He left me.
Without a backward glance or a second of hesitation, he turned around and stomped through the front door.
His father’s head lies heavy in my lap. Scraps gives a low, unsettled whine with every breath.
Blood cakes my hands. Rushing water reaches through the hands of time and patters onto the floor.
My mother’s dead eyes stare up at me.
She left me. Pops left me.
Ermanno will never forgive me.
He’ll never come back.
I spiral into a confusing mix of jumbled thoughts and emotions. A stranger taps me on the shoulder and asks me to follow him. I trace my fingertips over my savior’s face, wondering how someone can look so peaceful when their death was so horrendous, but when my shaking hands leave bloody smudges on his skin, I lean down and give him a parting kiss on the forehead.
As I stand, Scraps leans his massive body against my leg, keeping me rooted in the present despite the chaos in my mind, but the visual of an older Ermanno lying dead and alone is too much.
My brain turns off. Sights and sounds become distant nuisances. Nothing matters. I am nothing. No one. Rejected. Alone.
A doctor wearing a blue mask over his face tilts my head this way and that. He numbs the gash on my head, but I didn’t feel it anyway. Bright lights shine down on me and people rush back and forth, but none of it registers.
Time passes, but I sit in a bubble of nonexistence. Nothing can affect me. Nothing seems real.
I don’t want life to be real. Reality hurts too much.
The world slowly forms around me. A woman speaks. Her tone is urgent. Pressure on my thigh draws my eyes down to my lap.
Scraps lies between my legs on the hospital bed with his head on my hip and his front paws draped over my thigh.
My heart lurches as crimson memories flash through my mind’s eye, but Scraps whines and licks the inside of my elbow.
He’s alive. He shuffles closer even though there’s nowhere for him to go.
The big, fluffy baby needs me.
I wrap my arms around him and drop my face into his fur. No tears slip from my tired eyes, but sobs tighten my chest. I cough to clear away the discomfort, but it refuses to go away, so I pet Scraps and murmur whatever reassuring words come to mind.
He’ll never be alone. I’m here. I’ll never leave him. He’s safe. I’ll protect him.
Ermanno said he’d protect me. He said he’d never leave me.
Yet here I sit, abandoned and alone.
Red-hot, boiling rage consumes me from the inside out.
I trusted him. I married him.
And he left me.
My phone. The tracking app.
I’ll find him and make him pay for abandoning me.
I lift my head and scan the room. My purse lies on the small table against the far wall.
“C’mon, Scraps. Let’s go bite and scratch a sovrano until he can’t walk away from us anymore,” I snarl.
He perks up and jumps off the bed when I swing my feet to the floor.
Scraps doesn’t have a violent bone in his body, but I do.
I need to hit something.
My husband.
I need to bury my fist in my husband’s handsome, lying face.
Natalie rushes into the room. She must have been the woman whose frantic voice I heard. I ignore her and pop open the blood-stained purse. Dark red splotches cover my dress and are caked under my nails, but the worst of the crimson from my hands is gone.
I yank my phone out of my purse and jab the screen until the app opens.
He’s close. About to enter the hospital.
I need him closer. Now.
With a snarl so feral I sound more animal than human, I pass Scraps’s lead over to Natalie and elbow her out of the way before stomping into the hall.
My bare feet slap against the frigid floor as I run toward the dot on the map. Bloody, tangled locks of hair trail behind me. I glimpse my reflection as I pass by an open door, but my disheveled, wild state doesn’t shock me.
My insides feel just as frazzled and furious.
I dart around corner after corner and shoulder past countless people on my quest to catch the dot. It doesn’t matter that it moves toward me. Every second we’re apart is another second I’m not burying my fist in his face.
I weave past a nurse and glance at my phone.
He’s in the adjacent hall. I brace myself, lunge around the corner, launch my entire body through the air at him, and swing in midair.
The snapshot of his surprised, bloody features will always linger in my mind.
Pain blasts up my arm as my knuckles connect with his iron jaw, and although he staggers from the blow, he wraps his arms around me and pivots, catching himself on the wall so we don’t both tumble to the ground. I hook my legs around his hips and swing again, aiming for his head, but he yanks me flush against him and buries his face against my neck.
My punch glances along the wall.
The rage pouring through me demands more. I pummel his upper back with the side of my fist as I scratch and claw at his side with my trapped hand.
He bites my exposed shoulder and tightens his arms around me.
Heat flares to life between my legs, highlighting the mess in my panties and on my thighs, and the fabric barring me from the hot, hard length of his cock becomes my sole enemy.
I grind my sopping pussy over his shaft, weave my fingers into his hair, and yank. He hisses and lifts his face from my shoulder.
“What are you doing, gattina?”
I sink my teeth into the side of his neck, biting him above his tattoos where everyone will see, and clamp down with all my fury.
His low groan and rough hands as he grabs my ass and pushes off the wall matches the need pounding through me.
I twist my fingers in his hair and snarl when he cups the back of my head, but the delicious glide of his cock over my clad pussy steals my attention as he stalks down the hall to the nearest room, barking orders at his men and kicking the door closed behind him with his heel.
He pins me against the wall, keeping his hand around my head and his grip on my ass, and thrusts his hips.
I release my bite and groan.
“What happened?” he snarls.
“You left me,” I snarl right back.
“No I didn’t, gattina.”
“You did! You walked right through the door without even looking back while your father—”
My fury crumbles. I can’t breathe. The pain in my soul crushes me. Only Ermanno’s deep rumble stops me from imploding under the weight of my own emotions.
“You’re okay, Loretta. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
I sink my nails into his nape, drop my forehead to his collarbone, and cling to him as a lifetime of trauma barrels through me.
“Pops is dead,” I rasp.
I can’t cry. The misery is too great.
“I know, gattina.”
“He died in my arms, just like mia mamma did,” I admit.
Ermanno stiffens and bands both arms around my back, securing me to him.
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Loretta. I—”
“I killed her. I killed them both,” I choke out.
“No you didn’t. My father jumped in front of those bullets to save you,” he says.
I shake my head, pressing my forehead into his chest.
“Neither of them would’ve been in danger if it wasn’t for me. I opened the door and let them in. I—”
“Loretta, stop. What door?”
“The front door to my house.”
“How old were you when your mother died?”
“Eight.”
“And she died because you answered the door?”
“Yes. For cops. My father said to never let them in, but the kids at school laughed at me and the teacher scolded me for not paying attention in class, so I opened the door like an idiot and—”
My voice stops working. I close my mouth and swallow.
“Then what happened?” Ermanno prods.
“I led them to the kitchen where my mom was washing dishes. One pulled his gun. My mom jumped in front of me and fell on me, and when I woke up, they were gone. She was bleeding. The sink was overflowing. I screamed, but she wouldn’t wake up and I couldn’t get her off me and—”
Thick fingers encircle my throat and compress my jugular, snapping me out of my mental spiral. I meet Ermanno’s slate-grey eyes and tremble from his intensity.
“It wasn’t your fault, gattina.”
I shake my head. He squeezes my throat.
“Did you pull the trigger?” he demands.
“What? No, but—”
“Well, I have. Many times. To countless stronzos, even though I knew they had family. Why?” He pulls my face closer to his. “To protect mia famiglia.” He flicks his tongue over my bottom lip before nipping the tip of my nose and stopping my heart with the intensity of his gaze.
“You didn’t pull the trigger, Loretta. You’re not at fault. Your mother and my father died in the most honorable way; they protected someone they loved.”
The band around my heart loosens. I inhale until my ribs ache.
“No one blames you, Loretta.”
A half-sob, half-scoff escapes me.
“Yes they do. My entire family blames me,” I cry.
“Fuck those ungrateful bastardos.”
I startle at the derision in his tone. The fire in his eyes lights a spark deep within the black hole trapped behind my sternum. “Your chosen family doesn’t blame you.” He digs his fingertips into my jugular and tightens his arm around my back as he speaks. “Me, Dante, Nico. Kara, Serenity, Natalie, Bella. None of us blame you.” His breath ghosts over my lips. “Hell, Scraps was there and he doesn’t blame you either.”
I search his eyes and let his words sink into my psyche as the flames he ignited overtake the black hole in my chest.
“I’m not a curse?”
“Mio Dio, no. You’re the greatest blessing I’ve ever received.”
I eye him skeptically.
He smirks.
“You don’t believe me? Why don’t you kiss me and see how much I long to worship you?”
“What if I bite you instead?”
The need to test him pulls the challenge from me without my permission.
“Use me however you need, gattina.”
His immediate response soothes me to the core and opens the floodgates of my arousal. I close the distance between our lips and kiss him with every ounce of desperation in my body.
He hums in delight before taking over, and I’m beyond ready for him when he finally sinks two fingers into my pussy. I moan and drop my head back against the wall.
“Mia gattina,” he growls against my throat.
“Ermanno. Mio marito. Please,” I beg.
He curses and sinks his cock deep into my body. I cling to his nape and claw at his chest as he fucks me against the wall with wild, raw abandon, fulfilling my deepest, darkest fantasies while promising to worship and protect me for the rest of our lives.
When our breaths mingle as we heave through the aftermath of our lovemaking, I curl my fingers into the hair on either side of his head and meet his eyes.
“I love you, Ermanno,” I say.
He offers me a wicked smirk before brushing his thumb over my cheekbone. Awe shines from his steely orbs.
“I love you, too, Loretta.”
I have no doubts anymore. Ermanno Mancini, the most feared and lethal mafia consigliere in New York City, is my husband, my soulmate, and my future. He gave me more than I ever thought possible, including a loving, supportive family, a doting partner, and someone I trust to hold me at night. I want him by my side every moment for the rest of my life.
Over the next few days, I take leave from work, move into Ermanno’s apartment, and grow closer to the Russo family. Ermanno reveals his father’s illness, and although Serenity, Natalie, and Bella cry, the rest run through a myriad of emotions before their expressions display relief and acceptance.
I adore Natalie’s wit, cherish hanging out with Bella and Scraps, and cry tears of wonder when Serenity and Nico announce me and Ermanno as their baby’s godparents.
Ermanno sneaks off a few times for work, but he always ensures I’m preoccupied during his time away, and when I check his trackers, he’s still in New York, so I try not to worry.
But we live in a cruel world with evil people.
When I demand he use me as bait for the Russians, he refuses, but I remind him I need to return to work anyway. I promise to always wear my tracker jewelry and give him permission to stalk me. He finally agrees to move back into my apartment for a few weeks while I find a new job closer to the Russo tower and he hunts the Russian mobsters.
He makes excuses to remain at his apartment longer than planned, but I don’t argue because I honestly love living in a community I adore and feel connected to, so when the day of my first shift back to work comes, we head straight to the clinic without stopping at my apartment first.
Everyone welcomes me back with open arms. Even my sister seems relieved, but the elation I expect to feel over her reaction never rises. She compliments my new earrings. I thank her and wait for her to mention the wedding band on my finger or the watch on my wrist, but she doesn’t. Even though I took off the massive diamond ring and the necklace for safety reasons since we’re performing several operations today, the band is something I would’ve never worn before, so her lack of comment should hurt, but it doesn’t.
In fact, halfway through the first operation, I realize our normal connection isn’t there. Without the supernatural bond flowing between us, I react to her cues the same way I do the other surgeons’—through years of studying proper procedure and individual habits. Focused on the patient, I merely note the difference and tuck the information away to mull over later.
When I return to my locker, the first thing I do is check my messages from Ermanno.
He found a lead. My car is in the parking lot. He assigned three soldiers to escort me from work to home and included their pictures so I know who to trust. With one look, I memorize their names and defining features. I’ll remember them until the day I die.
My stomach rumbles. I sigh as I realize the fresh produce I left in the apartment is probably rotten.
There are still plenty of ingredients in the pantry and freezer and I’m too tired to go shopping, so I elect to go straight home.
The apartment next to my sister’s is no longer my home, but as long as Ermanno is there, I’ll be okay.
Ermanno is my home.
I close my locker and stay aware of my surroundings as I make my way to my apartment building. The guard waves me through. I nod goodbye to the men Ermanno sent me, but Jeremy, the one with the straight nose and a tattoo covering the left side of his neck, pulls into the parking lot behind me while the others pick strategic parallel parking spots on the road.
When Jeremy gets out and enters the building before me, I sit with my purse in my lap and take a moment to process what it means.
Ermanno either gave his soldier access to our apartment—which I don’t believe he would—or he rented another apartment.
Gratitude flows through me. My husband isn’t taking chances with my safety.
Wonder flows through me, and I need another minute of not moving to enjoy the emotion to the fullest. I want to bottle it up and savor it forever.
I don’t need to store it away for later, though. Ermanno will never leave me.
When I take too long, my bodyguard sticks his head and shoulders back out through the door, scans the parking lot, meets my eyes, and nods before acting like he lost his keys and meandering through the cars.
I huff, dig my phone out of my purse, and send my husband a text. The massive diamond ring on my finger glints in the evening sun. I smirk, turn on my camera, take a selfie with ample cleavage, and send it to him before I lose my nerve. It’s his fault I’m not wearing a bra, so it’s only fair I share with him, right?
My earrings, necklace, watch, and rings sparkle in the picture, but my eyes seem to shine infinitely brighter.
Mio Dio, I’ve totally fallen head over heels in love with the most lethal man in New York City.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way. No other man could complete me so perfectly.
I clear my throat and stick my phone back into my purse before exiting the car and locking it behind me.
My bodyguard slips back into the building ahead of me, and as I enter the lobby, I glimpse his heel as the stairwell door closes behind him.
I take the elevator straight to my floor and smile when my phone vibrates with a message. As I pull it out of my purse, I check both ends of the hall before stepping off the elevator.
I turn on my screen and press the message icon.
Jeremy whistles as he saunters from the stairs to a room three doors further down from mine. I offer him a polite smile and stop in front of my door as he closes his apartment door behind him.
As I wand my keycard and reach for the handle, my sister’s apartment door opens. I turn to greet her and freeze at her expression.
I’ve never seen her so angry. I take my hand off my door. The keypad beeps and flashes red, indicating my door engaged the lock.
Livia takes a deep breath and attempts to calm herself down before rubbing a hand over her face and sighing.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asks.
“Yeah, sure. What’s wrong?”
She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest.
“Not out here. Come in,” she demands.
I don’t move. She’s never invited me into her home before, and after the creepy feeling of being watched, I’m not sure I want to.
When I don’t immediately accept her offer, she scoffs and shakes her head.
“Fine, have it your way. We’ll air our dirty laundry in the hallway so you can embarrass me again, like you always do.”
Even without the deep-rooted connection between us, my heart quails at her accusation.
“What the fuck was that today? You show up after a week of silence and then are a complete bitch during surgery?”
I glance up and down the hall, and even though there’s no one there, discomfort and dread twist my stomach.
“How was I a complete bitch during surgery?”
“Really, Loretta? You’re going to pretend like you didn’t ignore me the entire time?”
“I didn’t!”
She huffs and says, “Fine. Whatever,” while she turns and steps into her foyer.
“Wait, Livia, you’re right, we need to talk,” I say as I rush across the hallway.
She rolls her eyes and motions me inside. I slip past her, set my purse on the bench, and sit to take off my shoes.
The hairs on my nape rise when she slides the bolt home with a metal clunk. It won’t stop me from leaving—or anyone with a card from entering—but the ominous sound fills me with dread.
I lift my head and meet her eyes. The hatred shining from her green orbs drops my stomach through the floor.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
She leans back against the door and crosses her arms over her chest.
“Getting rid of my curse,” she sneers.
I push the emergency button on my watch. She quirks a brow.
“It doesn’t matter what poor sap you tricked into giving you that jewelry,” she says.
I press the button on my ring. And my necklace. And when her eyes narrow on my earrings, I press those, too.
“Julieta and I finally found the perfect man for you.”
Fear skitters down my spine. Goosebumps cover my arms.
A shadow falls over me.
“He’ll make sure you never bother us again. Won’t you, Viktor?”
I know who I’ll see before I even turn around, but the knowledge doesn’t stop the bile from rising into my throat or the terror from icing my veins as I meet his evil blue eyes.
The Russian underboss. The man who held me at gunpoint eight months ago. The stronzo who tried to kidnap me after forcing my sister to operate on his boss.
Questions flood my mind even as panic sweeps through me.
I rise from the bench, holding his gaze, and force my hands to relax at my sides instead of curl into fists.
My watch shifts on my wrist, reminding me it began a muted voice call with my husband the moment I hit the emergency button.
I’m not alone.
Ermanno will come for me.
He knows where I am, who I’m with, and is probably gathering more than my three bodyguards before breaking down the door as he listens to my conversation.
This is our best opportunity to get answers, not only about my sister and stepsister’s involvement with the Russians, but also about the people threatening the Russo family.
I swallow the bile in my throat and square my shoulders as I face the monster my sister invited into her home.
Even as I mentally prepare for battle, my heart cries out for Ermanno.
He kidnapped me, broke my defenses, built me back up, and offered me a future I never thought possible.
I need him. I love him.
I’ll do anything for him, including square off with a terrifying Russian mobster with evil delight shining in his eyes.
Ermanno is mine and I’m his.
His fierce little gattina.
I’ll stop at nothing to get the answers he needs.
