterday’s
near-drowning saga, and my nipples hardened against the material.
His gaze darkened as it settled on my chest then dipped down to the
boxers I wore—also belonging to him.
Then he sat down in a chair, like a king studying its subjects from his
throne.
“I like you in my clothes.” His deep voice sent a shiver down my spine,
and the reaction pissed me off.
“Enough with the macho shit,” I grumbled. “The only reason I’m
wearing this is because my options are limited. Since you kidnapped me and
are keeping me here, or did you forget?”
He smirked.
“I’ll order you new clothes.” He stood up and moved closer, making me
flinch on instinct. “Relax, Liana. For the love of God, please stop treating
me like I’m some feral dog in heat. I have more self-control than that.”
My retort was swift. “Are you sure about that? In my experience, men
are dogs.”
“Some,” he agreed. I rolled my eyes and was about to respond when he
moved even closer. “The weak ones who don’t know how to handle a
woman.”
“Handle a woman?” I snorted. “And I’m sure you’re about to tell me
how you’re not like the other guys?” I scoffed, my cheeks warm.
“I can promise you I’m not.” His smile turned smug. “But you don’t
have to worry about that. After all, we’ll have plenty of time to get you used
to me.”
Typical misplaced confidence. He was exactly the same.
“And if I don’t?” I challenged.
 Suddenly, he sobered, his eyes softening ever so slightly. “If you give it
a chance, you will. Your body already reacts to me.”
I winced at his perceptiveness. “It’s just biology.”
“Then let me promise you something, wildflower.”
“What?”
“I already told you before, but I want to ensure you understand that I
will never… fucking ever… touch you without your consent.”
The sincerity in his voice and his eyes had me pausing for a heartbeat…
or two… but then I shook it off. No man was to be trusted, least of all this
one.
He intrigued me, even if he slightly scared me. He was strong, smart,
and cunning, all wrapped up in a package that could easily deceive you.
And then just when you least expected it, he’d attack and shred you into
pieces.
“I’ll always have your back,” he added. “You’ll be under my protection
and I swear, I’ll sooner rid this planet of every living being than let anyone
hurt you. And I hope, with every bone in my body, that you’ll seriously
consider my proposal. I believe we could… work well together.”
“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” I snapped.
“I’m serious. I want an equal partner, across all areas of a relationship.”
His expression darkened. “And I’m willing to take it as slow as necessary.”
“Right.” I rolled my eyes, clicking my tongue.
My parents’ history showed me exactly what to expect out of a
relationship, and I wanted no fucking part of it. And don’t even get me
started on my own blessed marriage. In my entire miserable existence, I had
yet to see a single loving one that didn’t go up in flames.
“You’re stubborn, Liana, but you should know… I am too.”
I jutted my chin, reluctant to admit that I was warming to the concept.
Knowing what I did about Giovanni and his position at the head of not one
but two criminal organizations… He’d be a valuable asset on my side, if
nothing else.
“You know, I eat men like you for breakfast,” I stated while my brain
worked overtime, contemplating all the ways I could use this man. Maybe
he really could help me get Amara back.
“By all means.” He smirked. “But if I’m your breakfast, it’s only fair
you’re mine.” For the first time in forever, heat rushed to my cheeks and set
them aflame. His eyes fell to them and I narrowed my eyes, daring him to
say anything. “You know, maybe I went about this marriage proposal the
wrong way.”
“You make it sound like you’re giving me a choice.” I snickered.
“However, maybe we should set some ground rules.” He looked at me with
a cocky grin and I was tempted to claw it off his face. “I want you to help
me get Amara back.”
He shook his head. “That won’t be possible without starting a war.”
“Then start a war,” I gritted.
He shook his head, almost as if he was disappointed with my demand.
“What are your other rules?”
“I want you out of my business. Don’t tell me what to do or how to run
it. You do your thing, I’ll do mine.” His eyes flashed with surprise. “And I
want free access to my right-hand man.”
One dark brow lifted in surprise, but he couldn’t know that José had
been searching for The Mistress. I wouldn’t be able to rest easily until I got
my hands on her.
“You must want him dead,” he drawled. “No self-respecting man would
allow his woman access to another man.”
“You’re hardly a self-respecting man, and I’m not your woman,” I
challenged. “He’s a business associate, and you won’t touch him, because if
you do, it will be game over.”
He considered my non-negotiables, leaning back and linking his fingers
behind his head, the skin over his abs pulling taut. “And?”
“And if you agree to all that, I’ll do it.” His green eyes flashed
victoriously. Something was still nagging at me though… “But let me ask
you one last thing: why marry me? Why not just partner with me and keep
things professional?”
His gaze turned cool and calculated, something wild and alive playing
in his eyes.
“Maybe I’m a hopeless romantic.”
“More like a dreamer,” I said seriously. “It isn’t a good quality to have
in our world; you should know that.”
“My apologies. I’ll be sure to quash it.”
Amusement laced his words while I stared at his face, noting that thin
scar above his right eye again. I wondered how he got it. Was it delivered in
punishment? Or simple child’s play gone awry? My mother never hesitated
when it came to discipline. Lord knew she’d left plenty of scars on others
too.
My gaze fell to my hand with a missing finger, clutching the blanket.
It was the only scar I couldn’t hide. A self-inflicted wound driven by
desperation and wisps of foolish hope that Kingston would get the message
and save me. What a fucking idiot I was.
“Fine, you want to know why it needs to be official?” His deep timbre
broke me out of my thoughts, and he continued without waiting for a
response. “Because you, Liana Volkov, were the key player in the Marabella
Agreements. The improvement of the auctions started with you. Your
knowledge is vast, which I take it is thanks to your mother, and you fed that
information to my uncle and Perez Cortes who executed your plans.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. How in the fuck did he know that?
Santiago would never give credit where it was due. Perez Cortes even less
so. Not that it was something I was proud of, but I’d be damned if I justified
myself to anyone.
“So?” I shrugged, masking the guilt I still felt.
“So once it comes out, and it will come out, the whole underworld will
be after you, if it isn’t already. You will need someone on your side who has
the cartel and the Omertà behind them. You need me.”
I cocked my eyebrow while my stomach lurched, threatening to expel
everything I’d eaten in the last twenty-four hours.
“I could go to Kingston and Louisa.” After all, they owed me one.
He stood suddenly, looming over me like a thunderous cloud, his dark
voice pressing against my ear. “You expect me to believe you’d put them in
that position? Let them face the fury of countless, gutless criminals, let
them face the possibility of certain death, just to keep yourself protected?”
“Yes.” My voice came out stronger than I felt, but I’d be damned if I let
him think I had any decency left.
“And their child?”
I froze, shifting to meet his dark gaze. “Child?”
He nodded. “Yes, a child who was a victim of the Marabella
Agreement.”
Raw emotions assaulted me, hurting worse than anything I’d ever
experienced before, and I realized it was futile to try to run from the guilt
anymore. I knew I shouldn’t feel remorse for doing what I had to do in
order to survive and keep Amara alive, but I was tired of it all.
 I realized my sins were now an eternal stain that could never be washed.
Bringing Amara back into my life would mean transferring those sins to
her, and the reality of that hit me so hard I nearly fainted.
I was truly alone. Bitterness would become the only thing that sustained
my miserable life. I’d be hated, just like my mother was. She lost her
firstborn, and that anger consumed her, shaping her into the fearful Sofia
Volkov we came to know.
I was well en route to letting my loss, hate, and vengefulness consume
me.
Could I survive like that?
The thought made me sick to my stomach.
My gaze found Giovanni’s, and I knew he saw my surrender. Every
fiber in me revolted at the idea of being under another man’s thumb, but my
choices were limited. For now.
“Fine,” I gritted. “I’ll marry you.”
“Not the most enthusiastic acceptance,” he drawled, “but Rome wasn’t
built in a day.”
“However, it was destroyed in a day,” I pointed out.
The man rubbed his face, amusement staining it, and I wanted nothing
more than to wipe it off with a punch.
It didn’t matter though. I’d find another way to escape his clutches. I
suspected my chances of escape had probably reduced drastically after the
stunt I pulled with my swan dive off the top deck, but I’d beaten worse
odds.
He looked like he might say something else when heavy footsteps
sounded, loud and angry, until they stopped right outside the door. It flew
open, smashing against the wall, and a painting behind it dropped onto the
floor, its glass frame scattering all over the hardwood floor.
“What is it, Romeo?” Giovanni asked him, his gaze never wavering
from me. “Liana and I have just come to a rather special agreement and
you’re ruining the moment.”
“You sure you’ll survive her?” his brother retorted dryly.
I scoffed.
“I can assure you, he won’t,” I answered in Giovanni’s stead. Romeo
shot me a humorless look, and I rolled my eyes. “How’s your arm
anyway?” I grinned, finally feeling a lightness in my chest after the last few
depressing days.
 He ignored me and turned to look at his brother.
“The Omertà called.”
The two men exchanged a wordless glance, and I watched as Giovanni
turned his back before disappearing from the room.
“I can help, you know,” I called out, but their steps never faltered and
then the door slammed. I heard muffled voices outside and knew they were
probably whispering like two schoolgirls. For a second, I debated pressing
my ear to the door so I could eavesdrop but then just shrugged, deciding I
really didn’t care.
I slid out of bed and rifled through the drawers until I found some fresh
clothes, then I made my way into the bathroom, locking the door behind
me. Once showered and back in the bedroom, I found Giovanni sitting on a
chair facing the open window as he typed away on his phone.
He lit up a cigarette, and the breeze blew the scent of smoke my way as
I watched his tense muscles flex.
“Bad news?” I asked, making my way to the chair farthest from his.
Yes, there was something beautiful and enticing about this man, but I’d
learned the hard way to keep my guard up. Plus, I didn’t overly enjoy the
smell of cigarettes.
“No.”
There was definitely bad news, but that was mafia life for you. If you
couldn’t handle it, you could get the fuck out. There were plenty of others
more than willing to take your place.
“Didn’t peg you for a smoker,” I said casually, letting whatever was
bothering him slide. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you it’s a terribly
unattractive habit. And then there’s that small issue of it causing cancer.”
“Don’t tell me you’re worried for my health.”
I scoffed. “If you must kill yourself, I’d rather you pick a quick death
than slow and messy.”
He didn’t seem fazed by it. “Don’t worry, wildflower. I’ll be here with
you for a very long time.”
“How comforting.”
“You’ll learn to trust me, Liana, and like me. Maybe even love me.”
I swallowed. Fat chance of that. The truth was I didn’t want to trust him,
or like him, and I would certainly never love him.
“Why do you keep calling me wildflower?” I asked, rather than
comment on his optimism.
 He shrugged.
“You smell like wildflowers.” I frowned. “It’s fitting since you
definitely behave wild and smell like flowers.”
“Not true,” I spat defensively. “There isn’t a single bone in my body
that’s wild.” Maybe crazy, but definitely not wild.
“Let’s agree to disagree.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Whatever.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You should put a shirt
on.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m just setting expectations.”
Pushing him now was the wrong thing to do, but I just couldn’t help it.
My attention kept falling to his bare chest and that six-pack of his.
“What does my shirt have to do with expectations?”
“I expect you to wear a fucking shirt at all times. And there’ll be no
touching.”
He appeared amused, although there was something unnerving in his
gaze as they locked on my parted lips. My breaths grew shallow and heat
bloomed between my legs.
No, my body’s reaction means nothing, I convinced myself. And this…
whatever this was… it was biological.
He nodded and stubbed out his cigarette, standing and crossing the
room, where he stopped with one hand on the doorknob.
“If you demand that I wear a shirt,” he said, twisting the knob and
opening the door, “I have to command that you don’t.”
He shut the door behind him while I stared at it, realizing that for the
first time in my life, I needed a cold shower to cool this heat that brewed in
my veins.
 FIFTEEN
GIOVANNI

T
he moment I stepped into my office, my phone rang in my back
pocket. I didn’t need to look at the caller ID to know who it was. I
suspected Kingston and Louisa learned of my change of heart the
moment I deviated from the plan.
I let it ring and ring before finally answering the call.
“Louisa,” I greeted her.
“What the fuck, Giovanni? We agreed you’d bring her here.” Her voice,
so similar to Liana’s, sliced like a knife through the room.
“She doesn’t want to see you.”
Not exactly a lie, although it was slightly twisted, since I had no
intention of taking her to Louisa and Kingston even if she did. After eight
years, I finally had her in my grasp.
“Impossible.” Disbelief had her voice cracking.
“Possible. She’s a different person.”
“She’s my sister. I’m different too, but I still need her. She’s a part of
me.”
My gaze settled over the horizon as static filled the line. I didn’t
understand twin bonds, but I knew not to dismiss Louisa’s feelings.
“How long has it been since you’ve seen her, Louisa?”
“More than eight years.” The anguish in her voice was palpable.
“But—”
“I warned you she’d be different.” There was still that badass bitch boss
I saw in Liana eight years ago. It was undeniable that she was a strong
woman, but just as Kian said, she’d gone through hell with Santiago and
Perez. No human would come back from it sane.
“Will she talk to us over the phone?” Kingston’s voice came through,
cool and collected, and I guessed that Louisa was too shaken to carry on.
“I don’t think so,” I lied. Did I feel guilty? No, not really. I’d bind Liana
to me before introducing her to the world. Until then, let them believe she
was dead. There were too many people out there who’d want nothing more
than to sink their teeth into her. For her Volkov name, for the Volkov
empire, or for revenge.
“Where was she?” Kingston asked.
“Venezuela.”
“The finger…” he grated, trailing off. “Did she say why she sent it to
me?”
“We’re not exactly having heart-to-heart moments,” I grumbled.
“Although, you should know, she has… had… a daughter. A protégé.”
“Maybe we can bond through Lara,” Louisa chimed in.
“Well, her child belongs to Emory DiLustro and Killian Brennan
Cullen.” I let the words sink in. “When I got to Liana, she’d kidnapped
Emory, and a doctor was in the midst of operating on the woman.”
I heard their collective gasp and wondered how much more I should
reveal. Would they have her best interests at heart? Put her first?
“You have to keep her protected.” Well, that eased my concerns. Point
to Louisa. “The kingpins will come after her and—” Her voice broke, and if
I was a better man, I would have told her I planned on marrying her sister in
order to do exactly that. But I wasn’t. They would learn it in their own time.
“Why… what was she thinking?”
“She didn’t kidnap the girl.” I could offer her some reassurance; I
wasn’t a total monster. “Gio DiLustro dumped the infant, some deal went
awry between him and Santiago. Liana took the child under her wing and
probably saved her in the process.”
“But she had Emory DiLustro kidnapped,” Kingston pointed out. “They
won’t forgive that easily.”
The world probably wouldn’t be too quick to forgive or forget Liana’s
hand in human trafficking and Marabella deals, but I didn’t think it wise to
mention it. The less people who knew about Liana’s involvement, the
better.
 “Maybe you can approach them,” I suggested. “With being cousins and
whatnot. You can assure them that Liana was devastated and desperate to
save Amara. Surely they could sympathize and appreciate the lengths Liana
would go.”
“Jesus, and here we thought Liana was a victim of human trafficking.”
“She was still a victim,” I countered, clenching my fists. “She did what
she thought was best. She survived.”
“Thank you, Giovanni,” Louisa chimed in, her voice still shaky. “I can’t
imagine many people will see it that way, but you’re right. She did what she
had to in order to survive.”
“And now, we’ll see to it that she does,” I said firmly.
 SIXTEEN
LIANA

F
alling.
I was about to be pulled under and get swallowed by the darkness.
Caged like an animal. Starved. Naked. Beaten.
The strangers laughed while I silently recited my vow of revenge,
memorizing their faces. My husband’s. His mistress’s. The Courier’s.
The metal door shut with a heavy thud, snuffing away the last flicker of
light, and I was alone.
Shackled. Bloodied.
Shivers racked my frame as I pulled my knees to my chest, the iron
shackles clinking against the concrete. Resisting the urge to allow my mind
to wander, I imagined all the ways I’d make them pay. All the ways I’d make
them suffer.
I focused on the darkness, letting it consume me and absorb all my rage
and hate until it was all I could do to breathe. Until I became what I feared
the most: empty, broken, and evil.
Like my mother.
My eyelids shot open, my chest heaving like I’d just run a marathon.
A dream. It’s only a dream.
But as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, I knew that particular recurring
nightmare was my reality. I was so close to becoming my mother. Or maybe
I’d already become her and didn’t even know it.
I shook my head of the dark thoughts and looked around the stateroom
that had become my prison. Time dripped between my fingers, almost
tauntingly, reminding me how helpless I really was.
Until he docked, I’d be stuck on this yacht.
Sitting up, I slid off the bed and made my way to the window, pulling
back the drapes and letting the sunlight clear away the remnants of sleep. It
was a new day; Giovanni and I had come to a reluctant treaty, and I was
determined to look ahead to the future.
I wasn’t in the mood to see him or talk to him, so instead, I walked into
the bathroom and turned on the shower.
I stripped out of my borrowed clothes and stepped into the scorching
hot shower. Washing off the sins and grime that clung to my body and soul
was an impossible task, but I gave it my best shot and started my cleansing
ritual.
I reached for the bottle of exfoliator on the shelf and scrubbed… then
scrubbed some more. Repeat with soap. With body wash. Until my skin
turned raw and red.
But self-disgust was impossible to clean away.
My ragged breaths mixed with the steady pitter-patter of the shower
rain. Slosh. Splash. Another breath.
The shower door opened and I startled, doing my best to cover my body.
Giovanni stepped inside wearing his three piece-suit, shoes and all, his
face a thundercloud, and turned off the water.
“What are you do—”
He grabbed my arm and tugged me out of the shower, water droplets
spilling onto the tiled floor.
The furious look on his face told me he wasn’t happy about something.
“You’re about to rub your skin off.”
Oh.
I waved my free hand. “That’s nothing.”
His eyes flashed dangerously.
“Nothing?” Why is he yelling? “You’re about to rip your skin off and
that’s nothing?”
He towered over me, his expensive suit clinging to his body like a
second skin, and my eyes dragged over it, core clenching. Not good.
He returned the move, slowly sweeping his gaze over my naked body,
and goosebumps raced along my skin.
I found myself needing another shower, albeit a cold one this time.
I scoffed.
 “You’re exaggerating.” The yacht gently rocked, the two of us staring at
each other. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to the shell of my ear,
drawing a shudder out of me. I swallowed. “You said you wouldn’t touch
me,” I reminded him.
“I said I wouldn’t touch you against your will,” he drawled in a dark
tone. “Your body is asking me to.”
“My body’s lying to you,” I spat. “It knows how to deceive men. I’ve
done it plenty of times.”
That must have awakened him from whatever spell he was under,
because he straightened and took a step back.
“Your things, as promised,” he said, tilting his chin toward the open
bathroom door where a pile of what looked like brand-new clothes were
stacked on the bed. I rolled my eyes slightly. Should I even bother asking
him how he managed a shopping spree in the middle of the ocean?
He reached for a towel and handed it to me. I dried myself off, then
wrapped it around my body, my gaze never wavering from him. In my
experience, men didn’t resist their lust that easily, and there was no doubt
the man liked what he saw. His eyes suggested it, and the bulge in his pants
confirmed it.
“What do they mean?” he asked, breaking the silence.
I moved past him and made my way into the room to inspect the
merchandise. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”
“The tattoos on your back.” My hand froze, closing tightly on a Chanel
silk midi dress. “What do they mean?”
All those tiny tattoos covering my back—waves, car, bicycle, origami,
graduation hat, and so many more—were all things I never got to do. I
could lie. Make up a cool story about it.
But what came out of my mouth shocked even me. “They’re the things I
always wanted to do but never had a chance to.”
Pain that had become my permanent friend danced circles around me. I
waited. For what, I didn’t know. Maybe for something—anything—to chase
away these ghosts that suffocated me.
“Put a bathing suit on.”
Giovanni’s voice seemed to do just that.
“Why?”
“Because we’re going to check off some of those things, starting with
your swimming lessons.”
 SEVENTEEN
GIOVANNI

L
ong after I’d given her privacy, those tattoos on her back played in my
vision over and over again. Her back was full of little symbols and
words of things she’d never gotten to do in life.
Waves. Dancer.
Daffodils.
Two sets of footprints—child’s and adult’s.
Origami. Graduation hat.
Car.
It turned out, Liana could kill a man and secure a shipment of weapons
without blinking an eye, but she couldn’t drive a car, swim, or dance.
Jesus Christ!
“Did your mother not teach you how to drive a car?” I asked her,
keeping my eyes locked on the vast blue horizon while she changed into a
bathing suit.
“No.”
“Santiago?”
“One kept me prisoner since the day I was born. The other stole my
youth and innocence.” She let out a sardonic breath, but there was pain in it
that was hard to miss. “Why would either of them offer me a way to
escape?”
“Liana?” I rasped. “Is your bathing suit on?”
“Yes.”
 I turned around and found her in a black-and-white one-piece, her
smooth ivory skin hiding all the turmoil in her soul and her perfect
imperfections.
“It fits,” I said softly.
“Yes.”
“Do you like it?”
Her golden eyes flicked to mine. “It’s Chanel. Of course I like it.”
“If you want a different one—”
“It’s fine,” she cut in, a hint of rose tinting her cheeks.
Something was off, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. “Do you
want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
“Whatever has you upset.”
“Ha. We’ll be here all day if we start that.” Her lips curled. “And I’d
rather learn to swim.”
“So you can jump into the ocean and escape again?”
“Maybe.”
A smile ghosted her full lips. It was the first one I’d seen on her, and
suddenly, it felt like being struck by Cupid. I might’ve been infatuated with
the Liana I met eight years ago, but getting to know the woman she was
now was knocking me off my feet.
“All those tattoos on your back. We’ll find a way to do them,” I vowed.
“Why the daffodils and bare feet?”
She shrugged, the goosebumps on her slim shoulders spreading down
her arms. “Daffodils symbolize rebirth and hope, but also resilience. One
day I’ll walk barefoot in a field of them, stronger than ever.”
I knew she was waiting for a reaction, some reason to dismiss me, so I
treaded carefully, schooling my expression. “And origami?”
“I want to become an expert at making them.”
My brow furrowed. “Why?”
She tilted her head, looking out into the distance. “Did you know that
people used to believe folding a thousand paper cranes fulfilled wishes?”
“No,” I admitted. Kian’s words rang in my ears. She’s broken. I hadn’t
known her long, but I could probably guess what she’d wish for.
“Lia?” Her head whipped my way. “Is it okay if I call you Lia?”
“I suppose.”
 “I will never hurt you or hold you back, Lia,” I told her gently, hoping
she could see the sincerity in my eyes.
“Are you sure?” She took a step toward me but stopped halfway. She
was someone who liked to keep her distance, not that I could blame her
after all she’d been through.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
She let out a sad sigh, the kind that could shred a man’s soul into tiny
little pieces.
“You’re holding me back now,” she said fiercely. The seeds of self-
doubt sprouted. “You clipped my wings. Just like the rest of them.”
The conviction in the soft slopes of her face cracked through my chest. I
was so blatantly wrong for her.
But infatuation was a selfish fiend like that.
 EIGHTEEN
LIANA

L
ife kept throwing curveballs my way, but this latest one seemed
different than all the others. I felt way out of my depth.
After Giovanni uttered that promise not to hurt me, I was forced to
admit that he could be different. Yes, he’d technically kidnapped me. Yes,
he’d left me with little option but to marry him. But it was different because
despite all the opportunities to hurt me physically, he hadn’t.
In fact, he seemed to go out of his way to be… nice. Patient.
But I knew how fickle hope was, the devastating impact it could have
on a person. So I refused to overthink it.
Instead, I focused on the lesson I was about to have.
Standing two feet away from the edge of the pool, I dragged in a lungful
of air, the impressive size of Giovanni’s yacht luring me into a false sense
of security. My heart raced, threatening to erupt from my chest.
“This is a bad idea,” I muttered more to myself than the man who’d
taken two whole hours at breakfast to show me swimming techniques on
YouTube. “What if I drown?”
I pulled at the straps of my black bathing suit, grateful that the man had
come through. I would no longer wear men’s clothes, although judging by
Giovanni’s glances during breakfast, he seemed less than ecstatic.
“We can do it one of two ways,” he said, and part of me hoped he was
about to follow up with let’s forget about it. “We can ease into it slowly, in
the shallow end.” He tilted his chin toward the side of the deck with the
jacuzzi. “Or you can just rip off the Band-Aid and jump in. I’ll catch you.”
 Panic clawed its invisible hands around my heart, reminding me of my
last swimming experience. Although, I suspected it had a bit more to do
with trusting someone versus the actual exercise itself.
My eyes darted over to the kiddie end longingly. I wasn’t a coward, and
I’d survived some unfathomable shit, but at this very moment, that route
seemed the best option for me. Mentally and physically.
“I’ll go in first,” Giovanni said, taking another step toward the pool’s
ledge. “You jump after me.”
“You are out of your mind,” I gulped, then instantly straightened. Show
no weakness. “I’m not letting you catch me. No touching, remember?”
He rolled his eyes. “This is hardly sexual, Liana.”
I wrinkled my nose.
“Still…” He jumped into the water, splashing me in the process, and I
glared as he came up for air, swishing his head back and forth, droplets
ricocheting off of him. “Show off.”
He chuckled.
“You can show off too.” He held out his hand, but I found my feet
refusing to move. “Come on, wildflower. I’ll catch you. Promise.”
I gulped.
Trust wasn’t my forte obviously, and I saw the moment he realized he’d
need to offer me more. “I vow it on the lives of my brothers and sister.”
“How about if you fail to catch me, I murder them all.” I glanced over
my shoulder, surprised to find this side of the deck completely empty.
“Where is your brother anyhow? And the rest of the crew?”
“They’ve been instructed to stay away.”
“You know, I could kill you.”
The corners of his lips lifted and his next words held a note of
challenge. “You’ll have to get in the pool to do that.”
I edged closer and held my breath as I watched him lift his arms,
readying to catch me.
I lowered on shaky legs, grabbed his hands, and slipped into the deep
end. The water sloshed around my throat, and I gasped.
I fought against the images that flooded my mind, waves slamming into
me and pulling me into their cold depths, when Giovanni’s voice sliced
through them.
“Deep breaths and hold on to me.”
 It was only then I became aware of his arms wrapped around my waist,
his heat soothing the bite of the cool pool water.
“You’re doing so good,” he praised, and something about his tone sent
peace and confidence surging through me. Was it really this easy to trust
someone? “How do you feel?”
“Good.”
I clung to him, clearing my throat, and rather than focusing on
complicated emotions, I concentrated on the task of flapping my hands and
kicking my feet like I watched on the tutorials earlier.
“I-I’m swimming.”
He let out a hearty laugh that startled me, and my eyes whipped to him.
It was the first time I’d seen a man laugh so freely and happily. José, the
only man I bothered to interact with daily, never laughed like that.
The skin around Giovanni’s eyes crinkled as he retorted, “Not yet,
you’re not. But you will be, soon.”
Giovanni and I spent the next hour floating on our backs, practicing
freestyle and my new favorite one, breaststroke. The whole time, he never
let go, and to my shock, I found myself leaning into his touch.
It was shocking. Revolutionary. And mostly just… nice.
But I wasn’t ready to evaluate any of it.
Instead, I became the best student, absorbing everything he said or
showed me.
“Okay, time to take a break.”
“No,” I protested. “I still haven’t made it to the other end of the pool
alone.”
“But you learned breaststroke and how to float on your back when you
need rest,” he chided. “You won’t become an Olympic swimmer
overnight.” He tugged me toward the ledge, his hands coming to my waist.
I stiffened, and his movements stilled.
“Giovanni…”
“Yes, wildflower?”
I pulled myself out of the pool, beads of water rolling down my skin. I
turned to find him standing with his towel, drying off. You’d have to be
blind not to notice that his body was a masterpiece. Endless bronzed skin.
Bulging muscles. The perfect amount of dark hair dusting his chest and
abdomen, disappearing beyond his Tom Ford trunks.
He looked like a Roman god.
 “Thank you,” I murmured.
His eyes glowed with amusement, his husky voice sending shivers
down my spine. “You’re welcome.”
 NINETEEN
GIOVANNI

I
n the hours following our swimming lessons, I made some business calls
while Liana rested, then had everything set up for a sunset surprise.
The second we stepped onto the lower deck, Liana’s eyes landed on
the scattered daffodil petals lining the candlelit path to our table. She
gasped, taking it all in, until her eyes landed on the priest I had flown in.
Her awed expression was quickly replaced by one of disbelief.
“No, no, no…. No way…” She shook her head, her eyes glued on the
man. “We never agreed on a date and time. Absolutely not.”
I’d never intended to marry a woman who would do anything I demand,
but damn, I didn’t think I’d marry someone who’d sooner kill me or jump
into an ocean to escape me. But there was an attraction between us, and I’d
wanted this woman for the past eight years. So there was no way I’d pass
up this opportunity. It was a good starting point to this marriage.
Right? Fucking right.
“Simple vows and a wedding band, wildflower. Nothing to be scared
of,” I comforted her, although judging by the terror on Lia’s face, it was as
if she’d only now discovered that I murdered her favorite person.
Romeo being Romeo had to say something. “Here we go. Should I get
the life raft ready?”
I shot him a glare, tempted to strangle him. Unfortunately, I needed a
best man, and he was all I had out here.
She scoffed, her bottom lip trembling slightly as she mumbled to
herself. “…plenty of time. What’s the rush?”
 “We don’t have time to waste,” I said, returning my attention to Liana.
This woman was ruthless—dangerous, if her taking out half my men the
other night was any indication—but at this moment, she looked as terrified
as a lamb on its way to be slaughtered.
“I have places to be,” the priest grumbled impatiently. No wonder he
was readily available. He clearly had no manners. “I don’t have time for
cold feet.”
“As soon as this is through, one of my men will take you back to the
mainland,” I told him, biting back the sharp reply sitting on my tongue.
“Nobody has cold feet.”
“You could’ve fooled me,” Romeo muttered.
“My feet are freezing,” Liana hissed, her gaze set longingly on the
ocean.
“What about the fee you promised?” the priest asked. “I was counting
on that.”
A sardonic breath left me. Why was a supposedly pious man so
desperate for cash? Something told me I wouldn’t have to dig deep to find
the rot, but he wasn’t my concern tonight.
“You’ll have it as soon as you finish the ceremony.”
Seemingly appeased, his eyes flicked to the bride-to-be. “Will you be
changing into a wedding dress?”
“No,” she answered at the same time I said, “She will.”
Her expression turned so dark I sensed Romeo wince at my side.
I cleared my throat. “There’s a dress waiting for you in there.”
I waved a hand behind the little bar area that stood next to a closed door.
Liana shot me a look, her golden eyes flashing. “I’m not a blushing
bride, and I’m definitely not a virgin. What’s the point of a wedding dress?”
“I wanted you to have something to remember this day by.”
She folded her arms in front of her chest, pushing her boobs up.
“Giovanni, I’m being forced into a marriage. Yet again. Why would I want
to remember this?”
She stared right at me, stubbornness etched on every line of her face. It
was freaking adorable. “Why are you acting like I’m a normal girl? I’m far
from it. I’m not sweet or kind.”
“I don’t want a normal girl. I don’t want a sweet girl. I don’t want a
perfect girl. I want you, Liana Volkov, because to me you are perfect.”
Fuck, I was coming on too strong.
 “Why?”
“To protect you.” Our gazes locked, hers shimmering in gold and hazel,
likely scheming how to become a widow before we even tied the knot.
“I can protect myself.”
“Put the dress on, darling,” I said, smiling brightly.
“You should know something about me, Giovanni,” she retorted, her
tone frigid. “I don’t take orders from anyone, least of all a man.”
“It isn’t an order,” I assured her, ignoring her latter comment. “It’s an
ask. The world will need convincing about the wedding, and we’ll give
them that. With photos. Of you, in a wedding dress.”
A heartbeat passed before she turned on her heel and made for the door.
“Two minutes,” I drawled after her. “By the way, I don’t take orders
either.”
She flipped me a middle finger over her shoulder, then shut the door
behind her.
“With the bride’s reluctance, I will need additional compensation,” the
priest remarked, smiling feebly. If I didn’t need the motherfucker, I’d throw
him overboard. As it may.
“How much?” I asked in a chilled tone.
“A hundred thousand.”
I let out a sardonic breath. “Just to read a few paragraphs from scripture
and proclaim us husband and wife?”
“It’s a valuable scripture.”
“Fine,” I gritted.
The door from the back of the cabin opened as we finished shaking on it
and not a moment too soon because knowing Liana, she would have
exploited the situation and bribed the priest ten times that amount to get out
of this.
I turned to look at her and my breath caught. She was the most beautiful
bride I had ever seen. She stole my fucking breath eight years ago, but
today… Today she was a woman who moved with grace and confidence.
I took in her long blonde hair, smooth skin, and ruby-red lips that
refused to smile. Her palms smoothed down the soft fabric, and it was only
then I noticed the tremor in her hand.
The dress was simple, Italian silk cascading from her bodice down to
the skirts that drifted with each step she took.
“It’s not Chanel,” she said, but there was no bite to her tone.
 My lips curved. “I’ve never met a woman so obsessed with Chanel.”
She shrugged. “It’s timeless.”
“And expensive.”
She rolled her eyes. “If you can’t afford me, then don’t marry me.”
I let out a chuckle. “I’ll make sure to maintain a fat bank account to
ensure your needs are met.” I turned to the priest. “Let’s begin.”
“Are you sure about this?” She quirked a brow at me. “My last husband
didn’t fare too well.”
Damn, she was cute. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my
life.”
“That makes one of us,” she argued. “However, let’s not forget one
thing. Actually, several things.”
I scratched at the stubble on my cheek, waiting.
“I don’t want you in my business. It’s mine, and I’m the boss when it
comes to it.” Ah, so she realized we never concluded these items last time.
“Deal.” For all I cared, she could run the Tijuana Cartel too.
“Amara…” I watched her struggle to form the words. “I want her to
have free access to me.”
I nodded and rolled my hand like Anything else?
“José, my right-hand man, I want him.”
Red-hot jealousy shot through me. “Over my dead body. I agreed we’d
take it slow, but damn if I’ll have another man touching what’s mine.”
She stilled, then let out a frustrated breath.
“For Christ’s sake, not in that way. I need his help to continue my…”
Her eyes darted to the priest who was following our exchange with interest.
“My business. Just that.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “That’s fair, considering I have my right hand with
me.” Surprise flashed in her eyes, but before she could say anything else, I
added, “Now, no more delays.”
She took a few more steps forward and stood next to me, my eyes on
her. Even if I wanted to—and I didn’t—I couldn’t peel them away.
“Why are you looking at me that way?” she muttered.
“What way?”
“Like you’re planning our forever.”
I smiled at her perceptiveness, recognizing it was her most dangerous
attribute. She saw too much.
 “There’s nothing wrong with forever.” Before I could give her a chance
to challenge those words, I told the priest, “You may start.”
His words filled the back of the deck as he started to talk about marriage
and the value of vows. My brother shifted on his feet like he expected to
burst into flames at the slightest movement.
“Would you like to say a few vows?” the priest offered.
Lia smiled sweetly, thunder flashing in her eyes as she shot me a glare.
“Forgive me, I didn’t have a chance to write my own vows.”
Laughter traveled from my best man, which only deepened her scowl.
“I took the liberty of writing some for you.” I reached into the inside
pocket of my jacket and pulled out a sheet of paper. “I think you’ll love
them.”
She frowned as she unfolded the paper, scanning the vows that I jotted
down for her while she was changing.
She snorted. “There’s no way in hell I’m saying any of this.”
“You’re welcome to make a few changes,” I smiled at her, raising my
eyebrow, “but keep the gist of it intact.”
Lia’s eyes met mine and her cheeks turned crimson, probably because
she was picturing what I’d written in there. It was the second time I’d seen
her blush and I had to say, it was fucking addictive.
She cleared her throat, her frigid mask falling in place as she got herself
together.
“How about I agree we have mutual respect for each other?”
Romeo stifled his laughter next to me.
I bent forward so that my lips were almost brushing her ear.
“I guess that will do. For now.”
The sound of her breath catching made me grin.
She cleared her throat uncomfortably, her cheeks stained red.
“You might as well come to terms with it now that it’s the best case
scenario for you.” I straightened, and my eyes flicked down to her breasts
which were rising and falling quickly. “And don’t even think for a second
that I’m wearing a ring.”
“That’s fine, wildflower. Everyone will already know who you belong
to.”
The priest cut in, shifting on his feet uncomfortably, and I gave him a
nod. “You may begin, Father.”
He wasted no time, probably eager to get the fuck off this boat.
 “Do you, Giovanni Agosti Tijuana, take Liana Volkov”—the priest’s
eyes whipped up, but when he met my cold gaze, he averted them—“as
your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to be with
you always, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as
you both shall live?”
“I do.”
My answer came swiftly and firmly.
I’d known it was her I wanted all along. All her sorrows. All her
nightmares. All her pain.
After all, I’d lingered in the shadows for years, hoping for the chance to
claim her.
The priest turned toward Liana and she shifted, looking slightly
uncomfortable under his unspoken scrutiny, and a warning growl vibrated
in my throat. I refused to tolerate anyone—including this priest—making
Liana uncomfortable.
“Do you, Liana Volkov”—he cleared his throat uncomfortably—“take
Giovanni Agosti Tijuana as your lawfully wedded husband to live together
in holy matrimony, to be with you always, in sickness and in health,
forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”
Liana let out a frustrated breath, then rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
The priest glanced at me, then her, before he said, “I need the words.”
Liana shot him a glare. “I do.”
Turning to Romeo, I retrieved two rings. Eternity diamonds sprinkled
around a yellow-gold wedding band and a simple band to match, sans
diamonds. I took Lia’s graceful hand into mine and slipped the ring onto her
finger. I placed the other ring in her palm, then watched her slide it onto my
finger.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest said. “You may
kiss the bride.”
I turned to Lia and a look of slight terror shuttered her expression.
Holding her gaze, I cupped her cheek gently, ignoring her tremors, and I
pressed my warm lips to her cold ones.
Softly. Reassuringly. Tenderly.
My lips molded against hers, growing demanding, and she shivered just
slightly before yanking her hand back and slapping me.
My eyes snapped open, and I pulled away from her. Barely.
 We stood there, glaring at each other, but I couldn’t help reveling in the
fact that she’d touched me. She. Fucking. Touched. Me. Willingly.
And fuck, it made me kind of stupidly giddy. She chose to touch me.
 TWENTY
LIANA

M
y mind had been replaying the kiss for hours, my lips tingling even
now. Giovanni’s mouth had been warm and gentle, unlike the
experiences I’d had in the past.
Romeo had been doing most of the talking since the priest left, and I
was starting to get a serious headache.
The three of us were seated around the lounge table, sharing a
celebratory dinner. It was intimate, and so different from my first wedding.
Not that I wanted a repeat of that disaster.
White daffodils filled the space, and the sunset cast orange, red, and
yellow hues over origami of all shapes and sizes that were scattered around
the table. I was torn on how to feel about it, but I was mostly shocked that
Giovanni managed to… surprise me. Maybe even impress me.
Nobody had ever gone to such lengths for me. My eyes stung with tears
I knew wouldn’t come. They burned, hot and relentless, as if my body were
trying to force something out, but I couldn’t release it—couldn’t find the
way. My chin quivered, a trembling that I couldn’t control, my breath
hitching in shallow, frantic gasps. Everything felt too close, too tight. I
couldn’t swallow. I couldn’t breathe.
Without thinking, I shot to my feet. The chair tipped backward with a
violent thud that sounded far too loud, as if the world itself were falling
apart in that instant. My heart pounded in my chest, the rapid thump
reverberating in my ears, drowning out everything else.
 “I’m going to bed.” Giovanni’s mouth twitched and I quickly added,
“Alone.”
He didn’t seem disheartened. Instead, he took my hand in his and raised
it to his lips very slowly, his eyes never leaving my face, and pressed an
open-mouthed kiss to the pulse-point on my wrist. My limbs felt shaky, like
they weren’t mine.
“Have a good night… wife.”
I looked from him to his brother, then turned on my heel and ran,
needing to hide from my own emotional turmoil that threatened to rear its
ugly head. This man was an illusion. Hope was an illusion. Panic clawed its
way up my throat, a bitter taste filling my mouth. I reached for something,
anything, but my hands were unsteady, useless.
I couldn’t trust him. I couldn’t trust anyone.
Yes, maybe this was stupid. Unwarranted. Yet I couldn’t stop it any
more than a human could stop an avalanche from happening. I couldn’t
move far enough or fast enough to escape whatever this was, whatever was
eating me alive from the inside out. Everything I’d been holding inside me
for days, weeks, months, years, came crashing down, and I stumbled with
the force of it.
My hand reached out, grabbing the rail.
A bolt of lightning flashed, tearing through the dark skies. Just like this
pain inside me.
I needed to retreat into my own mind, where only darkness and peace
resided. For the first time in years, tears stained my face. My breaths got
short and heavy, my chest even heavier. I was falling deeper into the
darkness, desperate to stop feeling.
I didn’t want to hurt. I didn’t want to be consumed.
Gripping the cold metal of the rail, I tried to seek comfort in the moon
reflecting off the ocean’s dark surface. Instead, I saw the distorted image of
my nightmares, my sins and hopes staring back at me, mocking me.
I hurt. I hurt so fucking much, but I didn’t know how to heal. I didn’t
know how to move on. I didn’t know how to fix the mistakes I’d made. I
didn’t know anything.
I lifted my face to the sky, inhaled a deep breath, and then I screamed.
All my pain and fury poured out of my soul.
I screamed and screamed and screamed.
Until my throat was raw.
 Until my ears rang.
Until a set of large, warm hands pulled me into a hard chest, murmuring
words I couldn’t understand.
Then suddenly, my feet left the ground, and I was scooped up into warm
arms, nestled close to a steady heartbeat.
Giovanni carried me back toward the stateroom, my mind still reeling
from the heightened emotions. What was happening to me? Was I having a
panic attack?
This wasn’t who I was.
“Shh. You can let it go.” I squeezed my eyes shut, embarrassed at being
seen like this. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
His whispered words tempted me to let go. I wanted to be better. And
most of all, I wanted to be normal.
He kept walking until we were in his bedroom, not stopping until we
were in the bathroom. I caught a glimpse of us in the mirror.
Me, entirely disheveled and frail-looking, white wedding dress
crumpled like my state of mind.
Him, on the other hand, looked completely sane, suited up and put-
together.
He turned on the water, adjusting the temperature, then reached over to
the bath products that he’d ordered for me before pouring one of the
wildflower-scented ones.
“Clothes off or on?” he asked, his gaze seeking out mine in the mirror.
My answer was a raw whisper. “On.”
Without further ado, Giovanni gently sat me in the bathtub, warm water
soaking through the new dress. He straightened up, took his shoes and
socks off, then shocked me by sliding into the tub behind me.
We must have looked ridiculous, both of us clothed, soaked, and
submerged in the water. Silence stretched, the steady running water coming
out of the faucet the only sound vibrating against the tiles.
“What happened?”
His quiet question vibrated against my back while I stared at the pristine
tile design in front of me. Could I find the courage to open the door that had
been closed for so long, it’d all but been sealed shut? Opening it meant
being vulnerable and trusting, which I wasn’t sure I could do.
“Did marrying me set something off?” His words were spoken low but
clear, and empathy I thought I’d long ago lost flared up. Despite the
kidnapping and forced nuptials, I didn’t want him to blame himself.
“Seeing daffodils and origami… the trouble you would’ve gone through
to obtain them… it triggered something,” I whispered haltingly.
“You didn’t like it?”
I considered the best way to answer him without giving away too much.
I wasn’t ready to face my fears.
“I did,” I admitted.
Another stretch of silence followed.
He started combing his fingers through my hair, wetting it, then reached
for the shampoo. “Is it okay if I wash your hair?”
It seemed silly to deny him, considering we were both in the tub, but at
the same time, the intimacy of the action… I didn’t know if I could handle
it.
But for the first time in my life, something shifted. I wanted to learn—to
finally face the demons I’d spent so long running from.
I wanted to let go.
 TWENTY-ONE
GIOVANNI

“L ia…” I softened my voice and her hazel eyes flicked over her
shoulder. “You can say no.”
She nodded her head, sighing tiredly. “You can wash my hair.”
“Are you sure?”
Even from this angle, I could see the stubborn purse of her lips. “Yes,
I’m sure.”
I poured the liquid into the palm of my hand, then brought it to her
head.
She stiffened, but I kept my movements measured and slow. I started to
massage her scalp, rubbing in the soap, and with each passing second, her
shoulders slumped until her muscles relaxed completely.
“You know, your hair was the first thing I noticed when I saw you eight
years ago.”
She turned, giving me a confused look.
“The night you married Santiago…” A dark expression passed her
features. “You had him knocked out cold.”
“It was the highlight of my marriage.” She turned her head, facing away
from me, but not before I saw her distraught expression. “Of course, it
didn’t take him long to catch on.”
Her voice was brittle, haunted.
I took her chin between my fingers and gently turned her to face me.
She tried to keep a mask in place, but I could see it.
 The memories were closing in. It was a look that carried more pain than
any one person should ever have to endure.
“He’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
“I’m not scared of him.” She swallowed. “I’m more scared of… other
things,” she reluctantly admitted.
She usually hid this part of herself behind thick walls, but at this very
moment, I witnessed her bare. And the more I saw of her, the more I wanted
to protect her.
“What things?”
“The deeds I’ve done.”
“Like Marabella?”
Her eyes seemed to gloss over and she shivered in my arms. “Among
others.”
It felt like she was gutting herself using her own memories like a knife.
The fact that ghosts haunted her told me more than she’d ever let on.
“Lia?” She didn’t even blink. “This sounds cheesy, but it might be
worthwhile talking to someone.”
There were so many things in her past that were a blur, and I suspected
they were too painful. She was used to battling her demons alone, but I
wanted to help her. She was my wife now and under my protection, which
meant those demons could go fuck themselves.
With my wife’s permission.
“I’m talking to you,” she pointed out.
My lips twitched. “I appreciate it, and if you want to talk to me, I’ll
always be here. But a professional might be able to help too…”
“To compartmentalize?” she asked.
“No, not exactly. That’s not a reliable coping mechanism. I was going to
suggest you talk to someone that can help you come to terms with
everything. To slay your ghosts and demons, among other things.” I
grinned.
“My sins?”
My smile slipped. “No, forget good and evil. Forget sins.”
She was too focused on the bad things she’d done, completely
disregarding the fact that she had been forced to do those things to survive.
The fact that she even managed to survive Santiago and Perez at such a
young age was pretty damned impressive.
“But—”
 “Liana, your survival instincts kicked in, they’re what guided most of
your decisions. You protected your daughter.” She didn’t agree or disagree,
not that I expected her to. Yes, my words made sense, but coming to terms
with them and accepting them was an entirely different thing. “A therapist
can talk through whatever else you want to discuss.”
“Bills and taxes, you mean?”
I let out a choked laugh. “If you want.”
She remained silent, and I resumed washing her hair, rinsing off the
shampoo before applying conditioner and doing the same.
“You know, your twin killed Santiago.” Her head whipped around and
her eyes bore into me.
“Why?”
“She wanted to avenge you.”
She frowned. “How come that isn’t public knowledge?”
“Because only she and I know the truth.” I recalled how my heart
tripped when I first spotted Louisa. “Santiago tried to have her killed, but
we came up with a better plan.”
She stayed still, letting the silence dominate the room while she
processed the words.
“How is she?” she asked in a quiet voice. “Her and Kingston… They
have a happy life?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “From what little I know, they only found
each other recently. Something to do with Louisa’s amnesia.”
“Amnesia?”
I nodded. “I don’t know the details.” Not too many people did. “I know
that when I first met her, she thought she was you.”
Liana’s spine straightened as she sat up. “What?”
“It’s something you can talk to her about when you see her.” She
resumed her silence, and I watched her restlessly scoop at the water, letting
it flow between her fingers. “Going back to the subject of the therapist. Her
name is Dr. Freud.”
She rolled her eyes at the ironic name, then scoffed softly. “You don’t
let things slide, do you?”
I shrugged. “Sometimes I do. Especially with my siblings.”
“How many do you have?”
“Two younger brothers and one sister who’s the youngest of us all.”
“I only had Louisa growing up,” she murmured.
 “I know.”
“My father had other… children.” Bitterness slithered through her tone.
“They don’t count.”
“That might change in the future. We shouldn’t place our parents’
mistakes on the children.”
Suddenly, she stood up, her wedding dress drenched and hugging her
slim curves. Wordlessly she stepped out of the tub, then glanced at me over
her shoulder.
“I’ll talk to your therapist, Giovanni.” She grabbed pajamas, black
shorts, and a white tank top, then made her way into the shower stall for
privacy, but before she closed the door, she added, “Once.”
 TWENTY-TWO
GIOVANNI

I
t’d been over a week since our wedding, and we’d fallen into a routine.
I’d made an appointment for Lia to see Dr. Freud as soon as we arrive in
Boston.
But until then, we had some sort of routine going.
We’d eat breakfast together, then spend half the day in the office where
she’d handle her business with José via phone, while I handled mine. Her
associate had been scouring the earth ever since I brought her on my boat,
and when on the phone with Lia, he’d try tracking it. Luckily my privately
invented software did an excellent job of making it impossible to pin her
location.
We usually spent afternoons practicing her swimming. However, today
it rained so I surprised her with an origami instruction book. There wasn’t
anything Lia couldn’t do. Just as she excelled at swimming, she quickly
picked up the paper-folding techniques. I, on the other hand, struggled, my
hands too big and clumsy. I didn’t mind it though, because my wife would
lean over and take my hand, demonstrating how to do it correctly.
I repeat: My wife touched me of her own free will.
It was fucking amazing, but judging by my brother’s frequent eyerolls,
he wasn’t as impressed as I was.
It didn’t matter, because from now on, we’d practice origami every day.
Rain or shine.
The trip back to Boston took even longer because there were several
stops in regards to Tijuana Cartel business we had to make. In fact, we had
yet to even hit the Florida coastline. There were certain shipments—namely
weapons—in the Caribbean that I preferred to handle personally. And then
there was the fact that I wanted to keep her on this yacht and away from
everyone else for as long as I could.
I was on my way back to my office when I heard a sound come from
Liana’s room. I paused, glancing at my watch. It was one in the morning,
and Liana was asleep. Or she was when I last checked on her.
Assuming I’d imagined the sound, I resumed walking, the warm breeze
sweeping through, but then a strangled cry came through, loud and clear,
and I froze.
I stopped in front of the door and listened, reluctant to disturb her sleep.
Just as I was about to move away from the door, convinced it was the wind
howling, another cry sounded.
Another nightmare, I realized.
I’d seen Lia thrash occasionally, plagued by whatever haunted her
dreams. The first time it happened, I’d stroked her blonde strands and it
soothed her.
I wrapped a hand around the doorknob and softly pushed it open. I kept
my footsteps light in the dark of the room, the moon basking the room in its
glow.
As it creaked open, she let out another strangled cry, and I rushed to the
bed. She lay tangled in the middle of the bed, thrashing, drenched in sweat.
The blankets had been tossed aside, leaving her in nothing but the shorts
and tank top she usually wore for comfort. Her face was twisted in agony,
her body rigid and curled in on itself, muscles taut and coiled as though
bracing for a blow.
As quietly and gently as possible, I pressed my knee into the corner of
the mattress and reached for her blonde strands.
“Shhh,” I cooed. “You’re safe.”
Her breaths were labored and her whimpers grew louder.
Carefully, I reached out and stroked my hand down her silky strands.
“Lia,” I whispered, trying to get her to wake her up without startling
her. She thrashed against the mattress as she repeatedly muttered no, her
hair damp.
My hand traveled down her neck until I reached her shoulder and
cupped her neck.
 “Lia,” I repeated, this time a little louder. I hated the way her body
trembled, the sheer terror etched on her face. “Wake up.”
She startled abruptly, letting out a loud gasp. Her eyes were unfocused,
darting left and right. It was as if she didn’t even see me.
She froze for a heartbeat, and then came at me. Everything happened so
fast. I was suddenly on my back and she was straddling me with a knife
pressed against my neck. Where in the fuck did she get a Swiss knife?
“Lia,” I called out, keeping my voice soft. She dug it into my neck, and
I could feel warm liquid trickle down my throat. “Lia,” I repeated. “Wake
up, wildflower. It’s me.”
She went still, blinking furiously, and I watched the haze slowly lift
until she recognized me.
Then a heart-wrenching sob tore from her throat.

LIANA
Panic choked me and I began to shake, seeing blood trickle down
Giovanni’s throat.
I did that.
“You’re okay,” he murmured. “It was just a dream.”
It wasn’t just a dream—it was a nightmare, a twisted mosaic of
devastation, the ghosts of past sins, and the sharp sting of loss.
My eyes squeezed shut, trying to shove the images away. Shut the door
on them and move on. I had to forget about it all.
“Lia, open your eyes for me.” Giovanni’s compelling voice penetrated
my broken mind. “Come on, let me see them.”
And I did, although my body refused to stop shaking.
“Husband,” I said through clattering teeth, desperate to get myself
together. I didn’t like anyone to see me this way.
His green eyes looked up at me and he smiled. “That’s right.”
I inhaled a deep breath before exhaling it slowly. We stared at each
other, all my demons and sins out in the open for him to see. Yet somehow,
it didn’t seem to matter.
 Giovanni sat on his haunches, regarding me with a deep frown. His eyes
held mine, panic and ghosts clawing at my chest. I fought it, determined not
to let them win, but lately, they seemed to triumph effortlessly.
During the day, I thought progress and victory were mine, but at night…
it was a different story.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he offered, my eyes locked on the blood
on his neck.
I shook my head.
“Let me clean up the cut,” I said and he nodded.
We walked into the bathroom and he pulled out a first aid kit, then
handed it to me. I placed it on the counter and examined the contents.
As I reached for the peroxide and a Band-Aid, I murmured, “I’m sorry.”
The words were foreign on my lips. I couldn’t remember the last time I
apologized to anyone.
“Not necessary. You had a nightmare.”
His warm palm came to rest on my shoulder, something reassuring in
his touch. And it was only then that the realization sunk in. I was growing
comfortable with Giovanni’s touch.
Tabling that revelation for now, I cleaned out his cut, but when I opened
the Band-Aid, I paused. It wasn’t the plain one I was accustomed to seeing,
but a colorful kind that had little… I pulled it closer to see better…
footprints on it.
“They’re dog footprints.”
I shot him a questioning look but just shrugged. Maybe Giovanni was
fond of dogs. It wasn’t as if I knew a lot about him.
Placing the Band-Aid on the cut, I examined it clinically.
“Go ahead, you can laugh,” he offered, his eyes twinkling suspiciously.
I narrowed my eyes on him. “Why would I laugh?”
“Because I have a toddler’s Band-Aid on my neck.” He grimaced. “I
must look especially irresistible now.”
My mouth twitched and I found myself relaxing. “Are you fishing for a
compliment?”
He let out a strangled laugh. “Maybe.”
I shook my head. “I slice your throat and you want a compliment.”
He flashed me an irresistible smile. “Priorities.”
There was something about his expression that set my heart aflame with
emotions. For a moment, neither one of us moved, and I found myself
reaching for his neck. I traced the outline of the Band-Aid with my finger,
and for the first time in a long time, I enjoyed a man’s proximity.
My breathing quickened and unfamiliar longing unfurled in the pit of
my stomach. But then I remembered the dream and instantly an icy feeling
washed over me.
“You have nothing to fear with me, Lia.”
The terrifying part was that I believed him. Trust and hope, two damned
things that could tear you apart so easily.
“Maybe there’s something you should fear with me, Giovanni,” I stated
matter-of-factly.
He didn’t seem worried. “Fear my wife? Never.”
“I’ve killed many men.”
He chuckled. “So have I.”
It was evident that our sense of morality was skewed, but I knew there
were certain lines that men like Giovanni and the Omertà didn’t cross. I, on
the other hand, had crossed them. And I feared, if put in the same position, I
would do it again. The thorns of blood had buried themselves so deeply
within me that no cleansing could reach them. No amount of peroxide or
bandages could ever mend those wounds.
“But have you caused the deaths of innocent women and children too?”
I asked, steeling myself.
But Giovanni surprised me, like he often seemed to do.
“Decisions made by every mafia man have caused the deaths of
innocents, including those of women and children. An illegally sold gun
impacted an innocent in one way or another. Smuggled drugs destroyed not
only users but their families. Do you judge me?”
The tension in his voice overpowered my demons. At least for now.
“No.”
He tilted his head, not saying anything for a long time. “So who am I, or
anyone else in the Omertà, cartel, or any other criminal organization, to
judge you?”
I stilled, every nerve in my body standing at attention.
His words shifted something inside me. I didn’t know what it was, but it
seemed to be exactly what I needed to hear.
“I dreamt… that I killed you.” I swallowed a lump in my throat. “I
wanted to protect you, but—”
I couldn’t even finish the sentence.
 He studied me quietly. “And how did you feel about it?”
“I didn’t like it very much.” Just thinking about that dream sent pain
piercing through my chest. His lips twitched, but before he could say
anything else, I continued, “I don’t think it’s safe for us to sleep in the same
room.”
Although Giovanni didn’t sleep in the bed with me, he refused to stay in
another room, claiming we needed to share at least something for the
marriage to be legit. Of course, we both knew he was full of shit. The first
night I barely slept a wink, but as the nights went on and he never tried
anything, I gradually relaxed.
“You can handcuff me,” he offered.
I rolled my eyes. “I attacked you. It's probably safer if you handcuff
me.”
My heart thudded with the offer. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure where it
came from or how the words found themselves spoken.
His jaw worked slightly, but then to my great relief, he shook his head.
“I don’t think so.” I drew in a sharp breath and then exhaled it with
relief. “Now let’s try to get some sleep.”
 TWENTY-THREE
GIOVANNI

I
woke up at the crack of dawn with three hours of sleep under my belt.
Turning my head toward the sound of soft breathing, I found Lia
curled into herself and her cheek rested on her folded hands. Her face
was partly hidden by her golden hair, making her look like an angel.
After she patched up my cut, we went to sleep. I liked sharing the room
with her, her scent perfuming the air. It calmed me.
I sat up, took a quick shower, and then headed to my office.
Romeo was there, sprawled out on the sofa, watching the Boston Red
Sox playing against the Yankees. A rerun. It was my brother’s favorite
pastime, although only God knew why.
He glanced toward me as I sank down on the seat behind the desk and
reached for the secured laptop I kept here.
“What’s up with the ridiculous Band-Aid?” Romeo asked, nodding at
my neck.
“Razor cut.”
Romeo leaned back, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, because you look clean-
shaven.”
I brushed off his comment and sat down at my desk. “Shouldn’t you be
working?”
“I am.”
“It doesn’t look like it to me.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“Doubt it.”
 Romeo was quiet for a moment, and that was usually never a good sign.
“Just look in the mirror, man. You say you cut yourself shaving, yet you’re
sporting a three-day stubble.” He chuckled. “Like I said, looks can be
deceiving.”
I laughed, then zeroed my attention on the screen. He continued
watching the baseball game, and we sat there in silence for a while.
“You have the patience of a saint.”
“Not really.”
He scoffed.
“Not too many husbands are willing to sleep on the couch during their
honeymoon or put up with a bride who tries to slice their throat.”
“She didn’t mean to.”
Romeo laughed. “Right.” And then sobered. “You’re being serious?”
“She has nightmares. She thought she was protecting me.”
He shook his head. “Jesus Christ, you are actually serious. You’re
seriously pussy-whipped, except you haven’t even had her pussy yet.”
I continued typing. “Fuck you, Romeo. And if you mention my wife and
the word pussy in the same sentence again, you’re getting a beat-down.”
“Duly noted.”
I rolled my eyes. “Now, have you gotten in touch with Asher?”
Asher Varangr was somewhat of a pirate, treasure hunter, and, you
could say, a criminal. I didn’t conduct too much business with him, but
occasionally, I would reach out for certain rare artifacts that were illegal to
procure via legal channels.
Like today.
It’d be a one-and-done kind of deal, then we probably wouldn’t hear
from each other for another year when he needed weapons and I needed a
rare artifact.
“Yes, he’s waiting for us in Cuba. And before you ask, yes, I talked to
the Corsicans too. They’re lined up for the delivery right after Asher.”
“Good.” We’d started delivering products to the Corsicans six months
ago and it had proven lucrative, if only those idiots would get their shit
together. “What time are we scheduled to drop off the crates?”
He never looked away from the TV screen. “Eight.”
Good, I preferred to get all my business done in the morning.
“We’ll take the small boat to shore,” I told him.
This time he looked at me. “You think she’ll run if we dock?”
 “She won’t.” Actually, I didn’t know, but I didn’t want to admit it to
myself, never mind him. “But I’m not risking it. Let’s just get there first,
okay?”

LIANA
“Boss, are you listening to me?” José’s voice boomed from the other side of
the line.
My spine snapped upright, and I shoved my thoughts of Giovanni away.
I hadn’t seen him all day, and his absence was gnawing at me, spinning my
mind. It wasn’t a feeling I was familiar with.
I’d manicured my nails. I’d made enough origami to overflow a
dumpster. It was how I found myself in his office, but he wasn’t here as I
expected.
“Yes, José, no need to shout,” I answered. Steady rainfall surrounded
me, the sound soothing. Like standing under the protection of an umbrella.
“Now, can you repeat what you said?”
His heavy sigh filled the line.
“Were you kidnapped or not?” José demanded. “Why is your location
turned off?”
He wanted to get a crew of men and come after me. Except, he had no
idea where I was—and neither did I. Telling him I was floating around the
ocean certainly wouldn’t narrow things down.
“It’s probably the doing of my kidnapper. And yes, I was kidnapped,
but—”
“Then I should come for you.”
“No.” My voice was soft, but the message was non-negotiable. “Not
yet. If I need you, I’ll find a way to let you know my location.”
“I’ve been losing my mind looking for you. It’s like you disappeared
without a trace.”
“I know. It certainly wasn’t in my plans to get kidnapped in such a
manner.” I sighed tiredly. The sea air certainly had a way of tiring out a
person. “Now, tell me what’s new with our business.”
 “Kian is demanding you call him,” he said. “The first chance you have.”
My jaw clenched.
The reminder of my failed promise and betrayal brought a bitter taste to
my mouth. I didn’t have many scruples left, but disloyalty to someone
who’d helped me didn’t make me feel good about myself.
“Have we heard anything about Atticus?”
“No, he’s gone underground.”
Before I called Kian, I needed to know if Atticus Popov had made
contact with him. Each of the men were formidable in their own way, and
although my loyalties first and foremost lay with me, I promised Kian I
wouldn’t betray him.
After all, he was one of the reasons I’d survived Perez. Atticus, on the
other hand, was something else entirely. He was able to deliver me Emory
and that liver that Amara so desperately needed.
Atticus Popov was an actual mobster disguised as a legitimate
gentleman who, along with his son, Danil, held more power than royalty.
Making an enemy out of them would be stupid.
“Okay, and The Mistress. Have we been able to get her identity?”
“Negative. We don’t have much to go on.”
“I gave you a fairly detailed description.”
José sighed. “You know how many women look like what you
described—dark hair, greenish eyes, older with an evil smile—in this
world?”
“Apparently not many,” I retorted dryly. “Because you haven’t found a
single match yet.”
“Are you sure it’s worth using our resources to search for her?”
“Yes,” I gritted. I wanted revenge; she had to pay.
“Where are you?”
My eyes flicked up, the horizon of stormy gray and blue surrounding
me. “In the middle of an ocean.”
“And Amara?”
“She’s back where she belongs,” I said, my chest squeezing. The loss of
my daughter hurt, but a part of me knew she was safe. She’d be loved very
much. The way she deserved all along. “Just get me the information on The
Mistress.”
So I could finally rest in peace too. Maybe I could find a place where I
belonged.
 After I hung up, I drifted to the couch, my mind inevitably drawn back
to the day that had shattered me beyond repair. I rarely allowed myself to
revisit those memories, but as I tucked a throw blanket over my lap and
rested my cheek against the decorative pillow, it felt impossible to resist.
Thunder rumbled and I startled, goosebumps scattering over my skin.
Santiago was away, giving me peace and quiet in this house that had
become my prison. Now that I was finally pregnant, he didn’t worry about
me escaping as much. What he didn’t know was that I wanted to escape
more than ever. I didn’t want my baby to grow up in this hellhole.
“One more month,” I murmured, rubbing my eight-month-pregnant
belly.
I hadn’t wanted a child, especially not one that was a product of horrific
circumstances, but after carrying the seed inside me for the past eight
months, I’d grown to love it. To think of it as mine and mine alone.
I had to run before the child was born. It was the least the baby
deserved—a chance at a decent life. The prenatal checkups on this
compound were a joke at best. The doctor refused to talk to me, only
communicating with The Mistress, per Santiago’s instructions. It was so
humiliating to ask your husband’s mistress for the status of your prenatal
checkups, but then I suspected that was the point those two were trying to
make.
The door opened, and when I caught a reflection of the woman in the
glass, I stiffened.
Turning to face her, because I didn’t trust her not to stab me in the back,
I asked, “What do you want, Mistress?”
I wasn’t allowed to know her name, and I would have preferred to call
her a whore, but I couldn’t risk a beating. Not in my condition. Besides, she
didn’t need me calling her names when what she wore—a bright red dress
that was too tight and far too short for someone her age—did the job. Her
red lipstick and red heels sealed the deal.
“I wanted to see if you need something?”
I scoffed. “And you’ll get it for me?”
She smiled a soft, almost pretty smile. It made me even more leery of
her.
“I have a proposition for you.” Her eyes fell to my big belly. When I
remained silent, she continued, “Why don’t I help you escape?”
 My spine snapped upright, hope igniting like sparks about to set fire.
But just as quickly, so did my suspicion.
“Why would you do that?”
A heartbeat passed.
“I want Santiago for myself.” Was she serious? She could have the old
man. I hated his cruelty. Everything about him. “You’re still young. What
are you, eighteen, nineteen?”
I swallowed. “Nineteen.”
She smiled. “You have a whole life ahead of you.”
I did. And so did my baby. “Santiago will come after me.”
Her heels clicked against the floor as she came to stand in front of me.
She wasn’t a short woman, but with her heels, she almost towered over me.
“He will,” she agreed. “But it will be too late.”
I narrowed my eyes on her. “Why do you want to help?”
Her smile never faltered. “Like I said, I want Santiago.”
“You already have him,” I pointed out. “You’re his mistress.”
Something passed her expression, but it was schooled too quickly. “If
you want to run, we have to do it now. Time is of the essence, Louisa.”
She called me by my twin’s name. Even after a year in captivity, people
didn’t know any better. Did it mean that my twin was out in the world with
her lover, free and happy? Maybe I could seek them out. They would help
me and my baby.
“Okay.”
Victory flashed in her eyes, and although I hated seeing it, I focused on
what had to be done so I’d get freedom.
I wouldn’t get another chance like this, especially after I gave birth.
An hour later, I ran through the woods as best as I could in my
condition. I paused to catch my breath, leaning against a tree. My eyes
darted around, scanning the area for the line of thinning trees that would
tell me I was close.
The rain was falling in sheets, reflecting the pain between my legs, and
it didn’t take long before I was drenched and out of breath.
I knew I wouldn’t be safe until I was out of Venezuela, thousands of
miles away from Santiago and his cartel. Someway, somehow, I would
succeed. Even if I had to die. As long as my baby was born in some
semblance of a safe environment.
And so, ignoring the pain between my legs, I started running again.
 The fear of being caught propelled me forward, adrenaline surging
through my veins, fueling my endurance. But it was the thought of seeing
my sister again, of finally being free, that truly kept me going.
Just as I reached the last line of woods, I came up short as I spotted a
car. I recognized it immediately. The black Escalade that was reserved only
for The Mistress. Why was she here? That wasn’t part of her plan. She was
going to keep the guards distracted, and instead she’d brought them to me.
Trap, trap, trap.
My mind repeated the words like a broken record.
I pulled back into the shadows of the tree, making myself as small as
possible.
Then the window of the car lowered, and I could see her red lipstick
even from here, issuing orders.
In the next heartbeat, two men moved toward me and I turned on my
heel. I ran as fast as I could, back toward Santiago, the irony of it not
escaping me. I ran and ran, my feet tripping over wet branches.
And then I was tackled, my back hitting the wet ground with a force that
stole my breath.
“Time to slice you open, Russian whore.”
With thunder cracking through the sky, shaking the earth, I was held
down as a man was brought forward.
“Cut her open.”
I thrashed against his iron grip, screaming and sobbing, my pleas for
mercy swallowed by the storm. Tears mingled with rain, streaking down my
face like rivers of despair.
Then it came—the searing, jagged pain ripping through my stomach.
The first slice, cold and merciless.
I howled my agony into the deafening thunder, my voice raw, my soul
unraveling. The world blurred, spinning into shadow until everything
dissolved into black.
I jerked awake, a set of hands on my shoulders and a dream fresh on my
mind. I blinked over and over again until a familiar figure came into focus.
Giovanni.
“You had another nightmare,” he said, studying me closely.
The thunder rumbling outside the window reminded me of a different
night, a different time.
 I was still a teenager when I got pregnant, the result of my husband’s
rape. But the baby had been mine, growing under my heart.
Until they took that away too.
From that night forward, I never trusted another human being again.
And it shook me to my core to feel my defenses lowering for this man
standing in front of me.
My husband.
 TWENTY-FOUR
GIOVANNI

O
ne step forward, two steps back.
That was how this journey with Lia felt. And I wasn’t talking
about the voyage of sailing the seas or my business with Asher that
went smoothly.
After I came back to the boat after completing the delivery, I found Lia
asleep on the couch in my office plagued by another nightmare. I attempted
to wake her up, but this one seemed to affect her more than any other.
A tear rolled down her cheek, and I couldn’t help but wonder what all
had happened to her in her twenty-six years of life. I suspected in my
almost forty years, I hadn’t experienced a fraction of the pain she’d
endured, and my messy family dynamic barely scratched the surface of
hers.
My brother was right.
I could be patient when I wanted to, but even I had limits, and now that
she was in my life—as my wife—after eight years, I could feel my patience
wearing thin.
Kidnapping aside, I’d given Lia no reason to distrust me. Yet it felt like
each time it seemed like we got closer, a door would shut in my face.
I was even tempted to call my sister, but I knew that would be a
mistake. I’d never hear the end of the fact that I married without my other
siblings present.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” Liana asked, rubbing the sleep
from her eyes.
 “I’m just wondering.”
“About?”
She rolled her shoulders, then crossed her legs in that boss way, and I
couldn’t help but compare this façade of her to the one that was whimpering
and cuddled into herself in the chair, plagued by a nightmare. Which
version of her was real?
“If you’ll give me the next dance.”
She blinked. “There is no music.”
I pulled out my phone, then pressed the first song that came up. As the
first tune of “Gravity” by Matt Hansen came on, emotion-filled harmonies
surrounded us.
I extended my hand. “How about it, Lia?”
She didn’t move, her cheeks colored in frustration. “I told you, I can’t
dance.”
I smiled. “No better time to learn, is there?”
She got to her feet hesitantly, putting her fingers into mine. I interlocked
our fingers, loving the look of her ivory skin against my tan.
“I’m going to put my hand around your waist.” She nodded and I slid
my free hand around her slim waist, pulling her closer. “Just follow my
lead.”
We started to move, her body brushing against mine and her eyes zeroed
on our feet. We swayed slowly, perfectly synchronizing, and I marveled
whether this was the sign that our bodies were a perfect match. Her body
adjusted, moving with grace and elegance that I now knew was
synonymous with her.
“Eyes up here, wildflower,” I instructed.
When she lifted them, they shone with something warm, and I almost
missed a step. “Better watch your step. I have no intention of catching you.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Touché, wife.”
I could feel her slight tremor through my palm. My hand flexed on her
back, resisting the urge to pull her closer. I didn’t want to rush her, worried
she’d slink back into her shell. This would have to be enough for now.
She had been strong for so long that she’d forgotten it wasn’t a
weakness to be vulnerable.
But then she shocked me, placing her forehead into the fabric of my
shirt. She inhaled deeply, staying that way while our feet moved quietly
against the Persian rug on my office floor.
 “I can’t have children.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but I heard the
gut-wrenching pain in her voice.
“I didn’t marry you for that.”
We danced in silence, before she broke it. “You’re a good man,
Giovanni.”
“Good enough for you?” I asked, my lips brushing the top of her golden
hair.
“You should have found yourself a nice, normal woman,” she
murmured softly.
My feet faltered, and her head lifted to meet my gaze.
“I don’t want a normal woman, Lia. I want you. Your heart and soul.
Your body and mind. All your perfect imperfections. All your broken
pieces.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re perfect to me.” I lightly brushed my lips against her
forehead. “And you’re mine.”
 TWENTY-FIVE
LIANA

I
tossed and turned for hours, my eyes drawn to the man sleeping on the
couch. His breathing was steady and comforting, and I wondered what it
was about him that kept drawing me in.
Whatever it was, pure, unadulterated need overpowered me, demanding
I do something about it.
My pride warned nobody—no man or woman—could ever love me
after all that I’d done. Experience proved it was risky to trust, and the
memory of my baby being ripped from me was the ultimate proof. Besides,
it was all pointless—I didn’t believe in hope or love or happiness.
But it was my heart that whispered for me to try.
Slipping out of the bed, my feet silent on the floor, I tiptoed over to the
couch and stood next to his sleeping body. The blanket fell to his waist,
exposing his naked abs. Arm thrown over his eyes, face restful and lips
parted. He was temptation personified.
I inhaled his scent deeply into my lungs and for a moment, I simply
watched him, the need inside me foreign.
Unable to resist anymore, I leaned down, feeling his soft breaths on my
face. I pressed my lips to his for a second before I pulled back. I found his
eyes on me, alert and intense, heavy with a feeling that matched this turmoil
inside me.
He didn’t say anything, just waited, the silence between us unbearable
as he waited for me to say it. To decide. To make a move.
“Make me yours.”
 He was up from the couch in one swift move, scooping me into his arms
and lowering me on the bed. An amber glow came from the moonlight,
spilling through the glass doors of the cabin.
I tilted my head, my eyes searching his.
“Are you sure?” he murmured.
Drunk on the emotions from the last few weeks, I nodded. I knew he
could see my hunger and need for him in my face, just as I could see it in
his.
I looked into his eyes, those emerald eyes of dark forests that had the
power to captivate me and bring out the deepest desires of my heart.
“I am.”
He took hold of my jaw, pulling me against him while he stood, his
knees pressed against the bed. I waited, unsure of the next step. Or maybe I
needed his assurance that he wanted this as much as I did.
For a heartbeat, or ten, we just breathed each other in, before he leaned
forward and brushed his lips against mine in the lightest of kisses, so light
that it felt surreal.
“If we do this,” he rasped against my mouth, “I will be your last
everything and you will be mine. We go through life together, never letting
go. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
And then his lips crushed to mine, devouring me. He tasted like
salvation. Temptation. Uniquely him.
My hands came to his shoulders, clinging to them. His hands were on
my hips, gripping me like he was scared to let me go. Truthfully, so was I.
He pulled back, breathing heavily, and settled back over me. I wrapped
my legs around him, grinding against the rock-hard bulge in his sweatpants
as he kissed me again.
I swirled my tongue against his hesitantly, conscious of my movements
being unpracticed. He shuddered, a deep groan vibrating against my chest,
and I pulled back to look at him.
“Is that okay?”
He stared at me with a slightly unhinged look before he growled a
demand: “Kiss me again.”
My heart thundered, sending little shockwaves through my entire body,
and my nipples stiffened to achy points, straining against the fabric of my
tank top.
 I slid my hand into his hair and tugged him in closer. I ran my tongue
over his lips and deepened the kiss, sucking on his tongue in a way that had
my pussy throbbing.
My body writhed with sensations, a blaze of fire spreading inside me.
For a long time, we kissed, testing, exploring, and owning each other.
He shuddered each time our tongues glided together, and it sent a jolt
straight between my legs. I felt powerful, owning every one of his visceral
reactions, but he owned all of mine too.
“Still okay?” he asked against my mouth.
I struggled to form words. “Y-yes.”
“Good girl.” Something within me melted under the praise and my
pussy clenched. “You need to tell me if it gets to be too much, if I need to
stop, because I’m not making mistakes with you. It might seem like I’m in
charge, but you’re the one pulling all the strings. Understood?”
My skin ignited into flames at his words. There was nothing hotter than
a man who let a woman hold all the power. I’d never experienced it before,
but I knew I’d want more of it.
“Yes.”
“I’ll take you and push your limits, but I won’t hurt you. Fucking ever. I
only want to see your pleasure, never your pain.”
I wanted exactly what he was describing, and instinct told me he would
stay true to his word.
I gulped, my chest trembling. “Okay.”
At my acceptance, he ripped my top down the middle, the sound loud in
the room, escalating my heartbeats.
Once he discarded the fabric on the floor, he took my wrists into his and
raised my hands above my head.
“Grab the rails,” he instructed.
“You’re not going to tie me up, right?” My heart hammered at the idea
of bondage. “I don’t have great experiences with it, as I’m sure you
remember.”
“I’m not tying you up. I’ll never do that again; I see now that I never
should have. If I haven’t made myself clear, I’m so sorry, Lia.” His words
assured me, and while I was grateful he was finally owning up to his
mistake, I hoped it wouldn’t dampen the mood. “But you’ll hold on to the
rails as if you were.”
 Looking at him, I bit my lower lip, glad to feel my arousal was still
there, slick and musky as I rubbed my thighs together.
Then he pulled my shorts down, discarding them while I lay naked on
the bed.
“Spread your legs.” I didn’t even hesitate. “Such a good, needy wife.
You want my cock, don’t you?”
Holy shit, Giovanni and his dirty mouth were already doing things to
me I didn’t think possible. He traced his finger over my breasts, down my
stomach, and over the scar, pausing there. He shocked me when he bent his
head and traced it with his mouth.
When he raised his intense eyes to mine, his finger continued his path to
my core.
“Do you want my cock?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes please, Giovanni.”
His finger entered me, and I clenched around him.
It had been too long since I’d orgasmed, and my body was greedy for it.
I whimpered as he added a second finger, my hands clutching the bedrail,
unwilling to let go. He moved his fingers inside me expertly, scissoring to
stretch me while his thumb circled my clit, sending wetness gushing out of
me.
“This pussy is mine, isn’t it?” he asked, cupping me firmly. His voice
was kissed by seduction, drawing me deep into the haze of arousal.
I exhaled a shaky breath. “Y-yes.”
“What are you feeling right now?”
“So turned on… aching… for you,” I whimpered. I could feel the heat
cresting, rising, hurtling me toward a climax. “Oh my gosh… I’m so close.”
His hand stopped and I cried out my frustration. “Why did you stop?”
“You’ll wait like a good wife.” He’d climbed onto the bed to get
between my legs, spreading them wide open. “And come with my cock
inside you.”
The tip of his cock pressed against my pussy lips, and I shuddered with
the feeling of it. I writhed my hips, my walls clenching greedily for more of
him. But he stayed still. I rotated my hips, trying to get him to slip inside
me.
“Please, Giovanni…. Please, fuck me.”
 He grabbed his thick cock, wrapping his fingers around it, and slid it
from my clit down my swollen entrance. My entire body was throbbing
with need.
“You’re needy for me, wife.”
His low words filled the space between us.
“I am,” I breathed. The tip of his cock pushed inside me barely an inch.
“Please take me. Claim me. Own me.”
And then he thrust, filling me to the hilt. I began to shake, my eyes
rolling to the back of my head. A sensation unlike any other exploded
through me, his cock rippling my walls as he slid in and out of me.
The climax hit me, my walls clenching around his thick length. His
thumb came to my clit, circling it and shooting my arousal higher and
higher.
As I was gasping, stunned at all the foreign sensations, he eased in and
out of my swollen, throbbing pussy. I looked at him in shock, Giovanni’s
eyes locked on the place where we were joined as he moved in and out of
me.
My hands gripping the bed rails above my head, impaled by him, I felt
truly owned for the first time in my life, and I loved the feeling of it. I loved
the surrender, letting him claim all of me.
He moved, grunting and growling, as he thrust into me.
“Yes,” I mewled, moving underneath him. “Yes, yes, yes.”
He pulled out so slowly I felt every inch of his hard length. My back
arched up and he thrust back in. A fire started in the pit of my stomach,
spreading out through my veins into my muscles, and my entire body lit up
like fireworks on the Fourth of July.
I cried out as I came, my muscles spasming and my heart thundering.
I flew higher and higher, until I thought I’d never come back again. But
I did, to him thrusting inside me, rubbing my clit.
“Give me one more,” he demanded, plowing into me over and over
again.
“Oh, God… I don’t know…” My body shuddered, oversensitive, while
he continued to thrust so deeply that I thought he might touch my soul.
“One more,” I heard him say through the haze of pleasure. “Give your
husband one more. Yes?”
I thought I’d die if I came again, but I wanted to give him the same
thing he gave me. So I surrendered, letting him take my body to where it
had never been before.
“I need your words, Lia,” he grunted.
“Please,” I murmured. “Give me one more.”
I watched him in wonder as he moved inside me, pushing me into
another orgasm.
He held me while I flew high, our arousal and emotions mixing
together, only for him to catch me when I fell.
And only then did he find his own release, spilling deep inside me, his
face buried in my neck, whispering sweet nothings I never knew existed.
 TWENTY-SIX
LIANA

I
felt a stirring beside me and my eyes snapped open to find myself
wedged under Giovanni’s arm, my head in the crook of his neck.
I jolted up, hitting his jaw by accident.
“Ugh, fuck,” he grunted.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, rubbing the crown of my head, unsure of what
to do. Usually when Amara got hurt, I’d rub the spot and then kiss it.
Without thinking, I pushed his hand away, then did exactly that. When I
pulled back, he was staring at me.
“Umm, it’s what I do when Amara gets hurt,” I explained.
“I liked it,” he said with a shrug and an irresistible smile on his face. “I
think you should hurt me more often.”
I let out a chuckle. “Be careful what you ask for.”
I went to move, but his next words stopped me.
“I want a kiss here too.” He tapped his neck where I cut him before,
then his arm where I shot him… correction, grazed him. Men were just
babies. The bandages were long gone, but there was still a faint line there.
“Just to make sure it gets better.”
Even as I shook my head in disbelief, I found myself leaning forward
and pecking the area. Still grinning, I slid out of bed and padded to the
bathroom.
After my morning routine and a shower, I returned to the bedroom to
find Giovanni gone, a message left behind in his place.
*Come find me in the kitchen.*
 When I stepped out onto the deck, trying to figure out which way the
kitchen was, I ran into Romeo.
His hands came to my arms to steady me. I flinched, shoving him off,
and he stumbled backward.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, woman?” he growled as he caught
himself on the rail. “I was just trying to steady you.”
I brought a shaking hand to my mouth. Jesus, I almost pushed him into
the sea.
The old me might have punched him, but this new me didn’t have it in
me anymore.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “Reflexes.”
He ran his hand through his dark hair that reminded me of his brother’s.
“They’re lethal, that’s for sure,” he retorted dryly.
My gaze fell to his bandaged arm and while I wasn’t exactly sorry for
what I’d done—after all, it was self-defense—I didn’t like to think we’d
started things off on the wrong foot.
“How’s your arm?” I asked.
“Getting there.”
I cleared my throat uncomfortably. Being a bitch was so much easier.
“Umm, I guess I should apologize.”
He let out a breath, amusement flickering across his expression. “You
guess?”
I shrugged. “Well, it was self-defense.”
“Woman, I wasn’t attacking you.”
“But you and your brother kidnapped me,” I pointed out. “What was I
supposed to think? That the two of you planned on taking me on a trip of a
lifetime around the world?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll give you that.”
“Thanks.” We started to walk and I turned to look at him. “Do you
know where the kitchen is?”
“I do. As a matter of fact, I’m on my way there.” He clomped his feet
together and gave me a soldier’s salute. “My brother’s orders to show up for
breakfast.”
The corners of my lips twisted with sarcasm. “And you strike me as the
guy who always obeys orders.”
His green eyes twinkled. “You know it, sister.”
My step paused. “What did you call me?”
 He shot me a look, not stopping. “Sister. You’re Giovanni’s wife, my
sister-in-law.” He stopped and turned to look at me. “You know how it
works, right?” I nodded, rolling my eyes. I wasn’t an idiot. “Is there a
problem with me calling you that?”
I pretended to think about the decision before responding. “No.”
We walked in silence until something amazing filtered into my nose.
The clatter of metal and utensils signaled we were close to the kitchen and
once we stepped in, my brows shot up.
Romeo sauntered in, making his way to the coffee machine. “Hey, bro. I
see you’re on your cooking kick again.”
“I’m also in my shut-my-little-brother’s-mouth kick too.”
Romeo didn’t seem fazed. “You know that doesn’t work with me. It
only makes me want to talk more.”
“I honestly don’t know why you and Marissa don’t get along better,”
Giovanni muttered, moving around the kitchen with surgical precision
while I wondered who Marissa was. I certainly didn’t want a repeat of my
last marriage.
“Because she always tries to upstage me.”
I stood in the doorway, feeling out of place but also fascinated with the
dynamics of their relationship. Louisa and I were close, but it was always
about sticking together and keeping out of our mother’s way.
Giovanni held a knife, slicing with efficiency I didn’t know existed.
There was something sexy about seeing him move in the kitchen, and it had
nothing to do with his black jeans that hugged his ass perfectly or the white
T-shirt that revealed his bulging biceps and veiny forearms.
He paused, his eyes snapping to mine, finally realizing I was standing
there. He flashed me the most dazzling smile as he dragged his gaze over
me.
It didn’t matter that I wore a plain white dress with a black belt and
black flats. The way he looked at me, you’d think I put on the sexiest outfit
on this planet, and dammit, I kind of liked being looked at that way.
“Okay, you two,” Romeo interrupted the moment. “I feel dirty watching
you stare at each other. Let’s try to salvage my innocence.”
“You were born with dirty thoughts,” Giovanni retorted, his eyes never
wavering from me. “Wife, will you do me the honor of sitting next to me?”
I stepped into the kitchen and he extended his hand. I took it and he
gallantly raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss to it before whirling me through
the kitchen. His strong hands gripped me, my feet following his lead of
their own accord.
“You’re a natural at dancing,” he said, smiling.
“I had a good teacher.”
“Jesus Christ,” Romeo muttered. “It’s a good thing I haven’t eaten yet
or I’d puke it all up right now.”
Giovanni ignored him and pulled out a seat for me.
“Don’t mind Romeo,” he said, pecking me on the cheek as I took the
offered chair. “He’s just jealous because he doesn’t have a dance partner.”
“We could always kidnap a girl for him,” I offered jokingly.
Romeo smirked. “I knew I liked her.”
“Despite the fact I almost killed you?”
He shrugged dismissively. “Meh. It’s just a scratch.”
I smiled incredulously. “Good to know you’re so forgiving.”
He waved his hand. “I don’t ask for much. Just women, booze, baseball
and”—he glared at Giovanni—“food. I’m starving.”
“Don’t start whining or I’ll make you wait until we get to Key West to
eat.”
“We’re going to Key West?” I asked, surprised.
Giovanni turned back to the stove and resumed cooking before he
answered. “We are, and I have a little surprise for you.”
Before I could ask, Romeo chimed in, “Oh, do tell. I love surprises.”
“The surprise is for my wife,” Giovanni answered, grinning. “You,
Romeo, will watch the boat for us.”
He grunted, but my skin heated as something in my chest tightened and
my pulse beat a little quicker.
Was this how my sister felt with Kingston? I never understood their
connection, but I was slowly starting to.
It’d been almost a month since I’d been taken from Venezuela, but it felt
like a whole lifetime ago. I glanced at my brother-in-law, who divided his
time between Giovanni and staring at something on his phone.
The two started to discuss sports and business when Romeo jumped to
his feet.
“Shit, where are my manners? I didn’t even offer you coffee.” He went
to stand in front of the fancy coffee machine, maneuvering it until it
produced a full cup, then brought it to me.
 “One sugar or two?” I shook my head and his eyes widened. “What?
How’re you that sweet without sugar?”
“Don’t flirt with my wife, stronzo,” Giovanni warned as he set the table.
I debated helping, but the kitchen wasn’t exactly my area of expertise. I
could shoot to kill, but not set the table. I could stab a person precisely
enough they’d bleed out slowly and painfully, but I couldn’t even boil water
properly.
I lowered my eyes and my gaze caught on my missing pinky. They
blurred with tears and I blinked furiously, willing them to go away.
Suddenly, a big hand covered mine, the missing finger hidden from my
sight.
I couldn’t fall apart now. Not here. Not in front of Giovanni again. Not
in front of Romeo.
Unable to find my voice, I let silence dominate the room. The scratch of
the chair against the floorboards, the footsteps fading away, until all I could
hear was Giovanni’s and my breaths.
“You okay?” I squeezed my eyes shut, but then he cupped my face,
stroking my cheek with his thumb as he lifted my head to see my eyes.
“Talk to me.”
“It’s stupid,” I choked.
“If it’s upsetting you, it’s not. Is it Romeo?” I shook my head. “You
don’t want to go to Key West?”
“I do.”
My vision blurred at the edges and I silently cursed the stupid emotions.
I wasn’t a crier; I was a fighter. Maybe I hadn’t shed enough tears in my
lifetime and now it was catching up to me.
“Then what, wildflower?”
“It’s stupid,” I repeated.
His jaw went rigid, but as he stroked my hair back from my face, his
motions were gentle and careful.
“Seeing you with your brother…” I swallowed, looking away. “It made
me…”
“You’re missing your sister.” I nodded, releasing a shaky breath. “She’s
only a phone call away, Lia.”
“But what do I say?”
“That you miss her.”
I bit my bottom lip, tasting copper on my tongue.
 “But I’m also mad.” He studied me, waiting for me to continue, and I
inhaled a deep breath before releasing it. “I’m mad that I tried to save her
and she didn’t come back for me. Neither of them did.”
I trailed off and Giovanni urged, “What do you mean?”
I shuddered in his arms. “I cut my finger off and addressed it to
Kingston, yet he didn’t come for me. I thought they would come looking for
me. I took Louisa’s place all those years ago; I married Santiago, for God’s
sake. I went to hell and back for her and they… they’ve forgotten me.”
“Nobody could ever forget you, Lia.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think it’s for good reason,” I murmured. “You’ve
got yourself damaged goods. A missing finger. Tainted morals. A woman so
wrapped up in sins that redemption is impossible.”
“Fuck, it isn’t.” He sounded convinced. “Do you think I’m damaged? I
have a scar, do you think any less of me?”
I narrowed my eyes on him. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re almost
perfect.”
His lips twitch. “Almost, huh?”
“Too big of a compliment will make your head explode,” I grumbled.
“God, you must think I’m pathetic.”
“No, I don’t,” he growled, lifting my hands to his lips, then kissing
every finger, including what was left of the one I cut off. “You’re the
furthest from pathetic I’ve ever seen. You’re the most amazing woman I’ve
ever laid eyes on. A fighter. A survivor. My wife.” Our eyes locked,
drowning in each other’s darkness. “You know what my biggest regret is?”
I shook my head.
“Not stealing you from my uncle eight years ago. Since that day, I
haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. You put a spell on me.” He let
out a sardonic breath. “I know you don’t remember—”
“I remember you.”
He stilled. “You do?”
“Not from the church,” I murmured. “But I remember you walking in
on me when I was sitting in Santiago’s office.”
The corners of his lips lifted. “Obviously I didn’t leave a remarkable
impression.”
I sighed.
“I was so worried about surviving Santiago that I wouldn’t remember
God himself if I met him.” Lifting my hand to the scar on his eye, I asked,
“Did Santiago give this to you?”
“Ironically, no.”
“Who was it?” I demanded. “If they’re alive, I can kill them.”
He barked out a laugh, dark and devilish. “I believe you would, but in
this instance, the scar was a product of me lying and protecting my sister
and her friend. No need to kill anyone.”
I nodded somberly. “But if you need it, the offer still stands.”
Romeo sauntered back in, announcing he’d faint if he didn’t get some
food, and our conversation ceased.

Several hours later, we were anchored off the coast of Key West and the
moment we disembarked, the surprise waited for us in the parking lot.
A shiny red Jeep with the top down, and all bells and whistles. I trailed
the length of the car, feeling the smooth surface under my fingers.
“What do you think?” Giovanni asked.
“I like the Jeep,” I told him. “Although, I pegged you as a man who
prefers sports cars.”
“They’re not exactly the best cars for teaching and your safety is my
priority.” His eyes coasted down my body, leaving a trail of sparks in their
wake. “Now get behind the wheel.”
He followed close behind me and opened the door, signaling for me to
climb in. The minute I was in the driver seat, he came around, sliding into
the passenger seat.
“Okay, first thing: start the car with the key in the ignition, then check
your mirrors.” I leaned back a little so I wasn’t right up on the steering
wheel, my back pressed against the seat. My eyes darted right then left.
“Don’t forget the rearview mirror.”
I flicked a glance at it and said, “All good.”
“Good. Place your hands on the wheel,” he instructed. “Imagine it’s like
a clock and your hands should be at ten and two.”
I nodded, my belly somersaulting.
“Relax.”
I swallowed. “I’m relaxed. Just tell me what to do next.”
 “Okay, there are two pedals. Left one is the brake. Right one is the gas.
Press the left one and shift the car into drive.”
My right hand settled on the gear shift, moving it into position, and my
fingers gripped the steering wheel. I shifted my legs, following his
instructions, when suddenly the car purred to life.
“You’re going to pull onto the street, just to the right.” He followed up
with another instruction when the car jerked forward. “Not too much gas at
first, okay?”
I nodded, moving my foot off the left pedal and onto the right one. The
engine instantly revved and I jumped in my seat, letting up off the pedal.
He chuckled and I glared at him. “Are you laughing at me?”
“No, never at you.” He lifted both hands up in the air. “Okay, okay, let’s
try this again.”
Uncertainty slid down my back. “Maybe I’m not meant to drive.”
I hated feeling useless and insecure. It made me want to lash out.
All these emotions were spiraling out of control, and it felt like I was
going to drown in them. Maybe years of suppressing them was catching up
to me.
“Liana, look at me.” The tight space in the car seemed to be closing in
on me. A tremor started in my hands and spread. I tightened my grip on the
steering wheel. “Look at me.” I turned my profile to him, meeting his
determined gaze. “If I could teach Marissa how to drive, I know you’ll get
it in no time.”
My heart stilled in an unnatural way at the thought of this man with
another woman.
“Who’s Marissa?” I asked, my voice frigid enough to plunge the humid
Florida heat into below-freezing digits.
“My sister.”
“Oh.”
For the first time in my life, I felt… stupid. Silly. It was a first for me.
Thankfully, Giovanni either didn’t notice it or he let it slide.
“Okay, give it some gas again,” he suggested. “Slowly.”
I followed the instructions. A little more gas, and I felt the tires rotate
the asphalt underneath. I gripped the wheel so hard my knuckles turned
white.
“Turn right here.”
 I turned the wheel in that direction, then quickly straightened the wheel
back to make sure I stayed in my lane.
“You’re doing good.” I smiled. No, I beamed like the spotlight with the
highest watt lightbulb. “You’re a natural at this,” he praised.
My smile dimmed, a memory flashing in my mind.
“Good job, Liana.” My mother beamed. “Snap his neck and victory is
yours.”
I ignored the guilt inside me. This wasn’t exactly an innocent man. He’d
just delivered trafficked bodies to the compound, but being one short—
because he had repulsive urges—my mother wanted to teach every other
delivery man a lesson.
You damaged merchandise, you died.
Still straddling the man’s body, his face downward in the sand, I
grabbed his head and in one move, I snapped his neck.
“You’re a natural, Liana. I’m so proud of you.”
The tire bounced over the curb and startled me back to the present.
“Oh, shit! I’m sorry.” I turned the wheel left, taking us back onto the
road and in the lane.
I was embarrassed and frustrated, accustomed to striving for perfection.
I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of him.
“It’s okay,” he soothed. “It’s just a little bump. The car and the curb can
take it.”
“Okay,” I said, blowing out a long, slow breath.
I moved the steering wheel, swerving the car side to side to keep in my
lane, then sat up straighter, my shoulders relaxing. Pushing down on the
gas, the car picked up pace, making my body jerk slightly. Instinctively, I
gripped the wheel harder and didn’t blink for a second as I tried to
concentrate.
The engine roared, accelerating under me as the car sped down the
Overseas Highway of the Florida Keys, crystal blue water on both sides
stretching as far as the eye could see.
I kept the wheel positioned in my lane, feeling the car race across the
pavement in the rhythm of my heartbeat.
“You’re doing it,” he whispered. The car rumbled under my feet,
making my heart leap in my chest. “I’m so proud of you.”
I broke out in a smile, basking in his praise.
“Can we go faster?” I asked.
 “You tell me. You’re the driver.” He smiled, leaning back and folding
his arms. “Should we put on some music?”
“Sure.”
“What do you like?”
I thought about it for a moment. “Well, I like Sarah McLachlan for my
mellow moods.” He cocked a brow. “And Eminem when I…”
“When you?” He encouraged me to finish my statement.
I blushed. “When I’m hyped up or angry.”
“Strong emotions then.” I nodded, relaxing into my seat even though
my heart was still beating hard with the speed. “Eminem it is.”
He picked a playlist and turned on his stereo. “Love The Way You Lie”
started playing and I bit my bottom lip, butterflies fluttering in the pit of my
stomach.
My blood raced, and for the first time in a long time, I felt free. I knew
it was an illusion, but it felt beautiful. Amazing.
I found the window button on the door and pressed on it, the windows
rolling down with a soft buzz, the cool air whipping through my hair as the
music pounded. I turned my head toward him to see him smiling.
I punched the gas, charging down the road, and for the first time ever, I
threw my head in the wind and laughed.
Loudly. Freely. Happily.
 TWENTY-SEVEN
GIOVANNI

A
fter we returned from the drive, I went to my office to deal with some
business.
Romeo was stretched out on the couch, on the phone and looking
annoyed, a mug of coffee in his hand.
“We delivered all the product,” he spat as I sank down across from him
“We counted it in front of your men too. If something is missing, it’s
because you have a thief in your midst.”
I could hear the string of curses coming via phone from my spot, and he
shook his head, then sat down his coffee cup with an audible clank, spilling
some of the liquid on the table.
“Be my guest, asshole. Tell your boss, and I’ll tell mine. But fuck with
us, and we’ll end you both. Comprendes?” He ended the call and I shot him
a questioning look. “Fucking Corsicans.”
“They still haven’t figured out who’s stealing from them?” I asked.
We’d been delivering products to them for six months now, but it was
only the last two times that the process didn’t line up. Of course they were
pissed, but clearly they needed to up their game and deal with the problem
in their midst.
“No.” He huffed a sigh. “By the way, Mother called.”
I groaned. “I hope you didn’t tell her I’d call her back.”
Romeo chuckled. “I didn’t, but she demanded it.”
“She can demand all she wants, I’m not calling her. I’m surprised she’s
not up her lover’s ass. It’s usually where she finds herself.”
 Romeo’s expression turned serious. “You think this thing between her
and Atticus will last?”
Atticus Popov.
The man had some brains on him, which made this shit between him
and my mother even more confusing. About six months ago, I learned that
the two were an item, and initially, I ignored it. My mother’s romantic
affairs never lasted. If a man was smart, he moved on. If the man was
dumb, my mother used him for all he was worth and then she moved on.
But Atticus Popov was still around.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “By all accounts, it should have.”
Romeo gave me a twisted smile. “I don’t think there’s any fucking
happening.”
My eyebrows arched. “Why do you say that?”
He shrugged. “From what I hear from Mother’s maids, he never stays
the night.”
Shoving Mother’s affairs aside, Romeo and I spent the next hour
discussing business.
“I’m off to bed,” I said with a yawn.
My brother chuckled. “Our mother might not be getting any, but you
sure are. Finally.”
I flipped him off, although it was impossible to wipe the grin off my
face.
Today was a good day.
Yes, Lia had a moment at breakfast, but I believed she needed those as
part of her recovery. She had started to trust me, and I didn’t want to break
that. I’d waited for her for eight years, and now I’d made it my life’s
mission to keep her safe and happy.
I’d heard her laugh freely and happily for the first time today, and I
wanted more of it. I was quickly getting addicted to it, and the key to
keeping Lia with me was to ensure she got rid of the ghosts of her past.
And that was where Dr. Freud came in.
I had contacted her, and she’d agreed to take Lia on. The fact that we’d
be in Boston made it that much more convenient. Yes, Dr. Freud spent the
majority of her time in Europe these days, but her family was based out of
Boston and she often visited.
Shoving the thoughts of therapy aside, I entered the stateroom my wife
and I shared and paused when I heard a soft humming sound.
 Are those the tub’s jets?
I made my way deeper into the suite, my loafers soundless against the
carpet.
When I walked into the bathroom, I found Liana in the tub, her head
tipped back, her long blonde waves hanging over the edge.
God, she was beautiful. When she smiled, which wasn’t often, she
glowed. But the best part was how we’d started building trust between us. I
wanted it all, all her love.
The rain plinked against the stretch of windows, but all I could focus on
was her breathing. Her crimson-stained cheeks and her chest, rising and
falling steadily. I was about to announce my presence when she moaned.
Her shoulders trembled slightly and realization of what she was doing sunk
in. My wife was touching herself.
My hand instantly reached out, starving for the feel of her skin against
my fingers, but then I stopped myself.
Instead, I walked closer to the tub, fascinated by the bliss on her face
and the little sounds she was making as she rode her own hand.
My cock stirred, taking mere seconds before it was rock-hard, and I
couldn’t help but want to discard my clothes, climb into the tub, and fuck
her senseless until she begged me to stop.
But that wasn’t the right approach, and the last thing I wanted was to
betray her trust. She’d been betrayed plenty, and I wouldn’t be another
name on that list.
“Liana?” I said, my mouth moving of its own volition.
Her eyes shot up in alarm and she sat up, her breasts rising above the
bubbles. Her hardened pink nipples captured all my attention. Perfect
teardrop tits that I now knew fit perfectly in the palms of my hands.
I was so hard I feared I would spill in my pants.
“What are you doing here?” Liana demanded, her eyes narrowed on my
erection.
I forced myself to remain calm and not give into my urges to act like a
caveman.
“We share this room,” I reminded her as I marveled at my ability to
keep my tone light and my feet glued to my spot.
She sat farther up in the tub, clearly not realizing how much of herself
she was exposing. All I wanted to do was drag her out of the tub, bend her
over the counter, and fuck her senselessly while she watched us in the
mirror.
“If you’re staying in the tub, I’m joining you,” I said as I tore my eyes
away from her and grabbed a towel.
She stood up, moving efficiently and gracefully, reaching for me.
“Come here,” I said softly. When she didn’t move, I repeated, “Come
here, wildflower.”
Her gaze met mine, annoyance flaring in them. Lia hated being ordered
around, and while I understood why, I couldn’t resist the temptation of
seeing her eyes flash.
The water glided over her skin and I watched her take a step, then
another, ripping my breath from my lungs with each one. I clenched my jaw
in an attempt to stay in control, to keep myself from lifting her into my
arms and taking her to bed.
“Turn,” I murmured, my hand gliding up her arm and around the back
of her neck, my thumb on her throat. Her pulse was racing and I wondered
if she even realized that her body betrayed her.
I leaned in, inhaling her faint floral scent, and she watched me through
her half-hooded gaze.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
She bridged the distance between us and I kissed her slowly, testing the
waters. I never knew what to expect with Lia. Whether she’d kiss me or kill
me. Fuck, maybe even both, but what a glorious way to go that would be.
My hands roamed over her body, her skin slick and wet against my
fingers.
She pulled back, her eyes dropping to my now wet shirt, and then she
shocked me further. She brought her hand to the damp spots of my shirt,
tracing them with her fingers. Her touch set me ablaze.
I grabbed her hand to keep it in place, and she pressed into my chest.
“What are you doing?” I murmured. “Do you want to kiss me…” Lia
blushed, something I’d never seen her do, and it honest-to-god shocked me,
but it was the most beautiful sight I had ever encountered. “Or are you
contemplating how to kill me, Lia?”
Lia smiled, and just like all the other times, it stole my breath.
“I guess we can find out together,” she whispered, looking into my eyes,
a blush coloring her face. I steeled my spine. “I need my husband right now.
More than anything.”
 I grabbed her by the nape and pulled her to me, her body pressing
against mine, and I kissed her like she was my oxygen. She kissed me back
with enthusiasm, moaning and grinding against me.
The louder her noises, the closer I was to coming like a teenager.

LIANA
He removed the towel from my body in one swift move, leaving me naked
in front of him. My breasts tingled, my nipples hardening to painful buds
and pulsing with need for his touch.
The lights bounced off the sparkling marble counter and a giant mirror
reflected the two of us. Me completely naked and Giovanni fully dressed,
his eyes flashing with obsession I didn’t know what to do with.
Everything about this man left me breathless, awakening the dormant
woman in me. The one I tried to kill after surviving Santiago’s and Perez’s
abuse.
Yet, whenever this man kissed me, my mind blanked and my body acted
on instinct. It recognized the touch, drowning in the familiar masculine
scent that was my adrenaline. My addiction.
“Does my wife need her husband’s cock?” he asked, his tone firm and
collected but with an undercurrent of violence. I swallowed, nodding my
response. “Words, Lia. I want your words.”
“Yes,” I said with a calm I didn’t feel. In fact, I was amazed my voice
sounded so put together when my insides whipped like branches in the
hurricane.
A smirk lifted the side of his lips and in the next breath his eyes
darkened to the darkest forest.
Then he took my wrists in one hand. My heart pounded, hating anything
resembling being bound, but I didn’t fight him. Trust had to start
somewhere, somehow.
“Does this bother you?” he questioned, tightening his grip on my wrists
just slightly. It didn’t hurt, but memories stunned me into silence.
“Wildflower, I need your words. Your assurance.”
 Tension drifted off Giovanni in waves as he waited for me, and it took
me several heartbeats to find the words. “I don’t like being bound, but with
you… I…” I inhaled a deep breath before exhaling slowly. “I trust you.”
My lips tingled, hungry for him to kiss me like he couldn’t get enough
of me. Just as I couldn’t get enough of him. God, I never thought I would
love being kissed again.
My thoughts scattered when he actually turned my head, taking my
mouth for a kiss. Hard. Deep. Our tongues tangled, dancing together. My
moans and his grunts.
Then he released my wrist, bringing his hand around my throat. Not to
steal my breath away or hurt me, but to show me he’d never hurt me. That
he was in control, but he’d never take advantage of me.
His other hand drifted down my body, over my hip, and disappeared
between my throbbing thighs, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
His finger thrust inside me, and my eyes fluttered shut.
“Open your eyes,” he rasped, his hot breath against my ear. “Watch us.
See how good we fit, wife. Watch you own me as much as I own you.”
I forced my eyes open, meeting our reflection, my naked body against
his three-piece-suit somehow poetic.
He pulled out his finger then thrust a second finger in, stretching me,
and I gasped, my skin flushing from the image in front of us.
He scissored his fingers inside me, and lightning pleasure flooded
through my veins. My toes curled and my head fell back against his
shoulder as I watched him own me. I had been to hell and tasted it, but
this… this was my first taste of heaven, and I wanted to own it.
My heart hammered against my ribcage, matching the wild pace of
Giovanni’s thrust into me. Every fiber of me was heightened with the
intensity of emotions.
I couldn’t look away from the perfect storm he was creating, his thrusts
making me reach higher and higher. He expertly teased my clit, his strokes
sure, drawing deep moans from me.
“That’s it, Lia. Let me hear your pleasure.” His grunts against my ear
were like an aphrodisiac. “Show me how much you want me.”
My thighs trembled and the orgasm hit me like a blinding light, the
intensity of it sending tremors through me.
He withdrew his hand from between my legs and before I could mourn
the loss, he unbuckled his belt and I could feel his hard erection brush
against my entrance. A shudder went through me, the anticipation of
pleasure making me gasp.
My hand found his thigh and I dug my fingers into his muscles, then his
fingers went back to my throat.
“Are you ready for me, wife?”
He waited for my answer while I gasped for air, every fiber of me
shaking with anticipation.
“Yes, fuck me now, husband.”
A growl vibrated from his chest, the fabric of his suit brushing against
my back as he thrusted inside. I moaned at all the sensations hitting me, my
juices dripping down my thighs.
“So fucking tight.” His grunts filled my ears as we effortlessly fell into
rhythm. It took no time, a few thrusts, and pleasure built, my moans
echoing in the air. We both stared at the mirror, a reflection of him owning
me and devouring me alive.
My skin was sweaty, flushed, and our bodies molded to each other
perfectly. With his hand around my throat, it appeared I was completely at
his mercy, but he was at mine too.
“Look how you own me, wildflower. We were made for each other.
You’re mine, and mine alone. I belong to you and nobody else.”
The dark possessiveness in his words heightened my pleasure as he was
pounding me to within an inch of my life. He fucked me fast and hard, then
deep and slow. My breasts bounced and ached from the arousal, the savage
pleasure building in my core.
All of a sudden, he tightened his grip on my throat and out of nowhere, I
came. Ecstasy rushed through me and Giovanni bent me over the counter
then gripped my hips, fucking me through my orgasm.
He went deeper, harder, pulled out, only to drive back in again and
again. The way he took and gave made my thighs messy and sticky with
arousal. He fucked me on and on, the intensity of it drawing whimpers and
moans from my throat.
Another orgasm built in my core, spreading all over my body while
Giovanni pounded harder, his strokes hitting so deep inside me that I didn’t
know where I began and he ended. Then warmth filled my insides as he
shuddered against me, his hot breath in my ear.
“Mine,” he growled, and for the first time in my life, I loved the idea of
belonging to someone.
 TWENTY-EIGHT
LIANA

S
weat trickled down my spine as I ran through the forest. The flashlight
that I gripped tightly in my hand outlined a clear path on the black
dirt. The distant hoots of an owl echoed in the otherwise silent night.
My hair stuck to my face and my breathing labored, but all I was
focused on was escaping this. Escaping my husband. Escaping her. It was
the only way I’d be able to escape the hell I’d been living through during
the last couple of months. Since they murdered my baby.
A shiver went through me, and I clutched the flashlight tighter as tears
streamed down my cheeks.
I shouldn’t have trusted anyone. It was all my fault.
Wiping my face with the back of my hand angrily, I forced myself to stop
crying. There was no sense in shedding tears: there was nobody to cry for
or to help me.
I’d seen the evil in that woman, but I ignored my instincts. Blinded by
hope, even with all her malice right in front of me. I’d seen it over and over
again.
I made my choices, and I’d live with them.
It was useless anyhow. My baby was gone, and all I could do now was
run. Over and over again, until it killed me. Or I managed to escape, and
I’d kill them.
My throat burned with the force of my emotions, the tears soaking my
cheeks and slipping into my mouth, making me taste salt.
I was truly on my own in the world now.
 The sound of the crunching of leaves echoed behind me and I whirled
around, my eyes scanning the darkness. The sound wasn’t consistent so it
couldn’t be an animal.
It was almost hesitant. Careful. I was being stalked, and they were
getting closer and closer.
Just then, a shadow passed between the trees, but before I could blink, it
was gone. I stepped back, my sneakers crunching against the dirt.
I inhaled deeply and slowly, focusing on the sounds and their
movements. But then, it was gone. Maybe I’d misheard it? I hadn’t slept.
Scared of the living, even more of the dead. Whenever I closed my eyes, all I
could see was my baby torn from my belly, then shoved into a bag. So much
blood.
I aimed the flashlight in the direction of the trees where I suspected the
shadow was lurking. No movement. No rustle of the leaves. Nothing.
It had to be all in my head.
If it was Santiago or his men, they would have attacked already.
No sooner than I thought that, a pain exploded in my side. Something
crunched against my ribcage.
At first, I stared at the blood stain growing while frozen, not sure what
happened. When I looked up, I recognized the shadow.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Santiago and The Mistress stood there, watching me, while one of my
husband’s men pulled a knife from my ribs. Blood spurted from the wound
and dripped onto the dirt.
To keep myself from stumbling, my fingers dug into The Mistress’s red
dress, my nails ripping into her skin.
She hit my hand and the flashlight slipped from my trembling fingers. I
fell backward, my head hitting the dirt. A metallic taste filled my mouth
before blood gurgled out from it.
I struggled for breath when I felt the weight on top of me.
With the last of my strength, I fought and fought, but pain from the knife
wound was too intense. My eyes rolled back, slowly closing. Her manic
laughter crackled through the air.
The last words I heard were Santiago’s. “Run again and I’ll kill you.”
I jolted awake, and for a moment, I was frozen in place. It took several
heartbeats to become aware of a set of strong arms wrapped around me. I
peeled my face away from a strong chest and met the forest-like gaze that
I’d grown so fond of.
I was trembling all over, my teeth clattering and my nails digging into
his chest as if I was searching for an anchor.
“Shhh, I’ve got you,” Giovanni’s voice soothed. “I’m going to make all
those nightmares vanish, wildflower. You just wait and see.”
The sense of relief hit me and I closed my eyes, sinking into the
soothing feeling of comfort and safety for the first time in a decade.

Tap, tap, tap.

Some might’ve found the measured rhythm of the tapping pen soothing,
but it set me on edge. Maybe seeing a psychiatrist wasn’t the best course of
action for me, especially considering my family’s history of psychos.
“Tell me something about yourself.”
My hands lay unmoving in my lap, appearing relaxed all the while
invisible blood stained them. What a conversation it would be if I told her
the truth about myself. The idea was tempting, albeit stupid.
Instead, I crossed my legs, my cream-colored Chanel skirt immaculate,
and narrowed my eyes on the clock hanging on the wall, watching the long
hand tick slowly.
We’d arrived in Boston mere hours ago. Giovanni’s yacht docked at the
harbor, and the first stop we made was to meet with this therapist. If that
wasn’t an indication of how this marriage—and our relationship—was
going, I didn’t know what was.
The silence must have stretched too long because Dr. Freud spoke up
again. “It can be anything. As simple or as complicated as you want it to
be.”
This was a bad idea. I didn’t like strangers, talking to them even less so.
It wasn’t as if I could tell her who and what I was, what I’d done.
The good doctor’s office had a nice ambiance, the space decorated in
warm colors and a couch that tempted any lost soul to sink into it,
confessing all their sins. Too bad it probably rarely worked—all our sins
recognizing the need to remain secret for all eternity.
 “My favorite singer is Eminem,” I said. She did say anything, after all.
“Of course, it depends on my mood.”
Running a thoughtful hand across her jaw, she asked, “And what are
your moods usually?”
I shrugged. “Happy, sad, angry, glad… You know, standard ones.”
Dr. Freud’s Ph.D. from Harvard hung behind her, the evidence of her
accomplishments—but also of a fairly normal life—undeniable.
“There’s nothing standard about feelings, Liana.”
“You don’t say,” I said, sarcasm lacing my tone.
I met her eyes, studying the woman who looked my age, but polished
and put together. There wasn’t a single piece of hair out of place, and her
natural makeup accentuated her features. Dr. Freud came from old money,
had had a carefree childhood, and likely still got along with her family. So
what I was more interested in understanding was why, one day, she decided
to work exclusively with criminals.
“We can do this two ways,” she stated calmly. “You drop the sarcasm
and tell me how I can help you. Or we end this session, both of us going our
separate ways.”
My head almost reared back in surprise. The woman had balls, and I
was reluctant to admit I admired it. I liked a no-nonsense, straight-to-the-
point attitude.
“That’s not very… doctor-like,” I pointed out. “I thought a doctor’s
purpose was to never give up on a patient.”
She gave her head a shake. “Maybe, but me giving up on you wouldn’t
be a matter of life or death for you, and I’d rather spend my time with
someone who wants to be helped.”
I smiled. “Fair enough.”
Her gaze wavered. “So… what’s it going to be?”
She tapped a pen against the pad in front of her… Tap, tap, tap… in
even stretches as she waited for my decision. I focused my stare on the
shiny degree hanging behind her and released a tired sigh.
“I have nightmares.” There was a barely noticeable delay in her tapping
before she resumed it. “Vivid ones that sometimes make me violent.”
She stopped her tapping.
“Violent?” she repeated slowly.
“I wake up with my hands around someone’s neck.” It was the reason I
never allowed Amara to crawl into my bed at night. No matter what. “Or
ready to fight someone.”
“I see.” I didn’t really think she did. “And how does that make you
feel?”
I let out a sardonic breath. That question must be woven into every
graduate thesis.
“Maybe you should ask how the person sleeping next to me feels about
it,” I retorted dryly.
“You’re married, right?” I was about to shake my head when I paused. It
was instinctive for me to keep parts of my life hidden, but Dr. Freud
probably knew about my marital status, considering Giovanni was the one
who called her.
“Yes.”
“Does that concern you for the safety of your husband?” she asked.
“No.” Yes.
She paused.
“You do understand caring for someone isn’t a weakness?” I gave her a
blank look. She was so wrong, because it was a weakness. Your enemy
could take it and manipulate it—use it to fuel their power over you.
“Actually, one might argue it makes you stronger.”
The woman was so clueless living in her safe and insulated bubble.
“Let’s agree to disagree,” I muttered.
She raised a brow. “Funny, you don’t strike me as a woman who’d just
give up.”
I shot her a glare. “I’m not.”
“Then don’t,” she stated. “Trust me, and most importantly, trust
yourself. You can beat your demons or whatever is plaguing you, but not if
you give up.”
Damn this woman.
“So what do I have to do?” I asked, crossing and uncrossing my legs,
trying to appear unbothered.
“Be honest. If not with me, then with yourself.” Her gaze held mine.
“Do it for the people you love. Do it for yourself because you deserve it.”
She raised a brow, as if she expected me to say something, and when I
didn’t, she added, “Revenge can sometimes bring you more chaos than
peace, Liana. Moving on is sweeter.”
Her words doubled the pace of my heart, making my hands tremble in
my lap. The statement seemed irrelevant, out of place at this moment.
 “What’s your biggest fear, doctor?” I asked.
She didn’t hesitate. “Spiders.”
“Mine is becoming like my mother.”
Her eyes lowered to whatever notes she had in my file. It couldn’t have
been much because Sofia Volkov was somehow still a bit of an enigma to
the outside world.
“Why is that?”
There were so many reasons, but none of them could be said out loud.
Not here. Not ever.
“Because men made her into a monster.” Just like they’d made me into
one. They’d stolen her beloved first-born child. They’d murdered mine. “I
don’t want to become her, yet I can see that I am.” Every bad thing that
happened to her, she returned it to the world tenfold. She didn’t care if she
hurt innocent people in the process. Apparently neither did I.
She waited for me to continue, and when I didn’t, she commented,
“You’re not your mother. You can change the trajectory of your life by
healing yourself.”
Pain cut through my chest and I inhaled deeply to steady my breathing.
I lowered my eyes to my clenched hands. Maybe she was right. Maybe if I
got all the darkness out into the open, I could find a way to move on.
“I thought I was okay, that I was getting better. But then something as
simple as a thunderstorm triggers me, and I feel that familiar tremor return.”
I twisted my fingers in my lap, wondering if she saw how desperate I was to
be normal. For Giovanni. For my twin. For myself. “I’m starting to think
that the past will never truly remain in the past.”
“The memories will hurt,” Dr. Freud stated calmly. “The pain will be
there, but you have to let go of the past, let it be part of you but not who you
are, and then you can start to heal. Then you can win.”
I just wanted a win, healing or not.
 TWENTY-NINE
GIOVANNI

T
he concept of motherhood was foreign to Julia Agosti.
My father—or the man who raised me as his own, rather—
showered my siblings and me with affection, while Mother outright
pitted us against each other. She only had one purpose: to get her hands on
power no matter what the cost.
Hence her indiscretions.
She’d take lovers and then lie and manipulate to get what she wanted.
But that ended the moment I took over.
I wished I could say that I’d never see her or speak to her again.
But as I stood on her doorstep on the outskirts of Boston, I knew it was
just that: wishful thinking. The three-story home with a gray brick facade
sat on a large piece of land with perfectly landscaped gardens surrounding it
and a pool in the back, fooling anyone into thinking Mother was a
sophisticated woman whose sole purpose was ensuring her home looked
pristine.
Those of us who knew better knew she had staff for that.
So it was no surprise that I was greeted by one of them.
“Mrs. Agosti is expecting you,” the butler announced the moment I
walked through the entrance, and I felt the familiar tension envelop me. I
was directed toward the living room where baroque-style furniture
dominated the decor.
She was wearing a silky green dress with a gold belt and matching
heels, sitting on her sofa like it was her own personal throne. She’d looked
the same for as long as I could remember. Her dark hair fell to her
shoulders, making her appear younger than her true age.
My mother’s eyes, so much like mine and my siblings’, narrowed and
her lips curved into a fake smile.
“I see you’ve finally deigned to grace me with your presence,” she
stated, contempt clear in her voice.
“My yacht is having repairs done down at the docks,” I told her with a
fake smile. “So I can’t stay long.”
I wanted to make sure to be back at Dr. Freud’s by the time Lia was
done with her appointment. I stationed guards and my brother to watch over
her, but I knew if my wife wanted to ditch them, she would.
Mother rose, her posture stiff, and walked over to me, her heels clicking
against the hardwood. “I heard you came back with a guest.”
“Keeping tabs on me?” I answered with my question I knew the answer
to. Mother had a harem of men in Boston, sneaking and spying and doing
her bidding. But her power didn’t extend beyond that and it never would.
“Where’s Romeo?” Her eyes darted behind me as if expecting him to
appear out of thin air.
“He’s handling a job for me.” I didn’t owe her any explanation and her
games were getting cumbersome. “You and I have to talk.”
“You sound so serious. Any chance you’ve come around?” A greedy
gleam in her eyes stared back at me while I fought to keep my cool. “The
Agosti and Tijuana empires are your birthright,” she supplied.
I smirked. “Hardly, considering I’m not an Agosti. Or did you forget
that you cheated on your husband?”
“Listen, Giovanni, I have a plan and—”
“No,” I cut her off, not letting her finish another thought that would
probably cost lives. “Whatever plan you have in your head, I’m putting an
end to it now.”
“But you could run both the Omertà and the Cartel, then—”
“Mother, this is just a courtesy visit. There’s no more Omertà for me.
I’m getting out.”
“You insolent boy,” she spat out. She raised her hand, but before it
could connect with my cheek, I caught it and gripped it tightly. “You have
no idea what I’ve done. All for you, ungrateful piece—”
“Oh yes, I’m sure spreading your legs was a terrible hardship. My
deepest apologies, Mother.”
 She stared at me, lost for words, but that didn’t last long.
“It’s because of her.” I raised a brow but didn’t confirm nor deny. “How
dare you throw away everything I’ve done for you?” She all but shouted.
“You deserve better than whatever damaged scraps that girl has to offer.”
A red-hot anger flared to the surface and I took a threatening step
forward, towering over her.
“Enough,” I growled. “You’d be lucky to be a fraction of the woman my
wife is.”
She stared up at me in shock. “A… but… your what?”
“My. Wife.” She visibly paled, but at least she remained silent. “And I
won’t tolerate another word against her. Understood?”
Mother still had some self-preservation left because she nodded.
Although I wasn’t fooled into thinking this would be the last I heard on the
topic. She was too power-starved for that.
I turned around and headed out of there when her words stopped me.
“You’ll see the error of your ways, Giovanni.”
I glanced at her over my shoulder. “No, Mother. You will if you don’t
stop your games.”
 THIRTY
LIANA

T
he next days in Boston were spent adjusting to my new life. I studied
the layout of the city, learning the quickest route to escape should the
need arise. Certain habits were hard to kick.
Although, so far there was nothing to run from.
My days were filled with running a business, updates from José on the
search for The Mistress, and dreaded but necessary visits to Dr. Freud’s
office. My nights were spent writhing under Giovanni’s strong body,
moaning his name. But waking up in the morning to the view of the
Atlantic Ocean was what broke my heart. It reminded me of my promise to
Amara, and it gutted me that I hadn’t been successful in keeping it.
But I couldn’t dwell on all that. Instead, I took an extra minute to come
to terms with meeting Giovanni’s family. For some reason I couldn’t grasp,
he insisted that we pull that Band-Aid off and assured me they’d accept me.
Sad, really, since I’d grown up with the perception that my twin and I
were the equivalent of mafia royalty and anyone would be lucky to have us.

And here I was now, worrying about such trivial things as meeting a
family. I’d never worried much about customs, but he and his brother
seemed so normal. I feared the rest of their family would be too, and they
wouldn’t accept me. All my sins were bound to come haunting and take
away the light that Giovanni had started to make me see.
Needing an extra minute to get my scrambled thoughts together, I
glanced at my reflection in the mirror before exiting the bedroom, following
the chatter of voices and laughter.
Earlier, I’d felt like a fraud in the soft pink dress that’d come with the
boxes and boxes of clothes Giovanni’s men had delivered when we got to
the city. The color and shape of it made me look like an innocent,
vulnerable young woman. So I opted for a little black Chanel dress, feeling
more confident and like myself in it.
My heels clicking against the marble foyer of Giovanni’s home, I made
my way to the dining room, the happy voices getting nearer and nearer with
each step.
I pushed the doors open and all eyes shifted to me at once.
I’d never had a problem with attention, but at this very moment, my
skin prickled at being under the spotlight as I studied the family seated
around the dining room table.
Giovanni was at the head of the table, his three-piece black suit molded
to his muscles like he was born to wear it. His strong fingers that knew how
to bring pleasure formed a steeple at his chin, both elbows on the table, and
the sharp lines of his jaw dominated his face.
He smiled then winked, and some tightness in my chest loosened.
His brothers, Romeo and Cristiano, sat to his right, watching me with
the calculating green gaze that reminded me of my husband. The man I
recognized as Mateo Agosti sat by the smaller table beside a young woman,
presumably his wife, and three children. On the other side of the table,
Giovanni’s sister, Marissa, was seated beside her husband, the Boston Irish
mobster, Declan O’Connor.
My mother’s training, and my habit of keeping up on who’s who and
what’s what, was sure coming in handy now.
While Mateo Agosti’s body language was tense and cautious, Marissa’s
and her husband’s were the complete opposite. Relaxed, but I wasn’t fooled
to think that Declan wasn’t a force to be reckoned with.
Marissa offered a smile, waving at me a bit too enthusiastically, and I
returned it, albeit awkwardly.
A petite woman with long brown hair and brown eyes stood up, then
approached me as she held out her hand. Brianna Agosti. Mateo’s wife.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Liana,” she greeted as I shook her hand. “I
always knew Giovanni would be swept off his feet and there’d be no delay
in wedding preparations. I’m sorry we weren’t there.”
I flashed her a tight smile. “Likewise. It came as a surprise to me too.”
 “Ah, another kidnapping. Those seem to be a go-to for these men.”
Her eyes, full of comical disapproval, flicked to Giovanni, who ignored
her and patted the empty chair next to him. “Come sit with me, wife.”
I blushed as I made my way toward him, the display of affection setting
me off-balance.
“Welcome to the family. We’re big and loud, but it’s mostly bark and no
bite,” Marissa announced, grinning as I took a seat, and it hit me like a ton
of bricks. I had never been part of a big family.
It was supposed to be only Amara and me for the rest of our lives, but
maybe this was my destiny. Dr. Freud was helping me see that this
complication could turn out to be the best outcome for her. I only wished
there was a way to see her and be a part of her life—no matter how small.
Silence fell on the dining table for a second too long, my mask firmly in
place. I’d learned a long time ago that showing my tells was a sure way to
have my weaknesses exploited, and again, Dr. Freud’s words rang in my
ears. Trust.
She might’ve convinced me I needed to let my husband in, but
extending that same courtesy to his family would take some time.
So, sealing my emotions tight, I waited for someone else to break the
silence.
The Agosti siblings were unlike any I’d ever met—cheerful, optimistic,
and downright happy. We would have probably never been friends if we
met as children.
“Introduce your wife, brother.” It was Romeo who finally spoke.
“Although she’s quite famous, we’ll pretend we’ve never heard of her.”
Everyone chuckled, but Giovanni held off on introductions when the
staff chose that moment to appear, carrying in trays of food. They served
the soup and the main course, some kind of filet, and when they left,
Giovanni spoke up.
“Everyone, this is my wife, Liana.” A hand came to my knee
underneath the table, and it was only then I realized it had been bouncing
nervously. I instantly stilled, realizing that had never happened to me
before. “Lia, you’ve met Romeo. Next to him is my other pain-in-the-ass
brother, Cristiano”—the latter flipped him off, ignoring the soup and going
straight for the meat—“my sister Marissa, my cousin Mateo Agosti and his
wife, Brianna. And last but not least, my brother-in-law, Declan.”
 “Don’t forget the children,” Brianna scolded softly. “Dante will never
forgive you if you do.”
“Ah, yes. How silly of me.” Giovanni winked at his little cousins.
“Emma, Dante, and Aspen, say hello to your new… cousin, auntie…
whatever we are.”
The little ones waved, returning their attention to their food and eating
while staring at the iPad. I couldn’t resist a chuckle, the little ones were
always the easiest to deal with.
I cleared my throat, offering some resemblance of a smile. “It’s nice to
meet you all.”
“So it’s true, you married Sofia Volkov’s daughter?” Cristiano cut in.
The corner of Giovanni’s lips tipped up. “It would appear so.”
“I have a question.” Cristiano paused with a forkful of steak halfway to
his mouth. “Is it true your mother was a bit… pazza? A parasite in the
criminal world?”
I narrowed my eyes, images of all the ways I could make him suffer
flashing through my mind. Or maybe I’d make it simple and just set him on
fire.
“My mother was a product of her environment,” I said coldly.
“Cut the shit, Cristiano, or you can leave right now.” Giovanni’s lethal
voice cut through the room like a whip.
Cristiano tried to justify himself. “But—”
Marissa glared at her brother. “Be fucking nice. And so what if her
mother was loca. You’re a pest and you don’t see anybody pointing it out.
You know why? Because we have manners.”
Cristiano’s frightening expression turned on his sister. “Come on,
though. Don’t tell me you’re okay with Giovanni marrying his uncle’s
supposedly dead wife.”
Giovanni opened his mouth, probably to come to my defense, but I
raised my palm, my gaze never straying from his youngest brother.
“I didn’t have much of a say in this marriage, nor the one to Santiago,” I
said calmly, even though something inside me blazed. If he weren’t
Giovanni’s brother, I’d fucking kill him right here and now. He’d be dead
before dinner was served. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Stop it, Cristiano,” his sister warned in a hiss.
He ignored her.
 “Then why marry Giovanni?” Cristiano’s right eye twitched. “To take
back control of the Tijuana Cartel?”
“I have no intention of taking anything. And just so we’re clear, I never
had control of the Tijuana Cartel.” The silence that overtook the dining
room was awkward to say the least. “And what Giovanni and I do is for us
to figure out. Our business, not yours. Are we clear?”
I felt my husband staring at my profile with pride. I could see his lips
curled into a smile as he squeezed my thigh under the table with gentle
support.
I released the breath I’d been holding since my mother was mentioned
and all eyes turned my way. I never thought someone’s support would mean
so much.
“Why play dead?” Mateo, who used to be the head of the Italian Boston
mob, asked, a mild curiosity lacing his voice.
Giovanni pinned him down with a glare, but his cousin’s attention
stayed firmly on me.
“It was safer to stay dead,” I stated calmly. “Due to the nature of the
support I’d given to Perez Cortes, protecting my daughter…” My voice
cracked, but I continued after swallowing hard. “Protecting my adoptive
daughter was all that mattered to me. Besides, it was a pretty good revenge.
I was everywhere, but no one could pin me down.”
I wouldn’t tell them that after two decades of being a prisoner, it felt
intoxicating to be free, and I had no intention of ever being dragged back. I
could finally write my own story.
Joke was on me though, because here I was. Although, it felt different
this time. It felt different with Giovanni.
“I wonder if you rehearsed all these answers,” Cristiano asked as he
resumed eating.
“Cristiano,” Giovanni warned.
“It’s suspicious, brother. Why can’t you see it?” He huffed, and I swore
I heard him say, “You can do so much better than her,” under his breath.
“Silence,” Giovanni growled, and the entire room went still. Well,
everyone except Mateo, who continued eating and teasing his children as
though it were just another Monday.
“I’m assuming you visited your mother, Cristiano.” Mateo’s attention
fell on his cousin.
“That has nothing to—”
 “Answer my question,” he cut him off.
“Yes,” he gritted.
“What. Did. She. Say?” Mateo demanded to know.
“Probably something psychotic,” Romeo said, laughing under his breath
but stopping when Mateo’s and Giovanni’s attention shifted to him.
Mateo refused to be steered off-course. “Your mother and her opinions
do more harm than good. So let’s take them with a grain of salt.”
Cristiano released a mocking sound, but he didn’t say anything else. My
jaw clenched, and I focused my gaze on a dot above him while my heart
drummed. I hadn’t expected Giovanni's family to welcome me with open
arms; that would’ve been foolish. Besides, my name alone aroused doubt in
the criminal organizations.
But something about Cristiano’s hostility and apparent disapproval from
Giovanni’s mother hurt.
I dug my memory for the Agosti family tree but fell short on Cristiano’s
parents, probably because they had no prominent role as criminals.
Giovanni Agosti as the heir to the Agosti Omertà and the Tijuana Cartel
was hard to forget, but his family not so much.
In the hour or so that followed, the men mainly discussed sports and
politics while I focused on my plate and only spoke when either Brianna or
Marissa asked me a question. I waited and waited for the right moment to
excuse myself, and the opportunity came when Giovanni took his cousin
and brothers to discuss business in his office.
Once they disappeared, I was quick to leave and rush upstairs. It wasn’t
until I was in the bedroom that I heaved a deep breath, taking a seat on the
bed.
“Fuck, it’s easier to kill a person than deal with family,” I muttered to
myself, my shoulders slumping.
I was accustomed to being unwanted, but insecurity was a new emotion.
Inhaling a deep breath, I leaned my elbows on my knees, put my face into
my hands, and closed my eyes while I pondered this evening’s events.
It would seem I wasn’t as immune to the need for acceptance as I
thought I was. What if Giovanni ended up siding with Cristiano? He wasn’t
exactly wrong to wish something better for his brother. I wouldn’t have
wanted someone like me for my sibling either.
Huh, who knew? Looks like I did have a heart, and the thought of
Giovanni with someone else was breaking it.
 A knock sounded on the door, and I straightened up.
“Who is it?”
Marissa opened the door, and I spotted Brianna over her shoulder, who
asked, “Can we please hang in here with you? Giovanni’s giving Cristiano
hell.”
My eyebrow rose in surprise at the lame excuse. The men were in the
office, so it wasn’t as if they were in the middle of their argument.
But rather than call them out on it, I heard myself say, “Sure.”
I stood up and led them to our bedroom’s small sitting area where the
three of us sat in the leather armchairs. Silence dominated again while I
waited for them to say something, anything.
Since neither of them did, I bit the bullet.
“I’m sure you know there are many more rooms in this house to escape
Giovanni’s antics.”
Brianna cleared her throat. “We just wanted to see if you were okay.”
“I am.”
“My brother can be overly protective,” Marissa blurted. “But he’s just a
big teddy bear. All bark, no bite.”
“We’re all just curious about you,” Brianna added. “You’re like a legend
in these parts.”
I scoffed. “Hardly, considering everyone thought me dead.”
Marissa grinned. “It shows how badass you are.”
“Give Cristiano time. He’ll come around,” Brianna said. “He just takes
a bit more time to get used to new people.”
I plastered on a smile rather than voice my hurt. “We have all the time
in the world, because I’m not going anywhere.”
And I meant it too.
“Exactly what I wanted to hear.” Marissa relaxed in her seat. “So my
brother really forced you to marry him?”
I nodded.
“These mobsters really need to get more creative,” Brianna muttered.
“If any of them force my baby girl into a marriage one day, there’ll be hell
to pay.”
Marissa exchanged a look with her sister-in-law.
“You were forced too?” I asked.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not sorry,” Brianna stated calmly, crossing
her slim legs. “But it isn’t exactly the right way to go about it.”
 “Well, my man didn’t force jack shit,” Marissa chimed in.
Brianna chuckled. “Probably because he’s scared of your crazy ass.”
A sad smile graced her lips. “Although, if he had, maybe we would
have gotten together sooner.”
“Everything happens for a reason,” I said, which sounded so lame, but
there was no retracting the words.
“You’re right,” Brianna agreed, her expression turning dreamy. “The
main thing is that everything turned out for the best and Mateo sure makes
me… happy.”
“And Declan is an insatiable beast.”
They chuckled and I smiled. Something about their openness drew me
in, made me feel less alone. It was clear they loved their husbands and were
happy, and here they were, sharing that with me?
“Can I ask you something, Liana?” Brianna’s voice was low, hesitant.
“Sure.”
“Was your reason for staying hidden really about revenge?”
Marissa leaned over. “It's freaking brilliant if that was your plan.”
I shrugged. “When we first escaped, my main goal was surviving. But
as I got back into business, I did enjoy taunting Santiago and Perez. Letting
them think I was coming for them, so they were forced to live in fear every
second of the day…”
Just like they made me and Amara live in fear.
Their lips parted at my answer.
“I wish we knew you when we had to get rid of that body,” Marissa
muttered.
My eyebrows rose in surprise, not quite following. Brianna added, her
tone hushed, “It’s a long story, but the gist of it is that my ex tried to kidnap
my daughter. We killed him, then disposed of the body.”
My heart thumped. “Didn’t your husband help you?” I turned to look at
Marissa. “Or yours?”
Brianna waved her hand. “It was a few years before I even met Mateo.”
“And Declan and I weren’t on speaking terms at the time.” Marissa
shrugged. “Anyway, it was his cousin, so it would have been a bit tricky to
ask him to help us get rid of the body.”
A shocked laugh escaped me.
I decided at that very moment that I liked these two. A lot.
 And as we made plans to meet for lunch next week, I realized they
might not be so different from me.
 THIRTY-ONE
GIOVANNI

I
sat in the chair, letting my mind clear and my fury ebb. I thought a
shower would do me good, but even that couldn’t extinguish this anger
boiling inside me. Knowing sleep wouldn’t find me, I pulled on a pair of
pajama pants and stared at the darkness surrounding my property.
I should have known that my mother wouldn’t let the news of my
marriage to Lia rest. It took her no time at all to sink her claws into
Cristiano and attempt her manipulation, as was clear from that disaster of a
“family” dinner.
Curse that fucking woman.
Yes, she brought me into this world, but I didn’t think there was a single
bone in her body that cared for anyone but herself.
Romeo and I weren’t close to her, witnessing her many cruelties to
others over the years, but Cristiano was spared seeing those. Hence he saw
her in a better light than us, and she used him to get what she wanted from
the rest of us.
A whimper pulled my attention to the bed where I found Lia in a fetal
position, eyes shut tight and her brow furrowed as if in pain.
Her mouth opened and closed multiple times, but no words came out—
only whimpers and grunts. Her body shook, but the pain etched on her face
was like a dagger straight to my heart.
I stood and carefully approached the bed. I lowered to my knees,
cupping Lia’s face.
 “No, please,” she whimpered, tears rolling down her cheeks and onto
my thumbs. “No… no… please.”
“Lia, my love. Wake up.”
She tossed her head around, and I knew a nightmare had her in its hold.
“Don’t hurt him, please. Please,” she whimpered.
“Who?” I asked against my better judgment, keeping my voice soft.
“Who’s hurting him, Lia?”
There were still things she held back, buried underneath her layers, and
until everything was out in the open, I feared we’d keep running into
roadblocks.
“Please…”
Her body shook harder, her cries became louder, and she repeated her
pleas over and over again.
“Lia, nobody will hurt you again.” I gripped her face tightly, peppering
kisses all over and tasting salty tears. “You’re with me. Wake up,
wildflower.”
I hoped my touch would pull her from the nightmare and bring her back
to me.
“It hurts,” she whimpered.
“You’re here with me. I will never let anyone hurt you. You’re safe.”
Keeping my voice gentle, I kept talking to her, hoping that would
release her from her nightmare and the demons that seemed intent on
disrupting her peace.
“I’m here,” I murmured. “I’ll always be here.”
As if my words finally reached her, the tortured lines on Lia’s face
smoothed out, but she still trembled, tears rolling down her cheeks.
My mouth brushed against hers as I tried to ease her pain in the way that
seemed to work best.
Her tremors finally eased and she opened her eyes, confusion in them as
they darted around frantically. She blinked, pulling away.
“You’re safe with me, Lia,” I said softly.
Her eyes found mine and, even in the darkness of the room, I could see
devastation in them.
“Did I… attack you?”
“No.”
She slid her sweat-drenched body off the bed and into my arms in a
move so unlike her I almost toppled over, taking her with me. It was like
she was seeking protection, and I was the one she’d chosen.
The moment her cheek touched my bare chest, she fell apart all over
again, sobbing uncontrollably.
“That’s right. Let it all out,” I soothed. “You’re safe now.”
“They killed him.” Her words were barely audible through her sobs.
“They took everything from me.”
I stroked her hair, keeping her close to me. “Who?”
“The Mistress. Santiago. Perez,” she cried.
I wished for the hundredth time I could kill those motherfuckers.
“What has she done to you? This Mistress?” Because when I found that
woman, I intended to bury her six feet under. Alive.
“She took my baby.” My hand paused for the briefest of moments
before I resumed stroking her hair. “She killed… my baby. She threw his
tiny body into a tr-trash bag and laughed.” Her words were broken by
hiccups, her heartbreak in every syllable. “I think it was a boy, but I’m not
even sure. I never even got to hold him.”
I clenched my jaw, rage boiling my blood. No human being should
endure what this woman had to in order to survive. “Does this woman have
a name?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve been searching.”
I took her chin between my fingers and lifted her head, peering into her
golden eyes.
“We’ll search together.” I pressed a kiss to her temple. Then I scooped
her up and tucked her into bed, sliding in behind her.
“We’ll find her, Lia, and then we’ll make her pay for everything.
Together.”
With my hand over her heart and her delicate palm over mine, she
repeated in a soft whisper, “Together.”
The Mistress—whoever she was—would regret the day she ever laid
her eyes on my Lia, because nobody made my wife cry and lived to tell the
tale.
 THIRTY-TWO
GIOVANNI

Meet me at the Long Wharf. You and your wife owe me.

K
ian was in Boston. I wasn’t surprised, but I’d hoped he wouldn’t
come back into the picture for another few weeks.
Lia and I debated meeting with Kian all morning. She was against
it but wouldn’t explain why, so my decision prevailed, considering Kian
wasn’t wrong. I did owe him, and so did my wife.
As my driver drove down the long, winding road that led to a once
major commercial entry and departure point for Boston, Romeo watched
me while Liana watched the sights pass her window, her calculative gaze
lingering on the countless security guards stationed at each corner of the
property.
“I didn’t know Kian owned Long Wharf,” Romeo muttered. “He
shouldn’t be in our territory.”
I just shrugged, even though I wondered the same. Why in the fuck did
Kian Cortes own anything in Boston?
“This was such a bad idea,” Lia muttered, her eyes still locked out the
window. “We should have at least brought backup.”
Romeo snickered. “I am backup. Give me some credit.”
She looked at him, rolled her eyes, then returned her gaze to the
window. It was great to see my brother and sister making an effort with her.
If only Cristiano would get on board. For the past few weeks that we’d been
in Boston, he’d kept his distance, my mother probably whispering poison
into his ear.
 It appeared it was time to deal with her again, once and for all. Mateo
hated her guts and kept away from her like she had the plague, but I was
starting to think that was a mistake. That woman needed to be on a leash, to
be reminded of her place.
“This guy lives like a fucking king with the security of a crime lord,”
Romeo stated, facing me.
“He is a crime lord,” Lia pointed out. “In case it escaped you, he runs
several illegitimate operations, the Cortes Cartel being the latest addition.”
“I thought he ran a security operations company.”
“He does,” I confirmed. “Although I suspect it’s mostly a front.”
“Maybe your wife is right then,” Romeo grumbled. “We shouldn’t be
here.”
“Making an enemy out of Kian wouldn’t be wise,” Lia answered
begrudgingly, repeating my words from our argument this morning. I
suspected it wouldn’t be our last. Lia was stubborn and accustomed to
running things her way.
The corners of my mouth lifted. She was quick to end it though. “Don’t
be smug now, Giovanni. It’s not a good look on you.”
I smirked. “I’m just happy my wife agrees with me, that’s all.”
I checked my phone and scrolled through my messages. Disappointment
washed over me, seeing that the one I was waiting for was nowhere to be
found.
I had reached out to Nico Morrelli, a Baltimore mobster who
specialized in gathering intel, hoping to retrieve the identity of the woman
who’d murdered Lia’s baby.
Romeo scrolled through his own device then lifted his head, readjusting
his glasses with his index and middle finger.
“I have to say, Romeo,” Lia noted, studying him, “I didn’t know you
wore glasses. Makes you look very… distinguished.”
“Don’t mistake me for being any less lethal, Lia,” my brother grumbled.
He hated wearing glasses, but sometimes when his cornea flared up, he
didn’t have a choice.
She smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Romeo pinned me with a look. “It’s rumored that Kian has a hidden
agenda.”
“Don’t we all,” I scoffed. “But we owed him this meeting, and I don’t
want to worry about him on top of everything else.”
 “Like what?” Romeo demanded. “Things are finally running smoothly.
Our position in the Omertà and the Tijuana Cartel is solid. We don’t need to
fear him.”
I had yet to tell my family I was getting out of the Omertà. Mateo
wouldn’t be happy, but he had options. I didn’t. If Lia’s involvement in the
Marabella Agreements ever came to light, the Omertà would demand her
death. I couldn’t allow that.
It was the only option, because my wife would always come first.
“We’re doing this, Romeo,” I said as the car came to a halt. I stepped
out, buttoned my jacket, and extended a hand to Lia.
A security guard motioned for us to head toward the northern entrance.
From the information and surveillance I gathered, this place had four wings,
forming a massive rectangular shape.
We entered the hall where a statue with eyes that seemed to look in all
directions welcomed us.
“That’s not creepy at all,” Romeo muttered, his posture tense and his
palm on his handgun.
We followed the man up the sweeping marble stairs until we reached an
office. He stopped, straightening up, before knocking on the door.
“Come in.”
I recognized Kian’s deep voice.
The man opened the door and nodded at me to go in. Lia flicked me a
glance before swallowing and stepping inside, Romeo and me close behind.
We found Kian lounging casually in his office, reading from a
newspaper. He was wearing a designer shirt and trousers. No jacket or tie—
which he seemed to avoid at all costs. His silver hair was styled and his
features were sharp.
Kian neatly folded the newspaper, sliding it onto the table, an unusual
ring on his index finger that I hadn’t noticed before, and his dark eyes
locked on my wife.
Taking his time, he stood up.
“Welcome.” He extended his hand, and I shook it firmly.
He motioned to the sofa, and I unbuttoned my jacket then sat down,
acutely aware of Liana’s tense posture as she took a seat next to me, Romeo
opting to stand behind us. He was always worried about an ambush.
“Thanks for meeting me.” Kian’s deep voice shattered the tense silence.
 “It’s not as if we had much of a choice,” Lia muttered, her gaze
discreetly taking in her surroundings, likely memorizing possible exit
points.
“There’s always a choice, Liana,” he retorted. “Would you like anything
to drink?”
“I’ll take bourbon.”
“Excellent choice.”
“Liana?”
“Nothing for me, thanks.”
He shot a questioning glance at Romeo who shook his head, then Kian
strode across the office to his minibar and poured us both a drink.
When he returned, I took a sip of my drink before speaking again.
“Shall we get straight to business?”
“Mm.” Cradling the drink in his hand, he leaned his elbows on his
knees. His expression didn’t change, but I could sense his calculating mind.
“I thought maybe I could give Liana a chance to explain herself first.”
My wife remained stoic, and I couldn’t help but feel proud of her.
“I’m shocked by your generosity, Kian,” she said, sarcasm lacing her
voice.
He shrugged. “Considering you kept Amara safe all these years, I’d say
I owe you.”
“But” hung unspoken in the air while the two locked eyes. I hated not
knowing what it was that Kian held over Liana, but I trusted her. God help
me, I did.
“But I think you owe me too,” Kian stated. “If I hadn’t disclosed your
location to Giovanni, you would be dead.”
“I can hold my own,” she spat, pulling her shoulders back.
“Maybe against Killian, but not against Danil Popov and the remaining
DiLustro gang. Not against Bogdan Dragović.”
Bogdan Dragović was the Serbian don who was devoid of emotion and
ruled his criminal empire with an iron fist. He was notoriously reclusive and
owned several soccer and football teams. Kian wasn’t wrong. Getting on
the wrong side of him could prove to be a deadly mistake.
“I can handle the DiLustro gang. Even Danil.”
The unspoken meaning was left hanging in the air. Lia knew she was no
match for Dragović.
 “Atticus is the one who led them all to you.” Kian’s lips curled into a
cruel smirk. “You made a big mistake when you betrayed me to him.”
Well, fuck!
“I didn’t have a choice. Amara was dying,” Lia gritted, clutching her
hands in her lap. “I would think you, of all people, would understand.”
“And why is that?” Lia’s lips thinned as her eyes flashed dangerously,
but she remained silent. “I promised Francesca that I’d watch over her
daughter, not that I’d jeopardize my whole”—he made air quotes—“‘life’s
work’ for her.”
“Are you fucking with me, Kian?”
Kian raised a brow, appearing impressed. “No, but it seems you fucked
with my life when you made a deal with Atticus.”
“Listen, Kian,” I chimed in, sick and tired of this coded conversation.
“Why don’t you tell us what you want so we can come to terms and move
on?”
He glanced at me before returning his attention to Liana. “I warned you
it’s—”
“For Christ’s sake,” she spat out. “She’s your grandchild, and you’re
holding it against me that I did everything in my power to save her? Fuck
you, Kian.”
“Giovanni,” Romeo warned as I started out of my seat.
Kian, on the other hand, seemed at a loss for words. It took him a
second to get himself together.
“You’re making assumptions, Liana,” he retorted wryly. “I thought you
were smarter than that.”
She let out a sardonic breath.
“Men,” she scoffed. “You’re so blind sometimes. The facts are right in
front of your face, but by all means, ignore them.”
Kian was rattled, that much was obvious. Not that I could blame him,
remembering exactly how rattled I was when I learned who my biological
father was.
I took a drink, relaxing into my seat. Kian seemed to owe my wife more
than she owed him. This was certainly not the conversation I expected, but
a good position to be in.
“What evidence do you have for this… theory?” Kian demanded, his
eyes narrowed on Lia.
 “Emory’s paternity test, Amara’s too. All that was left to do was do
some basic math,” she scoffed, then sobered. “I thought you knew,
considering you saved us.”
“Francesca assured me Emory wasn’t mine,” Kian said in a semi-
exasperated, semi-resigned tone. “Swore it on her life, in fact.”
“Obviously she lied,” I stated matter-of-factly. “Now, does that change
the purpose behind this meeting?”
Kian brought his drink to his mouth, taking his time to savor it while
contemplating his next words.
“Do you know what Atticus wanted the information for?” he asked
Liana.
She shrugged.
“I was more concerned with saving Amara’s life than working out his
motives.” Her eyes lowered to her lap. “I didn’t even ask.”
“Did you tell anyone else?” he continued to question her.
“No.”
“Not even your husband?”
Okay, this was starting to piss me off.
“I’m assuming Atticus found you?” I asked.
Kian smiled at that, the sadism that shone in his eyes hard to miss.
“Don’t tell me you killed him?” Lia muttered.
“I didn’t.” Kian spoke with complete nonchalance, but I suspected he
knew exactly what he was doing. “Atticus and I have something in
common.” Kian shook his head, then smiled at me. “And when the time is
right, you both will help me.”
I narrowed my eyes. “With what?”
“Yes, with what?” Lia snapped. “I don’t like the idea of you putting my
husband in danger.”
She cares. The words played in my head on repeat, and the corners of
my lips twitched.
Kian stood, and we all followed suit. “I’ll be in touch.”
Lia and I shared a glance. “I hope that time never comes,” I grumbled.
 THIRTY-THREE
LIANA

The Cortes Compound, Brazil

Three Years Ago

A
creaking sound woke me up and I gasped, sweat slicking my skin.
Blinking hard and feeling disoriented, I looked around but saw
nothing—nothing but darkness and the same damp cellar.
Dim light from outside my prison showed shadows moving along the
wall. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention, and I knew
someone was there, watching us.
The whispers and ghosts became my company, taunting me. Dared me
to fight, to survive this horror. Hours, days, weeks, months… They were so
long and they all blurred together. The only thing that kept me going was
Amara’s pulse. I checked it every morning and every night. It was my
reason to keep on fighting.
Shivers and the clattering of Amara’s teeth pierced through the
nightmare, and I focused on that noise. I focused on shielding her ears from
the screams tearing through the hallway, splitting my skull and heart in two.
But I kept her little ears shielded, humming a song and praying it was
the only thing she’d ever remember of this hellhole if we got out.
Another creaking sound and the door opened with a loud, metal clang.
The nightmare itself—in flesh and blood—appeared at the cell door. He
didn’t come alone, his reinforcements right behind him.
 Perez came forward, his footsteps loud against the bare concrete, his
evil grin and calculating eyes on the girl in my arms, and a scream tore
from my throat. He reached out and yanked my daughter away, throwing
her on the filthy twin bed. I clawed and fought, desperate to get to her.
“Stop fighting,” he purred, and my eyes locked on the little body
sprawled on the mattress.
“If you get c-close to her, I’ll k-kill you.” My voice shook as violently
as my body.
“You are a spitfire.”
He watched me with such a disgusting thrill in his eyes, projecting all
kinds of images into my mind of the ways he could defile me. Or even
worse, Amara.
“Fuck you,” I spat.
By now, I should know better than to engage with him. The man liked
the challenge too much, and I walked right into his trap.
“What did you say?” Perez drawled, his voice dripping with venom.
“Fuck you,” I repeated, nausea tilting my stomach. I was hungry, and I
knew Amara was too. “Get any closer and I’ll end your miserable life.”
Out of nowhere, he produced a switchblade and was on Amara in a
heartbeat. He opened and closed it, then pressed the sharp tip of it to her
neck.
Amara cried and whimpered, her innocent eyes darting back and forth.
She was too young to understand what was happening but old enough to
know she was in danger.
“Get away from her,” I screamed, dropping to my knees and crawling to
her despite the chains that limited my movements. It earned me a slap
across my face. One of his men kicked me and a yelp tore from my mouth.
My back pressed flat against the stone wall, watching and waiting until I
could strike him with a deadly blow.
One word, over and over again, rang in my ears. Kill, kill, kill.
As if Perez could read my thoughts, he gave a nod to one of his men
who closed the distance to my daughter’s bed and reached down, his big
palm clutching her little throat and lifting her in the air. She choked and
cried, but she was only a kid. She was no match for him.
“Please,” I cried, reaching for my daughter as Perez restrained me,
almost ripping my right arm out of its socket as he jerked me back. “Please,
please… leave her alone.”
 He laughed, his dark eyes gleaming with malice. “Your weakness.” He
tutted. “Foolish to let me see it.”
Perez liked to toy with his victims. He enjoyed their suffering, which
was why I’d stopped fighting when he tortured me long ago. But not her.
She was only two years old—and she was sick. Her liver was slowly
failing, and each day without medicine was making her weaker.
If I ever got out of this hell, I vowed I’d never beg anyone for anything.
I’d become the mirror image of my mother, the great Sofia Volkov, and
send terror through any man who dared to touch me or cross me.
“She still has some organs that work,” Perez taunted. “Let’s see what we
can do with those.”
Terror shot through me and I yanked on my bindings, screaming.
“Touch her and I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill you.”
I was slammed against the rough wall. The air whooshed out of my
lungs and unshed tears burned in my eyes as I prayed for someone—anyone
—to save us.
My reason told me nobody would.
Not my sister. Not my mother. Nobody.
When I let these evil men believe I was Louisa, taking her place in the
sick arrangement my mother’s lover had made with Santiago, I held out
hope that my sister would come for me.
Instead, I was left to suffer alone.
Until they broke me. Until Amara came along.
“We can use her organs,” Perez spat, his eyes locked on Amara’s frail
body. “She’s not good for anything else.”
Letting the adrenaline into my system, I let out a battle cry and threw
myself at Perez with fisted hands, ignoring my aching joints that yanked
against chains. I was powerless, chained like an animal, but it didn’t stop
me from trying to kill him.
“You evil son of a bitch,” I screamed, slamming my fists into his face
over and over again. His guards’ attention now focused on me, Amara was
left alone.
Blood pooled from my nose. Tears blurred my vision.
But I refused to stop.
I wouldn’t stop until I took my final breath, which might be sooner
rather than later at this point.
 “Hold this wildcat still,” Perez said acidly, a sinister grin on his face.
“Apparently she hasn’t learned her lesson yet.”
One of the guards pulled me back, slamming me against the stone wall
of the cell, when he suddenly fell to the ground. Dead.
“What—”
Another body fell. And another. Perez was the last one to drop,
unconscious.
My knees buckled and hit the filthy floor, shudders tearing through my
body like a hurricane. I blinked over and over again, my blurry vision
refusing to clear up.
“Amara,” I rasped, but there was no answer.
“She’s out cold.” I stiffened at hearing an unfamiliar voice. Was it
another guard? What did he want from us? As if he could read my thoughts,
he added, “I won’t hurt you. I’m getting you out.”
His words trailed off as he brushed my hair off my forehead.
I reeled from his touch, blinking profusely as he slowly came into focus.
An older man with eyes that were almost… kind. Too kind? I’d learned to
be skeptical, and he was no exception, no matter what he claimed.
“Don’t touch me,” I rasped. “If you’re going to help us, do so. But don’t
ever fucking touch me.”
He blew out a breath.
“At least your spirit is still intact,” he said, releasing me from my
chains. “Can you walk?”
I grunted, shifting and then straightening up in answer. Every inch of
me hurt, but I ignored the pain. I would crawl if it meant getting us out of
here.
On unsteady feet, I made my way to Amara, her complexion deathly
pale. My heart trembled in fear as I reached out to touch her pulse. I held
my breath for one, two, three seconds… There it was. Faint, but steady.
I bent over to lift her into my arms when the stranger stopped me
midway.
“We’ll be faster if I carry her and you follow behind.” Mistrust shot
through me as I hesitated. He must have seen it on my face because he
sighed. “There will be more guards coming, Liana. We don’t have time to
move at a snail’s pace.”
Shock vibrated through me. “I’m Louisa,” I spat.
 “We both know you’re not.” He leveled me with a look. “Although
honestly, it doesn’t matter which Volkov twin you are.”
My head spun, dizziness overwhelming me from the fatigue of the
struggle and days of no food. But I wasn’t ready to put Amara’s safety into
another man’s hands. Not without knowing something about him.
“Who are you?”
“Kian Cortes,” he answered swiftly, which made me pause. Is he telling
the truth? It all felt too good to be true.
“Why are you saving me?”
“Because it’s The Syndicator’s will.”
I frowned. I had never heard that term. “You mean the kingpins? The
Syndicate?”
He chuckled. “No, that’s not what I mean.”
“Tell me something nobody knows about you,” I finally said, tasting
blood in my mouth. “Or I’ll kill you.”
A heartbeat passed as he watched me somberly.
With a cold determination on his face, he said, “If you share this with
anyone and betray me, I will punish you.” I swallowed, nodding my
agreement. “Two decades ago, Emory DiLustro’s mother and I were going
to disappear together.” Something I couldn’t quite distinguish flashed across
his expression. “Anyhow, I promised her that I’d watch over her daughter. I
failed eight years ago; I won’t today. I’m getting you and this kid out of
here.”
“That’s not much of a secret.” I frowned. “Besides, Gio DiLustro, her
husband, would have come after you.”
“DiLustro would have failed, because nobody can come after The
Syndicator.” He underestimated Gio’s obsessive, albeit crazy personality.
state. That man hated losing anything, especially women. “Now you know
my secret, Liana Volkov. Betray me and—”
He didn’t have to finish his sentence.
“I won’t,” I vowed. “But my daughter—”
His tone was soft when he spoke next. “She’s not yours, Liana.”
“She’s my daughter,” I hissed, not bothering to correct him about my
name again. “Mine.”
He tilted his head, the pitying look in his eyes telling me he knew
everything. She wasn’t mine, at least not for long. Not without a new liver.
He knew it. I refused to acknowledge it.
 “With Gio alive, it’s safer that Amara is with you,” he finally said, then
added, “For now.”
No, not for now. Forever.
But I kept those words to myself and instead, ignoring the pain in my
body, I straightened my back and pinned him with a stare. “How can I be
sure this isn’t just another one of Perez’s twisted games that you’re
playing?”
“I guess you can’t be.”
I closed my eyes, Amara’s vulnerable state heavy on my mind. I didn’t
have a choice but to trust this man, if for nothing else but her survival.
With that thought, I focused on the objective: getting Amara somewhere
safe.
“We need to go,” I finally said, and for the next two hours, Amara and I
sat in the back of an old army Jeep, our teeth rattling with every bump on
the dirt road. Two hours of silence, Amara fast asleep while I kept a
watchful eye on Kian Cortes.
“Where are you taking us?”
“I have a remote safehouse in Venezuela.”
I stiffened. “Y-you… are you taking us back to Santiago?”
No way was I going back to that monster. He’d be no better than Perez
and just as detrimental to Amara’s life.
“I’m not,” he answered, parking the Jeep, then coming around to open
the door. I didn’t dare to look around, fearful that my supposed good luck
was about to come to an end. All my attention was on the man who got my
daughter and me out of the hellhole in which we were destined to die.
“Why did you stop?”
“We’re going to check in to the hotel on the other side of this vineyard.”
“Why?”
“So you and the kid can get cleaned up while we wait for new
documents for both of you. You’re going to start a new life in Venezuela,
hiding in plain sight.”
I studied our surroundings. “Where are we?”
“Still a day or two away from our destination.”
“What about the car?”
“We’re going to take a different car from here.”
“Why?”
 “So we look less conspicuous,” he said in a semi-exasperated, semi-
resigned tone. “Driving into Venezuela in this Jeep will draw unwanted
attention.”
“Why?”
He shook his head, then smiled at me. “Is that your favorite word?”
“I wouldn’t say so, no,” I admitted. “But I don’t trust you.”
He took Amara, who still hadn’t woken up, from my arms, and started
walking northeast, glancing over his shoulder. “Then you better keep up, or
I’ll be too far from you with the only bargaining chip you have.”
I scooted out of my seat and walked speedily toward him, ignoring the
throbbing ache in every inch of my body.
“Amara isn’t a bargaining chip,” I said after a few minutes. “And those
who dared hurt her will regret ever living.”
He stopped, then turned to pin me with a disapproving look.
“Vengeance is poison, girl. Only fools drink from that cup.”
“What other options do I have?” I sneered. “Seeking justice? That’s a
fairytale that I can’t afford. But vengeance… vengeance burns and devours.
Vengeance satisfies.”
If only I knew then how much truth there was to Kian’s words.
 THIRTY-FOUR
LIANA

Present

T
ick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
It was a countdown to a bomb about to go off. At least, that was
the way it felt as I stared at the pendant hanging off my therapist’s
neck that I’d somehow missed during my last visit.
The symbol was identical to the tattoo on Giovanni’s left hand. An
emblem settled in the mouth of a skull.
“That’s an interesting pendant,” I muttered, unable to peel my eyes from
it.
Dr. Anna Violet Freud met my gaze. “It belonged to my little sister.”
“Belonged?” She nodded. “Past tense?”
“Correct.” She reached for the pendant, her fingers twisting it, while my
mind catalogued through all the men I’d seen that symbol on. My husband.
Kian Cortes. And others. “It’s the only clue I have about her death.”
The ticking of the clock filled the thick silence as Dr. Freud watched me
with a masked expression, but it was her eyes that betrayed her. Pain. An
appetite for revenge. And the most devastating one: hope. Against all odds,
she hoped that her sister was alive.
“I was told once that vengeance was a fool’s errand. I’m paraphrasing—
it was a long time ago—but you get the gist.”
“And you agree?” she challenged.
I shrugged. “Revenge is sweet.”
 “But?”
“Weren’t you the one who told me moving on is sweeter than revenge?”
“Moving on with answers, yes, and I’m still looking for those,” she
clarified, her voice cracking on the last word. “However, today is about
you. What does revenge mean for you?”
“Moving on,” I parroted without hesitation. “I can’t move on without
—” killing her. The Mistress who’d taken so much from me. But I couldn’t
utter those words. They were not for the world to hear. “I can’t move on
until I get my vengeance.”
Darkness morphed into a house of mirrors, nightmares reflecting and
facing me with my demons and sins.
“Why not just seek justice?”
I snickered. “I think we both know justice is a fairytale. But
vengeance… it burns and devours. Vengeance satisfies.” I pinned her with a
look. “You’ll understand when the time comes to avenge your sister.”
She stilled, fear gathering around her like a thundercloud. “You know
something?”
I debated telling her. I couldn’t bear to see the hope in her eyes that
she’d find her sister by some miracle—not while images flashed through
my mind. The video of a young woman screaming while being tortured.
She fought them tooth and nail, yanking that exact chain off her neck before
dunking her into a tub filled with clear solution. Then, as if she never
existed, her flesh dissolved.
The woman that died in my stead when Santiago decided to give me to
Perez. It was to convince the world—and my mother—that I was dead.
“If you do, you have to tell me,” Dr. Freud demanded.
Was it mercy to extinguish that hope? I really didn’t know.
“I know she’s dead,” I finally said quietly, feeling her pain as if it were
my own. Hope and despair were at war in her eyes. “I didn’t know who she
was, but she was held in one of the Marabella Agreements. Like me.”
The words were spoken and out in the open. It was cowardly not to tell
her that I was the one responsible for it all, and so fucking ironic that I and
my protégé ended up being victims of it too.
“The man who—”
“He’s dead,” I whispered, my voice catching.
Her hand flew to her necklace, twisting the pendant with trembling
fingers.
 “And this? What does this symbol mean?”
For a breath, I considered telling her about The Syndicator and Kian
Cortes, but the truth was, I didn’t understand what that organization was
about. I’d seen that symbol on Kian, but I’d betrayed him enough. He’d
forgiven one offense, he wouldn’t another, regardless of the fact that I saved
Amara’s life.
“I’m sorry,” I said, releasing a heavy sigh. “I don’t know anything
more.”
She tilted her head, something dark and vengeful flashing in her eyes.
Then before my next heartbeat, I watched as a mask slid into place, and I
couldn’t help but notice similarities in my coping with trauma to hers.
“Thank you for that.” Her voice was professional and so was her
expression. This was what made Dr. Freud a sought-after therapist. The
woman could switch on her professional mode remarkably well. A little too
well. “Now let’s focus on you.”
“Okay.”
But my sins and responsibilities weighed heavy on my chest, refusing to
ease. Her gaze slid to my left hand.
“How come you don’t wear a wedding ring?”
I shrugged. “I don’t like the feel of metal on me.”
“Was it because you were tortured?” I inhaled sharply, sucking in a big
gulp of air. Her gaze met mine as she added, “It’s a classic human
response.”
“Chains, among other things,” I said coldly, and I watched disgust roll
through her. Sometimes I wished I’d lose my memory and forget it all. A
clean slate. A new beginning. A normal one. But I wasn’t granted such a
reprieve. Instead, I remembered too well how my body had been degraded,
how many times I’d screamed and fought, only to be overpowered and
beaten into submission.
As if she could read my thoughts, Dr. Freud nodded.
“And have you gotten your vengeance, Liana?”
If she didn’t yet feel the very same hunger for revenge that burned
inside me, she would. It would push her until she found her answers, just as
it had been pushing me. It had twisted inside me until it stained my soul
into something ugly and cruel. But these past few weeks, I’d been doing my
best to heal, to discover what I wanted in this life of mine after finally
trusting that the other shoe wasn’t about to drop.
 And it was all thanks to my husband.
But I still wanted my vengeance. I wanted to find the woman who’d
taken everything from me and turned me into this monster. Her death would
be the only thing with the ability to end my nightmares and allow me to
move on with Giovanni.
“Not yet, but I will.”
“Just remember that the cost can be too great.” Her expression remained
unchanged. “Sometimes it’s best to leave the past behind us and focus on
our future.”
Then why did it feel like she was reciting those words like it was her
duty, not her belief?

The sun was just setting as Giovanni and I walked along the Boston streets,
busy with people rushing to their destinations, cars honking, and street
vendors shouting for our attention. We took an Old Town Trolley before
strolling down Acorn Street, reminiscing about colonial Boston, before we
left the old part of the city and headed away from the busy area.
Still processing everything from our meeting with Kian yesterday and
my meeting with Dr. Freud this morning, I’d begun to ponder whether
maybe she might have a point. Was it finally time to leave the past behind
and focus on the future, on rebuilding relationships with my twin?
I hadn’t felt this good in such a long time, and it made me giddy with
optimism.
With his black suit, green eyes, and sharp features, Giovanni belonged
on the cover of GQ, not strolling down the street and certainly not in the
mafia. I was wearing a simple blue dress that came down to above my
knees. My hair fell down my back, and I wore a nude pink lipstick.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“I told you, we’re going on a date.” Giovanni’s eyes were vigilant,
although his posture appeared casual. His hand was on my back, the touch
so normal yet so foreign to me. “Now, let’s enjoy this stroll, wife, and stop
questioning everything.”
My lips twitched, the warmth in my chest making me feel lighter than
ever before. I liked Giovanni like this, handsy and affectionate. I could get
used to this feeling, one that grew stronger every day I spent around him.
Taking a turn to the right, we entered an industrial area and made our
way through more isolated streets. My gaze attentive, I scouted the area,
wondering where he was taking me. I’d never been on a date, but I knew
enough that normal people didn’t go to the industrial area for romance.
But then again, we weren’t exactly a normal couple.
We made our way down a dark alley, stopping in front of an unmarked
metal door. Bang. Bang. Bang.
It didn’t take long for the heavy door to creak open.
Giovanni’s warm palm at the small of my back guided me into the club.
A luxurious black granite bar lined the expansive back wall, and sleek bar
stools surrounded a dance floor that was elevated and reminded me of a
stage.
“A bar?” I croaked in disbelief. “Our first date is in a bar?”
He chuckled, his hand leaving my back. “It’s actually a dance club on
some days. Today being one of them.”
“And other days?” I tilted my head, still following him deeper into the
building.
“Other days, it’s a voyeur’s club.”
My head whipped around, almost causing me whiplash. “What?”
He found my surprise amusing. “Don’t worry, I’m not into all that. I just
thought it’d be the easiest and safest club to visit since my brother-in-law
owns it.”
My brows scrunched. “Do Declan and your sister partake in that stuff?”
“I don’t want to know, but considering he bought it for Marissa…” He
gave his head a subtle shake. He lifted our joined hands, brushed his lips
across my knuckles. “I’d rather focus on us. After all, this is our first date.”
My eyes fell to our joined hands, my heart thumping. First date. Slowly
but surely, Giovanni was knocking every single item off my list.
“I like that,” I murmured, my insides a raging flood of emotions thanks
to him. But unlike in my past, I didn’t mind them. I welcomed them, and
there was something to be said about that.
He led me through the sea of people to a private corner, where he let out
a string of curses.
“What’s the matter?” I whispered under my breath.
“I’d really hoped my siblings wouldn’t be here.”
We paused at the booth.
 “What’s going on?” Giovanni asked, eyes scanning his family.
“We’re not here for you,” Marissa exclaimed as she and Romeo jumped
to their feet, greeting us loudly with a peck on the cheek. “We came to see
our girl.” She gave me an extra little squeeze, smiling broadly.
I looked over her shoulder and saw Cristiano had remained seated, but
his jaw was pressed tightly, his green eyes piercing.
He still doesn’t trust me.
Not that I could really blame him. It wasn’t as if I had been an
upstanding citizen or a criminal with morals. Marissa shoved her shoulder
against Cristiano’s, shooting him a warning glare, but that didn’t seem to
faze him at all.
“I didn’t imagine you as the clubbing type,” Marissa remarked, tilting
her head at an angle. I shrugged, not bothering to enlighten her on the fact
I’d never been to any club before tonight. “It won’t bother you that women
will be gawking at Giovanni?” She rolled her eyes. “Women are always
fawning all over him. It’s actually annoying. And gross.” She scrunched up
her nose.
“I don’t need to worry about other women. I’d imagine they’re smart
enough to know they can look but not touch.”
“Ditto,” Giovanni chimed in, grinning. “No man better dare to touch
what’s mine.”
“And what if—” Marissa tried to ask.
“No ifs,” I interrupted her. “Giovanni is a smart man. He knows I’m not
interested in sharing.”
The irony of my changed stance in our relationship didn’t escape me.
But I guessed it was all part of personal growth. Or whatever.
“I need to talk to you,” Cristiano said to Giovanni, his tone exasperated
—likely to do with Marissa’s ridiculous conversation. “Is your wife capable
of staying alone for a minute?”
Giovanni didn’t miss a beat. “She is, but she won’t be. We’re on a date,
and you all are crashing it.”
“I have something important to talk to you about,” he gritted. In a black
designer suit, and sleeves that were now cuffed at the elbows, he looked
more like the billionaire businessman I remember learning about when I
was growing up. But the dark, stormy look still clung to his eyes, hinting at
the fact that he was much more than that.
 “This is a bad time,” Marissa chimed in, pulling her brother away. “Let
them enjoy their date.” She shot me an apologetic look. “I promise we
didn’t know it was a date. We just thought—”
I lifted my hand, waving her off. “It’s okay.”
Giovanni pinned them with a stare. “No, it’s not okay.”
“Cristiano has something important to say to you.” Marissa folded her
arms. “But like I said, we didn’t know it’s a date.”
Declan joined us, pushing up the sleeves of his black shirt and pulling
Marissa closer to him.
“We shouldn’t wait,” Cristiano muttered, giving pointed looks to his
siblings. “Shit always happens when we wait.”
“What are you talking about?” questioned Giovanni.
Romeo shot him a pointed look and Cristiano sighed. “Nothing.”
I blinked, studying them for any signs of what was going on. Romeo
stepped forward, handing me a Corona Light. Once I took it, he folded his
arms, sharing a passing glance with his siblings, and suspicion flickered in
my chest.
“How did you know I like beer?”
“A wild guess,” was all he gave me, and that wasn’t good enough.
“There’s only a handful of people who know I drink beer, never mind
the specific brand.” And most of them are dead.
“A sinner told me, and I can promise you that person will be dealt
with.”
Swallowing down a gulp, the bitter taste heavy on my tongue, I set the
bottle aside on the table.
“What does that mean?” Giovanni demanded, wrapping an arm around
my waist and pulling me even closer to his side.
Romeo replied, “It means, big bro, that we have to clean house.” His
casual tone sent a chill up my spine. “But not tonight. You two enjoy your
date, and we’ll discuss this tomorrow.”
“Good, you know where the door is,” was all Giovanni said, his brows
slanting.
The group gave me a funny look I couldn’t read before Romeo said,
“Until then, stay away from Mother.”
Giovanni gave a barely perceptible nod. Then his face turned blank,
completely unreadable.
 “Would you like to dance with your brother-in-law?” Romeo asked,
smiling at me.
Giovanni’s piercing eyes pinned him down. “No, she wouldn’t.”
I shoved my shoulder against Giovanni’s.
“Maybe I would.” Not. Giovanni was the only one I wanted to dance
with. The only one I felt comfortable around to risk making a fool out of
myself, but I didn’t appreciate him speaking for me.
“All your dances belong to me, Lia.”
I’d started to sense Giovanni was possessive, and also jealous. Not that I
minded it one bit. Of course he had nothing to be jealous about, but I didn’t
hesitate to use it in my favor.
“Are you sure?” I asked playfully.
He narrowed his eyes, but there was a glint in them. “Don’t provoke
me.”
“Then don’t leave me hanging.”
His breath was hot in my ear when he bent his head, saying, “Can I have
the honor of every dance for the remainder of our lives, wife?”
Hope surged anew, and I hugged him. I didn’t know what possessed me.
It wasn’t my usual behavior, yet how could I not. I was happy for the first
time in a very long time, maybe even ever.
“Every single dance,” I murmured, smiling into his chest.
“Now let’s dance until my siblings take the hint and leave.”
“That could take a while,” I teased, but we were already swaying to the
next song. I stood on his feet and he pressed a warm hand to my lower
back, caging me in and making it so the busy nightclub faded away.
“I could shoot them,” he deadpanned.
I smacked his forearm playfully. “Don’t you joke about that.”
The next two songs, I relaxed and enjoyed letting loose, not minding
one bit that he took the lead. This being my first date, I had no idea if we
were doing it right, but it sure felt that way. Eventually, we retreated back to
our roped-off booth in the corner, where Giovanni and I talked about his
childhood, all the shenanigans his sister and her friends got into, and his
role in the Omertà.
“And Mateo still wants you at the helm despite not being…” I trailed
off, not wanting to hurt him.
“We agreed I’ll head up operations until his son is old enough.” I lifted
my head to meet his eyes, but there was no hurt in them. We were sitting
side by side on the smooth velvet bench, and his closeness sent shivers
down my spine. “But I’m looking into putting Romeo or Cristiano in
charge. The businesses in Venezuela take too much of my attention.”
I paused, considering. “It doesn’t have anything to do with the
Marabella Agreements and the fact that you married the woman responsible
for it?”
“It would be this way whether I married you or not.” The entirety of his
attention was on me, and I made out the affection in his expression. “Maybe
in a year or two, but it was inevitable. Besides, nothing is as important to
me as your safety.” His voice gained an edge, his eyes boring into me.
“Absolutely nothing, Lia.”
My mouth hung open. God, this man. I never in a million years would
have thought that a human being could make me feel so protected.
“How can you ever forgive what I’ve done?” I rasped, my voice
catching.
The dim light above us flickered, and he leaned even closer. “What’s
done is done. It’s in the past. We have to look to the future now.”
It had been so long since I had someone by my side, holding me up
when I was too tired to stand or fight. And I’d found that in Giovanni. It
was comforting, albeit scary, to rely on someone, but I knew in order to
make this—us—work, I’d need to let go of my doubts and fears.
“Thank you,” I murmured, unable to find better words to express my
appreciation.
He pulled me up and led me back to the dance floor, bending to whisper
in my ear, “That’s what husband and wife do. We have each other’s backs.”
“I haven’t had your back with anything yet,” I reminded him. “I’ve
never sacrificed a thing, come to think of it.”
“Not true. You did for Amara.”
I trapped the corner of my lower lip between my teeth then released it.
“She’s a child, that doesn’t count.”
He paused, seemingly taken aback by my statement, and then his
expression turned grim. “Yes, she does count. And let’s not forget what you
did to make Santiago think you were Louisa. You stepped in for your twin,
wife, and I’d wager you had a good idea of what that would get you.” I felt
my eyes well with tears. “So tell me again how you’ve never sacrificed a
thing.” He ran his hands up and down my arms, pulling a shiver out of me.
“From where I’m standing, you’ve sacrificed fucking everything.”
 “It doesn’t matter because—”
Giovanni’s hand wrapped around my nape and he claimed my lips. My
body molded into his hard ridges as he kissed me with complete dominance.
He ravished my mouth with an intensity that stole my breath from my
lungs.
When he pulled away, my unsteady legs failed me and he grabbed me
by the waist to keep me upright. His eyes clashed with mine, the storm in
them reminding me of a windy night in a dark, green forest.
“Every time you try to tell me what you did doesn’t matter, I’m going to
kiss you until you’re gasping for air.”
It was with those words, in that loving tone of voice, that I realized I
was fucked.
Because sometime between the swimming lessons and this dance, I had
fallen in love with this man.
 THIRTY-FIVE
LIANA

H
ours later, we were back home. Home.
Growing up in Siberia, Mother’s compound was a reluctant safe
place from her enemies. Santiago’s home was a minefield, and
Perez’s prison was hell. The compound I’d built for Amara and me was a
safe haven, but even then, it hadn’t felt like home. The concept had eluded
me forever.
Until now.
Once we entered the bedroom, Giovanni closed the space between us
and cradled my face gently.
“You were quiet on the way home.” His deep voice had goosebumps
flying over every inch of my skin. His hand slid to the side of my neck
before he fisted my hair and tugged. He brought his mouth over my ear. “I
want to know why. I want to know everything that’s going through your
brilliant mind.”
I tried to act like I hadn’t just come to a startling revelation, that the
stark reality that I was in love with this man wasn’t sending my heart
racing.
“You can’t demand to know what I’m thinking,” I challenged, unable to
stop myself.
He brought his face back to mine, letting go of my hair. “But I am
demanding it, Lia. I want to ease your worries, help you achieve your plans,
and most of all, I want to ensure you’re not—”
He cut himself off.
 “I’m not what?” Unable to stop myself, I arched my pelvis forward and
encouraged him to finish that statement. I closed my eyes as he banded his
arm around my back and I rotated my hips against his hard length.
“Are you not thinking about running?” My eyes shot open in surprise to
find his mouth hovering close to mine. “I’ll give you anything, but I need to
know you won’t run. My moral compass doesn’t stretch that far,” he gritted.
His words should have had me bolting out the door, but strangely they
didn’t. It felt right, and I knew the aching need between my legs could only
be relieved in one way: him. There was no turning back now.
I took a step back, he took one forward. One step. Two steps. Three. My
ass landed on our bed and without thinking too much into it, I parted my
knees, the dress hiking up my bare legs.
His hands flew to my thighs, his eyes burning with the need that flamed
inside me. I needed this man. The one who knew every horrible thing I’d
done and still wanted me. The villainess.
“I choose you. Us. This.” I reached up to trail a finger across his brow.
“I’m not going anywhere, Giovanni.”
He cupped my cheek, then reached around to my back, leaning into me
as he deftly unzipped my dress. He lowered on his haunches as he pulled
the material over my hips and down my legs.
Bringing his face back into my line of sight, he unhooked the clasp of
my bra next and discarded it on the floor.
Then he threaded a hand through my loose strands while dropping his
mouth over my ear. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll be sore for
days.”
“What’s taking you so long,” I said, unable to stop the provocation,
getting off on whatever the hell was going on between us right now.
His hand went straight to my throat, but he didn’t grip hard. Just a light
hold of possession as he kissed the shell of my ear. There wasn’t an ounce
of fear in me. Quite the opposite: I loved every second of it.
He moved the hand at my throat down, dragging his knuckles across my
collarbone.
“I should have taken you eight years ago,” he muttered, almost as if he
was speaking to himself.
“You should have,” I whispered, my voice catching. “But it would seem
saving me wasn’t in anyone’s cards.”
 I could see a surprise flicker in his eyes and the truth lay between us.
The admission that I wanted to be saved eight years ago. That I hoped for it
for so long.
He squeezed his eyes shut. “How can you forgive me for not taking you
away?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Like you said, it’s in the past now.
There’s no changing it. No sense in reliving it.” He cocked his head and slid
his hand up my neck before making a pass of his thumb along the line of
my lips. “I want you.” Every part of me woke up, even the parts I’d thought
were dead. “Right here and now. That’s all I know.”
Snatching my face between his palms, he kissed me. His tongue
commanded mine, devouring. When he broke the kiss, I fisted his shirt,
begging him to come back.
I grabbed hold of him, hooking my ankles around his back and
anchoring them, clutching him as if my life depended on it.
“I want you,” I whispered, our frenzied breaths intertwining as he
peered at me.
“You have me. Every single piece of me is yours,” he remarked in an
almost lazy tone before he dropped his mouth over mine again. Owning it,
my body, and every emotion.
His hand went to my thigh and he squeezed before his palm found my
center. I was so wet that my arousal had soaked through my panties.
“My wife is needy,” he said against my lips, and I nodded frantically.
He backed away, his eyes never leaving mine as he worked the buttons
of his shirt free then discarded it on the floor. “I need your panties gone.
Want to see you naked and spread out on our bed.”
He palmed his belt buckle and snapped it off in one move, a crackle like
electricity zipping through the air as the leather was pulled through the
hoops.
I hooked my thumbs under the waistband of my panties, shoving them
down. The belt unraveled from his hand and fell to the ground with a loud
clunk, and he grabbed hold of my ankles and spread them wide open.
For a moment, he remained still while staring at me, naked and on
display. Then he resumed stripping his clothes. Once he was gloriously
naked, he took his thick cock in his tattooed hand and tugged—once, twice
—before he let go of himself.
 His knees came to rest on the mattress, spreading open my legs even
farther.
“I’ve been dreaming about tasting you,” he said in a husky tone as he
dipped his head between my thighs. He ran his fingers up toward the apex
of my thighs, sending need pulsing to my center. He slid a finger along my
seam, closing his eyes for a moment.
He settled there, drawing my pussy straight to his mouth, and I couldn’t
stifle the cry that left my lips. He kissed my soaking entrance softly. A full-
mouthed kiss. His tongue slid up my seam, and the moans coming from
him, as if he was enjoying this as much as I was, nearly sent me over the
edge.
He guided my legs over his shoulders to better bury his face between
my thighs and I brought my hands to his thick hair, fisting it. He pushed
two fingers inside my tight walls while devouring me and I began grinding
against him, his facial hair tickling my sensitive skin, spurring me on even
more as I chased the end even though I didn’t want it to come yet.
“That’s right,” he purred against my clit. “Fuck my face.”
His dark words vibrated against my skin. I kept hold of his hair as I did
as he instructed and before long, white-hot pleasure shot me and I spiraled.
I cried out his name, over and over again. Before I had a chance to get my
bearings, he hovered over me, my tits smashing against his sculpted chest
and my hands above my head.
“You ready for me, wife?” He skated his palm over my scarred stomach
then slid a finger between my legs, and I shuddered.
“Yes.”
He grabbed hold of my hips, his cock at my entrance. “You sure?”
“Yes, please don’t make me wait,” I pleaded.
He hooked my ankles around his hips before setting a hand alongside
my body. This close, I could feel his heart hammering wildly as his crown
rested against my throbbing entrance. Then he slammed into me in one fast
movement.
I gasped and he stilled.
Emotions rattled against my ribcage, demanding to be let out, and for
the first time ever, it felt like a good thing. Like I had been numb and
locked in the dark for so long that this felt like being pulled into the light.
“Okay?” he mumbled, barely hanging on to his control.
 “Don’t hold back,” I breathed. He began moving, thrusting slowly, the
rock-solid muscle over me making my body ache, the bundle of nerves
between my legs on fire with need. I could feel every inch of him, driving
into me with torturous slowness.
“Harder,” I begged, canting my hips against his.
He began thrusting faster and harder. He pulled out all the way before
grinding back in, setting all my nerve endings on fire. His hand reached
between our bodies, playing with my clit, sending sparks skittering down
my spine.
Flesh against flesh, my moans and his grunts bounced off the bedroom
walls.
With a savage drive of his hips, he pinned me to the bed and fucked me.
Hard. Without restraint.
He fucked me exactly the way I needed him to, his cock hitting my
sweet spot. I could feel another orgasm building, thrust after thrust, as if I
didn’t come hard enough to cry just minutes ago.
“Oh… oh… th-there…”
“This body is mine,” he growled, his hips grinding against mine. He
slapped my ass then rubbed it, never easing his movements. “Now come for
me.”
And I did.
A second orgasm slammed into me as I screamed his name. With my
back arched and my head thrown against the pillows, I cried out, wracked
with pleasure for the second time tonight. I shuddered, my insides clenching
around his length, moaning and clawing at his back as he kept thrusting.
The sensation didn’t let up until I felt like I was about to faint.
A few more thrusts and Giovanni’s grunts filled the air as he pulled out
of me and came all over my stomach.
This must be what it meant to be thoroughly fucked.
Just when I thought Giovanni was going to release me, his hand came
around my throat. He said, “We’ve just gotten started, my love,” into my
ear, and I let myself fall once more.
 THIRTY-SIX
LIANA

I
rolled to the side, stretching my arm out only to find the sheets cold. I
sprung up to a sitting position, my eyes darting around, but the room
was empty.
The sun streamed through the blinds, sunrays flickering across the floor.
I lifted Giovanni’s pillow and brought it to my nose, inhaling deeply. The
woodsy, masculine scent seeped into my lungs and with a groan, I fell back
onto the sheets. I rubbed a closed fist over my chest.
Why did I feel abandoned?
I shook my head, shelving the disappointment. He’d probably gone out
to get some work done. Sighing, I reached for my phone and found ten
missed calls from José.
Alarm shot through me as I dialed him up.
He answered on the first ring. “Jesus, I thought something happened to
you.”
“I’m sorry, I was busy.” Having my brains fucked. Literally.
“I found The Mistress.”
My fingers came up to cover my mouth, the sheet falling to my waist.
“Where? Who is she? How?”
He chuckled. “You remind me of my kid with so many questions.”
I wanted to bark at him to cut the bullshit but reminded myself patience
was a virtue.
“You have a smart kid.” He sighed, and something about it shot an alert
through me. Something was wrong, he was stalling. “Tell me, José.”
 “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I gritted.
My heart managed three beats before my soul shattered into irreparable
pieces.
“Julia Agosti.”
No. I kept shaking my head, although he couldn’t see me. No, no, no.
There was no way I heard that right. It had to be a mistake. Or maybe
the last name was just a coincidence? It had to be a fairly common last
name. But then his next words made it crystal clear: “Giovanni Agosti’s
mother. Your husband’s mother, Liana.”
I froze, an agonized noise leaving my lips, while every single muscle in
my body locked in place. But it was the whirlwind in my chest and my skull
that made me feel so much. Too much. It made it hard to breathe.
But years of masking my emotions kicked in.
“Good job, José,” I said, my voice strangely calm. “I have to go.”
Before he could say anything else, I hung up, then got to my feet. My
throat tightened and betrayal burned the backs of my eyes. I left the room,
heading toward the marble staircase that led downstairs.
I entered the dining room, my eyes scanning every inch of it, but found
nothing amiss. The grand table we’d eaten family dinner at earlier in the
week returned to its pristine condition, a vase of fresh flowers sat on the
sleek coffee table. Shaken, I moved on to the living room, the sheet I still
had wrapped around me skirting the floor, but that one didn’t tell me
anything either.
The next room was Giovanni’s office and compared to the rest of the
house, you could tell he spent most of his days here. I rushed to his desk,
going through his drawers. Blank notepad. Neatly stacked pens. An extra
charger.
I glanced around the room, noting nothing but bookshelves full of books
about business and economy, a painting, and picture frames—
Sweat trickled down my back as I crossed the room, my legs barely
carrying me. I picked up the gilded frame nearest his desk, staring at the
photo, and was struck by the people in it.
I stared at it, images flashing through my mind. Dark forest. Baby in a
trash bag. My screams.
My fingers gripping the metal started to shake and my mouth filled with
saliva.
 It was a photo of the Agosti family, taken a few years prior maybe.
Giovanni and his siblings, Mateo and his family, and her. The Mistress.
My mind screamed kill, kill, kill. Kill them all.
“What are you doing here?”
I startled, a yelp tumbling from my lips as I dropped the frame onto the
ground, the sound of glass shattering mirroring the crack in my heart.
Cristiano stared at me, indecision warring in his green eyes, a hand
tucked into the pocket of his trousers. And there was that familiar distrust. I
quickly pulled myself together, clutching the sheet between my fingers.
“I live here,” I said, my tone mercifully even. “Or did you forget I’m
married to your brother?”
“With all due respect, he had to have told you his office is off-limits.”
The disregard in his tone threw me off, warning me to keep my guard up.
“Unless you’re in here spying on him.”
He stared me down, as if trying to pluck every single thought out of my
brain, but he was no match for me. I had had a lifetime to perfect hiding
them. I sneered, studying him, taking note of the fact he had a knife
holstered at his waist. And by the way the back of his jacket bulged, there
was probably a gun tucked in there too.
“The only thing I know is off-limits is you seeing me indecent,” I told
him as I made my way out of the room, Cristiano at my heels like a
bloodhound. “And when you say respect, you don’t actually have it. Not for
me. So shut the fuck up.”
“Where’s Giovanni?” His voice was close behind me—too close—as I
made my way out of the room and into the foyer.
“Out.”
“Where?” he gritted.
I whirled on my heel, glaring at him. “Do I look like his keeper? I said
he’s out, so he’s out. Now see yourself out too.”
He grabbed me by the arm, yanking me forward, and I crashed into his
chest. The sheet fluttered to the ground, exposing my bare skin.
“Don’t push me, Liana.”
I reacted, letting my instincts guide me. I grabbed his knife from the
holster and tackled him to the floor, slamming it into his shoulder, and a
hiss erupted through the air. He tried to maneuver himself over me, but my
hand gripped the knife, twisting it.
 “You’ve seen me naked,” I said, my pulse even and steady. José had
trained me well. I should give him a raise when I see him next. “Now I’m
going to have to kill you.”
He didn’t seem worried, nor even slightly affected by my naked state.
“You’re crazy.”
My lips curled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He shook his head. “I really don’t know what he sees in you.”
Pulling the knife out of his shoulder, I slammed the butt of it against his
temple and his body went limp on the hard floor.
“Fucking men,” I muttered, pushing off of him. I stood to my full
height, naked, blood staining my hands. I should slice his throat and end
him. Maybe I should eliminate the entire fucking family, wipe out the
Agosti family line.
Only, as I stood there like a goddess of vengeance, wrapped in thorns of
blood, I realized I couldn’t. Why? For the simple fact that I had fallen in
love with my husband.
 THIRTY-SEVEN
GIOVANNI

I
reached home around midday.
After my meetings with Mateo and the Omertà, I bolted, leaving him
to deal with upcoming drugs and arms shipment’s logistics. Usually I’d
remain with him, but my attention was constantly robbed by my wife, who
I’d left sleeping in our bed this morning.
I stepped into the house, eager to go looking for her, when my steps
faltered. There, bleeding all over my white marble floor, was my
unconscious brother. I shouted for the guards, keeping my sights on him as I
slipped my jacket off and bunched it up, pressing it against his wound.
Where in the fuck were my men?
“Giovanni?” My brother’s hesitant voice reached me and I lowered my
eyes to his face. His skin was paler than his usually tanned complexion.
“What’s going on, Cristiano?” I kneeled next to him. “Did something
happen to Lia?”
“I came looking for you and…”
“And what?”
“I caught her in your office. I thought she was snooping around.” He
paused, then continued in a distressed voice. “I swear, I barely touched her,
her sheet fell off, and she…”
“You touched her?” I growled, my gun suddenly in my grip and pressed
against his temple. “I swear to God, Cristiano, I’ll—”
“I just tugged her arm so she would stop walking, and then she stabbed
me.”
 A relieved sigh tore from my mouth. Lia wasn’t in danger.
“She doesn’t like to be touched,” I explained.
My brother’s brows scrunched. “Are you telling me your marriage is
platonic?”
I helped him up before answering. “I can touch her, nobody else can.”
He muttered a few curses under his breath. “Listen, Giovanni, I have to
tell you something very—”
“You called, boss?” a voice cut in.
“Later,” I told Cristiano.
One of the guards appeared out of nowhere and I gave him a terse nod.
“Take my brother to our surgeon on-call and have him stitched up.”
Without awaiting his response, I headed down the hall. I loosened my
tie as I ascended the stairs, then turned the knob of our bedroom door.
The scene that greeted me was total fucking chaos. Every single piece
of furniture was upturned, the mattress shredded like a wildcat went at it.
The mahogany side tables in their current state were only fit to become
firewood. If that. The lamp was in pieces all over the room like it had been
smashed in a fit of rage.
Clothes, both mine and Lia’s, were thrown on the ground, shredded
beyond repair.
“Lia?” I called out.
When there was no answer, I stepped inside. I’d made it barely a few
steps when something shattered against my skull. Lia darted behind me, but
I spun and grabbed her by the wrist, careful not to hurt her.
“You fucking asshole,” she screamed, thrashing against me, her blonde
locks flying in all directions. She was back to wearing black Chanel, the
clean lines of her slacks and blouse in such contrast to this room and the
wild look in her eyes.
I grabbed both her wrists and moved her against the wall, overpowering
her.
“What the fuck, Lia?” I gritted. Her golden eyes were full of angst, and
the redness surrounding her pupils told me she’d been crying. “Cristiano
didn’t mean to touch you. He didn’t know—”
She spat at my face, breathing harshly. “I’m leaving.”
“No, you’re not. We’re going to talk about this.”
This couldn’t be her reaction to Cristiano touching her, surely. There
had to be more to it, and if my brother lied to me and did more than just
touch her arm—
I had to blink the red mist out of my vision.
“If you don’t let me go, you’ll regret it.”
“Is that so?”
“Don’t underestimate me, Giovanni. I’ve been training far longer than
you. I can destroy you. Kill you.”
“Then do it,” I challenged, her breathing still chopped and uneven but
her eyes blazing with sheer determination. I didn’t doubt for one moment
she meant those words. “If I must die, it might as well be by the hand of the
woman I love.”
Her eyes misted. “Wh-what?”
Our gazes locked. “I love you, Liana. You’re my home. My heart. My
soul. I love your vulnerability. I love your independence. Every single
stubborn piece of you. I’ve done plenty of dumb and unforgivable shit in
my life, but having you as my wife isn’t one of them. Maybe I should have
done it differently, but I don’t regret it, because you’re mine and I’m yours.
Now take a breath and tell me what’s really the matter.”
“No, no, no.” A choked sob slipped between her lips. “I can’t stay
here.”
“Why not?”
“I just can’t.” Her voice broke, the sound cleaving my heart in two.
“What about us?”
“There is no us.” My voice cracked, right along with my heart. “Just
you. Just me.” Me without you. Fuck, that hurt more than anything else.
“Please… please, let me go, Giovanni. Please!”
“Never.”
The words no man obsessed and in love with a woman ever wanted to
hear came out of her mouth. “I don’t love you. I never will.”
Fuck, that felt worse than a bullet through my chest.
My fingers sunk into her hip and I gripped her harder than I intended.
“You can hate me all you like, but I’m not letting you go.”
“I’ll kill you. Kill your family.”
A slow smirk tilted my lips. “Fucking do it.”
“Our story ends here, husband.”
She snatched a hand free, then out of thin air produced a gun and
clocked it against my skull.
Everything turned black from there.
 THIRTY-EIGHT
LIANA

T
he next time I open up to a man, it will be during my autopsy.
It was the solemn vow I made to myself as the airplane engine
hummed at my feet. This hurt so fucking bad that it felt like a fatal
internal wound. But no, it was just my feeble heart bleeding.
There’d be no more of that. I wasn’t cut out for this shit.
My fingers shook as I reached for the bottle of water in front of me and
brought it to my lips.
I took a gulp of it then looked out the window, my reflection staring
back at me. It was dark outside, the red-eye being the first flight I could get
to New York City where Killian and Emory lived. It was the very same
home that Atticus Popov snatched Emory from not too long ago.
The reasonable part of me knew I’d made the wrong move, but before I
disappeared for good, I had to see Amara. One last time.
Even if it killed me.
The trip from Boston was short; no sooner had the plane taken off than
it seemed to already be landing.
A few years ago, I had thoroughly researched everything there was to
know about Killian Brennan Cullen and Emory DiLustro. I had even listed
them in my will in the event that something happened to me. Even back
then, when I was beyond broken, it mattered to me that Amara could find
her way to them. Her well-being had always been my primary concern.
The night was pitch-black, the silver moon’s glow slicing through the
darkness as I rolled my rental car to a stop at the front gate of Killian’s
manor, a shadowy fortress nestled thirty minutes beyond the city’s reach. I
let the window down, and the guard nodded at me in acknowledgement.
“I’m here to see Amara Vol—” My voice failed me at realizing she
likely wasn’t known as Amara Volkov but as Amara Cullen. I cleared my
throat, aware of the guard watching me intently. “I’m here to see Amara,” I
finally gritted, unable to push Cullen past my lips.
He narrowed his eyes on me. “And you are?”
I lifted my chin, my fingers curling around the cold metal of my gun.
“Can you please tell her Mother Liana is here?”
A hesitant nod and he pulled out his phone, dialing the house. He kept
his voice too low for me to pick up on what he was saying. Probably
warning Emory and Killian about me so they could shoot me dead the
minute I was within range.
He ended his call. “Go ahead, miss.”
The gate began opening and without hesitation, I put my car into drive
and rolled through it. As the gate clanged shut behind me, the thought
struck—this drive might very well be a one-way trip to my own demise.
I drove slower than necessary, trying to come to terms with what I was
about to do. Not that I knew what I was doing. My only thought when I
started on this path was to see Amara.
By the time I pulled up to the front door, everyone was there.
Every single DiLustro, including Emory. Killian Cullen. Their wives.
I must have picked a damn family bingo night to find them all here.
Their attention singularly on me, their hands visibly on their weapons, I
put the car into park. I turned off the ignition, sliding my gun into the
pocket of my jacket. When I rounded the car, I was distinctly aware of
everyone’s focus on me.
The DiLustro men dressed in black suits reminded me of Giovanni, and
a sharp pain pierced through my chest. I ignored it, shoving him out of my
mind, but unfortunately I couldn’t push him out of my heart.
Every single pair of eyes watched me with a calculative, or maybe
murderous, streak, probably planning my funeral. Not that I could blame
them.
The women wore differing expressions. Curiosity. Caution. Anger.
Guess who wore the latter on her pretty face? That’s right. Emory DiLustro.
She and the other wives were dressed in jeans and the most ridiculous T-
shirts printed with obscene sayings: Come and get me, daddy; Will blow
for ice; I licked it, it’s mine.
What kind of bingo did these women play?
“Mother Liana!”
I went still at the familiar voice, and a second later, a small body pushed
between dark suits and raunchy T-shirts, running straight for me. Dark curls
that were longer than I remembered. Blue eyes that could melt frozen hearts
and heal broken souls.
It was only when she threw herself through the air that I finally fell to
my knees, enveloping her in my arms.
“You’re here,” she murmured against my chest, and I swallowed the
lump in my throat. “Are you really here?”
“I missed you, my little Mara,” I croaked, squeezing her hard to my
chest and peppering kisses on the crown of her head. I dragged in a deep
breath, fighting back tears. “My treasure.”
I leaned back just enough to take a good look at her. Amara’s cheeks
were fuller, rosier, with a vibrant glow to her skin—so different from the
pallid, fragile face I remembered.
The lump in my throat suffocated, happiness and sadness battling inside
me.
“You are so beautiful,” I said, my voice cracking and tears spilling
down my cheeks. “So healthy. And… I’m so happy.”
Her small fingers reached up and she brushed the wetness away.
“You’re sad.”
The lump in my throat grew. Each beat of my heart was a reminder of
what I’d lost. First Amara. Now Giovanni. Maybe it was my destiny to lose
everyone. Maybe I deserved it, my sins demanding repayment.
“No, I’m happy,” I rasped. “So happy that I get to see you.” Even if it’s
for the last time.
A shadow fell over us, and I wasn’t surprised to find Killian and Emory
hovering, cautious expressions on their faces.
“You have some nerve coming here after the stunt you pulled in
Venezuela,” Killian said, throwing me a glare.
So I had Emory kidnapped. It was for Amara’s good. Why was
everybody hell-bent on punishing me for it?
“Well, if it makes you feel better,” I remarked as I straightened to my
full height, lifting Amara so I could keep her in my arms a bit longer, “I was
kidnapped too. So I already got my karma.”
“That’s not the same,” he growled.
“Killian,” Emory warned in a tone that clearly stated she didn’t want
any trouble. “We agreed.”
“It’s okay,” I assured Emory. From the slight narrowing of Killian’s
eyes, I could tell he wasn’t exactly thrilled with whatever they’d agreed on,
which made me curious. Not that they’d tell me if I asked. “I knew what I
could be walking into, so go ahead and dish it all out.”
Killian flashed me a savage grin. “I’m all for it.”
“No, you’re not,” Emory cut in, then met my gaze. “Although you did
manage to make quite a mess, Liana.”
I looked at Amara, her rosy cheeks and shining blue eyes locked on me,
and I just couldn’t find it in my heart to regret it. Maybe I lost her for good.
Maybe I would meet my death today, but she—the little girl who breathed
life into me when I needed it the most—would live.
I returned my focus to Emory and smiled with regret. “Sadly, I would
probably do it all again, because little Mara is healthy.”
“You could have reached out, you know,” Emory scolded.
I shrugged. “Trust isn’t a luxury I can afford.”
“You cost me my lawyer… my friend. Thanks to your shenanigans,
Bogdan Dragović has her in his clutches.”
I let out a sardonic breath. “I guess the Serbian don just couldn’t resist a
little vengeance, could he?”
“That’s not funny,” Killian gritted.
“I wasn’t laughing,” I pointed out sharply. “But if you’re unable to
make headway with retrieving her back from Bogdan, I can have my man
look into it. There are several off-grid locations that Bogdan owns all over
the globe. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he took her to one of those.”
Emory’s eyes flashed with hope while her expression remained
reserved. “If something happened to her—”
“Yeah, yeah… you’ll kill me. Get in line,” I muttered, lowering my eyes
to Amara. Gosh, it was as if she grew a foot since I last saw her. How many
things would I miss in her life? Everything? Key milestones?
“Let’s go inside, Mother Liana.” Amara was the one to interrupt the
tense moment. “I want you to meet all my uncles and aunts. There are lots
of them. Is that okay, Mamma?”
Mamma.
 Only a few months ago, that word wasn’t part of her vocabulary, and
now it rolled so naturally off her lips. It would seem blood and biology
certainly prevailed, but I couldn’t find it in my heart to be sad about it. I
loved Amara and I wanted her to be happy, cherished, and adored. To have
the life she was meant to from the moment she took her first breath.
I was aware of Killian’s and Emory’s attention, but I forced myself to
avert my gaze and focus on the DiLustro gang.
“I’m assuming you know everyone,” Emory remarked.
“I know of them,” I said.
Basilio DiLustro and his wife—Olympic ice skater, Wynter.
Coincidentally, Wynter was my mother’s grandchild. No, great-grandchild.
It was hard to track Sofia Volkov’s family tree.
Dante DiLustro, Basilio’s cousin, stood beside them with his own wife,
Juliette, who was Killian’s sister. It was rumored among the criminals that
she killed my father, Edward Murphy. He used to be the head of the
Murphy Irish mafia. He was also the man who abandoned my twin and me
to Sofia and Ivan Petrov.
Good riddance, I thought.
There was no room in this world for men who abandoned their children.
On the other side of Basilio was Priest, but he was of no interest to me.
Instead, all my attention was on his wife. Ivy DiLustro, maiden name
Murphy. Fuck! I really didn’t want to meet her. My twin used to rave about
her back in the day, but her awe was quickly replaced by resentment, even
hate. Our father left us at the mercy of the wolves, the few times he even
bothered to visit us, but he had no problem taking care of his other
children.
A petite woman with red hair and blue eyes held on to Priest’s hand.
“Fuck, you look just like your sister,” Ivy said. She closed the distance,
dragging Priest along. “I’m so happy to finally meet you, Liana.” Then, to
my horror, she hugged me. I squeezed Amara, using her as my shield, while
staring wide-eyed at her family. Then she stepped back and threw her in-
laws a glare. “You’re not going to shoot her, so get your hands off your
guns.”
“Okay, this is awkward,” Juliette blurted. Yeah, you’re not wrong.
“Let’s go inside,” Wynter encouraged, offering me a smile and a
tentative wave. “I’m sure we have some catching up to do.”
God help me with all these family reunions.
 THIRTY-NINE
GIOVANNI

S
he left me.
Sitting on the rooftop terrace in my brother-in-law’s penthouse, I
listened to the party in full swing behind me. Music was playing,
champagne was flowing, and it seemed people had traveled far and wide to
don their swankiest getups.
Everything was the same as it was this morning when I first woke up,
only now I was alone. And I was well under way to getting drunk as I
nursed my fifth glass of whiskey. I half debated whether I should just
switch to a bottle and save myself the effort of pouring. To make matters
worse—or better, depending on how you looked at it—I hacked the party’s
playlist and now it was all Eminem and Sarah McLachlan blaring through
the speakers. No better way to give people whiplash.
“Are you still wallowing?” my sister’s voice came from behind me.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.
“Are you having fun listening to these dumb-ass songs? Because none
of the other guests are. Can’t we switch to something normal?”
“They’re not dumb-ass songs.” Didn’t she fucking know they were
Liana’s favorites?
I took another slug of whiskey, then resumed staring out at Boston’s city
lights. This was home as much as my yacht was, despite how I spent the
majority of my time in Italy, thanks to Mateo and his need to spend more
time at home with his wife and growing family.
 “Are you really going to mope around?” Marissa’s high-pitched voice
was giving me a headache. “Do you really need me to say it?”
“Say what?”
“Go after her. Bring her back!”
“She made it clear, she doesn’t—” Fuck, I couldn’t even say the words.
I was such a total loser, unable to think about the words she’d thrown in my
face. I don’t love you. I never will.
“Bullshit.”
“I can’t hold her back. Lia endured enough and was kept a prisoner for
too long already.” Marissa let out an exaggerated breath, blowing
raspberries like she used to when she was a little girl. “And for the love of
God, stop blowing on me. I’m not on fire.”
“But you are full of shit.” Then, as if she needed to emphasize her
words, she kicked my chair. Why did I attract the crazies? “You’re my
brother and I love you, but right now, you’re being an idiot.”
“Fuck you, Marissa.”
“She loves you, Giovanni,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “I saw it
on her resting-bitch face.”
“She has a beautiful face,” I muttered. “So soft and—”
“Jesus Christ. If you’re going to start swooning like a little bitch, I’m
going to fucking puke.”
I loved my sister, but Declan had to be a saint to handle her.
“Go puke,” I told her flatly. “And do us both a favor, don’t come back.”
She turned on her heel, muttering something under her breath, and
stormed off the balcony, leaving the door wide open.
The sound of giggles and laughter reached me and I glared in its
direction. Normally, I loved children. Brianna’s and Mateo’s kids were my
favorite little ones, but today they reminded me of what I didn’t have.
What I would never have.
“Hello, Giovanni,” Brianna’s youngest daughter, Aspen, greeted me
while Dante, her older brother, and Emma, her oldest sister, watched me
attentively. He was a protective little fucker, as he should be. “Why are you
so sad?”
“I’m tired,” I said, keeping my voice soft. Aspen got easily spooked by
sudden movements and loud voices. Honestly, I was surprised she was
taking Eminem so well, although judging by her mother’s face, she wasn’t
happy about all the explicit content. Luckily, that guy sputtered words too
fast and furious for either Dante or Aspen to pick anything up.
“Don’t be sad, Uncle Giovanni. You don’t get another chance, life is no
Nintendo game.” My brows furrowed. Did Dante just quote an Eminem
song? I barked a laugh. Maybe I had already lost my mind. But just as I
came to that conclusion, Dante added, “Maybe that’s what happens when a
tornado meets a volcano. You and Aunt Liana.”
I choked on more laughter, pulling out my phone from my pocket, and
shut down the playlist. Gasps of relief traveled through the air, causing
Dante to roll his eyes.
“Don’t listen to Eminem,” I warned him.
“Bite me,” he muttered. “I’ll rap to Eminem if I want to.”
“That’s enough,” I warned him in my sturdiest voice. “Got it?”
The little guy shrugged. “Why? Don’t want my daddy to chop you up?”
Jesus. I had a mini Marissa with the badass attitude of Mateo wrapped
up in the small, too-cute body of a ten-year-old.
“Dante, your dad isn’t chopping anyone up. Stop saying shit like that.” I
put the bottle down on the table and said, “Now, take your sisters and go
check on your parents.”
“So damn bossy,” Dante muttered while Aspen waved her hand at me,
smiling like it could make the whole world better.
I got up and walked over to the railing, closing my eyes against the late
fall wind.
She was out there without me. She fucking left me. Knocked me out
with her gun and fucking left me like dust in the wind.
When I regained consciousness earlier today, my head throbbing like a
motherfucker, I picked my heart up off the floor and went about my day. I
even held a meeting without killing anyone.
I fought the urge to go after her, but I knew she wouldn’t want to see
me, so after I discovered where she was headed, I called Louisa and had her
fly to New York. She’d keep Lia safe, and it was about time they patched
things up.
Kingston came earlier and got my wife’s stuff. Whatever she hadn’t
destroyed. Instead of giving it to him, I almost shot him. I had no idea what
possessed me, but I wanted to hold on to all her favorite things so she
would have to come back.
 It didn’t matter that I knew it wasn’t right. She should want to come
back… for me. But she didn’t, and I feared she never would.
I pushed her too hard. I wanted too much.
I’d been so sure that she felt the same as I did about her, that we’d work
something out. That I wouldn’t lose her completely. How very fucking
wrong I was.
And now, I didn’t know what to do.
I’d clipped her wings by forcing her to stay with me. What the fuck was
I thinking? I let my heart and desire get the better of me. I let my heart go
after what it wanted. Stupid fucking heart.
Goddammit, I needed to get away from this party before I went insane.
Maybe I could drive to New York, park myself outside Killian Cullen’s
manor, and stare at the house until I could sneak a peek of the woman I’d
fallen for.
Pushing off the railing, I made my way inside where the party still
raged.
Before I could make my way out of the door, my brothers cornered me.
Cristiano was nursing a pint while Romeo held a glass of something that
looked like cognac.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Romeo asked. “You’ve been
ignoring all my texts.”
“And I have to talk to you,” Cristiano hissed. “I’ve been trying to talk to
you for—”
“Not now.”
“Yes, now,” Cristiano snapped, his anger directed to me. “I think I know
why she left.” Now that captured my attention. I stared at him, waiting for
an explanation. “Mother was Santiago Tijuana’s mistress while he was
married to Liana.”
Nothing could have prepared me for that revelation.
 FORTY
LIANA

A
mara held both my hand and her mamma’s as we moved inside. We
made it through the luxurious foyer, Amara tugging us toward the
back of the house.
“We’re moving this little gathering to the living room,” Emory
explained with a tight smile.
We entered the cozy room in dual tones of light and dark brown,
classical music playing from somewhere, but all my attention was on the
two familiar figures on the opposite side. My twin sister and her dark-
haired, dark-eyed lover, Kingston Ashford, who was nursing an amber-
colored drink.
My next step faltered, my foot freezing in midair.
Our eyes met, shadows of the past dancing around us. Lou let out a
strangled, gutting gasp, and then she was running toward me.
In the next breath, she was hugging me to her chest, stroking my hair,
and somehow the past eight years faded away.
“You’re here. I can’t—” Her voice cracked. “I’m so sorry.” She was
crying into my hair while she kept repeating the words over and over again.
“I’m so sorry.”
And I fell apart.
I slipped my hand out of Amara’s and hugged Louisa tightly. I cried
ugly tears for maybe the first time ever. All the pain, suffering, and loss of
the past eight years unraveled me, or maybe it was walking away from
Giovanni, from my first glimpse of happiness, that was my undoing.
 “I’m sorry too,” I gasped out, broken words full of despair. If only she
knew my sins, my betrayal, she’d turn her back on me. “I’ve made so many
mistakes. Did so many bad things.”
“No, Lia,” she growled. She pulled away, shaking me lightly. “You
don’t apologize. Ever.” She cupped my face, and it was like peering into a
mirror. “We were just girls. You survived. We survived.”
I swallowed. “But you don’t know…” My eyes landed on the child
hiding behind Kingston and it wasn’t hard to guess who it was. Their
daughter. Another victim of the Marabella Agreements. “There’s so much
you don’t know,” was all I could get out.
I was too cowardly to tell her the truth, and I had lost so much. I just
wanted to hold on to this… Amara… Louisa… for a bit longer. Before
everything was sure to turn to ash.
I got myself somewhat together and took a step back. “What are you
doing here?”
“We were in New York, working up alliances, when Giovanni called us
and said you might be coming to visit them.”
Of course he did, but that was the reason I loved him. He always did
things to make me feel better.
“And we’ve been expecting you for a while now,” Emory chimed in.
I shot Emory a glance. “How so?”
“We’ve had eyes on you ever since you landed in Boston,” she
explained, flicking an affectionate glance at Amara. “I suspected you might
try to visit my—our daughter. Giovanni confirmed it.”
Pain pierced my chest at the sound of his name and I swallowed,
focusing on now. “Yes, yours and Killian’s.”
Her eyes held mine, a look I couldn’t decipher in them. “And yours. I
recognize that I owe you… we owe you her life. She wouldn’t have
survived if not for you.”
My gaze lowered to her now, the greatest thing to ever come out of my
life’s most painful events, and found that she was smiling up at me, her
cheeks flushed. She looked so happy and healthy. A bright future was ahead
of her. I could see it in her beautiful blue eyes. I could see it in her parents’
gazes that they would damn well ensure nothing—nobody—got in the way
of her happiness.
“No, it was I who wouldn’t have survived without her,” I rasped, my
voice breaking. “She saved me as much as I saved her. More so, probably.
Because I would have given up a long time ago if not for this beautiful
girl.”
I took a deep breath in then exhaled, my sister’s words finally
registering.
My brow furrowed. “What do you mean you were working on
alliances?”
“To kill that motherfucker, Giovanni,” Lou hissed, anger flashing in her
eyes.
I stiffened, locked eyes with my twin, and my next words were like a
whip against sensitive skin.
“You won’t touch him.” She flashed me a surprised look, and I took
another step. “Promise me.”
Silence reigned in the room, the echo of Louisa’s breath catching in her
throat as she watched me.
“I…” I didn’t know what to say or how to explain it all.
But finally Lou smiled, although slightly strained.
“You have my word,” she said. “If that’s what you want, he won’t be
hurt.”
“Thank you.”
After that, the tension eased. Amara pulled me forward, making a
beeline for the sofa, and we sank down, Emory on the other side of her.
Lou and Kingston sat with Lara between them, a girl they rescued from
a trafficking ring. The DiLustro kingpins were strategically placed at each
door and window, their wives close-by.
There was no point in taking offense. After all, I deserved it, my actions
over the past few years were not exactly honorable.
I chose not to focus on the bad but instead memorized every line of
Amara’s glowing face. I studied my sister’s happiness and the love that
shone in her eyes. So many families and couples stood around here, their
happily-ever-afters attained, and I felt grotesquely out of place. It cut too
deep seeing them thrive in their love. The kind that I would never have.
With a deep breath, I jumped to my feet, startling everyone. The
kingpins’ hands flew to their weapons.
“Umm, I have to go,” I muttered. “I just wanted to see Amara before—”
I took a deep breath before exhaling slowly. “I just wanted to make sure the
surgery went fine.”
“Stay, Mother Liana.”
 My eyes lowered to the little girl who was my entire world. “I can’t, my
treasure. But I hope—” I flicked a glance to her parents. “I hope I can visit
you again.” Emory nodded, although judging by her husband’s expression,
he wasn’t thrilled. “Thank you for taking care of her. Be good to her.” It
seemed silly to thank her parents, but I couldn’t help it. I still thought of her
as mine.
I lowered to my knees and wrapped Amara in my arms, agony searing
me. I didn’t want to leave her behind, I didn’t want to spend any of my days
without her, but I didn’t know what fate had in store for me. It killed me to
admit it, but this was where she belonged.
“You’re so loved, precious. Just as I knew you would be. Be strong and
happy, Amara.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Whenever you need me,
you call me. Okay?”
Amara nodded somberly. “How will I call you?”
I gave a resigned chuckle. I would miss this clever little thing.
“That’s right. I’ll give your mamma my number.” I looked up to Emory
and Killian. “Is that okay?”
“Yes, of course,” Emory agreed before Killian could say otherwise. She
dug into her pocket and handed me her phone. “But Killian and I want to
remain in touch with you too. I want to know everything that has happened
to my daughter for the past five years.”
It would be a difficult, painful conversation, and not one that we would
have now or around Amara.
So I just nodded my head, punched my number in her cell phone, then
offered it back with a small smile. “There you go, now you can message me
anytime.”
Another tight hug, then I stood up, resisting the tears that threatened to
spill. I left, fearing I’d embarrass myself and fall apart. It wasn’t until the
cool night breeze hit my face that I inhaled my next breath.
I rushed down the driveway and was almost at my car when Lou’s voice
came from behind me.
“Running, Lia?”
A cold mask firmly on my face, I turned around and met her judging
eyes.
“I’m not running,” I lied.
“Then why not stay? It’s clear you want to spend more time with her.”
 I turned around, reaching for the door handle. “Because I’m a busy
woman, and I have places to be.”
“Eight years apart,” she scoffed, clearly not impressed. “Silly of me to
think you’d want to spend time with me. With Kingston.”
I whirled around, words flying out of my mouth without my permission.
“Why didn’t you come for me?” I rasped, my chest trembling. All these
emotions were starting to be too much, yet it seemed impossible to avoid
them. “I waited and waited against hope that after I took your place, you’d
come for me, yank me from that hell, but you were nowhere to be found.
You were enjoying your happy life while I withered away.”
My lungs flared with that old feeling of betrayal, but I ignored it.
“I would have searched for you if I knew. If Kingston and I knew, but
we didn’t.”
We were identical twins, yet we couldn’t be more different. But that was
the beauty of it. What she lacked, I had. What I lacked, she had. We were
perfect pieces to the same puzzle. Yin and yang.
“What?” I scoffed. “You two strode off into the sunset and thought I
found paradise? My own happily ever after? Nobody is that naive, but
definitely not you, Lou.”
“I thought I was you.” My brows furrowed. “Our mother… Sofia
tortured me, used specific torture techniques until I truly believed, to my
core, that I was you. Liana. I forgot about Kingston, didn’t even recognize
him when I saw him again a year ago. Kingston.” She opened her mouth to
say more but a sob was all she could manage. Not that it mattered. I knew
what it meant that she’d forgotten the boy she fell in love with when we
were still too young to understand how precious and fleeting that was.
She reached for her phone and scrolled through images until she found
what she was looking for. When the video started playing and my eyes
zeroed in on the screen, the scene sent a fresh wave of horror through me.
“What’s that?” I rasped, but I already knew. It was the video of Dr.
Freud’s sister’s torture.
“I thought you were dead. Mother showed me this video over and over
again.” The screen in front of my face accused me of all the wrongs that
had happened because of me. “I blamed myself. I blamed the entire world,
searching for those responsible and killing them one by one.” Her voice
cracked. “But if I knew you were alive, I would have been searching for
you. I promise you, Lia, I would have scoured every inch of this earth to
find you.”
My sister’s voice was breaking my heart. I finally met her eyes, felt the
corners of my mouth lift up of their own accord. “You’re not the Lou I
remembered.”
“Ditto.”
Tears ran down our cheeks, two bodies feeling one pain, and then we
fell into each other’s arms, holding each other for all that we’d endured
during the past eight years.
 FORTY-ONE
GIOVANNI

I
was teetering on the edge of rage by the time I arrived at my mother’s
house.
Let her find every person who’s ever hurt her and take her revenge. I
believe she’s down to one person. Kian’s words had been playing on repeat
ever since I’d learned of The Mistress’s identity. My own mother. It made
me wonder if Kian knew this when he led me to Lia, if that was the reason
he’d divulged information on her location in the first place.
It’d taken inhuman strength not to barge in and start shooting everyone
in sight and then drag that woman by her hair and deliver her to my wife
with a bow on her fucking head.
“I should go in with you,” Cristiano said as he scanned the empty
grounds with a gun in hand. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
I shook my head. “No, stick to the plan.”
My brother was to meet Romeo at a shipping dock on the outskirts of
the city where a transaction was about to take place with the Cortes Cartel.
It wouldn’t fare well if the Agosti family failed to deliver, nor would it
reflect well on the Omertà.
“You sure?”
“Yes. Don’t fail me.”
And with that, Cristiano handed me the key to the back entrance that my
mother only ever shared with him. The favorite son. It would ensure a clean
in and out.
 I watched him disappear into the night, and soon the engine of his car
revved in the distance.
It was early morning, dawn still an hour away. Three cups of coffee
helped to wash out the bitterness of last night’s revelation. I would have
paid this bitch a visit then, but I was too drunk and too angry to act
rationally.
I sliced through the electric barbed wire encircling the property and
unlatched the towering back gate, slipping inside. Moving stealthily across
the pristine lawn—the very one I was expected to fund—I headed toward
the servants’ entrance, each step measured and silent.
My body became rigid as I got closer, and the same question I’d been
asking myself sounded in my ears. How could I have possibly missed this?
With quick work of the second key, I was inside. It was eerily quiet as I
made my way through the home I grew up in, toward my mother’s bedroom
in the north wing. She liked to sleep in late, counting on her beauty sleep to
keep her looking young and beautiful. Too bad her insides were ugly and
irreparable.
I headed up the stairs, the moonlight streaming in through the windows.
It didn’t take long to reach her quarters, and soon I was at her door.
Something was off. It was too quiet. Too dark.
Mother usually kept nightlights lighting up hallways for—
My thoughts shattered as a sudden bang echoed and the ground beneath
me trembled. The door to her bedroom burst open—I dove to the floor just
in time as gunfire erupted, bullets whizzing past and casings clattering
around me like deadly hail.
I reached for my gun and took a shot, then two, eliminating a masked
man with a rifle. But it only prompted another spray of bullets my way.
“Stay the fuck down if you want to live!”
My mother’s harsh words echoed in the air, causing me to pause.
Had I walked into a trap?
 FORTY-TWO
LIANA

I
t felt like old times.
Both of us sitting on the bed, legs crisscrossed as I typed frantically
on my laptop while Lou chewed on the tip of a pencil, studying her
drawing critically. Surprise, surprise, it was a drawing of Kingston.
Apparently she was obsessed with the man’s face even now.
After I left Amara with her parents, I checked into a hotel, and
somehow it didn’t surprise me to find Lou knocking on my door a mere
thirty minutes later. Kingston was in the room next door, their adoptive
daughter Lara in the adjoining suite.
“Do you ever draw anything else?” I asked her, my eyes locked on the
laptop screen as I corresponded back and forth with José, who was insisting
I return to Venezuela where he could keep me safe.
“What do you mean?”
I typed my last response to José then shut the laptop before he could
come back with anything else and raised my head to meet Lou’s eyes.
“I mean that even when we were kids, all you drew was Kingston’s
face.” I wasn’t jealous that she got her happily-ever-after. I really wasn’t,
but it did make the sting of my loss slightly bitter. “Do you ever draw
anything else?”
She chuckled. “Well, I guess I could try and draw his dick.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
“I drew you.” Surprise flared through me. “When I thought you were
dead and I believed I was actually you, I kept drawing your face.”
 “Maybe you were drawing yours? After all, our faces are the same.” I
tried to make a joke, but my voice still cracked.
“No, it was yours.” She watched me, almost as if debating whether to
ask me something. I waited, letting her make up her mind until she finally
did. “Why didn’t you come to me?”
I shrugged. “I was… broken. I needed time to get Amara better, for me
to get better. Besides, I thought you were happy with Kingston for all those
years, and I just wasn’t ready to see it.”
“Because you were mad?”
I shrugged, glancing down at my missing finger.
“More like disappointed. Jealous. Bitter.”
“What happened to your finger, Lia?” Her voice was cautious, almost as
if she were dealing with an unpredictable animal. “Why did it end up with
Kingston?”
I cleared my throat.
“After Amara and I escaped Perez, I tried to be”—I searched for the
right words before settling on the only one I knew—“normal. Away from
everything I knew. I was a maid at this resort, then one day I heard the name
Royce Ashford.” I twisted my hands, knowing how crazy I’d sound. “I
wasn’t in a good place mentally at that time. So out of some crazy despair, I
sliced my left pinky finger and left it in Royce Ashford’s room with a note,
hoping it would make its way to Kingston and…” I shrugged, knowing how
ludicrous it all sounded when uttered aloud. “I don’t know. I guess I thought
he’d come and save me.”
Kingston Ashford.
There wasn’t a time when he and Lou didn’t love each other. At first it
was a childish kind of affection, until he became my sister’s lover.
“Why the left?” she questioned.
“Because you’re left-handed. I thought maybe he’d think it was you and
against all odds, Kingston would get the message and save Amara and me.”
He didn’t.
Since then I learned to keep my expectations in check without letting
treacherous hope take over. But hope always found a way to flicker to light,
just like it did back then—that someone would come along and save my
daughter and me—but the idea died as fast it hatched, along with a piece of
me. Until there was nothing left.
 “Like I said, it was stupid,” I concluded. I deserved to suffer anyhow
considering all the suffering I’d caused. “I wasn’t in a good place, even
contemplating ending my life, but Amara needed me. So see, she really did
save me. If I didn’t have her, I would have been dead.”
Lou nodded in understanding and silence reigned for several heartbeats.
“What’s done is done. I love you, Lia. No matter what, right or wrong, I
will always stand by you. You know that, right?”
My heart tripped, realizing it was time to come clean. “Don’t be so sure,
Lou.”
She tilted her chin. “But I am, and there’s nothing you can do or say that
would make me betray you.”
I swallowed, pushing the next words past my lips.
“When I pretended I was you and married Santiago, things weren’t
good, but they were tolerable.” My eyes darted to the hotel window, staring
at the New York City lights that flickered like stars. I closed my eyes, that
old pain throbbing in my chest. “Then I lost a baby. No, my baby was
ripped from me and murdered. Things were bad after that. Santiago deemed
me, and my womb, worthless.” My sister’s soft gasp filled the air, and I
opened my eyes to see whether my next words would shatter my world all
over again. “Then Amara came into my world. It was my chance at having
someone who would love me unconditionally. But it was also a chance for
Santiago to use my affection for her against me. In my mind, I thought if I
created something big, I’d be invaluable to him and his circle of evil, so I
came up with an improvement of the Marabella Agreements.”
I waited and waited for Lou’s face to turn from compassion to disgust
and disappointment.
She reached out and took her hand in mine. “You were trying to protect
a baby and survive. Do you honestly think I’d hold that against you?”
“But Lara, your own adoptive daughter—”
“Mother used her,” she cut me off. “She’s Perez’s daughter, and she
used her, along with many other children, to get back at those she hated.
Whether she used Marabella as an excuse, it doesn’t matter. Even if that
concept wasn’t around, Sofia Volkov would have gotten her hands on Lara
and made her life hell.”
Those words should have made me feel better, but they didn’t. Maybe
my guilty conscience was my harshest critic.
“Lou, it wasn’t just Lara,” I whispered. “There were so many.”
 “And you think that all of it is on your shoulders?” she spat. “No, it’s
not, so don’t you dare put it all on yourself. We all did shit to survive. We
all have sins to atone for.”
My lips curved up in some resemblance of a smile. “I guess some things
never change.”
This time she smiled too. “You have my back, I have yours. Someone
wants to come after you, I’ll go after them. It’s what we’re all about.”
“Maybe Mother did one thing right,” I murmured pensively.
She scoffed, bitterness flashing across her expression. “What’s that?”
“She taught us to have each other’s backs. Although, she was wrong
about you.”
“What do you mean?” she questioned.
“She trained me to protect us both, thinking your soft heart was your
weakness, when in fact, it was your strongest attribute.” She shot me a
questioning look, so I explained, “When we were younger, she’d pull me
for extra training and push me harder. She worried this world would
swallow you whole, and look at you. You’re thriving.”
She struggled to find words, and I let her process what she just learned.
It wasn’t for several minutes that she found her voice.
“She hated that you were taken and not me,” she murmured. “You give
her too much credit because even as she faced the barrel of my gun, she
thought me weak.”
I stilled. “You killed Mother?”
“I did.” She met my eyes with an unspoken challenge, and I smiled.
Mother was definitely wrong about my twin.
“One less evil roaming this earth,” I finally said. “Although, it was cruel
men who made her.”
Lou nodded. “I agree, but she took it too far.”
“Agreed.”
My phone rang and for a moment, I debated ignoring it before I decided
against it.
“This better be good, whatever it is,” I answered, assuming it was José.
“It’s Cristiano.” I stiffened. Giovanni’s youngest brother shouldn’t have
a reason to call me. “It’s Giovanni. My mother kidnapped him.”
I shot off the bed. “Tell me everything.”
 FORTY-THREE
GIOVANNI

D
rip. Drip. Drip.
I peeled open my eyes and winced as flickering fluorescent lights
assaulted me. I was strapped to a chair in a room that looked and
smelled like it was underground.
Tilting my throbbing head back, I stared at the low plaster ceiling,
marred by brownish water stains, jagged cracks, and creeping mold. The
oppressive stench of dampness and urine hung heavy in the air, making
each breath a struggle. My gaze landed on a cracked porcelain sink, its rusty
faucet dripping with a slow, steady rhythm, as if untouched for decades.
There were no windows—just the claustrophobic certainty of a single exit:
a puke-green metal door, chipped and rusting, standing as the only way out.
I shook my head, trying to recall what had happened, but the last thing I
remembered was my mother’s voice before someone knocked me out.
After that, nothing.
Anger crept beneath my skin, slow and searing. I had to take a second to
swallow down the burning rage while the entire room became distorted, my
nausea almost unbearable. How hard was I hit?
I tested my bindings, trying to work on them, while red crept into my
vision.
Just then the door creaked open and I narrowed my eyes as my mother
walked in with four MMA-looking bodyguards. They were just her type—
young, dumb, and male. They fit the bill for how she liked to spend her
evening hours, that much I knew. And all the while, she was using them for
her own agenda.
“Well, if it isn’t my eldest son,” was her greeting as she approached me
in a white designer dress and red heels, her hair pulled up into a French
twist. She folded her arms across her chest, causing her boobs to spill out of
her neckline. One of her guards audibly gulped while the other two seemed
hypnotized by her cleavage. Jesus Christ, give me a break.
“I’m disappointed in you, Mother.”
She slapped me across the face.
“You’re disappointed,” she screamed. “You have no idea what I have
done for you. To ensure your succession.” Another slap across my face. “It
is me who’s disappointed, Giovanni. Me!”
“Dramatic as always,” I said coldly. Fury wouldn’t help me now, but a
cool head and reason might. I had to throw her off her game. “Why am I
tied up?”
“You married that bitch,” she hissed, glaring at me. She acted so high
and mighty, as if she almost reached the heavens and God himself. They
would send her straight to hell, but the fact that the woman thought she
deserved it all blew my mind. “After everything I’ve done to secure your
position, you married her. Out of all the women in this fucking world, why
her?”
“Because I love her.” Her spine jerked upright. “Because she’s my other
half. Strong. Independent. Kind-hearted. So fucking different from you.”
Another slap. “Insolent! Your father must be rolling in his grave.”
I met my mother’s malicious gaze with my own.
“Which father?” I asked incredulously, my lips curving cruelly. “The
one I never met or the one who raised me? Considering your track record,
I’m afraid you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific.”
“You… you… ungrateful little bastard.”
“You got that right. I am a bastard,” I scoffed. “Now what the fuck is
your plan? Kill me and take over the Tijuana Cartel?”
She threw her head back and started to cackle like some crazed,
deranged psychopath. She laughed and laughed, the sound bouncing against
the walls.
“No, my son,” she snickered. “You’re the bait.”
It hit me then.
 “Liana. You want my wife.” It was my turn to laugh, staring her down
mockingly. “She won’t come.” But when I freed my wrists, I would snap
her frail neck in half. “You fucked up, Mother.”
Her complexion turned crimson, and I could practically see steam
coming out of her ears.
“Oh, but she will. I told her to come alone or I’m ending everything and
everyone dear to her heart.”
I scoffed. “She won’t come.”
“You’re lying.”
I shrugged. “Suit yourself, but if you would have done your homework,
you would have learned that Lia isn’t even in Boston. She left me
yesterday.”
“That Russian whore left you?” she scoffed, pacing around like a feral
animal in heels. “How fucking dare she? You’re too good for her.”
“No, she’s too good for me,” I corrected her, locking my calculative
gaze on her while continuing to work on my bindings. “Especially
considering what you’ve done to her.”
She stilled, the click of her heels ceasing. “Everything I did was for
you.”
I couldn’t believe the woman was so delusional to actually believe her
own words. But she’d learn soon enough that she fucked up, because we
both knew she was a selfish bitch. She always had been and always would
be.
I wanted to kick myself for not ending her ages ago, back when I
learned of how she betrayed the man who raised me as his own. I should
have known then that my mother’s hunger for power wouldn’t end at
having a son in line to rule the Tijuana Cartel.
“You’re delusional,” I told her as she approached me. “It’s not a good
look for a woman your age.”
I struck a nerve this time. I could see it in her eyes.
“You think she’s all that, but that girl is a whore.” She leaned forward so
that her face was level with mine. “She was going to eliminate your claim
to the cartel. I stopped it. Me. Your mother.”
I spit in her malicious face. “You killed an innocent baby, you
narcissistic bitch. If you think I ever wanted that, you’re delusional.”
She closed her eyes, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand, then
slapped me, my muscles tightening against my bindings. A growl vibrated
in my chest, the sound almost animalistic in the silence of the room, and my
bindings finally gave out.
I was about to wring her neck when one of her men said, “The woman’s
here.”
The door opened to reveal Lia standing on the other side. My brothers
each had an arm as though restraining her, and I could hardly recognize her
in the jeans and simple black T-shirt that said Bite me. So different from the
put-together woman I thought I knew better than myself.
I didn’t have time to ponder her outfit because a rage unlike anything I
had ever experienced shot through me at my brothers’ betrayal. I glared at
Cristiano and Romeo, wordlessly telling them they were dead.
Had I been blind when it came to my brothers too? Were they just
placating me over the past few weeks while they plotted against me? I knew
we weren’t always on the same page, but for them to betray me in the worst
way possible was unforgivable.
Logically, there could be a million explanations for this, but my mind
already veered in the direction of their guilty verdict.
I’d fucking kill them all.
I was preparing to make my move when Lia glanced my way and…
winked.
My brows furrowed. What exactly was going on here?
 FORTY-FOUR
LIANA

“W ell, well, well. What do we have here?” I instantly tensed, that

familiar pitch I had been trying to forget for years too close for
comfort. My brothers-in-law shoved me forward, playing the part
of my executioners perfectly. “It’s the Russian whore. Kill her.”
Romeo and Cristiano tensed at my sides, but thankfully their mother
didn’t pick up on it. Giovanni, on the other hand, growled lowly in his
throat, his whole body shifting forward as if preparing to attack his own
mother.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked calmly.
Julia’s lips—God, it was hard to think of her as anything other than The
Mistress—curved up into a smile, that malicious, superior smile that I
remembered so well. I felt Romeo and Cristiano stiffening at my back, and
a part of me was so fucking thankful for them at this moment.
Julia’s eyes were glued on me as she addressed her men. “Kill the girl.
Leave my sons alive.”
My eyes flicked to Giovanni. I noted the red imprint of a palm on his
handsome face, but other than that he was unharmed. Our eyes locked
wordlessly and he nodded slightly, as if he could read my thoughts. I really
hoped he could. I left him to keep him safe, not wanting to cause him more
hurt, but in the end, his mother hurt him anyhow.
The corners of his lips lifted, and the look in his eyes told me
everything. I love you. I believe in you. We’ll make this right.
 I returned my eyes to the woman in front of me who had caused me so
much pain and humiliation.
“You know, if you hadn’t been so greedy, he would have never learned
how truly evil you are,” I said casually. “You made a terrible mistake by
kidnapping my husband.”
“He’s my son,” she screamed.
“Which hand?” I asked, keeping my cool despite the rage flowing
through my veins. She stared dumbly at me. “Which hand did you use to
touch him? Because it will be the first part of you I slice.”
Julia glared at me, then shifted and slapped Giovanni across the face so
hard his head flew to the left. I winced at the impact but kept my nonchalant
expression as I looked at her.
“Right hand, duly noted.”
“And what are you going to do? You may be a mafia princess,
supposedly untouchable, but that’s never really helped you, has it? You
always lose. You’ve been losing for the past eight years.” She cackled like
some mad witch from Salem. “And now you pulled my son into it.”
I snickered. I had never seen a mother discard her child so quickly,
maybe aside from Sofia Volkov. The pair should hang out together in the
deepest pits of hell.
“You really think so? Because from where I stand, you look like the
loser.”
She strutted toward me, and it occurred to me just how pleasing it
would be to watch her downfall in real time. Because for the first time, I
could see how insecure she was. Scared and alone. This time, it was me she
slapped.
A quick glance at my brothers-in-law and the rest of it happened fast.
Cristiano and Romeo sprang forward, attacking the two closest guards
while Giovanni attacked the other two. Julia, so typical of her, bolted from
the cell.
I couldn’t worry about who could hold their own here, instead I went
after her, and before she could reach the end of the hallway, I grabbed her
by her chignon and yanked her back.
“Not so fast,” I tsked. “We’re not done here.”
Gunshots rang out from inside the cell, but I blocked it out. I focused on
the woman who killed my baby, who stole my dignity.
 I shoved her down on her knees and slapped her so hard she fell over,
her head hitting the filthy stone. I grabbed her right hand and smiled
viciously.
She started screaming and I struck her hard, breaking her nose in the
process.
“A promise is a promise after all,” I purred.
I reached for the revolver tucked in the back of my jeans, but before I
could shoot her right hand, a guard tackled me from behind. Instinctively, I
punched him in his sternum, then landed a blow to his kidneys, and finally a
kick to the kneecap.
He grunted, but before he could do anything, I straightened to my full
height and kicked him in his chest, sending his body flying back.
I turned my attention to Julia, who was attempting to crawl away while
groaning in pain. I raised my arms, gripping the gun, and aimed.
Bang.
Her scream pierced through the air and she brought her bloodied hand
to her chest, cradling it like a baby.
“Revenge is sweeter than I could have ever imagined,” I said, my lips
curving into a smile. I picked up my foot and drove it into her abdomen.
“For Giovanni and my baby.”
Her eyes widened with fear as she gurgled, choking on her pain. The
sounds were better than any Eminem or Sarah McLachlan song, better than
Beethoven’s or Mozart’s symphonies.
“I’ve been dreaming about this for so long,” I drawled. “After what you
did.”
“I secured my son’s place in the cartel,” she hissed.
I scoffed. “I never wanted it.”
“But your child would have taken it.”
“No…” My voice was brittle as I narrowed my eyes. “If you would
have let me, I would have disappeared. You let me think I could, let me run
through the woods while I was eight fucking months pregnant.” I closed my
eyes, but I wouldn’t let her win. “You could have had your precious lover
and the cartel for your son.”
She let out a strangled breath as if she didn’t believe me. It didn’t matter
though, because her life was finished. She would pay for killing my baby
and for daring to hit Giovanni.
I took a deep breath and aimed my gun at her skull. “Any last wishes?”
 Her eyes, so similar yet so different to her three sons, lifted to me with
so much nonchalance, it took me aback.
“Question is… do you have any last wishes?” My brow furrowed and
she chuckled. My finger tensed on the trigger and I was ready to end this
once and for all, but she continued speaking. “Maybe someday you’ll meet
your son.” I froze, my brain unable to process her words. She watched me,
cackling. “Although, maybe it’s better that you don’t because it’ll be messy
to explain to the kid that you married his father’s nephew.”
My face paled as I stared back at Julia. A son. I had a son. I had
assumed, but I never knew it for sure. Tears burned my lids as my mind
whirled like a cyclone. Then the meaning of her words sunk in. She made it
sound like my baby was… alive.
It’s a lie. She’s lying.
I ground my feet into the stone floor, anchoring into the present. No. I
would know if my baby was alive.
“You’re lying.” Giovanni’s voice came from behind me, echoing my
own thoughts. I turned and saw him standing tall, though looking a little
worse for wear. He and his brothers came to surround me protectively, their
glares locked on their mother. “Have you truly no decency, Mother? After
all the damage you’ve caused?”
Julia’s expression was cold, her entire body still.
“Am I lying, Giovanni?” she uttered. “Do you think I’m capable of
killing a baby?”
“Yes,” all three brothers answered unanimously.
“I saw you…” I shuddered with the memory. My voice cracked and I
swayed, but Giovanni’s hand wrapped around my waist, offering me
support. “I saw you… I saw you throw him into a trash bag.”
My heart was shriveling in my chest. Julia had fooled me so many
times, taken advantage of me and killed any decent part of me with her
cruelty. This had to be another one of her schemes. A way to prolong her
undeserving life.
“He’s a tough little fucker,” she said casually, like she was referring to a
puppy at the pound. “When I got to the car, he wouldn’t shut up, kept
crying, so I took him out and decided that I could use him for some
leverage of my own.”
“What…” When I spoke next, my voice was barely audible. “Where is
he?”
 “Ahhh.” She laughed mockingly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Mother!” Romeo hissed.
“You sick bitch,” Cristiano growled.
Giovanni got in his mother’s face, pressing his own gun to her skull,
and pushed on it so hard that her head fell to the side. “You will tell us
where the child is.”
Oh. My. God.
My lips trembled. Tears streamed down my face, every joint in my body
frozen as one thought struck me repeatedly. I abandoned my baby. He’s
been alone for years and I never even looked for him. I played hide and
seek like a coward while he waited for me to save him.
“Fucking end her and we’ll find the kid,” Romeo said, glowering at his
mother. “Everything that woman sputters is a lie. She’ll give us the run-
around until she can end us all.”
The grim expression on the Agosti brothers’ faces told me they meant
every word.
But I was still gaping at the woman, starved for information. It was my
last chance to learn something, anything about my son.
Cristiano glared down at her and brought out his own gun.
“No,” I screamed. The brothers exchanged a look hesitantly, but they
remained in place. “No, I need to know where he is.”
Julia smiled victoriously. That same smile that told me she had me
exactly where she wanted me. One step ahead of me.
“Get those guns away from my face,” she said with calm
determination.
Suddenly, chaos erupted. A guard staggered into view, bloodied and
disoriented, his gun trembling as he aimed it at us. Without hesitation,
Giovanni pushed me behind him, shielding me with a fierce grunt.
“Noooo!” I screamed as the guard pulled the trigger without hesitation.
My heart made the decision for me. I shoved him away from me. Pop. Pop.
Pop.
Commotion. Screams. Blood.
The world was spinning. My ears rang and I touched my stomach,
wincing with pain. I looked down in confusion to see blood coming out of
me.
Someone called out my name, but I couldn’t focus.
 Then everything went silent, and I was so grateful that the world
stopped spinning as I fell into a cold darkness.
 FORTY-FIVE
LIANA

B
aby cries. Husbands—old, young.
Blood. I’m floundering, gasping, and choking on it.
Death.
“Please, wake up, Lia.” The familiar voice cracked through my dreams.
No, not the voice. The demand. A need. “Wildflower, come back to me…
please.”
Drawing in a shallow breath, I forced my eyes open, my gaze darting
around as the last events I remembered poured in, piercing through my
skull. I found Giovanni at my side, his bloodshot gaze locked on me.
His brothers stood beside him, their usually cocky expressions changed
into compassionate ones.
“Lia… Fuck, I thought I’d lost you.” A green, tortured gaze held mine
for a long moment. Alarms blazed in my head, and I tried to move. “No,
don’t get up.”
It was then that I noticed the IV tube stuck into my arm.
“Where—” There was a painful drum in my head, and I had to squeeze
my eyes shut to ease the pain. I slowly dragged my eyes open again.
“We’re in a hospital,” he murmured softly, but there was a storm
brewing in his eyes. He glanced at his brothers, and I thought he said, “Call
her sister.”
They gave him a terse nod.
“Good to see you back,” Romeo said.
 “I’m sorry for everything,” were Cristiano’s words as the two left the
room, leaving us alone.
Silence followed the soft click of the hospital door, and I was left
holding Giovanni’s hand, his palm dwarfing mine. He wore a crumpled
Brioni suit and tired eyes, and it struck me how much I loved this man.
These feelings I had never experienced before were like a warm glow in my
chest, heating my soul.
Despite it all, I didn’t regret any of it. Because as twisted as it was, this
cursed, painful path had led me to him. It was a long, winding road, but I
couldn’t imagine a different outcome.
“Why do you look mad?”
“Because you took a bullet,” he rasped, staring at me with a mixture of
disbelief and anger. “For me.”
I ignored him, instead pinning him with my own stare. “Where’s
Julia?”
“You don’t ever do that again. You’re not allowed to put yourself at risk
like that.” I shook my head and his eyes flashed. “I cannot survive without
you. So please, for the love of God, don’t fucking die on me.”
“I’m sorry for…” My choked tone couldn’t hide any of my feelings. I
swallowed as a tear slipped from my eyes. “For leaving you the way I did.”
“I think I understand why you did it.” His voice cracked. “I just wish
you—”
“That I talked to you about it,” I finished for him.
“That you trusted me,” he corrected me softly.
Events of the past that had twisted us into something we never wanted
to be reverberated in the silence. The head of the Cartel. The mafia princess
that took her twin’s spot, hoping she’d outsmart the world.
“Where is Julia?” I repeated my earlier question.
“She’s buried six feet under,” Giovanni replied, cupping my face tightly
but not enough to hurt.
A sense of relief washed over me, but also disappointment. Sadness. A
finality that sent a shard of glass through my heart with the knowledge that
my son was lost to me. Forever. It was almost like losing him all over again.
I released a long breath before I shifted on the hospital bed.
“Did she…” I studied his face, the old distrust flickering. Taunting me.
“Did she say anything else about my… son?”
 “The doctor said you need to rest.” Doubt started to niggle at my
insides. Maybe I’d miscalculated and he wanted my son to remain hidden
from the world forever.
I clutched his hand. “About your mother—”
He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t give a fuck about that woman. And I
ensured she knew it before I extracted the information about your son from
her. Once I had it, I ended her miserable existence.”
My stomach lurched. “Is he okay? Oh… oh my God. Is he really alive?”
“We should really wait until you feel better,” he murmured, brushing his
lips over my knuckles.
“No, please,” I blurted, choking on hope and despair. I didn’t know
where I got the courage to yank Giovanni’s hand. “I’ve waited too long. I
can’t—”
I was filled with heavy longing: for the truth about my son, for
Giovanni’s love, for him to touch me and assure me that he didn’t care
about a little boy potentially being his competitor for the Tijuana Cartel.
He clenched his teeth.
“I want you to understand one thing, Lia.” His gaze bore into mine. “I
will help you find your son. Until my dying breath, I’ll watch over both of
you. I don’t care about power, the cartel, the Omertà, any of it. I just want
you. As my wife. As my confidant. As my lover.”
My heart swelled at seeing the truth in his eyes. His forehead came to
rest against mine and I breathed his scent in, letting it wash over me.
“Tell me everything,” I pleaded softly. “Please.”
He straightened then looked away, but not before I saw hurt in his eyes,
then he started talking.
“My mother… she might have lied about some of it, so take everything
I say with a grain of salt. Okay?” He turned his head to meet my eyes and I
nodded slowly. “She hired a family to care for the baby, but when the boy
turned three…” He faltered and I prepared for the worst. “She sold him
using the Marabella Agreements.”
A sharp inhale filled the space, and I realized it was mine. God, why
would you be so cruel?
“To whom?” I whispered in a low tone.
“She didn’t know. She didn’t keep tabs, scared that Santiago might get a
whiff of the fact that she snatched his flesh and blood right under his nose.”
 My chest deflated and tears filled my eyes as I placed a palm on my
stomach.
“I can’t have any more children.” Trembling began in my fingers and
spread outward through every inch of my body. “Giovanni, this baby…
He’s my last chance for a family. To have someone who won’t leave me.”
Giovanni exhaled deeply before cradling my jaw.
“I’m here, Lia. I’m not going anywhere.” His voice was harsh and
authoritarian. “I love you, through sickness and in health, hard times and
good times. We’ll find your son.” Tears lingered on my eyelashes, but I
couldn’t find the words. I didn’t know what to say. “We’ll raise him
together. But you can’t lose hope. You’re not allowed to. Got it?”
My chest expanded with relief at hearing his words. Everything this
man did and said was exactly what I needed.
“I…” I trailed off, not knowing what to say.
The dark tattoos peeked at me from his hand as I stared at it, trying to
find a way to utter the words I had never spoken before while emotions
clogged my throat. I hated the feeling of being so vulnerable, yet my heart,
my soul, and my body knew I could trust him.
“If you want a divorce, I’ll give it to you,” he said. “And I’ll still help
you.”
“Why?” I reeled, all my trust wavering. Maybe I made a mistake. But
he said… he said he loved me.
“Because I don’t want you to stay with me just for me to help you.”
“Oh.”
“I want you to stay if you love me.” He took my hand into his again.
“But don’t make the mistake of thinking I won’t fight for you. I’ll let you
go, but I won’t go far. I’ll find a way to charm you into dating me. I’ll find a
way for you to fall in love with me and love me as much as I love you. I’ll
make it right.”
“I love you.” My throat closed and I blinked furiously. “I love you so
much that losing you seemed like a better option than hurting you once I
realized who your mother was.” A full-body shudder took hold of me. “I’ll
never let you go again, husband.” These emotions would be the death of
me, but I pushed through. I couldn’t stop now when the dam had been
opened. “You’ve crashed into my life, thrusting light and hope into my
heart, and now I don’t know how to live without it.”
 He groaned in satisfaction and kissed me so deeply, he stole my breath
away. His love ignited me, breathed life into me.
“You’re everything to me,” he murmured against my lips. “I’ve been
gone for you for eight years. I would destroy the world, alliances,
everything for you. There’s nobody else for me but you, Lia. You are it for
me. My one and only, greatest love.”
We belonged together. For better or for worse, just like he’d said.
 FORTY-SIX
GIOVANNI
A WEEK LATER

B
eep. Beep. Beep.
Our journey began with these sounds, but they certainly wouldn’t
end like that. The heart monitor told me my wife was on the road to a
speedy recovery, her inner strength and determination shining through.
She’d live. For me. For her child.
I looked down at the woman sleeping in the hospital bed, tracing her
mouth with my thumb gently, and her lips parted in sleep.
Even under meds and with a bullet wound, she responds to me, I
thought with satisfaction.
There’d never be an end to this obsession, the need for this woman that
breathed inside me. For the eight years since I crossed paths with her at her
wedding to Santiago, it had consumed me. Even when I and the world
thought she was dead and gone, it was impossible to forget this woman.
That eighteen-year-old crashed into my life eight years ago, but it was
the twenty-six-year old woman who utterly captivated me.
You’ve crashed into my life, thrusting light and hope into my heart.
My wife had endured some shit, but what she failed to see was that
while those events had shaped her, she wasn’t the villainess. She was an
actress, hiding a heart of gold and light that shone so bright underneath her
porcelain skin. But if you looked closely, you would see cracks that she
endured for those she loved.
Her twin. Her brother-in-law. Her protégé. And for me.
 She loved me.
There’d be no going away from her now. I was hooked for life. I knew
she needed more time to heal—physically and mentally—but I’d be here
with her every single step of the way. And if anyone even attempted to
harm my wife in any way, they’d have me to deal with.
Taking a deep breath, I opened my phone and went through a thread of
messages. There was a potential lead to where Liana’s son ended up after he
was sold via the Marabella Agreements, but it was too soon to tell Liana
about it. I didn’t want to give her false hope until I was certain the lead was
legit.
There were two messages. Two leads.
Opening the first message, my eyes scanned the words and shock rolled
through me.
Jesus fucking Christ! Twins.
Liana had twins. Mother bribed Santiago’s doctor and convinced him
not to share that little detail with anyone.
If there was any doubt my mother wasn’t a cruel, lying bitch, it was
erased at that very moment. Despite facing death, Julia lied to my face,
almost as if she wanted to send one last fuck you to my wife.
Moving on to the next email, it was no less startling. It wasn’t good
news by any means. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I stared at the message, gritting my
teeth at the only one word in the title and body of the message.
Albania.
It would seem dealing with the Albanian mafia would be the next
chapter of our lives. Fuck! Those motherfuckers were crazy, there was no
telling what in the world they’d do with a child.
“Giovanni?” The soft whispered voice brought my eyes back to my
wife. “Is everything okay?”
I smiled. “What makes you think something isn’t?”
“The frown on your face and a look that promises murder,” she cracked,
trying to shift on the hospital bed.
I wiped my expression clean, hiding my troubles behind a mask. For
now. Until Lia healed. Then we’d go after them together.
“It’s nothing that can’t wait another day,” I assured her, shoving my
phone into my pocket then taking her hand into mine and pressing my lips
against her skin.
She shifted on the hospital bed, patting a spot next to her.
 “No fucking way,” I muttered. I shot her a look full of disbelief, making
her chuckle softly and another piece of my heart ripped from my chest and
flew to her.
“We can fit.”
“Yeah, and the hospital staff might kick us out.”
She shrugged, still smiling. “That’s one way to go home.”
Fuck, how I loved seeing a smile on her face, that golden heart shining
through her golden eyes. How could anyone think she was as cruel as Sofia
Volkov? She was nothing like her.
Despite common sense, I slid next to her with my hand wrapped around
her waist carefully and holding her close, the hospital bed protesting under
our weight.
“Where is home for you?” I asked her.
“Wherever you are,” she murmured, her beautiful smile making my
chest heavy. I closed my eyes for a split second at those words, still in
disbelief that she was mine. “Now tell me what’s worrying you.” As if she
could see my struggle, she added, “Remember, equality.”
“I wanted to wait until you’re recovered.”
She tensed in my embrace. “That doesn’t sound good.”
The cat was out of the bag, and there was no sense in keeping this
secret. Her mind would conjure worse things than my words ever could.
“I have a lead about your—” Fuck, how did one break such news?
“My son?” A soft gasp tore from her lips. “Already?”
I let out a sardonic breath. “Not really already. It took me a whole damn
week.”
She shook her head. “I searched for The Mistress… your mother… for
years.”
At the reminder of the role my mother played in my wife’s life, fury
rolled through me, and I fought to contain it. As if she could sense it, Lia
brought her palm to my cheek and cupped it.
“We don’t choose our parents.”
She was absolutely right, but it didn’t make the sting any less painful,
knowing what my mother had put this woman through. But I would set it
right. I’d find the children Julia had stolen from her and love them as if they
were my own.
“Albania.” Worry flared in her eyes and I released a long breath before
saying, “I believe the Albanian mafia has him. But that’s not all.” Locking
gazes with her golden one, I braced myself for the next reaction. “You had
twins, Lia.”
“No, no, no… That’s—” She shook her head, a soft tremor rolling
through her healing body, and I internally cursed myself. “I would know. As
a mother, I would know.”
Her voice cracked and my chest tightened for her. I hated being the one
to bring her pain, but I knew better than to lie to her. She deserved better
than that.
“A boy and a girl.”
Her expression was pale. “T-twins?”
“Yes, wildflower.” A variety of emotions played over her expression,
another crack in her porcelain skin, and I wished there was a way I could
have taken that one away from her. That golden heart of hers didn’t deserve
to suffer more. “We’ll find them.”
“B-but… Albanians?”
The Albanian mafia was notorious for its cruelty and insanity, but we
couldn’t focus on that now. We’d pray that whoever bought them had at
least some decency in them for two innocent children.
“They probably don’t know that they are the heirs to the Tijuana Cartel
or the Volkov empire,” I told her. “That little fact, despite my mother’s
intent, probably protected them.”
She buried her face in my chest and broke down, holding on to me. She
cried bitter tears, and I held her silently through it all until those wretched
sobs finally eased.
I cupped her face, my eyes locked on hers for several stretched
heartbeats, knowing our worlds would be changed soon.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her face wet with tears that broke my heart
to see. She was the strongest woman I’d ever met, and she deserved so
much more.
“Whatever the obstacles, we’ll get the twins back,” I promised.
“Nobody will stop us.”
And if anyone tried… it would be their end.
 FORTY-SEVEN
LIANA

Two Months Later

A
lazy, warm breeze pushed the curtain through the open hotel window
while the sound of soft waves washing off the shoreline filled the
room.
I looked at the man sleeping next to me, soft snores coming out of my
husband’s mouth while soft morning light reflected against his dark hair.
I’d never dreamt of finding love or any semblance of happiness. The
trauma of years under my first husband and then Perez would always be
there, manifesting itself in different ways throughout our lives, but
Giovanni accepted it. He accepted me as I was.
He’d given me a home, purpose, and became my anchor. But most
importantly, he loved me and the two little human beings I birthed even if
we hadn’t met them yet, along with my Mara, who were all extensions of
me. Unlike his mother, he wasn’t starved for power. He’d gladly give it all
up, only to remain with me, and that… that spoke volumes in my love
language. And then there was the fact that he was doing everything in his
power to get my babies back to me.
Twins. Gosh, it was still hard to wrap my head around that fact. I was a
mother to a boy and a girl somewhere out there. Were they scared? Did
someone take pity on them and protect them from this cruel world?
I hoped so.
At that moment, our phones sounded with a soft ping. It was time.
 The Albanian coast was breathtaking, the crystal blue waters some of
the most beautiful I’d seen in my lifetime. But my worried mind couldn’t
appreciate the beauty. The only thing I wanted and needed was to get to my
children and get them to the safety of our home.
The past two months had been a journey of ups and downs, dead-end
leads and clues that had ultimately led us here.
Vlora, Albania.
An old city founded in the sixth century and situated in a bay where the
Ionian Sea merged with the Adriatic. A city that was on nobody’s radar, yet
when we looked deeper into it, there were so many organizations working
in the shadows. But above them all, there was a single powerhouse that hid
the most powerful men—or women—of the criminal world.
And somehow, my son and daughter were connected to it.
Dropping a kiss on his tattooed hand, I hummed, “Wake up,
sleepyhead.”
“Hmmm.” His voice was roughened from sleep as he blinked his green
eyes, alert entering them. “Any news?”
“Something just came in,” I said, sliding out of bed and rushing to our
phones that laid on the hotel table.
Giovanni leaned back on his elbows, watching me as I slid the message
open. I grabbed his phone and padded back to him, sliding into bed as I
handed his cell to him.
He read his text, then mine.
“You’re not going alone.”
It didn’t surprise me. Giovanni was nothing if not predictable, but it was
what I loved about him.
“We have forty-eight hours. We should stake out the meeting place and
surrounding area. I’ll call Lou. She and Kingston could—”
He pushed me onto my back, swallowing my next words with a deep
kiss. It wasn’t until I was panting underneath him that he murmured against
my lips, “They’re already here.”
“God, I love you,” I rasped.
“I love you more.”
And then he showed me exactly how much.
 FORTY-EIGHT
GIOVANNI

T
he lake was surrounded by hills, affording privacy away from the
touristy beach town in Albania. It was barely six in the morning, and
the only thing I could hear were our low breaths and the waking of the
forest.
And my damn brothers who wouldn’t stop talking.
“How can you tell her mood?” Cristiano asked Romeo. My youngest
brother had been trying to make up to Liana by getting to know her, but she
wasn’t making it easy for him. I knew she didn’t hold grudges, at least not
like she used to, so I suspected it had become some sort of a game between
those two.
“Well, bro,” Romeo started, puffing his chest like he was an expert on
everything relating to Lia. If he was, he’d be dead, because nobody was
allowed to be closer to her than me. “There is the little fact that she’s
holding a machine gun that tells us she’s overly happy right now.”
“I sure as fuck hope she isn’t mad at us,” Cristiano muttered.
I’m surrounded by Einsteins.
I rolled my eyes and so did my wife, although the corner of her mouth
twitched.
Louisa and Kingston stood hidden in the shadows in case backup was
needed, while my brothers stood with us out in the open. There was no
sense in pretending we were alone, and I suspected whoever our contact
was knew that.
 A gust of wind swept through, making the spring temperatures in
Albania slightly cooler. Lia’s strands caught in the breeze, sending her
wildflower scent my way, and I couldn’t resist the pull of taking her hand
into mine.
Then the sound of an engine traveled through the air and all playfulness
ended. With guns in our hands, my brothers and I surrounded Lia.
“For fuck’s sake,” she mumbled. “I can hold my own, you know.”
“We know,” Cristiano grumbled. “But hold your own after we die. Until
then…”
Yes, my brother was doing some major ass-kissing. But I had no time to
dwell on it, because a military green Jeep with tinted paint appeared in front
of us and came to a stop.
“Can you see who it is?” Lia whispered. “I can’t see shit through that
tint.”
My eyes narrowed, and before I could answer my wife, the door
opened, a familiar figure stepping out. Lia pushed her short frame between
Romeo and me, glaring at the man with stubble, dark sunglasses, and salt-
and-pepper head full of hair.
“Kian, you motherfucker—”
I pulled her back, tucking her in closer to me and aiming my gun at
Kian. At this moment, I wasn’t sure whether Kian was a friend or a foe.
“I didn’t know you were Albanian,” Cristiano hissed, pointing a gun at
Kian. “I thought you were Brazilian.”
Lia’s gun was pointed at him too, her eyes flashing with fury that would
make Titans proud.
“Put the damn guns down,” Kian instructed. “I don’t want the kids
frightened.”
Lia froze, her eyes darting to the car, then back to him. “W-what? What
kids?”
Kian issued a soft command to someone in the car, then made his way
to us. His eyes were locked on Lia when he spoke, “I’ll give you one
guess.”
“But Albanians—”
Kian let out a dark chuckle, his eyes crinkling. “As you know, Perez and
I didn’t have the same mother. Mine was Albanian.”
“Get the fuck out,” Romeo grumbled. “So you run the Albanian mafia?”
“Now I didn’t say that, did I?” Kian retorted.
 An eerie feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. Being head of the
Cortes Cartel was power, but to head the Albanians on top of that was a
superpower. Plus, it was a known fact that Kian had been collecting favors
from a vast number of organizations and powerful people all over the globe.
“I don’t give a fuck what you run,” Lia said, taking a step forward,
much to my dismay. I stepped behind her, keeping my gun aimed at the man
who was a mystery. “I want to know where my kids are.”
Her voice cracked, so did my heart. She didn’t deserve any more pain
after all she’d been through.
“They are here.” Kian tilted his chin toward the car. “And they are
unharmed.”
Lia’s eyes locked longingly on the Jeep.
“You had them all this time?” I questioned. “That’s a pretty shitty
move.”
“I kept them safe, just like you kept Amara safe,” Kian reasoned.
Lia’s eyes furrowed. “So they were your assurance that I’d give Amara
back to her parents?”
“At first, no. They were just innocents that needed rescuing, and I was
at the right place at the right time. I knew it wouldn’t be safe to reveal them
as long as Sofia Volkov or Giovanni’s mother was alive. But once she was
gone, yes… I kept waiting for you to reach out to Emory DiLustro on your
terms.”
Surprise flooded Lia, her eyes going wild.
“If you’d told me—” She stared straight at the man, taking a step
forward. She was significantly shorter than Kian, but the way she stood toe-
to-toe, she appeared just as tall and strong. “You should have told me.”
“But I didn’t.”
“When you rescued me, you knew?” He nodded, and Lia’s lips curved
into a bitter smile. “And yet you gave me useless information not to share.”
Kian let out a dark chuckle. “The Syndicator isn’t useless information.
It’s the power. It’s what saved your children.”
Lia slowly lowered her gun to her side, her eyes shining with tears.
“What do you want, Kian?” I demanded. “I assume there’s something
you want from us in exchange for the twins.”
He smiled, giving a pointed look at my brothers.
“Lower your guns, then we’ll talk.” At my wordless command, my
brothers lowered their weapons and Kian gave a satisfactory nod.
 “Now talk, Kian,” my wife said, her voice frigid and her mask firmly
on. “Tell me what you want from me.”
“Very well,” he agreed. I kept close to Lia, ensuring her safety, but
letting her lead. This was her moment, nobody else’s. “I want you to run
your mother’s business.”
“Why?” I questioned.
“Yes, why?” Lia echoed. “There is already one guy who runs a criminal
organization in Russia. You certainly don’t need another one.”
“Correct, but you see, the criminals need to be kept in check. Illias
Konstantin is the Pakhan and he’s running his empire fairly, but his children
might not.”
“Well, worry about that shit when his kids grow up,” I grunted. “Why in
the fuck are we worrying about that now?”
“Because The Syndicator is about checks and balances. Rather than wait
until it’s too late, Lia will run Sofia Volkov’s empire and keep the Pakhan in
check. This will also protect your children.”
“We can keep them safe,” I protested.
“This is ludicrous,” she muttered. “And Atticus, where does he come
into play?”
“Don’t worry about Atticus. I got that handled.” He cleared his throat.
“The twins will need a lot more than just your protection, Giovanni. They
need the Syndicate.”
“And if I refuse?” Lia questioned.
“It’s not in your interest to do so,” Kian warned softly. “Your children’s
lives depend on it.”
My arm shot up and I aimed it at him. “Are you fucking threatening her
kids?”
He laughed, completely unfazed.
“Considering I’m the one who ensured their safety all this time, I’m not.
Their names and association with Sofia Volkov will make them wanted
around the globe. The fact that Lia was a big part of the Marabella
Agreements and provided the list of candidates for it will make the twins
despised and hunted. Like I said, in order for you and Liana to keep the
twins safe, you’ll have to take on Sofia Volkov’s empire and participate in
The Syndicate. We’re going to dismantle flesh trading around the globe. ”
“I thought this was about checks and balances,” I pointed out.
“It is,” Kian confirmed. “And about the Syndicate.”
 “How does this Syndicate play into anything?” Lia questioned. “If you
want our buy in, we should know what we’re signing up for.”
Kian locked his gaze on Lia. “The Syndicate is about eliminating flesh
trading. You and I have a lot to atone for.” Lia paled, the sins of her past
gutting her alive. “I have to undo my brother’s wrongs. You have to
undo—”
“My wrongs,” she finished, her eyes lowering on her missing finger.
“By being part of the Syndicate, you’ll offer an additional layer of
protection to Jet and Elira, but also to other children who aren’t so lucky to
have parents or family coming after them.”
Silence stretched for several heartbeats when Lia whispered.
“A-are those their names?” Her hands started to shake, tears gathering
in her eyes as she grasped for those two names that would be her first
connection to her children. Our children.
Kian nodded. “Yes, Jetmir, meaning good life, and Elira, to be free.
They’re Albanian names and seemed appropriate.”
“Did they have a good life, Kian?” Her voice cracked. “A free life?”
Kian smiled. “You can ask them yourself, but I think so.”
Lia released a shuddering breath, then turned to me and whispered, “Are
you up for it?”
She waited for my answer, breathing harshly. The tremor in her hands
didn’t escape me, and I smiled at this beautiful, strong woman who was all
mine.
“Wife, I’m up for anything. As long as you’re happy and with me, I’ll
go to the edge of the world with you.”

LIANA
Kian was right. I had to atone for my sins, and if continuing my mother’s
legacy required it along with participation in this Syndicate I still didn’t
understand, then so be it.
As long as I had Giovanni and my twins by my side.
The knot in my stomach coiled and emotions twisted in my chest as I
watched Kian walk to his Jeep.
 Someone might wonder why I wanted my babies, especially considering
who their father was. But for me, they didn’t represent their father or the
suffering I endured under his or Perez’s captivity. To me, my babies were
hope—for the future, for love, for happiness.
Giovanni had given me those, but without the twins—now that I knew
they lived—that happiness would never be complete. Not unless they were
with me.
My hands trembled and my heart shuddered. A big part of me was still
scared something would go awry and I’d lose my twins all over again.
Gosh, it still seemed so surreal. I have twins, a boy and a girl.
Cristiano reached and took the gun out of my hands while I kept my
eyes locked on the car, scared I’d miss something. That I’d blink and Kian
would disappear with my babies.
Two sets of feet appeared underneath the door that blocked their small
bodies and I held my breath. My knees buckled and Giovanni caught me,
holding me upright.
I breathed his scent into my lungs, soaking in his strength, and I waited.
Then the first head full of dark hair peeked from behind the door, soon
followed by the blonde curls, and I brought my hand to my mouth to stifle a
sob.
Their steps hesitant, they started to walk, while I struggled for
composure. Tears burned in the back of my eyes, and I fought the urge to
run to them. I didn’t want to scare them.
Kian right at their backs, he followed them until all three came to stand
in front of me.
“I knew they wouldn’t be identical twins, but they look like opposites,”
I rasped, unable to come up with anything better.
“Yes, they are,” Kian confirmed, his eyes flicking behind me where Lou
and Kingston stood in the shadows. “But they’re no less connected, very
much like you and your twin.”
But my thoughts weren’t with my twin right now. They were with two
sets of eyes that were studying me, deciding whether I was trustworthy.
I slowly lowered down to their eye level, swallowing a lump in my
throat.
“Hello, Jet and Elira. I’m—” Your mother. And I love you so much. Yet,
I was scared to utter those words, fearful of rejection.
“You’re our mom,” Jet finished. “We’re your flesh and blood.”
 My eyes darted to Kian, thanking him silently, and he offered a terse
nod in acknowledgement.
“Kian told us everything about you,” Elira chimed in. “We’ve been
waiting to meet you.”
A strangled sob tore from my lips and no sooner did I open my arms,
they fell into them and I wrapped them around their little bodies tightly.
“And I’ve been dreaming about meeting you,” I croaked, showering
kisses all over their heads. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”
“But we came as soon as we could,” Giovanni chimed in, his hand on
my back seeping strength into me. “I’m Giovanni, your mom’s husband,
and I’m so happy to meet you.”
Jet straightened his shoulders and extended his hand. “The pleasure is
ours, sir.”
My husband took his hand, lowering to my son’s eye level. “Call me
Giovanni, Jet. And welcome to our family.”
“Is your family big?” Elira questioned, her eyes studying everyone. My
twin and her husband abandoned their positions and joined the reunion.
“There are so many people here.”
“Our family, which includes you and Jet, is indeed big,” Giovanni
answered, now shaking her hand. She flicked a worried look to Jet, who
gave her a silent nod of approval and she followed Giovanni, her small
hand in his big strong one as he introduced her to his brothers, then her
uncle Kingston, leaving my twin for last.
Seeing him like this, with my—our—family made it harder to maintain
my composure.
Much like me, Lou got down to her knees and pulled Elira into a hug,
her lip quivering. “I’m your Aunt Lou, sweetie, and you and me, we’re
going to be best friends.”
Elira reached out and touched her face. “You look just like my
momma.”
“We’re twins too,” my sister said gently. “Like you and your brother.”
My daughter glanced at me and Jet, who was still standing by me,
watching his sister like an overprotective brother.
She returned to me, her small palm coming to my cheek.
“You have a big family,” Elira whispered shyly, her gaze hesitantly
moving between Giovanni and me, then darting to his brothers and my
sister, only to come back to me.
 “We have a big family,” I murmured. “You two are our family too.” It
was impossible to hold back tears, so I let them fall, laughing and crying at
the same time. “And you’ve made me”—I glanced at my husband who had
been with me every step of the way since he barged into my life with love
and gratitude—“ made us complete.”
Then I pulled them into a hug, my husband’s arms wrapping around all
of us like a protective cocoon.
My chest glowed, and for the first time ever, I finally experienced what
it meant to be blissfully happy. It wouldn’t matter what life brought our
way, because I finally had what I’d yearned for for so long.
Love. Family. Happiness.
 EPILOGUE
GIOVANNI

Boston
Eighteen Months Later

D
affodils symbolize rebirth and hope, but also resilience, and that was
exactly what our family was.
As I promised my wife, I had been slowly checking off every
single one of her bucket list tattoos from her list.
This was another one. Dancing barefoot across the field of daffodils.
My wife wanted to walk in a field of them, stronger than ever, and I
ensured to make that happen. I bought land all around our home and planted
daffodils so she could always run barefoot through them. And she did, over
and over again, then she’d run back to me and pepper kisses all over my
face, only to go back and run over it again. And now she was dancing in the
field of daffodils.
Happy. Strong. And more beautiful than ever.
Leaning against the doorframe of our terrace door with my hands in my
pockets, I watched my family run barefoot over the flowers. Jet, Elira, and
Lia made a dance circle with their cousins, Lou, Lara, and Kingston, and
my brothers who grumbled, claiming they look ridiculous.
They were right; they did.
But judging by everyone’s smiling faces, my brothers would continue
looking ridiculous.
 Seeing them all like this, it made the journey to get to this moment so
fucking worth it.
Life was good, so fucking good that sometimes I had to pinch myself to
make sure I wasn’t dreaming.
Our family divided our year between Siberia, Venezuela, and Boston,
playing mitigator between three criminal organizations—the Cartel, the
Omertà, and the Syndicate. Our relationship with the Omertà, the Kingpins,
and the Cartel was stronger than ever. The Syndicate was making progress
in tearing down flesh trading. And my wife… she was so fucking happy,
she glowed.
Having the twins, Amara, and Lou back in her life made an
extraordinary change in Lia. The children, being close in age, became tight
friends and extremely close. And so did my wife and Emory. Lia still
visited Dr. Freud, although not as frequently, and more often than not it was
a social call rather than a professional one. The two had formed an unlikely
friendship.
Life really worked in mysterious ways.
“You did good, Giovanni.” Mateo’s voice came from behind me and I
glanced at him. “I have to admit, when I first heard about you marrying Lia,
I wasn’t so sure about the match.” I rolled my eyes, and he continued, “Not
that it would have mattered. In that regard, you’re very much like me.”
“You keep forgetting I’m not your blood,” I reminded him.
“No matter, you’re still family.”
Kian cut in, appearing suddenly.
“Sorry I’m late.” His gaze darted to the circus of bare feet. “Or maybe
not. Why is everyone barefoot?”
I shrugged. “It’s my wife’s bucket list.”
“To walk around barefoot?” Kian wondered, his brow furrowing.
“Yes, across the field of daffodils.” I turned my head his way. “Got a
problem with that?”
He raised his hands as if to surrender.
“Not at all, I think it’s cute,” he remarked wryly. “I see my niece, Lara,
is enjoying it too.”
I smiled.
Lara, Kingston and Lou’s adopted daughter, had became a key part of
our unusual family.
“You know she has a bucket list of her own,” I said.
 Kian shot me a surprised look. “Isn’t she a bit too young for a bucket
list?”
I rolled my eyes, but thankfully Mateo saved me the response. “You’re
never too young or too old for a bucket list.”
“You should give it a try,” I retorted dryly.
Kian was a damned workaholic. A fucking machine that refused to stop
churning. When he wasn’t running the Syndicate and being everyone’s
slight pain in the ass, he ran both a security company and the Cortes Cartel.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure where he got the stamina.
“Giovanni,” Jet shouted, running over to me. I pulled my hands out of
my pockets and opened them as he threw himself into my arms.
“Hey, buddy. You look like you’re having fun.”
“I’m just playing along, making the girls happy,” he said, rolling his
eyes, but the smile on his face said the opposite. He was enjoying it as
much as the girls.
“Maybe I should play along too,” I offered.
His whole face lit up. “Yes. It will make Mom happy.”
I smiled. “Then let’s go make your mom happy.”
“Yes,” he beamed, then grabbed my hand in his, pulling me away from
the door and toward the field.
As if she could sense me, Lia lifted her head and trapped me in her
beautiful gaze. Her long blonde hair fell down her back, her curls bouncing
as she danced freely. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I
didn’t think I could fall deeper in love with her, but I was so fucking wrong,
because with each passing day, I fell deeper and deeper under her spell.
She met me halfway across the field, pressed a kiss to Jet’s head, then
brought her hand to my chest, lifting onto her tiptoes.
“Thank you so much,” she murmured against my lips.
“In full disclosure, Jet helped me plant the bulbs last fall,” I admitted.
“Awww, thank you, Jet,” she murmured, pressing another kiss to his
cheek. “I love it so much, and I love you even more.”
Jet, being a typical boy, wiggled, but didn’t pull away. “You’re
welcome, Mama.”
Then he grinned and took off to play with his cousins, leaving me alone
with my wife. I took advantage, pulling her flush to me, her breasts pressing
against mine.
“Today, it’s nearly perfect, husband. Thank you.”
 I raised an eyebrow. “Nearly?”
That wouldn’t do. I needed everything absolutely perfect for my wife.
“We’re just missing Mara,” she murmured. “I wanted to practice
swimming with her and she’ll miss the flowers. They’ll probably all die
out.”
My wife was eliminating her bucket list slowly but surely, leaving her
with one final item to complete. Her graduate degree. She was working on
it now, determined to live to the fullest, and I couldn’t be more proud of her.
“I know, wildflower, but she’ll be here next week. I’ll import a
truckload of daffodils and plant them if these die, and we can all run
barefoot and dance.”
She chuckled softly. “You too?”
I grinned. “Damn right.”
“How did I get so lucky?” Lia asked in a soft voice.
“You didn’t shoot me when you had a chance,” I teased.
“Best decision of my life.” She put her arms around my neck, smiling,
then kissed me on the lips. “I’m so in love with you, and life without you
would be miserable.”
I chuckled against her lips. “I love you too, wildflower.”
We started dancing, our family’s laughter surrounding us, and the world
had never felt more right than it did now with this woman in my arms. She
made me so proud and happy, and she loved me unconditionally.
I was hers. She was mine.
In sickness and in health. For richer or for poorer.
Until death do us part.

THE END
 WHAT’S NEXT?

Thank you so much for reading Thorns of Blood! If you liked it, please
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Next up in the series is Thorns of Deceit ( https://a.co/d/gM5pOyA ).

 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Curious about Eva’s other books? You can check them out here. Eva Winners’s Books
https://bit.ly/3SMMsrN

Eva Winners writes anything and everything romance, from enemies to lovers to books with all the
feels. Her heroes are sometimes villains because they need love too. Right? Her books are sprinkled
with a touch of suspense, mystery, a healthy dose of angst, a hint of violence and darkness, and lots
of steamy passion.

When she’s not working and writing, she spends her days either in Croatia or Maryland daydreaming
about the next story.

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