Chapter Five

Celine

I was drowning with only my toes in the water. Inexperienced didn't mean ignorant. I understood when I'd answered the text, when I agreed to meet him in the middle of the night, that I risked this.

My virginity.

My trust. Not my trust in Stefano. He hadn't lied to me. He'd promised to kiss me. I wanted more. I wanted the butterflies, the touch of his hands on my body, the edged timbre of his voice. I wanted him.

But I risked my heart.

One night with Stefano, and I was wrecked. Deliciously ruined. I knew the risks of touching a man with sharp edges and jagged pieces. A mafiaso whose darkness made even the light from the sun dim.

What I couldn't see, I felt. The course hair on Stefano's leg tickled mine. Wetness slicked my thighs. Without light in the room, I wasn't sure if I was covered in cum or blood. No doubt both marked my flesh as his. As I snuggled next to him, skin to skin, he held my hand to his chest. The ragged breaths after he'd ruthlessly fucked me had softened to a rhythmic cadence.

I was pretty sure he'd fallen asleep, and I'd felt like he'd shot a million volts of electricity through my body. I sizzled and snapped.

I had no idea what time it was, but I had class at ten. I could be late, or even miss. That wasn't the problem. Breakfast would be on the table at eight, and like every day this week, dear dad would be sure to grill me on working with Ian Byrne.

Just thinking his name had me on edge. There was no way I'd be able to get dressed without waking Stefano. And I didn't want to sneak away. I wanted to stay cocooned in this bubble for as long as I could.

He growled in his sleep, turned to me, and locked his arms around me.

"What are you thinking?" He nuzzled into my neck, running his hand along my back and onto my ass. His cock nudged my hip.

"I thought you were sleeping."

He chuckled. "Good idea. Let's sleep."

"I can't sleep," I whispered into the darkness. "I tried."

"If we're not going to sleep, we should be kissing." He gripped my thigh and pulled me over him, straddling his hips. "And touching." He reached between my legs. "And fucking. You're soaking my hand. Are you sore?"

I bit back a moan. I ached, but I still wanted him again. "It doesn't matter."

Bending forward, I kissed him and rubbed my pussy along his dick, smearing my juices over him. I sucked his neck, gently biting his skin the way he'd done to me. His hands traversed the slope of my shoulders, into the dip of my lower back, and cupped my ass in his palms. His hips rolled, grinding against me.

"I need inside you, Angel."

I reached between my legs and curled my fingers around him. His cock was hard, the skin velvety smooth, just like when I'd had him in my mouth with the soft head pillowed against my tongue.

I lifted the heaviness and poised him at my opening. This time he stretched me with just a slight burn. I sighed and slid down, taking him inside my body.

Stefano groaned, squeezed my hips, and thrust deep into me. "I need to see you."

"Okay." My word was barely a whisper. I stilled, impaled on his cock.

He leaned over, flipped on the lamp, and then leaned back on the pillow. Shadows danced in his whiskey-colored irises. Whiskers darkened his hollow cheeks, and the light cut hard angles in his face.

I waited for anxiety, panic, and the icy chill of fear to dig her claws into my chest. The thunder of my heart beat in tandem with the unrelenting possession of his cock filling me. His hands caressed me, and nothing more than his eyes held me hostage in this moment.

I braced my hands on his chest and rolled my hips. Slick friction glided him in and out of my passage as I ground my clit against his groin.

"That's it. I love the way you look at me." He gripped my outer thighs, helping to set the rhythm. "You fuck me so good."

His accent grew thicker, his gravelly voice holding on the vowels. His palm skated over the slope of my hip and into the cinch of my waist.

"Stef." A coil of pleasure twisted low in my belly. A bloom of heat centered on my clit, and a gush of fluids drenched his cock. I stared at where our bodies joined. Streaks of blood seeped from my core, painting his cock a macabre crimson. "I'm bleeding again."

Stefano sat up, keeping me locked to his groin, holding me, and splayed a hand on my lower back. "Proof that you're mine," he said, sucking on the skin where my shoulder met my neck.

Liquid heat slipped through my veins. Small waves, the ebb and flow of our bodies, swelled into a tsunami of pleasure. I gripped his shoulders, my nails digging half-moons into his flesh, and my head tipped back.

Breath froze in my chest. Tremors ripped through my pussy, squeezing against Stefano as he slammed me hard onto his cock.

He roared, and I exploded. Sweat slicked his skin. My hardened nipples zinged with the crush of his chest to mine. He held me tight, taking my mouth in a savage kiss as hot jets of cum splashed inside me.

I clung to him, kissing his mouth, sucking his neck, and soaking in the heat surrounding me.

Long minutes passed. Maybe neither one of us wanted to break the moment. I settled on his lap with his softening cock still inside me. Threading my fingers through his hair, I pushed the sweat-dampened bangs from his forehead.

"I know I have to take you home," he said. "But I want to keep you."

"I don't want our date to end, either."

"Sleep here. Stay in my bed."

"I don't think I can sleep when I'm in your bed. Not when all I can think about is touching you." I lifted off his lap, and fluids leaked from inside me and trickled onto my thighs.

Stefano tackled me to the bed, crushing me beneath him. "I want to see you again."

My tummy tumbled with the confession, and I smiled. "Me, too."

"A second date." He kissed me. "When?"

Weekends were spent alone, painting in my studio. But I'd rather see Stefano. I traced the small scar in the arch of his brow. "Saturday."

He flopped onto his back. "No. Tonight."

Tonight, because the first glimmer of dawn peeked above the horizon outside his windows.

"I wish, and I want to, but I know it's impossible." I leaned over him and rested my chin on his chest. "I'll text you if I can sneak away, and if you're not busy, maybe we can get midnight tacos."

"Do I need to feed you to fuck you?"

"Yes."

He laughed. "I've fucked you filthy. Take a shower with me. I'll fuck you clean."

"Taking a shower with you. Another first." I slid off the bed and followed him into the bathroom.

We stood under a warm waterfall shower in a huge, but unfinished bathroom. Steam filled the marble and glass enclosure, completely at odds with the rest of the apartment.

"How long have you lived here?" I asked. The apartment didn't seem ready for a tenant.

"A couple days."

"Oh. When will the landlord finish the remodel?"

Stefano chuckled as he washed my body, running his hands over every inch of my skin and tenderly cleaning between my legs. "He's been busy. Crews have begun work on the lower floors. My apartment can wait. Besides, I have everything I need." His eyes met mine, and his mouth twisted with a naughty smile. "A bed and a painting."

I chewed the inside of my cheek.

Rivulets of water flowed over the hills of his honed shoulders, onto the sculpted plains of his muscular chest, down the cuts and furrows of his abdominals, and following the treasure trail of soft black hair to his cock. Water droplets dripped from the groomed dark hair surrounding the shaft stretching toward his navel.

"Angel, I just cleaned you up." He twisted off the water. "I want to fuck you again. Unless you want to spend the day in bed with me, you need to stop looking at me like you want to fuck me, too." He stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel off the hook, and handed it to me.

As I blotted water from my face, I inhaled a deep breath. The soft cotton smelled like him. The clean scent of soap and man.

Stefano wrapped a towel around his waist. "Coffee?" he asked, heading toward the kitchenette.

"I don't drink it." I found my bra and hoodie next to the bed and my jeans on the floor beneath the painting.

Stef dropped the towel, grabbed his jeans, and pulled them on without underwear. He carefully zipped the fly but left the button undone. "Not even cappuccino?"

"Do you have any ginger tea?"

He snorted as he tapped a cigarette from his pack, clamped it between his lips, flipped open his lighter, and touched the flame to the tip as he inhaled.

I snatched my panties off the table and lifted my foot to step into them.

"No, Angel, those are mine." He flipped his wet hair from his face.

"My panties?"

He held out his left hand as he smoked with his right. "Sì, without you in my bed, I'll need them when I fuck my fist tonight while we're on the phone."

I held out my panties but didn't hand them over. "Facetime?"

He smiled. "Sì."

I smiled back and handed him my panties. Then I dressed while he finished his cigarette.

Ten minutes later, he shrugged on his leather jacket and grabbed his helmet and keys.

I stood in front of my painting. He wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed my neck.

"Thank you," I whispered. Tears flooded my eyes when I thought of anyone else having my painting. It was safe here with Stefano. "I hated the thought of Mr. Byrne having it."

He stiffened behind me. "Mr. Byrne?"

I turned in his arms. "Ian Byrne, my boss."

"Fuck," he said under his breath.

"He bid on it at the gala. He said he wanted to hang it in his office."

Stefano gently gripped my shoulders, and his voice turned serious. "Celine, what do you know of your boss?"

I sighed and sat on the end of his bed. "Not much. My father set me up for a paid internship. Why Mr. Byrne would want me, I have no idea. I'm an art major with a minor in psychology."

He kneeled in front of me and rested his hands on my knees. "What do you do for him?"

"Mostly I follow him around all day. I'm terribly inept. A business intern would know what to do. He has to explain everything to me because I have no clue what's expected of me. He's had me do some work on the computer. Inputting numbers, auditing some accounts. He's taking over for his brother."

Another associate of my father's. When I'd learned who I worked for, I'd checked my book of names, and Patrick's was there. But Ian's wasn't. It was now, along with his phone number, and what I could remember of the names on the accounts he'd had me audit.

"Patrick Byrne."

"Yes, you know him?"

"I know of him."

"My dad knows him, too. I think they are…or were friends."

Stefano stood and paced across the floor twice. "Fuck."

"Stefano, what's going on? You're saying fuck a lot but not much else."

"I know. Patrick Byrne and I have unfinished business."

"Does it have anything to do with why you threatened my dad at the gala?"

"Fuck." He raked his fingers through his hair. "Possibly. Did Ian say his brother was dead?"

"No. I don't know if he's dead. I just know he isn't working at Briofagan anymore. He could be dead, or maybe they had a falling out. I don't think he's coming back."

I wanted to confide in Stefano, but he wasn't saying much but fuck. Obviously, I've stumbled into something important. Stefano didn't deny he was in the mafia.

Sex didn't erase the fact that I didn't really know him. I'd seen another side of Stefano. A dangerous man had glared at my father with deadly intent and threatened him, but I couldn't deny the concern reflected in the intense amber of his eyes when he looked at me or the possessiveness I felt from him.

"I think he just needed office help," I said.

Ian Byrne had been cavalier in the way he spoke to me and the things he'd asked me to do. If he assumed the non-disclosures were enough of a threat, he was wrong. He didn't know I lived with a murderer.

My insurance policy already listed several names he'd mentioned while on phone calls and the passwords he'd stupidly given me to access accounts on his computer. None of the sites were high priority, confidential, or held company secrets.

He had a big ego along with his big wallet. Super rich but I did see his efforts toward me. He was trying. Maybe he couldn't help being a dick.

"I think he's just doing a favor for my father. My dad wants me to have a job."

"You just started this internship? Are you alone with him?"

"Yes. What's going on, Stefano? How do you know Ian Byrne?" Maybe if he trusted me with some of his truths, I could trust him with mine.

"You're not safe with him." He swallowed hard. "Patrick Byrne was head of the Irish mafia. He's believed to be dead because his brother, your boss, just took control."

And just like that my heart kicked against my ribs. With fight or flight instincts, with me flight always won over fight. Instinct now had me looking for a way to escape. Anxiety seeped into my bloodstream like poison. I wasn't safe at work. I wasn't safe with my father either.

Patrick was in the insurance book. He was an associate of my father's, and my father just forced me into close proximity to his mafia brother.

One. Two. Three.I had nothing pink with me. I shoved Stefano away from me and lurched to my feet. I gulped for breath, but my chest was too tight. No. No. No.

Chills crawled over my arms, nerves popped like live electrical wire, and fear clawed at my mind. I had to work today. I had to be alone with Mr. Byrne. Tears swam in my eyes, spilling onto my cheeks.

I tried to speak but the words stuck in my throat. "Ste…Ste…" I choked on my breath.

"Angel." Stefano pulled me into his arms. "Take a breath, baby. Breathe with me." Inhale. Slowly exhale. He held me tightly, with his leather jacket unzipped, and he pressed my face into the soft cotton of his T-shirt.

Still, I trembled in his embrace, but he was a balm to my chaos. I had no reason to feel safe with Stefano. I only knew that I did. I needed him.

I clung to him, breathing in the scent of leather and cigarettes. "How is my father involved with the Irish mob?"

"Fuck, Angel. He could be involved in a thousand different ways." He gripped my face. "But I don't like that he's involving you."

Neither did I. "I don't know what to do. I have to go to work." And he could see how well I handled stress. A total mess on the brink of a breakdown.

His jaw clenched, and his mouth formed a tight line. He raked his fingers through his hair. "Stay here while I figure something out."

"I can't do that." Hadn't he understood everything I'd told him? My palms fell away from inside his jacket, and I stepped back. "Don't worry. I'll figure it out." I wasn't his responsibility.

"Celine, I'm not going to sit back while your father pawns you off to the fucking Irish. Fuck Byrne, fuck your father, fuck anyone who tries to take what's mine."

At that moment, I could fall for him. No one had ever so vehemently wanted me. But he didn't know my father was capable of murder. And warned me to stay away from Stefano Bruno, Italian mafia.

"It's an internship to the end of the term." Or less, depending how miserable I could make Byrne. I could do this. I had to. He'd fire me if I proved just how worthless I was as his assistant. I'd go to work, listen, remember, and plan my exodus. Just more information for my insurance policy. This wasn't Stefano's problem. It was mine.

I could do this… As long as I didn't have another panic attack.

Stefano

I dropped Celine off at home and received a text from Carmine that they had a location on Oscar Banks. After last night, I had new motivation to find information on Charles Moreau. He'd put my angel in the crosshairs of Ian Byrne. But it hadn't been the mobster's name that caused her fear, but the connection to the Irish mafia.

What did she know that she wasn't saying?

Fifteen minutes later, I rode my Ducati past the guards at the gate of Marco's compound. Security fencing surrounded the property, and soldiers patrolled the grounds. I parked next to Carmine's Yamaha. Several cars filled the massive driveway.

Entering the house, laughter erupted from the kitchen. Happy little boy sounds I hadn't heard in a while.

"What mischief is this?" I said to Savio. He sat on the counter between Knox and Deidre eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Deidre moved his glass of milk out of the way before he spilled it scrambling to his knees to reach me.

"Breakfast," she said. "I'm watching him today. Ally has stuff to do."

I gave Savio a hug, then he scooted back to his sandwich to finish eating.

"Marco is with the guys in the guesthouse." Knox looked like shit with bloodshot eyes. He groaned as he pushed away from the counter. "I'll come out with you." He stopped next to Deidre and whispered in her ear. His palm rested low on her back, familiar and intimate.

Once we were out of the house, Knox put a cigarette between his lips. "I'm still fucking drunk." He lit the cigarette and inhaled. "Where were you last night?"

"Busy. Don't let Marco see you with your hands on Deidre?"

"It's not like that between us."

"Maybe not yet, but she's fire, Knox. One touch and your world will burn to the ground. Don't let your dick overrule your judgement." Advice I hadn't taken last night when I'd been between Celine's thighs.

Knox stared at me, and a smile curled his lips. "You don't need to give me advice on pussy."

"I'm just telling you Marco will order me to gut you if you touch his wife's little sister. That's if Allegra doesn't decide to cut you into pieces first."

"You forget, my loyalty is to Ally. I wouldn't do her dirty by getting with her sister." He took a long drag off his cigarette. "I'm hated by the Irish, and I've pissed off of particular Russian as well. I'm not worried about my funeral, but I wouldn't put Dee in danger. She's been through enough shit. I'm going to make sure nothing else happens to her." He cast a quick glance at me and shrugged. "No matter how much my dick might want to argue."

I entered the guesthouse with Knox one step behind me.

"Where is Banks?" I asked. Because I was in the mood to make someone bleed.

Ant stood in the doorway leading to the kitchen. He took a sip of coffee. "Someone should be in a better mood."

"This is me in a good mood," I said as I passed him and poured myself a cup from the pot on the counter. Romi had an assortment of pastries on a platter. I picked a jelly filled croissant.

"Who is she?" Ant whispered.

"Fuck off."

He laughed. "I'll ask Anna."

A smile pulled at my mouth. "Anna knows I'll send her home to Marco. The last thing she wants is our brother negotiating for a marriage contract."

Emilio raked his fingers through his hair. "Are we waiting on anyone else?"

I smiled. He looked like shit, too, still wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

"No." Marco set his coffee mug on the counter. "Santi is reminding Chief Williams of his responsibilities this morning."

Everyone had a price. Chief Williams had been on the Jilani payroll as he'd risen in the ranks of the police department. He hadn't been made chief without assistance. And those favors came with a cost.

"Where the fuck is Orlando?" I quietly asked Ant as Marco relayed the conversation with Stan Lanfear.

Ant chuckled. "College boy had class this morning. He's dragging ass just like those two." His gaze focused on my neck. "Looks like you had a better option."

The bruises were light but distinctive. My angel had marked me as hers. If she hadn't yet, once she stood in front of a mirror, she'd discover I'd done the same. No one but me and her had better see the ones I'd given her considering where I'd had my mouth to mark her.

Emilio yawned as he spoke. "Banks is a nomad with a sketchy employment history. He served five years for possession with intent to distribute, and his address is listed as a PO Box. Never married. The guy lives off the grid for the most part. Other than his arrest record, he's tough to track."

"Give me something," I said.

"I'd be in bed sleeping if I didn't have information." He widened his eyes and blinked a few times. "Banks has a habit for blow and paid pussy. Spends his money on whores at a place called Indulgence Spa and Massage. A guy named Bullet runs the place." He scrunched his brows. "Bikers get all the badass road names."

Marco snapped his gaze at Ant. He nodded and picked up his phone. No doubt they were setting a time to meet with Luca. Because he was presumed dead, they couldn't meet here or at the bank. Luca had connections to the Heller Raiders motorcycle club through Alex Ferraro. Now he had several bikers doing security for him.

Another fucking link between Luca and our enemies. Marco glared at me and shook his head. I'd had enough. Fuck this. I'd find answers my way.

Carmine stood and followed me out of the room.

"Stefano, wait. Leave us," he said to Carmine.

We walked out of the house and wandered toward the tree line of the property.

"What's going on with you?" Marco asked.

I squinted into the morning sun with a cigarette between my lips. "Nothing."

Marco slid his hands into the front pockets of his trousers. "Do you think that answer would appease our father?"

Tension gnawed in my gut. No. My father would expect me to respect his decisions, obey his orders, or suffer the consequences.

"Do you question my loyalty to this family? Do you doubt my ability to challenge those who threaten everything we've built?" His voice sharpened, cutting, letting me know my open hostility hadn't gone unnoticed. "Is there not enough blood on my hands for you?"

"Fuck." I bowed my head. "I don't know how to feel about Luca." My jaw tightened. "I hate that he's not here with us." I flicked ash from my cigarette. "I miss him. I miss Papà. I want the cunt to suffer for what she's done to our family, then I hear Savio laugh with Deidre, and I think he's lost too much already." I glanced at my brother. "I'd still kill her today on your order."

Marco's chest expanded with a deep breath. "Patience. Giada is cunning, and she's cautious. She needs to feel secure, or she won't take chances."

"And Luca?"

"He made promises to Mia." Marco stared hard into my eyes. "Trust me. He's keeping those, but never doubt Bruno blood flows through his veins. The time will come for him to return to his family, but it needs to be his decision. I won't force him. We've lost too much already, Stef. I trust Luca to make the right decision. Emilio is in constant communication with Carlo."

"Good."

"Luca knows the hit was meant for you. He wants retaliation for a threat to his brother. He feels as we do. When we strike, we hit everyone responsible."

"You know I'm with you. I'm impatient, but I would never disobey an order from you."

He snorted. "I recall telling you not to train my wife."

I chuckled. "I promised her. Guess I should tell you I'm going to train Anna, too."

Marco shook his head. "Until I get her married. Which will be soon. She needs the stability of a husband, and we can strengthen our distribution with Leo Ricci if she marries his son Diego."

I released a heavy exhale, smoke escaping through my nose and dissipating into the cool morning air. "Hold off on marriage. She's not ready."

Marco paused in our walk and turned to me. "If I agree, as brothers, to wait a few months to give her time to settle, when the time comes, she will be married, and you'll support my choice for her husband?"

I nodded.

"I need you, Stefano. You're underboss. The men respect you, but they don't know how to read you. I will always defend you, but I shouldn't have to. There should be no question where your loyalty lies."

"I'll do better."

He rested a hand on my shoulder. "I trust you to do what needs done to get information from Banks. Find him and bring him to the basement."

Celine

My eyes burned, but my brain was firing like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Looking in the mirror, I was the same girl as yesterday. Same wide mouth, only now I couldn't wipe the smile from my lips. Same blue eyes, only bloodshot from lack of sleep.

But my body was a train wreck, and I couldn't stop staring. Beard burn gave a slight blush to my breasts. My nipples were tender. Ruby bruises where Stefano had held me down marred my hip. But it was the hickeys he'd left on my pelvis and thighs that sent heat slipping beneath my skin.

Not to mention the ache between my legs.

Last night, Stefano hadn't used a condom, and I wasn't on any type of contraception. We'd been foolish, but I didn't have regrets about what I'd already done. There was a pharmacy on the way to school. I'd stop and pick up the morning after pill, but before Saturday, I needed to talk with Stefano about birth control. And I wanted to make sure we were both safe. My heart raced. Sort of too late to ask him if he was careful before me.

He wouldn't be worried about me. I'd proven I had no sexual history with my virginity. I should be worried about him. The man was a maestro in the art of orgasms. I wanted more. We needed to do something for the next time.

Today, I plaited my hair in a single braid down my back with a few loose tendrils around my face. I'd have to go from class directly to work. Instead of my typical jeans and T-shirt, I wore gray palazzo pants, and a black, sleeveless turtleneck.

After loading my backpack, I cautiously made my way to the kitchen, almost afraid to hope I could get out of the house without seeing my dad.

Marie leaned against the counter, with a mug of coffee in her hand as she watched the television over the wine fridge in the corner of the room.

"I'm going to head out."

Marie startled at the sound of my voice, sloshing a bit of coffee from her cup. "Oh, yes, good." She set it aside and peered past me. "He's on a phone call in his office." She handed me an apple, and her gaze softened. "I know he's hard to understand sometimes. But you know he loves you."

I took the apple. "You don't have to pretend with me, Marie."

She cupped my cheek. "It's because you look so much like her. He misses your mom. It's hard for him."

I nodded, accepting her words of comfort for what they were, her trying to make me feel better. Because she didn't know the truth, but I did. Part of what she said was true. He did see my mother when he looked at me, and that's why he hated me as much as he hated her.

It wasn't until I was in my car that I relaxed, and a giddy laugh bubbled out of me. My night with Stefano was safely mine. No explanations needed, no lies or excuses. They didn't know I'd left last night. I stopped at the drug store on my way to Eminence. Besides the morning after pill, I picked up a small box of condoms.

Once I'd parked, I made my way to the Union center. Presley sat with several girls. I stumbled in my steps, then swallowed my fear and crossed the room.

"Hi," I said to her, interrupting one of the girls. "Sorry, I just need to talk to Presley for a minute."

Presley jumped from her chair. "Oh my god. Where the fuck have you been? I've tried texting you, but you ghosted me like usual, but then I thought, oh shit, what if you texted Unknown, met up with him, and he turned out to be some creep that now has you locked up in a small closet in his basement and only takes you out to feed you green grapes and J?germeister." Did she even breathe as she spoke? "You know I would never forgive myself for telling you to text him if that turned out to be true."

She pulled me into a hug.

"I did text him," I said. "No grapes or J?ger, but we ate burgers and fries."

I hadn't seen or talked to Presley since I'd started the internship. I'd missed a couple of classes, but I'd also felt overwhelmed. That changed last night. My secret craving for Stefano seemed to dwarf any fears I had—about everything else.

Presley slung her backpack over her shoulder, waved to her friends, and walked with me out of the building. "Seriously Celine, are you okay?"

"Honestly? I don't know. I have a job, but I hate it. I've missed classes, and I've had no time to paint."

"Yeah. Yeah. Tell me about Unknown. Like what is his name?"

A flush crawled up my neck, an involuntary clench made my pussy throb, and my nipples tighten. How much could I share with her? Stefano was funny but dangerous. He had a gun on the nightstand and lived in a building where he could hide a body—if he killed someone. He could kill me with orgasms and kisses.

"His name is Stef. He rides a motorcycle, is the most beautiful man I've ever seen, and I slept with him last night."

I took a few steps before I realized Presley had stopped walking.

"What? Are you kidding? You're not, are you? You did it with him. What about your anxiety? Did you have any triggers?"

"Pres, when he touches me, I can breathe, but I can't catch my breath. I know that sounds crazy." If I was going all in, I might as well confess everything. Well, not everything. I wasn't going to tell her he didn't just have a problem with my dad, but he'd informed me I now worked for the head of the Irish mafia. "He doesn't trigger my anxiety, but he leaves me breathless."

Stefano Bruno was my eclipse, and in his shadow, I felt safe.

"Will he think I'm desperate or easy? I mean, our first date and I sleep with him." No way did he think I was a slut since he'd had all my sexual firsts…and I wanted more.

"Fuck him if he does. He's the lucky fucker."

"I don't regret it." Even if I never saw him again, I wouldn't regret last night. "We're going out again on Saturday. Big issue is my dad."

"Fuck your dad. You know, if anyone ever asks if you were with me, I'm saying yes. Alibi for life, babe. Especially if it gets you out of the house and makes you Stef's backpack when he gives you a ride." She lifted a perfectly threaded brow. "A ride on his bike, on his face, and on his dick."

We separated, and I headed to Kyte's class. I wish I could say I had a productive morning, but I'd spent the entire time tumbling headfirst into the future, imagining my day with Ian Byrne.

By the time I was in my car and heading to Briofagan, I had my pink sunglasses over my eyes, pink gloss on my lips, and had counted traffic signals like my life depended on the number of green lights I hit.

Once I pulled into the parking lot, I opened my history of text messages with Stefano. Just seeing his name reminded me that I didn't want to be the scared, broken girl anymore. I tossed the pink sunglasses into the cupholder, clipped on my employee badge, and stuffed my purse under my seat.

My brain rolled like a bad highlight reel of a mafia B movie. What if they tested me, wanting to know if I'd break their confidentiality rules? They could take my phone and force me to unlock my screen. They could torture me and cut out my tongue to keep me from talking. If they discovered my involvement with Stefano or learned of my notebook, they'd kill me and bury me in a shallow grave.

Stefano knew them. Chances would be good Ian would know he was Italian mafia.

I pressed the fob, locking the doors, then headed into the building. Several men loitered in the lobby. All week, I'd passed men wearing suits with earpieces. Surveillance cameras were scattered throughout the building. I figured with importing and exporting, Briofagan wanted to monitor their inventory.

Not that I'd seen much inventory. Now, it made sense. These weren't corporate offices. This was the hub for the Irish mafia, and my badge gave me access to the elevators as well as the executive level.

I couldn't work here. These men were soldiers in the mafia, protecting Ian.

There was no calming the jitters erupting in my belly as I was scanned by one of the men. I pressed a hand to my abdomen as the elevator rose to the twelfth floor. Maybe I could feign being sick. Not that I'd have to pretend much.

"Tell me something I don't fucking know!" Ian's voice bellowed from down the hall.

He was pissed at someone.

I slowed my steps and debated on whether to get back on the elevator or eavesdrop on the conversation. Except the clock on the wall said I was right on time, and I'd be late if I went back to the lobby. He had to know I was out here.

"You assured me you could handle Caruso. Edmond has someone inside the bank. But I need more than two fucking weeks. What the fuck happened?"

No one responded. Ian must be on the phone. I'd heard the name Caruso once before, at the gala. I made a mental note to add the first name Edmond to my notebook.

In elementary school, they'd said I had an eidetic memory. I wouldn't say I had a photographic memory, but I did remember names, dates, and faces. All good reasons for the mafia to kill me.

"I don't want excuses. A war requires resources." Another pregnant pause followed. "I'm not concerned with her incompetence."

Who's incompetence?He could be talking about me. As far as interns go, maybe I was making progress on getting myself fired.

"Bruno's accountant was your responsibility. You said the process would take months, not weeks. How many opportunities do you need to neutralize the fucking Italians?"

Bruno. An ominous flare of fear sliced into my chest, coiled around my heart, and burned into my gut. My feet rooted to the spot in the hall. Blood rushing through my ears became a whir of noise threatening to drown out the voice of my boss from his office.

Fighting my need to flee, I listened, almost afraid to hear what he said.

"You forget who you work for."

His voice dropped to a deadly timbre. I hadn't known who I worked for, but now there wasn't any doubt. Stefano had said I wasn't safe with Mr. Byrne. As good as it felt to be with Stefano, when I was with him, I wasn't sure I was really safe either. But then I hadn't felt safe since the day my father killed my mother.

"I have yet to know if your offer will be sufficient compensation. My wife should be here in a few minutes."

Oh my god. That he was married made his conduct toward me all the more vile. I felt sorry for his wife.

"We'll continue this conversation later. Deal with Caruso, or I'll make other arrangements. I expect you to do your fucking job and stay out of my way. I want Marco Bruno dead."

Marco Bruno. Another Bruno. And another name for my book. I stepped closer to the doorway just as Ian exited his office. I jumped, clutching a hand to my heart.

He stared at me. The hard line of his mouth twisted into a smile. For a moment, he'd let his mask slip, but now, the charming fa?ade was in place.

Wiggle three body parts.I never should have left my purse in the car. I pictured my pink pen, pink phone…and the pink abrasions on my breasts and belly from Stefano's whiskers.

Nothing helped. What if Mr. Byrne suspected I'd listened? I needed to stop this skittishness. I placed a palm to my throat. Forcing a smile, I said, "I'm sorry I'm late," a bit breathlessly.

He checked his watch. "I wasn't expecting you until after lunch. Have you eaten?"

Wasn't his wife on her way here? Before he had given me a chance to decline, he rested a hand on my back and steered me toward the elevator.

"I'm not really hungry," I said as the elevator doors closed, trapping us inside. I took a step away from him.

"Do I make you nervous, Celine?" His eyes met mine in the mirror.

What did I say to him? Yes, he made me nervous. More than nervous. I was afraid of him.

"I'm just concerned about my job performance." Partially true. "I won't meet your expectations."

He stepped closer, and I took a step back. The steel handrail bit into my back as I leaned away from him. He stole my breath, arrested my pulse, and sent a cold shiver along my spine.

His palm rested against the mirror next to my head. The cloying scent of his cologne burned my nostrils, and the cinnamon scent of his breath made me want to throw up. He was too close. His gaze lowered to the rapid rise and fall of my chest.

"You've already exceeded my expectations. You're a beautiful woman, Celine, brilliant, and talented. I'm lucky to have you."

I couldn't breathe, couldn't move. His breath was hot on my neck. With every muscle in my body tense, perspiration beaded on my upper lip, dampened my underarms, and trickled down my back. If Ian Byrne could scent fear, I was in deep trouble.

The elevator doors opened. Ian flared his nostrils as he breathed me in, and then he pushed away from the wall and escorted me into the lobby. Two men followed us out of the building. I glanced over my shoulder.

"Not to worry, Celine. My work comes with risks. You'll get used to Finn and Aiden. They're always with me."

"Mr. Byrne, maybe we should stay at the office." Maybe wait for your wife. But I couldn't say anything, or he'd know I was listening.

"I've told you before, call me Ian."

That wouldn't be happening. Too personal. We weren't friends—or anything else—and we never would be.

Finn or Aiden opened the door to the black sedan waiting on the curb. Not only was I climbing into a vehicle with the leader of the Irish mafia, but I didn't have my phone or my purse. His touch was far too familiar for a boss to have with an intern. Hadn't he heard of sexual harassment?

Not that I could report him. My dad was the district attorney. Even if he wasn't, I'd lost credibility because most people made me nervous. I'd never convince my dad that this was different. Not that he'd care.

Ian sat next to me in the blacked-out sedan. As the vehicle pulled away from the curb, he stretched his legs and popped open the button on his suit coat. As he shifted in the seat, the fabric gapped, giving me a glimpse of the butt of a gun.

"I think it's time we talked," he said. "And stop pretending that this internship is to further your career. You want a career in the art arena. I'll make that happen for you."

I swallowed, but my throat scraped with dryness. "I appreciate the offer."

"It's more than an offer, Celine." He rubbed a palm on his thigh. "I'd hoped to make an impression at the gala when I bid on your painting, a rather generous bid of fifteen thousand dollars."

"It was generous."

Before I could elaborate, he interrupted. "I would have paid ten times that."

A hundred and fifty thousand dollars? Was he nuts?

"I'm glad I could contribute to the charity," I said. "I never expected anyone to want my painting." I never intended for anyone to see it.

"I was motivated to acquire your painting. However, as we both know I wasn't the only bidder. Another collector had similar motivation."

I'm not sure of Ian's motivation. He'd called it beautiful, but he lied. It wasn't and neither was I. Light hid in the darkness of my paintings. That was me. That was Stefano. Why I felt safe with him. I could hide in him. Stefano had claimed to want a piece of me. He'd seen the anger in my painting. He'd seen me.

"Stefano Bruno was at the gala. You know him." It wasn't stated as a question, so there was no benefit in denying it. Besides, he could have seen us together at some point during the evening. "Did he mention me?"

My heart rabbited. "He sat next to me at the dinner, but he never mentioned you."

"Had you ever met him before?"

"No." My toes tapped against the floormat because I was uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, and I was petrified of being alone with him.

"Has he attempted to make contact with you since the gala?"

Was he testing me? What if I lied and he already knew the truth? What if I told the truth? He'd already threatened to kill one Bruno. And what about the other Bruno who had already been murdered. Was he responsible for Luca's death?

Annoyed with my slow response, he growled and cracked his knuckles.

"No," I snapped. "I only met him the one time at the gala."

Crinkles formed at the corners of his eyes as his gaze narrowed, and he plucked at his thick brow. "You must have made an impression. He now has your painting." His lips pressed into a thin line, and his jaw ticked with tension. "He's in the habit of taking things that belong to me."

Rather than volunteer information, I sat silently. I wasn't going to incriminate myself on anything. He was the head of the Irish mafia, and I'd just heard him say he wanted Marco Bruno dead. Shutting up seemed like a brilliant idea to me.

"I wonder at your reasons for coming to my office early. You haven't seemed particularly interested in the work, until today." He raised an eyebrow. "Should we pretend you weren't listening to my conversation?"

"I…I wasn't."

"I've already clarified you're beautiful and brilliant. Don't play stupid. It doesn't look good on you."

"I'd just gotten off the elevator. I did hear you on the phone when I came down the hall, Mr. Byrne, but didn't intentionally listen in on the conversation."

The vehicle stopped outside of an Irish pub a couple blocks from Briofagan. We could have walked. The driver's gaze focused on me in the rearview mirror.

Ian held up his hand, signally he wasn't ready to exit the vehicle. "Celine, this internship was to give us time to get to know each other. I wanted you to feel as if you had a choice."

"A choice for what?" I had a sickening premonition that my father was somehow involved in whatever Mr. Byrne was about to say.

Mr. Byrne nodded to the driver. Both guards exited the vehicle and surveilled the area. One blocked his door. The other blocked mine.

"I knew everything about you before the gala. Your love of painting, your anxiety issues, your antisocial tendencies. Your lack of social media, and your preference for being alone. Those qualities appeal to me as I live a reclusive lifestyle."

A pinprick of fear instantly became a black hole, threatening to swallow me. "I think there's been a misunderstanding. I appreciate that you like my painting, and that you'd offer me the internship." I had to get out of this car, away from Ian Byrne, and away from my father.

My chest tightened. I tugged at the collar of my turtleneck, but the talons of anxiety had their hooks in me. My heart raced. Nothing was pink inside the vehicle. The black tint on the windows darkened everything outside of the space closing in on me.

"There is no misunderstanding," Mr. Byrne continued. "Did you think I would let just anyone into the interior of my empire? I wanted you to feel comfortable around me, develop our relationship naturally, but that is no longer an option.

"And after listening in on my conversation, there's no longer a reason to keep secrets from you. I'm afraid, somehow, you've landed in the crosshairs of a territorial dispute." He pivoted toward me. "If Stefano Bruno learns of our arrangement, he will try to use you against me."

"What arrangement?" Tears burned in the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I wouldn't give Ian Byrne power over my emotions. I could fight this. The panic was in my head. Breathe.

I remembered Stefano's words. I wasn't safe with Ian Byrne. With every molecule in my body, I knew I needed to stay calm.

"Why would he think I'm of any value to you?"

"Sweet, Celine, because you're mine." He reached out with his hand and grazed his fingertips down my face. "Your father owed a long overdue debt. I've accepted you as payment."

"No," I whispered. "I need to go." I grabbed the handle on the door and tugged, but the door remained locked. "Let me out." I could barely speak the words. "Let me out. Let me out. Let me out!" Tears coursed down my cheeks unchecked. I jerked hard on the door again and again.

"Celine, enough." He roughly gripped my arm and jerked me off the door.

I wiped my cheeks with my fingers. "I quit. I never should have accepted the internship. Let me out of the car. I'll find my way back to the office and leave. Your wife never has to know. No one has to know. My dad can pay his own debts."

Ian chuckled. "My wife?"

"Yes, I heard you on the phone. You told someone your wife was on her way to the office."

A knowing smirk twisted his lips. "She was, and she arrived. You're my wife, Celine. Actually, you have been for several weeks. I prefer the women in my bed to be there willingly. I wanted you to feel like you had a choice. But you don't."

"You're crazy." I pounded on the glass. "Open the door," I screamed at the guard.

"Celine." I froze at the dominance in his voice. "I'm prepared to be indulgent while you process the situation. Don't test my patience. I'm tolerant to a point. As my wife—"

"I'm not your wife, and I never will be. I'd remember getting married."

He chuckled, a rough, menacing vibration filling the space between us. "Neither of us were there."

I spun toward him.

"I assure you, we were married in the state of Montana by proxy."

"I don't believe you," I cried.

"I don't give a fuck what you believe. The legality of our marriage won't be questioned. And if it is, I have the district attorney in my pocket."

"Fuck you and fuck my father."

Pain exploded behind my eye. The hit had come fast and hard. There was no defending against it. The copper taste of blood filled my mouth. I'd bitten my tongue with the force of his fist. I covered the left side of my face with my palm and bent my body over my knees.

Ian gripped my braid and jerked my hair until my face was inches from his. "Let me be clear, Celine. You. Are. Mine. Whether as my wife, or my whore. Your only job is to follow my orders. I can do whatever I want to you." He lowered his voice. "I could put a bullet in your fucking head. No one will care."

He licked tears from my cheek, dragging the wet flat of his tongue toward my mouth. I reared back, banging my head on the window.

"Fight me, and once I've broken you and taken your virginity, I'll order every one of my guards to have a turn pounding into your cunt. Or you can be a good girl, get on your knees and take care of your husband. Your fucking choice. I said I'd prefer a willing woman, not that it was required."

My heart hammered against my ribs, trying to break. After my mother died, I remember praying for God to love me enough to take me, too. Not only was I terrified of my father, but I couldn't imagine living without my mother. Every morning I'd wake up, believing I'd done something so horrible that not even Heaven wanted me.

One night, she'd come to me in a dream, more beautiful than I'd remembered. She smiled, kissed my cheek, and told me she'd always love me. She told me to be brave. I promised I'd try not to be afraid anymore. I lied. I'd never been as afraid as I was sitting in this car with Ian Byrne.

I still had my car fob in my pocket. When I had the chance, I'd run.

"What do you want from me?"

"I had planned to have lunch with my wife." He pressed a thumb into my bruised cheek. "I want you to be my wife, not just legally, but in every way."

I whimpered and closed my eyes.

"Look at me, Celine."

When I opened my eyes, I stared into the soulless gray depths of evil. He almost appeared inhuman, like he could kill me or kiss me. Then he pressed his lips to mine, and for the first time since my mother's dream, I wished for death.

My gut clenched, and bile rose into my throat. If he stuck his tongue in my mouth, I'd puke. I held perfectly still, my hands fisted at my sides, and my heart in my throat.

More tears slipped from my eyes.

Ian sat back in his seat and rolled down the window. "Take us to the penthouse."

Finn and Aiden climbed back into the vehicle.

"Yes," he replied to my unspoken question. "You'll live in my house and sleep in my bed." He licked his lips. "There are aspects of marriage we'll both enjoy."

Never.

"Hand Aiden your phone." He issued the order to me in the same tone he spoke to his guards. But unlike them, I didn't immediately reply. Without my phone, I'd lose my only hope of escape.

He was going to isolate me. I wasn't strong enough to fight three Irish mafia men, two that looked like they ate spinach and protein for every meal and could carry small cars on their massive shoulders.

"Why?"

"Your phone. Your words are agreeable, but I don't expect you to be. You'll earn privileges, and your phone is one of those privileges."

He smiled as if he enjoyed my fear.

"You won't be attending school, your internship is over, and your father is going to pack up your belongings and have them moved to my penthouse. But I'm not without consideration of your needs." He checked his watch. "As a gift to you, I had your studio moved first."

"This can't be happening."

"Your phone," he repeated, extending his hand.

"I don't take it into work. It's in my car along with my backpack for school and my purse."

"Finn, take her to her car to get her belongings, then you'll drive her vehicle to the penthouse." He ran his hand over my thigh. "You'll ride with me."

I couldn't control the violent trembling in my legs as Finn pulled into the parking lot of Briofagan.

"She's the white Subaru hatchback." Ian pulled his phone from his pocket. His thumbs moved across the screen.

I turned away from him and stared out the window as Finn drove through the parking lot. "I'll hate you if you do this."

I wasn't sure if he heard me for his lack of reaction. His focus was on his phone, the furrows in his forehead deepening.

Finn stopped next to my car. Before I could open the door, Ian grabbed onto my arm. "Get your stuff and get back in this car. Don't disobey me, Celine."

I nodded and pulled on the handle.

"Let her out," Ian said as he continued to use his phone.

Finn walked around the front of the vehicle as I pressed the fob for the locks. My heart raced, and my knees almost couldn't hold me up. I counted the steps to the car. My hand rested on the handle. The door opened. Almost as if I moved in slow motion, I slid into the car, locked the doors, and pushed the start button.

Finn bolted the last few steps to the driver's side door. He pulled his gun and slammed the butt against the glass. I screamed, and Finn hit the window again. The sound exploded inside the vehicle. I fumbled, trying to get the car into drive. My mind and hands weren't communicating. A third blow to the window, and the glass cracked.

The vehicle rocked. I screamed as Aiden tried to force the passenger door open. I shifted the car into drive. Finn's mouth moved, but I couldn't hear the words through the noise in my brain. Tires squealed and the scent of burning rubber filled my car.

I glanced in my rearview mirror and clipped the corner of a four-door sedan. Metal crunched and glass shattered, either from my headlight or the other car's taillights.

I jerked my gaze forward and stomped on the gas until my foot went to the floorboard. While checking my rearview for the black sedan, I drove toward the exit.

"Stay calm." My voice in the car only heightened my anxiety. My phone was in my stupid purse under the stupid seat. Pink sunglasses, pink hair band wound on the signal arm, and a pink butterfly hanging from the rearview mirror.Don't panic.

Come on, Bluetooth, connect.I was in my car, and I'd drive it over a cliff before I got back into Ian's sedan.

Tears continued to leak out of my swollen left eye. My Subaru bounded over a dip in the parking lot. My hands shook as I white-knuckle gripped the steering wheel. Tires squealed as I rounded the backside of the building, jumped the curb, and careened into traffic.

The sedan was following. My dashboard connected to Bluetooth. Another dose of fear slipped through my veins. There was only one person I could trust to help me. Involving Presley would put her in danger. I couldn't do that.

I swallowed my fear and pressed the voice control button on my steering wheel. "Call Stefano."

The light turned yellow. Holding tight to the steering wheel, I blew through the intersection as the call connected.

Voicemail picked up, but I couldn't understand what was said. It wasn't Stefano's voice, and it was in Italian.

"Stef, it's Celine! Oh god, pick up. Please." I hiccupped on a sob. I checked my rearview. The sedan had run the red and was gaining on me. "I'm scared." The car weaved through traffic. I screamed. "He's going to take me. I can't go home."

I slammed on my brakes. "Get the fuck out of my way," I yelled at the minivan in front of me. "Oh fuck. He's right behind me."

I screamed again as the sedan pulled up to my rear bumper. With a hard jerk on the wheel, I swerved and took a quick right. Traffic was heavy, and the two-lane city street didn't give me many options.

Tears streamed from my eyes. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I won't go with him. I won't be his wife." I sobbed into the speakerphone. "I'm sorry I'm going to miss our date on Saturday.

"Oh fuck. I'm so screwed. He's going to take me."

A box truck in front of me pulled into the left turning lane. I gunned the engine, pulled in front of them, and turned before they could. The driver honked, flipped me off, and closed the space between my car and his truck.

"Yes, stay right there, Mr. Truck. Sorry I cut you off but you're good camouflage." I'd blocked the sedan's line of sight. I watched the box truck, not letting much distance grow between my rear bumper and the truck's front end.

I glanced at the dashboard to make sure the call was still connected. "I'm scared… I'm scared this will be my last chance to talk to you." I sniffed snot. Regret squeezed my chest. Regret that I'd only had one night with Stefano. Regret that I hadn't met him sooner. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I know that might sound pathetic because we barely know each other." I hiccupped through my words. "Think of me when you look at the painting." I figured I only had a few seconds left.

The truck's blinker signaled an upcoming right turn. I hurried and put my blinker on to take the right and stay with the box truck. I assumed the car was still following. Another white Subaru approached in the opposite direction.

This could be my chance. I couldn't stay in the shelter of the box truck much longer. I might be out of their line of sight, but they knew exactly where I was. It was now or maybe never.

I ripped the pink butterfly from the rearview mirror, kissed the wings, and sent a prayer for help to my mom. Then I quickly lowered the sun visor on both the driver and passenger side. With a decoy right behind me, I was going to try to lose him. This was it. As soon as the white Subaru passed, I flipped a U-turn. I sped past the sedan.

"Stef, if you know someone named Marco Bruno, tell him to be careful. Ian wants him dead." I exhaled my fear and held to the memory of Stef's lips on mine, the feel of his hairy legs rubbing along mine, and the abrasive tickle of his whiskers on my neck. I wanted him to know he was important to me. He made me brave. "I hope I see you again someday."

The call disconnected.