Chapter 1

Ten years earlier

ALESSIO

F ive tulip glasses stood in a perfect row on the bar.

Beyond the marble buffet, the wedding churned.

Its setting was a grand castle whose ruins were lit with whimsical summer Neapolitan colors, each corner laden with vibrant flowers.

I crossed my hands over my chest with a smirk. Eyes on my eldest brother, Lorenzo, as he measured grappa out with precision into every glass, his tongue caught between his teeth in concentration.

Laughter rang out.

I turned my head to tag my cousin Daniela as she danced in the arms of her new groom, Davido.

I served her a chin jerk of approval as she whirled past, face flushed, hair escaping her crown, happiness radiating from her in waves.

‘Fratelli.’

Coming toward us was Valerio, his ever-acerbic eye canted.

Behind him strode our youngest Vitto, and in his wake was our patriarch, Stephano, the man we all adored.

‘A bene, we’re all here,’ our Don murmured, clasping us in his embrace. ‘ So proud of you, i miei figli, my strong Calibrese warriors.’

Bracing, athletic, handsome, clad in our wedding suits, we savored this rare moment together.

Lorenzo handed each of us a tot of chilled, light golden digestiv.

We stood in a semicircle, locked eyes, and muttered as one. ‘Salute!’

We downed the grappa in a single slug, a ritual we always celebrated whenever we had the chance.

Slamming back our glasses on the bar for more, we leaned in, chatting and catching up.

Until Stephano eased towards me.

‘Papà,’ I rasped as he slid a hand around me.

My hero was a craggy-faced, salt-and-pepper-haired man with aqua-blue eyes that’d ice you one second and flame you the next.

His ever-lovin’ patience with me and gentle guidance over the years had cast him as a god in my eyes.

‘Mio figlio,’ he growled, ducking closer to whisper in my ear. ‘You’re my favorite, sai?’

‘Oh, I know it,’ I huffed in mock disbelief, loving his attention. ‘You tell that to each of us,’ I grated.

He smirked, and then his face fell, turning somber. ‘An old friend just called.’

His eyes were shadowed, clouded with worry.

‘Dimmi,’ I grunted.

Leaning in, he murmured for a moment, extracted a faxed image from his breast pocket, and handed it to me.

I studied the features of the two photo IDs depicted.

Both were blurred and unclear, but it’d be enough for me to recognize them at first glance.

‘You’re the only one for it,’ he ended.

I was.

I also was not one for parties, and any excuse to leave was enticing.

‘You can count on me,’ I growled.

‘Bene,’ my father rasped.

He tucked the paper back in his pocket and pulled me close into a hug imbued with his cologne and the scent of his cheroot.

After a buss of both cheeks, he left.

Heat seeking toward my radiant and beautiful mother, who stood with her sisters gossiping on the edges of the dance floor.

I found Lorenzo by the cocktail tables, where the stacks of towering antipasti and platters of endless deliciousness were lit up.

A golden light pierced through the trees on the castle ruins, leaves fluttering in the warm breeze.

‘Arrivederci,’ I drawled, tugging him into a farewell hug.

‘Another not-so-delicate mission?’

‘Si.’

With his brains, sprezzatura , and debonair panache, Lorenzo was destined to be the future head of the famiglia .

As such, the dirty work was left to me, head capo of the Calibrese clan, for I never ran from a good fight. I lived for it.

Lorenzo nodded, raising his glass. ‘Va bene. We’ll probably be here all night, so swing by after,’ he said. His gaze flicked to our other two brothers, Valerio and Vitto, who were chasing girls in the garden arbors.

‘Fuck, you won’t be here. You’ll be off rutting in between the legs of one of those women eyeing you from the singles table.’

‘Cazzo,’ he cursed after me, but already his eye was wandering.

Lorenzo adjusted his silk tie and flashed his signature debonair grin. ‘Another conquest awaits,’ he announced, winking at me.

I rolled my eyes and cracked my knuckles. ‘Don’t you get tired of running after skirts?’

The fading bruises on my jaw twinged as I spoke - souvenirs from my latest bare-knuckle bout in a seedy Neapolitan warehouse.

‘Don’t you ever get exhausted trading blows with ruffians and lowlifes?’ Lorenzo turned to me, eyebrow arched.

His tailored attire and cravat were crisp perfection, not a hair out of place—a contrast to my wild leonine tresses and open-necked white shirt under my fitted suit.

‘To each his own, I suppose,’ I shrugged. ‘Careful you don’t break a nail out there, Casanova.’

‘I can butter up a willing lay for you, mofo,’ Lorenzo chuckled and clapped me on the shoulder.

I snorted. ‘You can have the ladies. I prefer to let my fists do the talking.’

‘Si, and what poetry they fuckin’ weave,’ Lorenzo murmured. ‘Fratello, when will you let go and have some fun?’

I canted a brow and grumbled, ‘Renzo, you know if there’s one thing I avoid, it’s letting go and having fun. Living it up is something I leave to you.’

‘While you brood from the sidelines and look on.’

‘Cazzo, it’s so I keep an eye on y’all,’ I growled. ‘I see the details others miss. I also pick up the pieces so you can party. Like I’ll be doing tonight, on famiglia business as you shake your ass.’

He lifted his hands to his lips, our family’s double-fingered salute, wishing me well.

I checked my watch. ‘I’m off. Don’t wait up.’

Lorenzo smirked. ‘I won’t because you’re a buzz kill.’

With a blasé wave, my brother sailed off, leaving a waft of expensive cologne in his wake.

I shook my head, a reluctant smirk tugging at my mouth. Lorenzo and I may have been born of the same mother, but we’d been stitched into different men.

Where he adapted the smooth charm and urbane airs, I retreated to shadowed alleys and underground rings.

While he glided across glittering ballrooms, I prowled the streets looking for a fight.

Massaging my bruised knuckles, I huffed a laugh. No, my brother and I were nothing alike. To be honest, I preferred it that way.

Lorenzo was the Lothario of our family, but I sensed that, like me, he was a one-woman-for-life kind of man who hadn’t found his soulmate yet.

I was still holding out on finding a wife. Unconvinced anyone would ever handle all of me.

A loudspeaker screeched, and an uncle, once removed, stumbled onto the stage to announce speech time.

I prowled away, thanking the gods I was evading the long-winded verbose from the wedding party.

Sliding into my Pagani Zonda sports car in the castle’s parking lot, I headed to the center of Naples, away from its thriving neighborhoods with old-world homes, plunging into its gnarly underbelly.

The Europa Guesthouse loomed ahead, its neon sign flickering in the night. Caught between a hotel and a hostel, it was about as genteel as a motel got in this part of town.

I pulled into an adjacent side street.

The place was infamous for its small elevators, a slight chance of bedbugs, teens hollering from the bodega next door, broken glass, and half-drank bottles in the hallways.

It wasn’t the Palazzo Caracciolo or the Ritz, but what did I fuckin’ care?

I had a job to do.

No one was at reception, so I powered on, my nose wrinkling at the odor of stale cigarettes and cheap freshener rank in the air.

Music thumped from one of the rooms, and the sound of laughter and shouting from another.

I inched past a room where I caught the vigorous noises of banging against a wall and a woman’s wails as she was plumbed to oblivion.

With a nod, I slipped by two wrinkled, sleazy men exchanging packages, light spilling from inside the drab room they stood in front of.

Moments later, I eased toward the darkened doorjamb of Number Fifteen.

My instincts churned like a beacon in superstition’s night, a loaded foretelling packed with omens of foreboding.

Weapon ready, I was about to tap on the door when my inner alarms went off.

The sliding casement next to the door glided open.

I stared at it as a slender arm reached out and dropped a bag and a pair of worn sneakers to the ground under the window.

An interesting turn of affairs.

Still, I prided myself on my fuckin’ patience.

So, I waited to see how matters would unfold.

A body eased from the exposed chasm. One lithe leg extended first.

Then came a dark head, shaven in jagged streaks across her slight skull.

Yet the curve of her thighs and swell of tits beneath her torn tee made her out to be a full-grown-ass woman.

I recalled my father’s words. ‘Our package is eighteen, missing for a few weeks. Her grandfather is desperate to get her back.’

She turned her head, searching the darkness, her expression furtive, and I glimpsed her face in the dim light.

Fotto !

My entire being locked, eyes fixed on features so exquisite they’d make angels weep.

The photo ID printout had done her no justice.

Honey skin, plump, budding lips, and a slim nose.

Above that, eyes that sliced straight to my spirit.

Jade green, bottomless like an amethyst ocean.

Sad. Haunted.

Just as a second leg hitched over the egress, a growl erupted inside the room.

The slight figure jolted, their startled breath followed by a muted scream.

I moved, sidling toward the young woman, sliding a hand over her mouth, jerking her back to me.

‘Stay fuckin’ still, cara. Don’t say a word,’ I growled into her ear.

She disobeyed, scratching and flailing like a wild feline until I used my gun hand, banding it tight around her waist.

Even as she fought for her life, I was hit with a perfect fusion of scents. Pistachio, almond, vanilla, and salted caramel in a sweet and indulgent aroma.

Instantly lifting the darkness from my soul and transporting me close to unadulterated bliss.

It also thickened my cock, in a lightning jolt that had me biting back a growl.

She froze, feeling my throbbing hardness long enough for me to hiss into her ear. ‘I’m here to help.’

The motel room door opened, and a body rushed at us, growling in outrage.

On pure instinct, I raised my weapon and fired.

He fell, writhing, his upper chest torn apart, shredded, blood spurting.

Another man emerged, handgun blasting.

I whirled, took cover, the girl still in my grasp, and squeezed off a shot.

A thump sounded, followed by a grunt, a loud thud, and silence.

I moved, still clutching my prize, to the room where two bodies lay prone on the ground.

Ignoring the struggling woman in my arms, I toed each man’s body, flipping them over.

Both were quite dead, but none were my second mark .

I cursed.

Just then, a third man exited the washroom, eyes bleary, mouth slack.

Recognition was instant as I raked my narrowed gaze over him.

Fuck finally.

‘Chi sei? Who are you?’ he slurred.

His dilated eyes tagged the distressed woman still melded to me.

He lunged.

I lifted the butt of my gun and brought it down.

Blood spurted on his temple, and he fell to the ground, senseless.

The hellcat in my grasp bit my hand around her jaw so hard I growled.

At the same time, a hot heat seared through my left side.

Hell, not now.

My body ignored me and went numb, jerking, loosening my grip.

With a gasp, she twisted away.

But not before she stared at me, at my visible trembling, and realized her escape was involuntary on my part.

I saw her eyes understand and fill with an unexpected compassion.

I grunted, sucked my teeth, and clenched my muscles to try and control them, my gun hand quivering.

Taking the chance my incapacity gave her, she reached for her bag. Next, she slid her bare feet into the battered pair of shoes, her body shivering in the cold night air.

My shakes subsided, and I moved.

She froze .

Shaking my head to reassure her I meant no harm, I eased out of my Armani suit jacket and handed it to her.

She stared at me for a beat until I jerked my chin, and she took it.

While it’d been fitted and tailored to my contours, it hung over her like a drape. Yet it covered her up and provided her warmth, which I desired.

We locked eyes for another long moment, and I sliced my eyes to the world beyond, then gave her a slight nod.

‘Grazie,’ was all she whispered before turning to flee.

In seconds, she was gone, lost to the shadows.

My eye caught something shimmering in the faint illumination as it fell from her bag in a hurried escape.

I stalked toward it and picked it up.

The bracelet, a delicate cascade of luminous jade spheres intertwined with a silver feather, had slipped from her tote as she rushed away.

The gemstones were cool and smooth, gliding against my skin as I rolled them between my fingers.

I twirled the orbs like prayer beads, my eyes canting in the direction she’d disappeared, praying for safe mercies.

She’d long vanished into the night.

I let her.

Hell, I had no choice.

For she deserved her freedom. From what my father had shared, she’d suffered so much, so young.

I also knew our men would soon catch up to her and whisk her back home where she belonged.

I turned to the man flailing on the ground and committed his features to memory, just as I had hers.

For now and for all eternity.