1. Liliana

Chapter 1

Liliana

M y heart was thundering, my body hot in the most uncomfortable way. I'd never been so afraid, never actually feared for my life, but right now, I felt like I was being led to my death by the burly, suit-wearing beast of a man in front of me.

But even if I was scared as hell right now, I knew what I was doing was right.

Because it would save my piece of shit brother and father. I shouldn't care what happened to them. It wasn't like they had ever done anything but bring my life stress and caused me to bail them out more times than not.

But they're family. The only one I have left in this shitty world.

And so, I walked deeper into the bowels of a deserted warehouse that smelled like mold, age, and hints of decay all in hopes I could barter for my family's lives with one of the biggest drug lords in Desolation, New York.

Matteo Amato.

Smoothing my hands down the too tight shirt and too short skirt, I felt ridiculous. But I needed to show Matteo what I offered.

It wasn't money.

And it wasn't because I had any connections that would benefit him.

It was my body and the use of it.

I swallowed roughly, feeling even more ridiculous at the notion a man like Matteo would make any kind of deal with me, let alone a sexual one that would get my father and brother out of the hole they'd dug themselves in.

A moment later, the man led me into a room that looked like it had once been an office. A dented, metal table was off to one side and a tan, slightly rusted filing cabinet on the other. The walls were made of white, peeling cinder block, and the scent surrounding me was a mixture of stale air and disuse.

The burly man didn't speak to me as he left me in the room.

I paced the length, my temperature rising as the seconds ticked by. Several times I glanced at the door, and the longer I stayed caged in here waiting for Matteo to arrive, the more I told myself this was a horrible idea.

I had to get out of here. I was in front of the door and gripping the handle before the thought even left my head, and just as I pulled it open, about to step out, my body collided with one that was big and hard and smelled like spicy, expensive cologne.

My hands instinctively went to a hard chest, and my face smashed against layers of material. The suit under my palms wasn't able to hide the steady, unbothered beat of a heart.

Massive, tattooed hands came up and grabbed my wrists. It wasn't painful, but he used deliberate pressure to let me know he could snap the bones as easily as pulling a turkey wishbone in half.

"I didn't order entertainment," the deep, very masculine voice said in clear disinterest.

I tipped my head back… and back until I was staring into the face of crime lord, Matteo Amato.

I wanted to tell him I wasn't the fucking entertainment, but I corrected myself instantly because that's exactly why the hell I was here.

God, he was dangerously handsome with short dark hair styled a little haphazardly, strands flailing across his forehead, and piercing gray eyes that reminded me of stormy days.

I tugged my hands free, and when he let me go, I knew it was because he deemed it so.

Matteo stood in the doorway, the three-piece suit he wore not hiding his raw power and muscular frame.

"Going somewhere?" he asked and stepped inside. I saw the beast-man right on the other side, and without looking inside the room, he closed the door, locking me in with a man I knew could kill me and bury my body where no one could find me.

I gripped the strap of my knockoff purse but didn't walk any closer. I stayed by the now closed door as if it would protect me. A heartbeat passed with neither of us speaking, but I was acutely aware of the way Matteo watched me with a stoic expression.

Dead eyes. That's what he had.

He moved toward the desk off to the side, the metal one that looked worse for wear. The piece of furniture was dented and scuffed with a stack of papers that had a layer of dust atop them. He leaned against the edge, arms crossed, biceps bulging underneath his suit.

He looked dangerous. Violent. He looked undoubtedly attractive in the way the devil was beautiful but pure evil.

"What is it you want?" His tone showed no inclination, his expression still void of emotion.

It was clear he couldn't care less about my presence, and I suddenly felt extremely ridiculous for thinking I could influence a crime lord like Matteo Amato into getting what I wanted. But I was here. The worst thing he could tell me was to get the fuck out. Or maybe that wasn't the worst but that's the only route I was willing to think about.

My mouth was dry, so trying to form any words was impossible. Finally, after telling myself to woman-the-fuck-up, I cleared my throat and shifted on my feet. "I have a proposition for you."

He lifted a dark brow. He looked me up and down with the most unimpressed expression a human could muster.

"My brother and father…" I licked my lips, my throat feeling tight and dry. "They've gotten themselves into some trouble with you." He still showed no reaction and didn't break eye contact. I did everything in my power to keep my focus on him. I knew it would come across as weakness if I didn't. The last thing I wanted was to show that in front of this man. "Their names are–"

I liked to tell myself I was truly doing this because they were my only remaining family. But the truth was, my hand was being led in this decision. If I didn't come up with the money to bail them out, no amount of running or hiding would save me.

"I know who owes me money, Miss Johnson."

My heart worked overtime. I didn't know why I was so taken aback by the fact he clearly knew who my brother and father were. Of course, he'd know all his business dealings. He wouldn't be as high on the food chain if he didn't.

"You know my name." I didn't phrase it like a question, and the slight lift of his mouth wasn't at all humorous.

"Of course." He pushed away from the desk and stalked toward me. "I need to know all the lifelines of the pieces of shit who owe me, so that if need be, I know where to take lives."

I realized I'd been backing up as he walked closer, so now the cold, cinder block wall stopped my escape.

"I know everything about you, Liliana Johnson." His voice had dropped lower, deeper. "I knew you were asking around about me and trying to find me. You think I give my location out to anyone who comes knocking?" He ran his thumb over his bottom lip, then sucked in his teeth as if the very thought annoyed him." Such a pretty, little thing you are. I could devour you before you even knew it ."

His voice was low, deadly. I couldn't understand him, his voice deep and dark, his pronunciation of Liliana flawless and beautiful even though he seemed so deadly.

" I feel starved ." His gaze dropped to my lips. "How the fuck do you think you got this meeting with me? You think I didn't make sure I had every single minute of you here planned before I sent word out to have men bring you to me?"

Oh God. I'd made a terrible mistake. My heart was beating so hard it hurt, the pain unlike anything I'd ever felt before. It was fear. Real, bone-deep fear that held me immobile.

I thought I held the cards in this meeting, had the upper hand. How wrong I'd been.

"Your douchebag father owes me fifty grand, and that's increasing daily with interest." His voice dropped even lower. It was a tone I was sure he reserved for those he was about to strangle.

My throat squeezed tighter. God, I didn't know it was that much.

"And your brother, the dickless motherfucker who's not only a user but also peddling his inferior quality, made-in-the-bathroom shit in my territory owes me twenty grand in potentially lost revenue."

I pressed my palms flat against the stone behind me, the rough, chilly feeling not doing a damn thing in calming me down. I feared I'd pass out from Matteo's stare alone. I realized he had a slight accent, not one that was very noticeable, but his clear anger, although concealed, was still noticeable.

"So, are you the one who's going to come up with that money, Liliana?" He moved a step back, and I sucked in a breath of air. "Because I planned on having a private meeting with both assholes and seeing what they came up with for terms of payment." He grinned then, all straight, white teeth that reminded me of a predator knowing he had its prey in a death hold.

"I could never come up with that kind of money." My voice was barely audible.

"Is that right?" He sounded bored. "What were your intentions by coming here?" He crossed those beefy arms over his wide chest and stared down at me. He scanned me from toe to head, a disgusted look on his face. "Let me guess." He scrubbed a hand over his face, the sound of his palm scraping over his stubbled jaw overly loud in the still room. "You're wearing clothes that make me think you're willing to sell your body for a little coin." His voice sounded so… bored.

His gaze was trained right on mine, his gray irises looking so dark it was like a reflection of the pits of hell, I was sure.

"Am I correct in assuming that's why you're here? That's why you wanted to meet me so fucking badly?" He ground his teeth, his gaze traveling up and down my body with a look of utter contempt.

"I–I don't know why I'm here." It wasn't a total lie. I knew my intentions coming here, but now, standing in front of Matteo, I was questioning every single damn thing.

A scowl crossed his features, and I felt my heart drop into the very bottom of my stomach .

"Don't fucking lie to me, little girl."

As long moments stretched by without either of us speaking, I knew there was no other option than the only one he was offering—to be honest—because he already knew why I was here.

Like a sadist, he wants me to say the fucking words.

I wiped off the perspiration that was forming on my brow. Looking down at my outfit, humiliation filled me with the thought I could have pulled this off.

Had I really thought that I could convince Matteo—a damn crime lord—of anything by wearing revealing clothing? I lifted my gaze and found him still watching me.

I licked my lips and saw how his gaze dipped down to watch the act.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk, and I took a moment to stare at how the material of his suit jacket stretched across his shoulders. His muscles were clear, and I let the thought of what this big, massively muscular man would look like with no clothes on.

I could just imagine all those hard, defined muscles straining and flexing as he moved. I could see the tattoos peeking out from the expensive material that covered him, and I thought about how much ink covered that olive-toned flesh.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't catch my thoughts as I watched him walk, stalk… saunter closer. And then, he was once again right in front of me, and I was staring up at his big, hard body. His gaze landed on my eye. The one that had a black and blue bruise covering the side. The one I wasn't able to fully cover with makeup.

His jaw clenched, the sound of his teeth grinding together loud in the small confines. When he looked into my eyes, I saw this darkness in them that had me sucking in a sharp breath because a sliver of fear washed over me. This was the look of death. This was me staring into the eyes of the Devil.

I froze. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Matteo lifting his hand. Instinctively, I flinched away, and I saw that fire in his eyes grow to an inferno.

But he didn't strike me. He cupped the side of my face, his thumb stroking right under the edge of the bruise under my eye. Gently. God… so gently.

"Who did this to you?" His voice was so low I felt chills of ice race up and down my spine.

I shook my head but wasn't sure what I denied.

Matteo leaned in close, his mouth now by my ear, so I felt the warm tendrils of his breath teasing the shell. "You'll fucking tell me who did this to you, and you'll tell me now."

I closed my eyes and shivered for reasons other than nervousness and fear. I shivered because the feeling of his body pressed so intimately to mine made me feel things that tightened parts of me no one had even seen or touched before.

"It's nothing," I finally said, my voice whisper thin.

His breathing increased slightly, but he didn't respond. He just kept stroking his thumb gently over my cheek before pulling back and staring into my eyes.

"I know who fucking touched you. I can see the truth in your eyes whether you utter the words." After a second, he backed away, and I sucked in a deep lungful of air.

I didn't know what he saw in my expression, but whatever it was, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, and he chuckled.

"Careful, Amore ," he said, low and gruff. "I can see you thinking about me fucking you, and I may just do that in this piece of shit, dirty warehouse." He grinned. "And I'm the type of bastard who wouldn't care if you cried because I was making you my whore."

I saw something in his eyes, this flicker of something I couldn't decipher. But it somehow softened his words, made them less ugly and violent.

And before I knew it, Matteo was standing right in front of me. A small sound left me. Maybe a gasp. Maybe an inhalation of breath. Either way, I couldn't control myself right now.

"Use your words, Sunshine."

The way he used that endearment made something flutter in the most intimate parts of my body, a feeling I'd never experienced before. It scared me, made me a little frightened of how much I liked it. But I hated him saying something that could be so sweet.

He exhaled a rough chuckle when I didn't respond. He turned and went back to the desk, leaned against it again, and waited. Just waited.

"My father and brother have done bad things–"

"They're pieces of fucking shit, Liliana." He tilted his head to the side. "Why the fuck would you want to help either of those assholes? They don't do shit for you. They don't provide for you, support you, and they sure as shit don't love you, little girl."

My throat closed up because I knew he was right.

"Because they're all I've got in this world–"

"I'm going to give you a piece of free fucking advice, Sunshine. You don't need anyone in this godforsaken, shitty world except one person." His face got darker… meaner. "Yourself. That's the only person you can count on." He tapped his temple. "Fucking remember that."

The silence stretched out, and the longer it persisted, the more uncomfortable I felt.

I'd heard enough whispers and rumors about what type of man Matteo was.

Thief. Murderer. Drug and crime lord. The list went on and on.

Just do it. Say it.

"Isn't there something I can do to make things right? Some agreement we can come to terms with?"

In the back of my mind, I asked myself why I gave two shits about what happened to Derek and Logan Johnson. It was true they'd never done anything to make my life easier. Had there been wonderful memories of my father and brother? Maybe? If I had them, they were few and far between that they almost seemed like fever dreams, things I'd made up to hide the ugliness of how my childhood and life had been.

I couldn't even remember a time before I was five years old. It was like I'd woken up one day that age, thrust into that shitty world where I was looking up at my father and brother as they shared a needle and shot up.

"Something to make things right?" Matteo said in a bored tone.

I felt a stray tear slip down my cheek and realized I couldn't do this. No amount of helping them would change my future. It wouldn't help the outlook of how things would play out.

I made myself think about all the times they'd let me down.

When I was seven, my father dislocated my shoulder because he grabbed me too tightly in a drug-induced rage when he thought I was an intruder. Or when I was ten years old and my brother made me buy his drugs from the corner in the middle of the night because he was too much of a coward, fearing the dealer he owed money to would spot him.

I was pissed that I didn't let myself think of all the things they'd done to me over the years, refusing to let that darkness seep in deep because I still held on to the hope that family was family and that one day things would get better.

But after failed rehab attempts, I knew my "family" only cared about one thing, and that was what benefited them.

"Family doesn't even mean anything," I whispered.

I'd been nearly stabbed, bruised and burned, and verbally and mentally abused by the people who should have loved me and cared for me. They only loved me when it suited them, when they needed to use me for something.

I would be better off if they were dead.

"Would you like me to make that possible?" Matteo's voice was deep but smooth, like black silk.

I snapped myself out of my thoughts and felt my eyes widen. "W-What?" I'd heard him clear as day, but surely, he didn't mean what I thought he did?

"I can make your brother and father's debt go away with a flick of my fingers." He snapped them as if that proved his point.

I shook my head. I was ashamed to let the idea of them gone for good from my life play through my head.

"Just think," Matteo said, low and soft. "They've held you back your entire life. You haven't been able to leave this shithole of a city because there's always something happening, isn't that right?"

I licked my lips but didn't answer. He was right. God… he was right. He'd already said he knew things about me. Probably all things, if I was honest with myself.

Never enough money. Working overtime just to survive with the bare minimum. My brother or father being sick and the humane part of me feeling an obligation to care for them.

It was always fucking something.

"This is crazy," I whispered. I knew what he was saying. He'd kill them for me, bury their bodies in unmarked graves where no one would ever find them. "Why would you do that for me?"

This made no sense.

Matteo could kill them–probably would–without a second thought. What did it matter what I wanted?

He was silent for a long moment before chuckling humorlessly. "Maybe you have something I want."

Something I want.

This man could have anything and anyone he wanted. All he'd have to do was say the words. I was no one. Nothing. I was penniless and plain and came from a broken background.

"I have to go." I turned and reached for the handle of the door, expecting it to be locked. It shocked me when it flung open. The behemoth of a man stood guard on the other side. He narrowed his eyes on me, but when he glanced over my head, presumably atMatteo, he took a step aside and cast his gaze down to the floor.

"Remember what I said, Liliana."

My heart raced, and I was frozen in place, still refusing to look back at him.

"Sometimes, you have to take matters into your own hands."

His words hung in the air ominously because I knew they meant something much deeper. I just didn't know what.

I didn't look behind me, didn't want to risk Matteo telling me I couldn't leave. I all but ran out of that warehouse and into the night, sweat beading my brow because deep in my bones I knew this wasn't over.

I knew Matteo wasn't done with me.