Sitting at my desk two nights after my formal engagement dinner, I flutter through the various papers left for me.
My eyes see the white pages, the stark black ink, but all I can truly see is Sloane.
Her fire, her temper. That spark of cunningness behind those thick lashes.
I can’t deny she felt soft, malleable under my hands, or how her gasps broke my control until only a thread was left. But it’s her mind that draws me to her, that distracts me even now, when I should be focused on my responsibilities.
This would be so much easier if it were just sexual attraction. I wouldn’t feel this need to always know where she was, or worry when she isn’t within my sight. I wouldn’t feel this relentless pull to check on her.
It’s even more frustrating that I don’t know what to do with it. I’ve had women, plenty who want to be with the next Capo, but none have tormented me. None of them had pulled a knife on me.
As the next in line to power, I pride myself on control, on always being in control. You have to be to survive. But Sloane has thrown me into the deep end without a raft.
Which makes this situation volatile at best.
My interlude is broken by Tony, dropping a stack of papers in my face. “And these?”
“Payroll.” He shrugs, ignoring my ire.
Two days, and I still couldn’t get her out of mind. Her smell, her taste, the way she hated me and yet, bowed to me. There’s lust and infatuation, but this is more.
“Nico handles payroll.” I lean back, dropping the pen. My hands are cramping, bare, from the constant signatures.
Tony has seen my hands uncovered. He’s been my second ever since Nico gave me the reins and a friend longer than that. There aren’t many people I can trust in this world, but Tony makes the short list.
“And now you do. His orders.” More work, more tasks being delegated to me.
I could complain but it’d be pointless. When Nico thinks I’m ready, or when his body has had enough, I’ll fully own the family. This is just one more thing to prepare for.
Since arriving in Boston as a child, I’ve been prepared for this role. No questions, no remorse.
Shooting him an annoyed glare, I sign my name to the black line with a flourish. The papers are shoved back in his direction.
This is my family, and I was going to run everything right.
Including getting control over my heart and my fiancée. She might not think she’s mine, but the minute she came on my hand, she was.
The monitor goes off, drawing both of our attentions. Odd. It’s never gone off before.
The red, blinking light on my computer only goes off to alert me of a trespasser in the alley beside my club. It’s heavily guarded as it has to be. It’s my only exit to escape the club if we’re attacked, right by the entrance where I caught Sloane. My men should be there, watching, waiting, for my orders.
Instead, it’s empty.
Save for one person. I’d know that walk anywhere. The slight dip, those rounded hips rolling like a wave with each heeled step, body hidden under a heavy black trench coat. Even on the grainy screen I can tell the person coming closer wears clothing tailored to their frame.
My eyes find the bat dragging behind her.
I lean back in my chair, curiosity winning out over alarm. I watch my five-foot-nothing soon-to-be wife raise the Louisville Slugger and aim a perfect swing at the tinted window. One hit, two—she’s got some aggression to take out—before the black glass shatters on the third impact.
When she said she knew baseball, I thought she was lying. But from her aim, from her hits, I can tell it was truth.
Tony winces at my side, rubbing his bald head. “Should we stop her?”
Smirking, I shake my head. “No.”
Sloane is throwing one of her legendary tantrums. Something, ashamedly, I like very much about the woman. Whereas a simple man might mourn the car—she’s now denting the left door with a sick swing—I’m amused.
I want to see my fiancée burn, watch it, feel it, and let it consume me. The small taste in the hall was absolutely nothing compared to what she can truly do. I want that ire, that anger, and I want to be there when it finally explodes.
I want everything she is and everything she will be. I wasn’t boasting when I told her I could be her equal—she’s already mine. I know she can meet my demands, meet my passion. It’s all over the screen.
Fuck, I groan silently. I’m enamored with my fiancée.
“Fucking O’Brien women,” Tony mutters. Sloane turns toward the camera, bright red hair fluttering along her shoulders like angelic wings, as she blows a big kiss to the screen. Only this is no angel, she’s pure devil.
I’m going to sell my soul to her for just a taste of that fire.
She saunters away, my men watching her go with rapt attention.
Being my future wife has some clout with my men; at least they’re smart enough not to touch her.
“Now, what?”
Glancing to my friend, I try to control the need coursing through me. I want so badly to paint her ass cheeks red for that display and use my tongue to sing my praises for her wickedness.
“Get Mikey on the phone. He’ll need to take my car in.”
“You’re getting married next week.” He tsks, clicking a few keys, zooming in on the damage. “This thing won’t be ready by then. Even with your cousin pulling strings.”
My car is busted. Hood dented, windows smashed, she even took out both lights and broke part of the tire wheel. She made pretty quick work of it too.
A sense of pride fills my chest.
A ferocious woman, she’ll do good in the De Luca family.
“Then get me a loner.” I stand, grabbing my gloves. “And put in an order of red roses to deliver to Ace’s home. Addressed to my future wife.”
Sloane will hate it and that’s what I’m planning on.
Let her throw everything at me and see, at the end of the day, I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.
And neither is she.
“Flowers?” Tony’s face contorts in confusion, cell up to his ear. “You want to send her flowers? For that?”
I smile, clapping him on the shoulder. “Of course. Not many people can get past my security, fuck with my car, and then walk away.” The confidence alone deserved a trophy. “She deserves a reward for the bravery to do it.”
Tony rolls his dark eyes skyward. “Great. You’re just as fucking insane as she is.”
I scoff, slapping his cheek lightly. “I don’t care how much is between us, Tony. Don’t ever insult my wife.”
Grabbing the handle, I look back at him. “Make sure they’re red. I want them delivered tomorrow morning first thing.” I want her to know I saw everything – and that, I’m still here.
“Anything on the card?”
I turn, ripping one of the payroll papers and quickly scrawl out a message. Tony shakes his head but wisely keeps his comments to himself.
Smiling, I tap his cheek again, this time showing him affection the only way my family has ever done. “Tomorrow morning.”
“On it, boss.”
