Present
My heart pounds as I race up the stairs towards Sloane’s apartment. I didn’t have time to stick around and wait for the elevator. Running up twelve flights of stairs is no small feat, but the reason my heart is pounding has nothing to do with physical exertion and everything to do with her.
That phone call had my heart ripping in two. I have no idea what the hell has Sloane so distracted, or what the hell she was talking about in her texts, but she went from bitching at me to sobbing in minutes. I can still hear those gut-wrenching sounds rattle around in my head. After a couple of minutes of calling out to her, she ended the call and I’ve barely been able to breathe since. I couldn’t hear anyone other than her through the phone, so I don’t think she was in immediate danger, but the possibility is still there.
My heart is in my fucking throat as I finally reach her door and pound on it.
She must be near the door because I hear her make a startled sound as my fist meets the wood.
“It’s me, Sloane. Let me in,” I call out.
I hear a shuffle before the door opens a crack and there she is, red rimmed eyes and tears still staining her cheeks. She looks fucking exhausted, and so damn beautiful it hurts.
I don’t wait for her to debate with herself about inviting me in, I just push the door open and move past her. She lets out a huff, but doesn’t argue the move, proving to me that something is wrong since she doesn’t even have the energy to fight me.
“What happened?” I ask as I lean against the arm of the sofa. She closes the door and turns to face me.
“I was just having a moment, you didn’t need to come here, Marco. I’m fine.”
Such a pretty liar.
“Uh huh. If that’s true, then what the hell are you clutching in your hand?” I motion towards the paper she’s holding tight in her fist with a raised brow. “Show me the note, Sloane.”
She shakes her head and takes a step back.
What the hell is happening right now? This isn’t my Sloane. My Sloane would fight me tooth and nail, just to be a pain in the ass. My Sloane would sass me, she’d tell me to go to hell and force me out of her apartment. Whatever is on that goddamn piece of paper has her so rattled, she’s not even a fraction of herself right now.
I approach her slowly, like you would a wild animal. As I reach her, she tips her head to look up at me, tears pooling in her ocean eyes. I see the moment she breaks. Those tears break free and roll down her face as her legs crumble beneath her. Luckily, I see it the second it happens and I sweep her into my arms before she can hit the floor.
Sloane clings to me as I carry her to the couch and I sit down, making sure to adjust her on my way down so she’s sitting sideways on my lap. She buries her face in my chest as she lets go, soaking my shirt with her tears as she cries, letting me absorb her pain.
I don’t know how long we sit like this, but I hold her while whispering encouraging words into her hair until she finally quiets down. She doesn’t let me go. I know it’s a risk, but I take the note from her hand and quickly read it before she loses her shit. The words on the page have my blood running cold.
Do they know? They don’t take death of their own lightly.
Does who know? And who the fuck sent her the note?
“What’s the note about, Sloane? And who the fuck left it for you?”
Sloane tenses as she realizes that I’ve read it. I don’t even think she noticed me taking it from her. She pulls away from me and glares. Seeing that expression on her face should upset me or piss me off, but all I feel is relief of the fact that she seems to be coming back to herself.
“Get out.” Her cool tone leaves no room for argument, but she should know by now that I won’t give up that easily.
“Talk to me, Sloane. First you thought someone was following you and now this?” I say and wave the note in the air. “I’m worried, baby. Tell me what’s going on.” The endearment slips out without warning and her eyes flare with what can only be described as danger.
“I’m not yours to worry about, Marco. I haven’t been yours for a long damn time, if ever. You need to leave me the hell alone and stay out of my business. Now get the fuck out of my apartment before I call the cops or call my brother.”
I stand and grasp her chin between my fingers, forcing her to keep eye contact with me.
“I’ll leave, but only because I know you’re exhausted. But make no mistake, Sloane, this isn’t the last time we’ll be having this conversation.”
I force myself to let go and step away from her before making my way to the door. I open it, but before I step out, I call out her name over my shoulder. She turns to glare at me, and I feel my lips tipping up in a smile as I turn and walk backwards.
“You’ve always been mine, baby. And you always will be.”
After I left Sloane’s last night, I called Finn and told him he needs to put a bodyguard on Sloane, unless he wants her having one of our men put on her. After I called, I sent a message to the family group chat, asking for a meeting.
We need to find out what the fuck is going on with our shipments and figure out who hell is playing with us. This shit with Sloane could be completely unrelated, but my gut is saying it’s somehow connected.
I step into my dad’s office where he and both of my brothers are already waiting. I’d usually be one of the first ones here, but I wanted to make sure Sloane got to work okay before I came. Their bewildered expressions make sense, they’ve never known me to be late for anything.
“Where are we with whoever is fucking with our shipments?” I grunt.
“That’s it? Not even gonna explain why you’re late? Are you okay? I’ve never known you be late for a thing in your life, little brother. I’m pretty sure Mom gave birth to you at exactly midnight on your due date,” Luca snarks. I grunt at him in response. It’s time he finds out about Sloane, but I want an update first and foremost.
He sighs and lounges back on the sofa where he’s sitting next to Enzo while I lean against the wall facing them as Dad sits in the armchair.
“We have nothing. Nobody has anything. Each of the four main organizations have been hit.” Meaning us, the Irish, the Columbians and the Russians. “O’Brien’s shipments seem to be getting hit more than the rest, but we’re still being fucked with either way,” Luca says.
“Could it be one of them, but they’re making it look like they’re being hit, too, as a way to cover it up?” Enzo asks.
“Nope. I thought that could be a possibility, but I looked into it and everything seems legit,” Dad adds.
“How much more are the Irish being hit than the rest of us?” I ask, my gut instincts screaming that that note Sloane received isn’t just some fucked up coincidence.
“At least double the amount as the rest of us,” Luca says, and I curse under my breath without thinking. The sound doesn’t go unnoticed as Luca’s head snaps my way and hit eyes narrow.
Meanwhile, my dear little shit-stirrer of a brother grins at me. “Care to explain to the rest of us why you’re so upset about the Irish being hit, big bro?”
I grunt at him and take a seat. I’m pretty sure I’m about to be interrogated, so I may as well get comfortable.
I turn my attention to my father. “Sloane had a note posted under her door last night. There’s no evidence that it’s linked to whoever is fucking with us, but my gut says it’s somehow connected.”
My dad’s expression goes from laidback to furious in a second. I feel a rush of warmth at the fact that he doesn’t even know her, she could be considered an enemy, but my feelings for her erase anything that could be held against her as he automatically goes into protective mode.
Luca looks between me and our father, and I can just tell he’s brimming with questions, but Dad speaks before he can voice them.
“What did the note say? And how was it delivered?”
“The note said, ‘Do they know? They don’t take death of their own lightly’ but Sloane wouldn’t elaborate who the ‘they’ were or who it was about. The note was slipped under her door. I’m not sure when, but she found the note when she came home late while she was on the phone to me.”
“I’m sorry, but who the fuck is Sloane?” Luca asks and Enzo chuckles.
I take a deep breath before blowing it out. “Sloane O’Brien.”
“You mean the girl who used to attend those galas? Finn’s twin sister? Why the hell were you talking to her? I didn’t even know she was back in town.”
Here we go.
“She left town ten years ago,” I say, hesitating before I say the painful part. “She left after I ruined us.”
Luca blinks at me, seemingly at a loss for words while my father and Enzo send me pitiful looks.
“I don’t… I don’t understand, what did you ruin?” Luca asks once he finally pulls himself together.
“My life,” I admit with a self-deprecating laugh. “I ruined my fucking life. She’s my Izzy, Luca,” I say so he understands who she is to me as I run my palm down my face.
His eyes widen in shock. He opens his mouth, as though he’s about to say something, before snapping it shut and narrowing his eyes. It’s not quite a glare pointed at me, more like he’s trying to process the information.
His features harden, and I wait for to call me out for being an asshole and keeping this from him—which would be fair—only my big brother shocks the shit out of me.
“We’ll talk about what happened between the two of you later. Right now, we need to focus on who’s leaving your girl notes and who’s fucking with us. We need a meeting with Finn, too, at some point, to make sure he doesn’t have any bright ideas of coming between the two of you.”
“Yeah… only she’s not actually my girl, Luca. I’m not sure she’ll ever forgive me for the shit that happened between us.”
Luca sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands. “Do you love her?” he asks.
“Of course,” I say without even having to think about it. I’m done hiding how I feel for her, and the truth is, I’m so fucking gone for that girl. Have been since the night I met her. I should have told my family about her back then. I know now that they would have done everything possible to keep her safe, and maybe things wouldn’t have turned into the shit show that they did.
“Then she’s your girl,” he says with a nod, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As though he has no doubt that things will work themselves out. If only I could allow myself to believe that, too.
