22. Laura

Chapter 22

Laura

I park the car outside of a condo building at the edge of the lake and wonder if this is a terrible idea.

Marco Vitale's dossier is spread out on my lap. I flip through the pages, skimming them briefly, and it quickly becomes obvious that nothing good will come of this.

But my fingers brush across his image. It's a candid shot, taken a few years back. He's sitting near the window at a restaurant talking to a young man. His face is serious and intense, with that square jaw I remember, and the same nose, and those lips—the lips I need to taste again—and his head of thick, dark hair.

It has to be Jackal. Of all the profiles my brother gave me, Marco fits it the best, and his face looks like it's right. I can't be totally sure, but he fits. Right age, right build, right height, right skin color. Everything about him fits.

With one glaring exception.

He was a top Capo in the Santoro Crime Family.

And back before Luciano Santoro was killed by my father's hands, we were mortal enemies with his organization.

Santoro caused my family so much pain and suffering. Davide's permanently scarred because of him, both physically and emotionally. Simon drove himself crazy taking down those bastards, and Santoro's the one that started the attack on the oasis that nearly ripped my family to pieces.

Ever since he was killed, our lives have been better. We don't have to look over our shoulders anymore. Simon won the war, but he didn't do a good job rounding up the remnants of the old family.

This is beyond stupid. Marco is my enemy. Or at least, he should be my enemy.

But he's not a Santoro anymore. The dossier is light on what he's been up to these last two years, but it mentions a lot of freelance hacking and IT work for various minor crime outfits, which makes a lot of sense. There's nothing in his profile about hurting or killing specific members of the Bianco Famiglia, which is good, but he clearly was complicit in all the crimes his boss committed against my family.

I should hate him. He's a Santoro . Except there is no more Santoro Famiglia anymore, and Marco has known about me for a while now. If he wanted to hurt me, he had all the opportunity in the world.

And yet he didn't. He should hate me the same way I hate him, but he doesn't.

Now I have to go up there and find out why.

I push open my car door. I'm shaking with nerves as I head to the building. I get lucky, and an old man's on his way out to walk his dog as I approach. He holds the door for me and I give him a friendly greeting. The front desk is empty, which means I can head straight for the stairwell, and I start climbing up to unit 305.

He can't be that bad. If my brother knows about him and hasn't killed him yet, then maybe I don't have to hate him. If I'm being honest with myself, at this point I'm looking for any excuse to keep moving this relationship forward, because that's what I want. I can ignore the evidence in front of my eyes for a while if that helps. But there's a voice in the back of my head whispering with each step: this is going to end badly .

Because how else can it end?

Marco's my enemy. I keep coming back to it. He was a Capo in a Famiglia that went to war with my brothers, and the second anyone finds out that I've been seeing him, all hell will break loose.

I reach the third floor and find his door. My heart's in my throat as I stand there staring, and a thousand reasons to turn around and run away rush through my brain. Even if this isn't going to end in disaster—which it totally is—the moment I knock on that door is the moment our game ends and reality takes its place. And how can we make this work in the real world? He's a Santoro. I'm a Bianco. We hate each other, and that's the end of that.

I still want him. That's the sick part. I can close my eyes and see the Jackal standing in front of me, and even knowing that he's a member of our former enemy's mafia family, I still want him to pull my body against his and kiss me. He saw my face, which means he knows who I am, and he still didn't run away. That has to mean something.

I raise my fist and I make myself knock. Three hard, sharp raps, and I stand there feeling like my world is about to end. How's he going to react when he finds me here? What's he going to say? I suddenly don't know what I want from him, and all the careful thinking and planning I did on the ride over desert me in a flash. Do I kiss him? Do I pretend like I don't know who he is? Do I want him to pull me into his condo and fuck me senseless on the couch?

I stand back away from the door, thinking I should just turn and run away, when I hear it unlock. And slowly, it opens.

I stare at the man looking back out at me.

Marco is Jackal. There's no doubt in my mind. That's Jackal's body, those are his arms and his hands, that's his throat, his chest, his legs. Except he's not wearing the mask. Instead, a man looks back at me, an extremely handsome man with those cool gray-blue eyes I've been obsessing over since I first saw them all those days ago on the roof of Cage.

It's Jackal without the mask, and he's so much more beautiful in person than I ever could've guessed.

"You ruined the game," he says, in Jackal's voice, and it nearly breaks my heart how sad he sounds.

"I don't want to play anymore."

For a moment, his expression hardens, like he's fighting back a strong emotion. Then he steps forward and closes the door behind him, trapping me in the hall.

Which isn't what I expected.

"Why are you here, Laura?"

I didn't expect that, either. He looks angry and his tone is hard. I didn't think he'd be excited—but I definitely didn't imagine he'd be pissed off.

"I wanted to see you," I say. My voice shakes, making me sound small, and I hate myself for it. I'm so far outside of my comfort zone right now that it's like my feet are dangling over shark-infested waters.

"You knew how I felt about this. The game—" He stops himself, looking frustrated. "You know who I am now."

"You've known who I am for a while." I tilt my chin up, trying to infuse some defiance in my tone.

"I wish we could've talked about this first." He rubs a hand through his hair, a gesture I've never seen him make before—because he always has a mask on and can't touch his head like that.

"This wasn't easy for me, okay? I just, I asked my brother for the profiles of all the computer specialists in the city, and your name was in the pile. The second I saw your face—" I just knew .

His expression softens. "That's smart," he says softly and leans against the wall behind him. His arms cross over his big chest as I shift my weight closer to him. "But now you understand why I wanted to keep my identity a secret."

"Why? Because you were a Santoro."

He nods slowly. "That's right, baby. Because I was a Santoro. Your family wanted to kill me, and I wanted to kill your family."

He doesn't seem very sorry about that. Not that I expected him to be. "What's it matter? The war's over, isn't it?"

"For you, maybe." His lips press together and he tilts his chin up in the air. His throat bobs as he swallows. "Fuck, baby, it's good to see you like this. My little demon on my doorstep. But it's a bad idea. I wish?—"

"You wish we could've kept playing. I know, I heard you already, but I don't want the game anymore. I want—" I gesture between us, but I feel this moment unraveling, and I'm terrified he was right. I'm so scared that by destroying the secret, I've ruined what we had.

"You want something we can't really have," he says and sounds genuinely sad about it. "What would you tell your parents about me? Your brother is the Don of the Famiglia. He'd kill me in a heartbeat if he knew I was anywhere near you."

"Let me worry about Simon."

He pushes himself off the wall. I take a step back in surprise as he looms above me. Suddenly, he's Jackal again, only without the mask. But the mannerisms are the same, the way he holds himself, the expression in his eyes. Only this time I can see his mouth, the way it quirks, and his full lips pressed together in worry. I can see his chin and cheeks, his eyebrows and his ears, all the little details of his face that I missed so desperately when he was nothing but a ceramic animal.

Now he's a man. Which means he's more complicated. All that old worry rushes back, the fear, the ancient traumas, and maybe this was a mistake, maybe he's right. We were working when there was a mask between us. Now? What can we be?

"Nothing has changed for me, little demon," he says very softly, so soft that I have to lean closer, my hands shaking. He reaches out and touches my arm, gently cupping my elbow and drawing me nearer, and I come to him with a racing heart and my lips parted, my tongue licking at my teeth. He smells good, like aftershave and fresh plants. "You're right. We couldn't keep going like that forever. I only wish I could've gotten more time."

"Why are you talking like this is over?"

His grip on my arm tightens. I don't know why he's reacting like this. Yes, things are complicated, but that doesn't change what we were building.

"You don't know what you're saying. I wouldn't ask you to lie to your family."

"And you don't get to make that kind of decision for me." I put my hand on his chest. On Jackal's chest. On Marco's chest. The same man, but different. "If I want this, I can have it."

He looks pained, but he doesn't let me go. I lean closer, up onto my toes, my mouth moving toward his. I keep thinking, if we kiss, and it's like it was the first time, we can figure out anything. Nothing else will matter, but please, God, let this kiss be as good as it was, and I can make this work.

But the door opens before I find him.

"Marco? I thought I heard you—" A woman's voice. I look over and jerk back away from him, startled to find an attractive girl standing in his doorway. Her hair's disheveled as if she had been sleeping on it, and she's wearing a pair of black tights and a slouchy tank top. She's got dark hair and tan skin with a round face and big lips. Frankly, she's gorgeous, and I recognize her immediately.

Everyone in my family knows who Valentina Santoro is.

The daughter of our mortal enemy.

Luciano's own flesh and blood.

And there she is, standing in Marco's doorway, looking like she slept over.

"Val, this isn't a good time," Marco says, sounding pained. "Listen, Laura, this is?—"

"I know who she is." I step away from them, my heart racing so much I think I might fall over. "I shouldn't have come here. This was a bad idea."

"Is that Laura Bianco?" The woman sounds completely shocked, probably as surprised as I am. "Marco, what the hell?"

"I'll explain later," he says sharply. "Just go back inside. Please, Val, give me a second."

"You're seeing a Bianco ?" She laughs sharply. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"Valentina—"

"Yeah, I heard you. Go ahead and finish up your little scene or whatever. We'll talk." She turns around and disappears into the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

Marco looks like he's in pain as he turns to me. "Hold on a second."

"You're with Valentina Santoro." The words come out like vomit. My throat feels like it's closing.

"No, we're not together. We're just friends."

"Just friends? She's in your apartment and it's early in the morning. She slept over last night. And she's freaking Valentina Santoro . I can't, I don't—" I back away from him, shaking my head.

"Laura, please, just stay and talk. Come inside and we'll discuss this. Valentina's a good friend, but she's only a friend. I trust her."

"You trust her." I let out a frazzled laugh. I'm not sure what I can believe anymore. Jackal is a Santoro Capo, he's Marco Vitale, he's a liar and a fake, he's a stranger in a mask. He's got the daughter of my family's mortal enemy in his place sleeping in his bed. A sick, ugly jealousy rushes through me. "I have to go."

"Laura—"

I turn and walk away. He calls after me but I block him out. Jackal is a liar; Jackal is a stranger. I don't even know that man back there, except I do know him, I know him better than I've known anyone in a very long time and he knows me too. I let him into my life, let him into my world, let him become a part of me, and now I realize how big of a mistake I made, as I rush down the stairs and hurry to my car, not sure why everything's so blurry until I wipe the tears away with my sleeve.