Cassio
Kissing Ana tastes like liberation. Our wedding kiss was a performance, meant for outside eyes. It didn’t last long enough for me to truly take it in. But the first after that… it was a lightning strike of shock, shooting me right through the chest. I hadn’t expected Ana to initiate the contact as I wasn’t sure how close to moving on from Cole she was. But as soon as I felt her lips press against my own, I felt free.
Chains of the past that once held me tight, shattered into a million pieces. I didn’t think or feel anything other than her. Ana Moretti consumed me. My once hopelessly grieving wife became my salvation, waking me up from years of bitter sleep.
I had expected to feel guilt moving on from Isobel. I’d expected it to eat me up inside, to feel anger at myself for going forward without her. I’d come to terms with marrying another woman, I wouldn’t have offered to help Ana if I hadn’t. But a marriage of convenience and caring was much different than what has begun to brew between Ana and me. This wasn’t simply a friendly arrangement any longer, and yet, I couldn’t bring myself to fear it. I relished it, instead.
I’d always mourn my son, and I’d always carry love for his mother. How could I not? But my previous love for Isobel didn’t prevent me from finding something entirely new with Ana. Something I didn’t quite understand, but craved like a man starving. Watching her heal before my eyes built something unbreakable inside of me, something I’d protect with my dying fucking breath.
Which is exactly why I’m so on edge right now. My wife wants to leave the house today—without me. We haven’t received any threats or any signs that she may be in danger since that awful fucking night, but we’re still operating under the assumption that she could be targeted at any time. After all, the original attack occurred without any warning signs at all.
So when Ana came to me with her plan for the day, I was torn. She wanted to visit with a few of her society acquaintances to show face, and perhaps learn any helpful information she could. Part of me wanted to dig my heels in and forbid her from leaving the safety of our temporary home without me. The other part of me knew that she shouldn’t be punished for something so utterly out of her control. And that meant compromise.
“If anyone even looks at her, I want to know about it,” I relay to Armani for the third time, giving him my best stern look.
My younger brother sighs, scrubbing a hand through his stubble. “Yes, Cassio. I heard you the first time. And the second.”
“You gotta relax,” Colton says, clapping me on the back. “You’re going to give yourself an aneurysm over a lunch with rich girls who’s greatest weapons are their sharp ass tongues and daddy’s wallet.”
“It’s not the girls I’m worried about,” I grumble, shoving him away. “It’s a public restaurant, strict privacy or not. I’m tempted to put her in a fucking Kevlar vest.”
“It would be a shame to smother a dress like that with Kevlar,” Armani suddenly says, eyes fixated on the opposite side of the room.
Head swiveling, I find my wife and curse silently.
Cristo.
Sia bellissima.
Her legs have my attention before anything else. Long and limber, covered in sheer black tights and tall shiny black boots. Her dress is tight but flares out from her waist, falling above the middle of her thighs. The material is grey and plaid patterned with sleeves that widen at the cuffs, like some kind of designer uniform. She looks like a college student who studies fashion and vacations with her family in the Swiss Alps.
My eyes fixate on her hair next. It’s styled down with thick waves and not a single piece out of place, all held down by a thick black headband that I’d love to push back to run my fingers through her scalp. She’s wearing her wedding rings, and a few other pieces of jewelry, and a fresh face of makeup that accentuates her features beautifully.
By the time I’ve thoroughly gawked at her, she’s by my side and pressing a soft kiss to one of my cheeks. Her scent swirls around me like a greeting, calling me to inhale more. She smells like spiced apple cider, like she’s dripping in liquid fall, and I want to lick her neck to see if she tastes like it too.
Tugging her by the waist, I drop my mouth to her ear and whisper, “How am I supposed to let you out of the house when you look like that, Wife?”
“I’d like to see how you plan to stop me,” she returns, batting her lashes and toying with the end of my tie.
My hand slips around the back of her neck before I can stop it, pulling our faces merely inches apart. “Are you challenging me, forza?”
“I would never,” she replies, a subtle smirk playing on her lips.
“All right, wrap it up, you flirts,” Armani gripes. “I feel like I’m watching softcore porn.”
Ana giggles when I shoot him a furious look. The sound of her amusement helps soothe my anger at my brother’s fucking annoying interruption. Ana’s laughs are rare, but every single one of them feels like a win. They’re just further proof that she’s healing daily.
“Pull up the side of your dress.”
“Whoa,” Armani blurts, hearing my command. “When I said wrap it up, I didn’t mean with a condom, buddy. I did not sign up for a peep show.”
“Shut it, you imbecile,” I snap, reaching behind me to the counter. “It’s for a weapon, not to cop a feel.”
Ana watches us, amusement dancing in her sunny brown eyes. Her fingers lightly tug up the right side of her dress, flashing the majority of her leg. With quick and nimble hands, I secure a snug garter band around her upper thigh. Once the black material is locked in place, I sheath a push dagger into it, making sure its position is on the outside for easy access.
“Anyone tries to touch you, aim for the throat,” I instruct, pulling her dress back down.
“Or the balls,” Colton suggests through a chuckle.
“Violent,” Ana comments. “I like it.”
Despite having just equipped her with a weapon for self-defense, and knowing Armani and Colton will keep an eye on her, I want to make her stay. Or act like a total creep by following them. Ana didn’t explicitly tell me not to come, but I have work to do, and she didn’t ask me to be there either. So I’ll have to settle for remaining in the area and trying to stay calm.
“I’ve got to be going,” she says sweetly, rocking on her heels to press a swift kiss to my lips. “Thank you for the pretty new accessory. And don’t worry, Husband, we can continue our standoff later… if you’d like.”
“I’ll take you up on that, devious girl.”
Ana
Four familiar faces greet me as soon as I step into The Modern Luxe, an upscale private restaurant beloved by many of the elite. Reagan, Emma, Charlotte, and Morgan are my closest acquaintances in the criminal underground society of New York. I’ve developed relationships with each of them through years of parties, galas, and fundraisers, some of them more friendly than others. Each of them possess different associations that allow them to exist in this world.
Reagan Carrington’s father is an Irish assassin for hire who works for some of the most prominent mafias in all of New York City. Her fiery red hair, pale skin, and face full of freckles are unmistakable. She’s also incredibly skilled in combat and weapons handling, but with a dad like hers, her name is enough to scare any possible threats away.
Emma Swanson and Charlotte Astor are both daughters of shady billionaire tycoons. Their fathers invest heavily in several illegitimate businesses and cooperate with crime syndicates as well as corrupt politicians. The two girls fell in love at fifteen and had been secretly dating for years. When they turned eighteen last year, they married in secret, forcing their disapproving families to either disown them, or accept their relationship publicly.
Their fathers despise one another—and have for decades—but have begrudgingly accepted their daughter’s relationship. Thankfully, because not only are they perfect together, they’re also one of the most stunning couples I’ve ever seen.
Emma has the most ethereal beauty, with her dark umber complexion, black waist-length curly hair, and the body of a slim runway model. While Charlotte is the beachy blonde with crystal blue eyes and curves that Hollywood magazines dream of.
And then there’s Morgan. We’ve never been close. She’s the niece of some millionaire casino owner, and she’s far too rude for my taste. But Charlotte went to boarding school with her, and even though I can tell she gets fed up with Morgan’s demeanor sometimes, she doesn’t cut her off.
And unfortunately, she’s the first to greet me.
“Ahhh,” she shrieks excitedly, jumping up from her seat, bouncy brunette waves swaying around her shoulders. “There she is!”
I try to hide my cringe as she hugs me tightly and air kisses the side of my face. Moving on to softly hug the other three, I release a breath and take my seat with a forced smile. “Hello, everyone.”
“I want to catch up and ask you how you are,” Reagan starts, white teeth flashing in a smile. “But I have to ask, who were the absolute smoke shows that just escorted you in here?”
I chuckle, eyes finding Armani and Colton sitting at a table close by. “The one with the tattoos is one of my brothers-in-law, and the cowboy is his best friend. They’re staying with Cassio and I for a while.”
“Is the cowboy looking for a cowgirl?” she asks, waggling her brows.
The table all share a laugh, and I shake my head while smiling. “I think cowgirls aren’t quite his fancy.”
“Damn,” she curses, playfully sighing with disappointment.
“Still single then?” I ask, flipping open a menu.
“Dreadfully so,” Morgan answers for her, trying to hide a smirk.
“Who cares about me,” Reagan cuts in, ignoring the obvious jab. “Let me see that gorgeous ring, please. I can’t believe you’re married!”
Flushing, I extend my hand, allowing them all to get a good look.
“Wow,” Emma says, peering at the jewelry. “Is it true the engagement ring is an heirloom? It’s stunning.”
“Your connection to the gossip network never ceases to amaze me,” I tease, retracting my hand.
“Bagging Cassio Moretti is a win, heirloom or not,” Morgan notes. I wish she weren’t in the seat right next to me, because she’s already rubbing me the wrong way. I don’t like the greedy glimmer in her eyes as she says my husband’s name.
“I don’t want to bring the mood down,” Charlotte says quickly, likely knowing I wouldn’t have a pleasant response to Morgan. “But I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t say how sorry I am for your loss. Daddy donated a few million to the orphanage in her name, because we didn’t want to send flowers or anything that might get in your way. We know how much that place means to the both of you. And Vivian was so lovely… when I heard the news, I was so devastated for you, Ana.”
A month ago, Charlotte’s condolences would send me into a dark place, possibly even cause me to burst into tears. But now, it warms my heart. She’s always been the kindest member of our little group, and probably the one I would consider close to a friend.
“Thank you,” I reply softly. “That means so much.”
Emma and Reagan express similar sweet words before our server comes to collect our orders. Once they’ve left, the conversation takes a more upbeat turn.
Emma and Charlotte have adopted a puppy together, prompting me to share pictures of Sirius in exchange for pictures of their little golden retriever called Aurora. Reagan has spent the past few months learning to rock climb in her latest adrenaline-seeking pursuit.
When the conversation shifts once more to Morgan, my ears are filled with her struggles to find a man she deems worthy of marrying. Someone tall, handsome, rich, and obsessed with her seem to be the qualities she’s seeking. I can’t blame her, I enjoy all of those things too. But once again, Cassio’s name comes out of her mouth, and my fingers start to itch.
“Not all of us get lucky enough to find someone like Cassio, you know,” Morgan muses, swirling her glass of chardonnay. “He’s not just a catch, but a widow too. Giving him love after loss, he’s probably eating right out of your hand.”
“Morgan!” Charlotte gasps. “You can’t say things like that.”
My hand clenches in my lap, a silent disbelief washing over me.
“What?” Morgan huffs, throwing her hands up in mock defense. “I’m being honest. And it’s a good thing. From what I’ve heard his last wife couldn’t give him a child, so you know exactly what to do if you want to keep him.”
“Holy shit,” Reagan hisses. “Morgan, that’s so out of line.”
“You’re being awful,” Emma agrees, looking extremely uncomfortable.
“Don’t speak about Cassio’s family,” I warn, voice cold and hard. “You know nothing about what he’s been through.”
“Oh my gosh, you guys are so sensitive! I’m only saying that you don’t have much competition,” she defends, sticking her nose up in distaste. “His previous wife couldn’t even do the one thing we’re designed to do. As long as everything is in working order for you, Ana, I’m sure you’ll keep him.”
Her words ring in my ears, and like on autopilot, my body reacts. Hand slipping up the skirt of my dress, I grab cold metal and lunge forward. Morgan’s eyes flare wide and her lips part, but no sound can come out before my knife plunges into her chest cavity, ripping through flesh and bone. Blood spills, soaking my hand in an instant while fire courses through my veins.
My heart beats so hard, I hardly recognize the sound of gasps and screams breaking out all around the room. Morgan’s skin goes pale and cold in a matter of seconds, and her body slumps from her chair to the floor and I retract my knife.
“You shouldn’t have said that.”
Just as I put my blade back on my thigh, blood dripping down my tights, Armani scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder. I don’t fight him or ask a single question as he ushers me out of the building. Instead, the recent memory of stabbing Morgan plays on a peaceful loop in my mind. It calms me after the horrible words she uttered made my skin crawl.
No one speaks about Cassio’s loss that way.
I only wish I’d thought to stab her twice.
