This is the power room. Papá’s office. Deals struck, the future of a life decided, money made, and power grown.
Dark paneled walls and rich, deep burgundy paint set the tone of the room, dominated by a large walnut desk where my father reigns. Comfortable wingback chairs hold Zio Marco, my father’s consigliere and advisor, and Massimo, his second-in-command, who have spent countless hours here over the years. Two cream-colored sofas—where Vito usually sprawls out on the pristine fabric, even though he’s the one voted most likely to be bloody.
Not that he would actually be covered in blood—Mamma would wrench his ear off; plus, Vito is meticulous when it comes to clean-up and DNA. More than one made man has seen their freedom ripped away because of not paying stringent attention to detail and following a rigorous cleaning routine. Vito does most of his wet work in his playroom—AKA the basement where our family’s enemies are taken—which has state-of-the-art clean-up facilities and on-site methods for body disposal.
Despite spending a lot of time in this office over the years, from crawling up my father’s legs as a baby to adulthood, I’m rarely in here with his inner circle gathered. However, Andro and I are here today with my father, brothers, and uncle for unofficial business.
Papá sits behind his desk, Marco is in his usual chair, Massimo paces, and Vito sits—not relaxed and sprawled—on the sofa with his elbows resting on his knees. Andro stands against the wall; his look tells me he has my back.
Four months ago, when I landed the crème de la crème of deals, Manuel Morales reached out to me twice. I had decided then to watch him closer. I discovered my seemingly innocent supply chain issues that had started right after I landed the three-hundred-million-dollar real estate project were Morales’s well-hidden sabotage attempts.
Andro and I doubled down and dove deeper into watching Morales, digging to uncover his dirty secrets. I’ve been able to understand the cockroach, thus better anticipating his sabotage attempts, and have either thwarted them outright or quickly implemented the fix to the problem. This had made the unstable man even more reactive, and he made this personal—a cardinal sin in business. When the potshots at my reputation didn’t work, he came at me physically.
My family had stepped in then. Vito demanded we increase our regular sparring-slash-training and target practice. Massimo also demanded that their tech experts, Crispin and Daniele, work with my team to dig deeper into Morales and watch him. Through that digging, we got past the dirt and uncovered the filth underneath, which is why we’re gathered here now.
Years ago, I made a vow to walk only on the non-criminal side of the line and not have a foot in both worlds, and I vowed that to Sophie as well.
The line in the sand is about to blur, though, and I’ll obliterate it entirely if I need to. Because we just unearthed a possible threat to Sophie.
For her, I’ll maim and kill anyone who’s a threat to keep her safe.
A possessive and protective rumble rises deep inside me. I stalk over to the beverage counter and pour myself a bourbon. Vito joins my side, and I pour him one, and he lightly clanks our crystal tumblers together.
“Morales has ties to your woman,” he repeats what we’ve just found out, as if I fucking missed the memo.
After that night in the hotel suite and the pregnancy test, I told Vito and Massimo about Sophie. My jaw clenches, and my hands tighten around my glass. Manuel Morales does have a connection to Sophie—not directly; however, he’s a huge benefactor in her home community. The man is viewed as a fucking saint. And from what we’ve uncovered about him, and add that he and Geraldo Ortez—Sophie’s father and a cartel soldier—are connected, he’s even farther away from sainthood than Vito.
“How did Morales hide his relationship with Ortez, where no one ever caught wind of his ties to someone in a cartel?” Andro joins my other side.
“Crispin is still trying to unearth that,” Massimo says.
Papá starts to cough, and we pause our discussion out of respect for him. He looks like death is knocking on his door today.
Vito pours him a glass of water and takes it to him. “Here, Babbo.”
“Grazie, figlio.” He shakes out a pill and tosses it into his mouth, swallowing more water between a break of his coughing. “Any other ties of Morales with the Garcia Cartel?”
“None discovered so far,” Massimo confirms, looking as disconcerted by our father’s health as the rest of us do. “Only the connection with Ortez, but we’ll keep digging.”
“We have no dealings with the Garcia Cartel; there’s no animosity between our families.” Marco frowns. “It makes no sense that Creed’s rival would be working with the Garcia’s against us.”
“The link with the cartel could be a coincidence?” Andro suggests.
Sophie’s father, Geraldo Ortez, is a long-standing Garcia Cartel sicario and is involved in things like assassinations, kidnappings, and extortion. I understand why her mother and grandparents worked so hard to keep her father out of her life.
“It may be a coincidence, but we can’t discount it,” Papá rasps. The coughing has ceased now, but I bring him more water. He pats my hand.
“Could Sophie be a plant?” Vito asks.
I whirl toward Vito, about to launch at him, but Andro slams his hands on my chest. His fingers dig into my chest, and he grunts, holding me back as I charge like a bull.
My protective instincts and rage at the possibility of Sophie being in the crosshairs of easily the deadliest man in our family. It makes me want to snarl for Vito’s blood, even though he’s my fucking brother.
Massimo joins Andro to hold me back as my top lip curls to bare my teeth. “Calm, brother,” Massimo says in a quiet, steady voice.
Vito holds up his hands. “I know it’s a cunt thing to ask Creed, but we need to examine that possibility.”
I jerk away from Massimo and Andro, getting myself and my rage under control. My heart pounds thinking of Sophie in any danger, even though I know Vito wouldn’t act—not without our father’s order, at least. “I approached her at the industry mixer. My name wasn’t on the attendee list; Papá’s was.”
“And she’s too fucking sweet and innocent to be a plant,” Andro argues on Sophie’s behalf, which makes me love my cousin more than I already do.
I ease my fighting posture and straighten the cuffs of my shirt. Today’s cufflinks are bronzite gemstones I’d gotten custom-made into cufflinks because they’re the perfect blend of bronze and copper, reminding me of my angel. “She isn’t a plant, Papá.”
I direct my comment to him because, as the Don, he’s the one I need to ultimately convince that Sophie isn’t a threat to our family.
He regards me closely and nods, trusting my intuition, which lowers my tension.
“Okay, so Triple S—”
“Triple S?” I frown at Vito.
He smirks. “From the pictures of her, I have to agree with Andro that she’s sweet as all fuck. She’s also stunning.” He bites his lip, laughing again at my possessive glare. “We’ve determined she’s smart. So maybe it’s Sweet Sage Sophie. Or Sweet Sexy Sophie. We could substitute any number of adjectives for the second S: sensational, sumptuous, strong, scintillating, scrumptious, sin-fully good…”
“Okay, I get your fucking point.” I glower at him.
“Thank Jesus, fuck. I was running out of S-adjectives.” Vito laughs but turns serious. “Okay, so Triple S isn’t a plant. But this all means what for her, baby brother?”
My hand scrapes over my face. “I don’t know.”
Over the past two months, Sophie has kept her walls up and me out, even though we talk every day, sometimes more than once. As hellish as the recent two months have been, they don’t hold a candle to the level of hell the previous two months had been when she froze me out entirely.
And we’ve been able to get to know each other without sex complicating things.
Our hearts had instantly tangled together, seeking and finding their other half. I had fallen fast and hard for her. We had rushed into the physical relationship—not that I was complaining or wishing differently—however, these two months allowed us to get to know each other better. Which had allowed that love to grow deeper roots and burrow so thoroughly into my soul that there was no way to extract her. I’d vow celibacy and forsake any other relationship if I had to, because there would never be any other woman for me.
This complication with her cunt of a father and that slimy cockroach Morales—although, I don’t know entirely what it would bring for implications—is just another blip we’ll work through.
Massimo places his big hand on my shoulder. “Can you walk away from her to keep her safe?”
Walk away from her? Never.
But… could Sophie end up in danger because of me?
This is the dreaded question.
Morales has become increasingly unhinged and determined when trying to strike at me. If he figures out Sophie’s connection to me, he’ll use his connections to Ortez to get to her; I’m certain of it. But there’s no reality where I can truly walk away from Sophie. I need to protect her at all costs.
“Come here, figlio,” Papá commands hoarsely, and I sit in the empty chair in front of his desk. He skewers me with his piercing blue gaze. “You love her.”
There’s no hesitation. “I do.”
“You going to claim her?”
I already have.
But not in how Papá referred. Marriage. Babies.
Regardless of the situation, my dick stirs at the thought of breeding Sophie. Having her pregnant—big and round with the child I put in her—and being the mother of my children.
I force the thoughts away for now and focus on my father. “She’s not ready.”
They know about Sophie’s family keeping her away from her father and ‘the life’ and her reason for putting the brakes on us.
He sits back, interlinking his fingers over his stomach, which has started to soften these past months because he can hardly do more than walk from his desk to the door without becoming winded. It’s painful to watch the decline of such a strong man. However, his ruling power hasn’t diminished because he built his empire, so it isn’t dependent on him or his brute strength.
“This link with Morales to where she grew up… This could play in your favor, Creed.”
Papá is a strategist; he has to be to hold his power as Don for as long as he has.
I stretch my neck to the side, making it crack, and ease some tension. “Exposing Morales and revealing how he’s not such a deserving and revered man, that the definition of good and bad is subjective… It’s something to consider.”
The fact that a seemingly upstanding businessman has ties to her father, possibly the cartel, highlights that good isn’t automatically a given just because someone ‘walks on the right side of the line.’ Life is a blend of good and bad, right and wrong. Good and right can do some of the world’s worst.
Can I use this to my advantage to try to convince Sophie that my family, even though they’re mafia, are people with strong morals and values?
And am I enough of a bastard where I will try to spin this to my benefit and bring her around?
Yes, absolutely. Because I can’t live without her.
Papá’s computer rings with an incoming video call.
“It’s Crispin,” he tells us, answering the call.
“Don,” Crispin replies urgently.
Crispin is always amped up as if he just drank three energy drinks, his leg constantly bouncing, but his voice always has a paradoxical, slow, relaxed drawl. We all cue into his tension, and Massimo, Vito, and I move behind Papá’s chair.
As my team dug to unearth more of what Morales kept hidden, Crispin and Daniele searched for the man himself because he’d fallen off the grid for the past thirty-six hours. Daniele is who you want on your side when you’re trying to find someone. It may take her time, but as far as I know, she’s never failed to deliver.
“Daniele found Morales” Crispin says. “He’s with Ortez.”
“Where are they?” Vito demands.
Crispin’s eyes settle on me. Nails rake down my spine. “San Diego.”
Two words. Two words that drop like successive bombs, each one landing with a compounding, percussive blast that rattles and quakes the ground under my feet.
Morales and Ortez are together. In San Diego.
Sophie is in San Diego.
I’m in San Francisco.
Over five fucking hundred miles away.
“No.” Fear nearly chokes me. “Fuck, no!”
I have no idea why they’re there or if Sophie is in trouble, but everything inside me screams that I need to get to her—now.
Massimo and Vito immediately grab me, and I fight like a gorilla who got a shot to the ass. Snarling, fists flying, yelling at my brothers to get the fuck out of my way. It takes both of them to overpower me, slam me down on the desk, and pin me down.
“Creed!” Papá slams his fist on the desk by my head, snapping me out of my red haze.
Andro stands by, his jaw and fists clenched. His loyalty to me and our family is at war. Zio Marco has risen and stands at his son’s side to stop him from doing anything rash, like attacking the Don or the heir.
“Get off me,” I grit to Massimo and Vito. They relinquish their death grips.
“Crispin, do you know why Morales and Ortez are in San Diego?” Papá asks, but he doesn’t take his eyes off me as I get off his desk.
“No, Don.”
“Do they travel there often?” Massimo asks.
“Morales has periodically. Ortez is on all the fed’s watchlists, so he’d move under the radar, and I have no way of knowing.”
“The Garcia Cartel’s main US territory is Texas,” Marco says. “They have no trade agreements with us for California; this is Lopez Cartel territory. Therefore, if Garcia’s man is here, that’s an act of aggression.” He interlinks his fingers and taps his thumbs together. “Against us and the Lopez Cartel.”
Criminal world politics alive and well.
“Do you still have your contact in the Garcia Cartel, Vito?” Papá asks.
“Yeah, if the bastard isn’t dead.”
“Well, that’s reassuring,” I snap. “I’m taking the plane to get Sophie.”
“I’ll call the pilot and crew and tell them to get ready,” Andro says, and I give him a grateful nod.
“I don’t care the reason those fucks are in our city,” I growl at my father, brothers, and uncle. “Sophie is there alone. I need to get to her.”
Papá stands. “Creed, if they are there for her, you won’t make it on time.”
The reality of that hits me like a tsunami. If Morales has found out about Sophie and me, and he’s there to use her against me…
“Send Benny,” I say, referring to the Capo, AKA captain, who oversees San Diego. “Or I’ll send Greer and a team to her dorm to collect her.”
Vito grabs my arm. “If Morales and Ortez are there for her, sending any of our men—hell, even seeing anyone who looks like an Italian—they could act rashly to get to her.”
I shove both hands in my hair and pull on it. “Fuck.”
“Hold on, baby brother,” Massimo rumbles, pulling out his phone. Once the call connects, he puts it on speaker. “Ash, I’m calling in a big favor.”
I don’t know what has transpired that the Havoc Guardians owe my family a favor, but I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth if they can keep Sophie safe until I can get to her.
“What you need, brother?” Ash’s gravelly voice echoes in the room.
“I need your most trusted man in San Diego to pick up a precious package.”
The mother chapter of the Havoc Guardians is based in San Francisco. They have sister chapters across the state, including one in San Diego.
“We’re talking precious-precious?” Ash asks.
Massimo looks at me as he answers, “Yeah, the ultimate.”
“Well, you’re in luck. Both my VP and Road Captain are in San Diego. I’ll send Bane. Give me the details.”
Sophie could balk at this because I’m drawing in the criminal aspects of my family’s world to protect her. But I can’t get to her for almost two hours, and a lot can happen to her in that time. I need to get Sophie to safety, even if it means sending a high-ranking member of a motorcycle club.
“I need a picture of Bane,” I say to Massimo, then move away, pulling out my phone and immediately dialing Sophie. Vito and Andro move closer, maybe in solidarity, but don’t crowd me as I pace, willing Sophie to pick up.
“Hey,” she answers, and my heart clenches when I hear her voice. “I didn’t expect you to call until later.”
The knot in my chest eases somewhat, hearing her calm and safe.
“Angel, I need you to listen to me and do exactly as I say. Okay?”
“Okay,” she says slowly, but she’s alert.
“A man named Manuel Morales is—”
“Manuel Morales? How do you know him?”
“How do you?” I ask, even though we’re getting sidetracked.
“He… I don’t know, know him. He’s a big benefactor from back home, though, putting tons of money into the church and other things.”
“You don’t go near him, angel. He’s in San Diego with your father.”
She sucks in sharply. “What? My dad can’t… He’s on the FBI’s radar or something. He can’t come to the States. You must be mistaken.”
“I’m not. I can’t explain right now, but Morales is a business rival who has been coming at me. I’m fearful you’re his target to hit at me, given that he and your father are together in San Diego.”
“Creed.” Her voice has a tremor of fear in it.
“I know, angel. I’m on my way but can’t get there fast enough. An ally of my family is going to pick you up. A biker named Bane.”
“A biker?”
If she pushes away from me now because I’m bringing the life to her and connecting her into it, I know she’ll be fucked.
My gut tells me that Morales and Ortez are there for her, maybe to use her as a pawn to get to me, or for some other reason. Whatever the reason, everything screams to me that she isn’t safe. And if anything happens to her, especially because of me, I don’t think I can survive the fallout.
“Yes. If Morales or your father are watching you, they’d never suspect I’d send a biker to you. It’s the safest move without revealing that I’m onto them.”
“Jesus,” she chokes a half-laugh, which sounds a bit nervous.
“You’ll follow my instructions, angel?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl,” I murmur because I need to hear her soft inhalation of air that happens whenever I do. “You know the phone you bought for Sylvie’s birthday?”
“Yes.”
“I need you to leave your phone in your dorm and take that instead.”
“You… You think they could track me or something from my phone?”
“I’m not taking any chances.”
“Creed.” Massimo holds out his phone with a picture of Bane that Ash had sent.
Bane is a big rugged man with shoulders and chest as broad and thick as me and Massimo. His dark hair is pushed back, a tight beard of scruff, and eyes as hard and dark as Vito’s. I snap a picture of Bane and send it to Sylvie’s phone. I remember the number because I was there when Sophie got the phone and choose the number that spells out ‘Cool Kid.’
“I sent the picture of Bane to Sylvie’s phone, Soph. You only go with him. No one else. Understood?”
“Understood.”
I can hear her rummaging around her dorm room.
“Don’t do anything out of the norm. Don’t pack anything. I’ll get you whatever you need. Stay outwardly calm.”
“Okay.”
“Ash,” Papá says to the Prez, still on Massimo’s speakerphone. “Tell Bane not to wear his cut or have anything that will tie him to the Havoc Guardians.”
“He’ll just be your regular, rugged Joe on a hog,” Ash rumbles over the speaker, then chuckles. “According to the picture of Sophie you sent, Massimo, he’ll be a lucky son of a bitch picking up one of the sweetest-looking little side pieces ever.”
Massimo rubs his jaw, trying not to smile at my curled lip and growl.
“Creed,” Sophie calls my full attention back to her and eases some of the possessive ire that flared.
“I’m here, angel. I’m leaving for the airport, and we’ll be wheels up,” I look at my watch, “in twenty-two minutes.”
“Okay… Where should I meet this Bane guy?”
“Where I’ve picked you up off campus before,” I say, and Andro and I get ready to leave.
“Will you stay on the line with me until I meet him?”
This isn’t her world; she wasn’t raised this way. With this potential risk hanging over her or with the possibility that she may need to drop everything and run for her life. It’s unnerving her. It would be enough to make another person freeze in terror, yet she’s calm and ready to come to me.
“I’m so fucking proud of you for being so calm and strong,” I praise and reassure her, and she sucks in a breath to steady herself. “I need to speak with my dad and brothers before I leave, though. Andro will talk to you while I do, okay?”
He takes the phone from me. “Hey, Minnie.”
I go over to Papá, Marco, and my brothers. “I’m coming with you,” Vito states.
I shake my head. “I know you have extra added to your plate because of the Czech mafia pushing in and causing shit.” I don’t know the details, but I know that much.
“Cunts,” Ash grunts over the speaker. “The fucking lot of them.”
I have to agree, especially since their main revenue source is peddling flesh and trafficking humans. “Papá, Massimo, and the family are your priority, Vito.” None of them look happy, but they know I speak the truth.
“Creed,” Ash says. “Whatever you need, the Havoc Guardians will deliver.”
“Thanks. I’m hoping Bane picking up Soph, keeping her safe, then bringing her to the plane when we land will be all that’s needed.”
“Hope’s not a plan.” Massimo frowns at me. “Creed will take whatever help he needs, Ash.”
I’m itching to bolt out of here.
“Get your woman and get your ass back here,” Papá orders me. He grabs my face with both hands. “If things don’t go as planned, though, you do whatever you damn well need to do to protect yourself.” His blue eyes water slightly, and he swallows hard. “If that girl is your heart… then you do what you need to protect her, too. We will do whatever it takes to protect her as well; she’s as good as family, figlio.”
From this moment on, whether Sophie wants it or not, she has inherited an Italian mafia family—complete with all the power, resources, and wealth necessary to ensure her safety.
I pray it’s enough.
