Chapter 1

Four Months Earlier

I reach my hand inside my pocket, and my fingertips touch the chain and the pendant that hangs from it. It's only for a second, and then I pull my hand away. But it's enough to remind me of the man who gave it to me, telling me it would keep me safe. My dad.

I remember the day vividly. I was just a kid who didn't have a clue how much it meant to him or why. And even now, half the time, I want to bury it somewhere deep in the ground, where it can never be found. Because it might have kept me safe for most of my life, but it should have been keeping someone else safe. Instead, I kept it for myself, and I'm here, and they aren't.

Folding my arms over my chest, I keep my eyes focused and my shoulders relaxed. I need to look like I've been in this situation hundreds of times. Thousands even. I need to act like I belong in this room. Because as far as every motherfucker in here knows, I do. I need to seem like I am just like them.

Fearless. Soulless. Merciless.

Ruthless.

Whatever the fuck other words have less at the end, in their eyes, I am it. Otherwise, I wouldn't be standing here, watching one of the largest drug deals I've ever witnessed happening before my eyes.

I've worked some events for the man who brought me here—Beckett Benson. A plastic surgeon who's widely known as Dr. Boobs because of how many sets of implants the man has given women. I've also traveled with him on a few business trips. I've met his wife a few times—who definitely got the family discount and had some watermelons installed.

When he called me a week ago to offer me this job, he didn't give me details. All I know is that he, his wife, and his niece, whom I've never met, landed in Italy this morning, and he told me he'd fill me in on the rest when we met up. Until then, he offered me up to work a shift for his thug Italian friends during a drug deal. And seeing's I'm an undercover agent investigating not only the Romano family, but also Dr. Boobs himself, it was the perfect opportunity.

In settings like this, I'm known as Hudson Hercules, the newest protector of some of the Mafia's fiercest dudes, brought in by US reality star and plastic surgeon Beckett Benson. Who certainly isn't the good guy the television paints him to be. Well, aside from him being responsible for installing many, many sets of tits. And fake or not, who doesn't love a nice set of tits?

For a while now, some of the most powerful families in the US have deemed me a trustworthy guard who takes no shit and will protect his clients at all costs. And now, here I am in Italy, working with some of the most despicable human beings I've ever seen.

I stand here, witnessing the head honcho, Enzo Romano, murmur to one of his minions about what these drugs were cut with and how potent they are. They don't care that they are killing people. As long as they are making a profit, it's a win in their eyes.

Beckett has more money and power in the States than he could ever need. Yet it still isn't enough for him. No, he needs to build connections here too. Putting his wife's and now his niece's lives in jeopardy. And in his head, he thinks he's got Dillion Rossi—a longtime friend of mine and also an undercover agent—and me on his side too. He brought us here to protect him and his niece. Little does he know, us being here was all part of the plan to take him and every other man and woman involved in this drug cartel down. Everything has slowly fallen into place, landing us here in Italian territory.

I know the risk of going undercover with villains like this. Most days, I wake up and wonder if I'll ever see my family or friends again. I worry that my mother will receive a phone call that her only child is dead.

Who am I kidding? With the people I'm running with now, no one will ever be able to confirm if I'm dead or not. I'll just vanish without a trace—the way so many others in my situation have.

The thing with this line of work is, it can become a suicide mission before you can say the words oh shit . But I have to take one for the team and play the part. Shutting down these gangsters and protecting anyone else from getting hurt—it's going to take time. I'm just not sure how much.

Living a double life isn't easy. And being Agent Hudson Hale one day and security guard Hudson Hercules, protector of evil, the next is a lot.

But when I was a kid, my own father was shot simply for being at the wrong place at the wrong time, killed by thugs. And not just any thugs, but those working for the Romanos.

So, taking down these monsters isn't a choice; I decided that I had to do it a long time ago. And seeing as I don't have anyone at home waiting for me anymore, I don't mind taking on the most dangerous jobs.

The degree of Beckett Benson's involvement with the Romanos is still in question. But we know his family has been dipping their toes in illegal affairs to make money and gain power for decades, and now, he's tied himself to the Romanos too. I already have enough evidence on Beckett to put him behind bars for a long-ass time. But I need him to lead me deeper into this mission. To gain more intel and put Marco Romano and his son, Enzo, away for life. Because pieces of shit like them? They don't belong in this world, roaming free. And if I had it my way, they'd both be dead.

And hopefully, once this mission is over, that's exactly what will happen.

"You are an honest man, Dr. Benson," Marco Romano coos, looking me up and down in a way that makes me want to vomit all over his expensive suit that I think he might have soaked in the world's strongest cologne. "She is a beautiful woman."

My skin crawls as he continues to rake his eyes over my body. I want to rip his eyeballs from his head and then run out of here and catch a plane back to the shithole I grew up in. Because even a run-down, rat-infested shack in Georgia sounds better than this. Heck, a trash can sounds better than this right now. Just call me Oscar.

Finally, Beckett and Marco walk to the corner of the room, whispering back and forth, and I gaze around at the photos on the wall, taking in the pictures of his family. Somehow, every one of them makes them seem normal.

I've played dumb for weeks, ever since it was brought to my attention that I was going to have to travel to Italy and marry into one of the most powerful and evil families over here—the Romanos. I've feigned ignorance because of two reasons. One, since I was a child, I've wondered why my mother ran away from home at a young age to escape her parents. And why her brother, my uncle Beckett, not only stayed, but still praises his parents to this day. And, two, I have a feeling my uncle is wrapped up in some bad, bad shit. And as ignorant as it might sound now that I'm physically here and I can see how deep I'm in this, I thought I could maybe take him down for whatever crimes he was committing. Now, I'm wondering how on earth I could have been so naive to think it would be as simple as showing up here, pretending I'm some sort of badass detective, and figuring it all out.

I was trying to be a tough bitch. Now, I just want to go home, put on my sweatpants, and watch Grey's Anatomy reruns—only the ones before McDreamy dies.

My mother and my father passed away years ago when they overdosed. They had not been perfect people by any means. Their flaws ran deep, and their demons were dark. But they'd loved me and my brother, Walker, more than anything. And I know they wanted to get clean and sober for us. They just couldn't do it. But part of me has always wondered if, deep down, my mom's demons were born because of her childhood. And because her brother, Beckett, still lives similar to how my mom grew up … I felt compelled to fall into my uncle's trap and see what he was doing behind the scenes. Even though I know how stupid that is.

"All righty, missy," Uncle Beckett drawls in his thick Southern accent. "Time to go meet your fiancé."

"Great," I utter as I try to hide my gulp, and my heart begins to race. There really is no going back now.

I feel like every person, at one point in their life, has done something they can look back at and say, Why did I think that was a good idea? Or, How on earth did I ever believe that could work?

Yeah, that's me right now. And I wish I could click my heels together three times and be back in the United States.

I follow them out of Marco's office and down a long hallway on shaky feet. I do not know what the hell I'm in for next, but I know I've put myself in an impossible situation. One that could have been avoided if I had just let the past be in the past and been more like my younger brother, Walker.

Walker has always done whatever he had to do to keep our uncle at arm's length. He's never trusted him—rightfully so. And he's paved his own path. He lives just a few miles from Sunset Drive, where we grew up, and attends Brooks University in Georgia. He's playing hockey as the Wolves' newest center. He's living his dream while I'm putting myself directly in the middle of a nightmare.

But I won't be able to wake myself up from this nightmare, like I do with the others I often have.

As Marco pushes the door open, my eyes take in the man who has his cheek pressed into the wooden desk and a gun to his back. Even from here, I can tell he's sweating and panicked.

"Where the fuck is the rest of it, Andre?" a man with thick black hair growls, pressing the barrel of the gun against him harder. "Did you save it for yourself to shoot up? You greedy fucking piece of shit."

My stomach churns, and I feel sick. But I keep my composure because Beckett warned me in the car ride from the airport that if I act like I'm scared, I'll make him look like a fool. And if I run, these are the type of people who would find me and kill me without flinching. So, I keep my face unchanged as best I can, and I try to pretend like there isn't a dude about to get killed in front of my eyes. Maybe if I stare long enough, my mind will convince me it's just like I'm watching an episode of CSI or True Crime .

"Enzo, son," Marco says, keeping his voice calm, though it's laced with warning, "let someone else handle this. Your guest has arrived."

His eyes don't lift right away but instead slowly rise until he's looking me dead in mine. All the while, he keeps his gun positioned at the man's back with so much force that it has to hurt.

His eyes are dark. So dark that they are almost black. Despite being a monster, he is attractive. But that doesn't take away from the one gaze from him that makes me feel ill. Because those eyes? They are pure evil.

"Hercules," he says through gritted teeth, keeping his eyes solely on me. "Take this man out back and finish him off."

"Yes, sir," a deep, calm voice says like it's a completely normal thing being asked of him. Nothing to see here, just your usual … finish him off type of stuff.

When the man comes from behind the others, grabbing the dude who was about to be shot by the arm before hauling him backward, I can't stop staring at him, wondering what is going to happen next, even though I already know. He's going to kill him. And to be honest, he seems completely unfazed by that.

I look at the Hercules man directly in his face to search for any sense of compassion, but I find none. His eyes never look my way. Not once. His shirt stretches across his chest and shoulders, hugging his muscles in a way that makes my heart speed up. He's covered in tattoos, and his dirty-blond hair falls perfectly on his head. His skin is sun-kissed, and his lips are full, but not so much that they are too big for his face. A face that has stubble on it.

He's likely about to murder this man, and I can't stop myself from staring at him in pure fascination. His eyes lift, but they don't see me. They aren't dark like Enzo's, but instead a piercing blue. Despite their beauty, they could cut straight to someone's soul.

Not mine though. I have a job to do, and I can't be bewitched by this terrible man's beautiful face and muscular stature.

He looks ruthless, but those eyes … they aren't evil like the others in this room.

I continue to stare until he marches the culprit toward the door and opens it up to the outside before it closes behind them. Moments later, a gunshot startles me, though everyone else in the room doesn't flinch. And even though I know this is my life now, I feel sick. I swallow back the bile that's worked its way up my throat, threatening to spill out onto the hardwood floor. That would get me in trouble. Or killed.

Enzo tucks his gun into his jacket as if he's done that movement hundreds of times.

Who am I kidding? Obviously, he has.

This man—the same one I'm going to marry—is the leader of one of Italy's notorious Mafia rings. Why would he not be familiar with a damn gun?

"Everyone, out." Enzo only mutters the order, but by the way the men react, it's as if he barked it.

They scurry toward the door, making their way out until it's just him, Beckett, Marco, and me. I'm well aware of his dark eyes on me. And even though he hasn't spoken a word to me, it already feels like an interrogation of some sort.

Why am I suddenly nervous that I'm thinking out loud?

"Well, here she is." My uncle smirks, clearly proud of himself, as he pats his hand on my shoulder. "Not sure she expected to see such excitement on day one though." He howls out one of his obnoxious laughs.

"She'll get used to it," Enzo utters, keeping his eyes fixated on mine. Meanwhile, I'm struggling to look him back in his eyes, afraid they might turn me to ice. "She'll stay at the complex with the crew for now. In one of the master suites." He pauses, narrowing his eyes. "Yes?"

It takes my brain a second to realize he wants me to answer. So, finally, I nod. "Um, yes. Yes, that's fine."

"Yes , sir ," he replies, correcting me. "You will call me sir, Briar James. Or you can take your ass back to the United States."

My cheeks heat—not from embarrassment, but anger. Who does this asshole think he is?

But I know I can't disobey him. I came here for a reason. And now, even though my reason seems small … I'm here, and one wrong move could put me in grave danger.

"Yes, sir." The words burn my throat. What I really want to say is, Fuck off . But I need to be smart. I need to make him believe that I'm a good, obedient girl. "That'll be fine, sir."

"You don't want her to stay with you, son?" Marco asks, confused, looking between us. "At your house?"

"No," he says sharply. "Me marrying Beckett's niece is your dream. Not mine." He draws in a breath through his nose before he leans in, bringing his lips close to my ear. "Unless you want to watch me fuck women who aren't you, best you stay here at the complex." He pulls back, glaring down at me. "But make no mistake, you belong to me now. And if you so much as flirt with a crew member of mine, I'll murder them in front of you and make you clean up their blood." His chin tilts up slightly. "Understood?"

"Yes," I breathe out, realizing my mistake instantly. "Yes, sir."

Brushing his thumb along my cheek, he slides his hand into my hair. "Good girl. You're not in Georgia anymore, baby girl. You're in my home country. And here, you exist only to serve as my fuck doll."

The last thing I want to do is have sex with this man. The thought alone makes me want to vomit. But what's more bothersome is the fact that he knows that I grew up in Georgia. And that sends a cold shiver down my spine. It wouldn't have bothered me if he had said where Beckett lives—South Carolina. I've lived there with him for some years now. But him knowing that I was in Georgia before South Carolina, well, it doesn't sit well with me. Not one bit.

From the corner of my eye, I see Beckett grinning as he elbows Marco's side. "Gonna be quite a match, these two. You won't be disappointed, boy. Briar here is a good girl. Never so much thinks about sassing back."

"Yes, well, I guess you got your way, Benson. Slithering your way into my family through my old man," Enzo snaps. "When you leave this weekend, you will take a shipment back with you."

"I'd expect nothing less," my uncle coos, being the Romanos' biggest brownnoser. "You know I'm here to help in any way I can."

"This weekend?" I blurt out, unable to stop myself as my gaze snaps to my uncle. "You're leaving that soon?"

"Sure am, darling," he drawls. "I've got business to attend to."

Yeah. And drugs to sell and fake boobs to put in women's chests.

I've had my suspicions for a while now that my uncle was wrapped up in some bad shit. But I didn't know his trips to Italy consisted of him bringing drugs back to the States to sell. What's worse is that he's likely selling them from his office. To high-profile clients for a shit ton of money. All of this … well, it could help put his ass behind bars. And that right there is the silver lining.

Truthfully, I don't care if Beckett stays in Italy or not. My uncle is an evil man, and having him around is just like having another monster near me. But his wife, Natasha, as materialistic as she might seem, I want her here. I think there's more to her than meets the eye. She's not even that much older than I am, and part of me thinks Beckett swooped her up and led her to believe he was a better man than he actually is. And now, she's like me. Stuck.

"I have a fundraiser event this weekend. You'll go with me." Enzo looks me up and down, absolutely disgusted. "There will be a shipment of clothes delivered to your room. For fuck's sake, don't embarrass me by looking like you live on the street." He starts toward the door, only stopping just before it. "Even though we all know that's exactly where you belong."

Pulling the door open, he walks out. And once he's gone, I feel like I can finally breathe again. Though not a lot. Because even though he's not in the room, there are still two devils looking at me.

I've never felt more homesick in my life, which is crazy because I don't even have a home right now. The only person I have left in my life is Walker. And he thinks I drank Beckett's Kool-Aid and now do whatever he tells me to do out of weakness. He doesn't know my real reasons for being here, and I won't tell him either. Because if Walker knew the truth, he'd insist on protecting me. Right now, that would only make things worse.

I got myself into this mess, and now, I need to figure out how to do what I came here to do.