In the main living area, another male voice says, “Where is she?”

  “In the spare room,” Grey says. His voice is different now, more guarded than he was with me.

  “What? You’re not going to offer me a drink?”

  “What would you like?”

  Grey’s voice is strained, and it piques my curiosity. After how dominating he’s been with me, I can’t help but wonder why he’s suddenly being so different.

  Out in the living area, I hear the man say, “Club soda.”

  The fridge opens, and I use the sound of a glass clinking to ease open my bedroom door and pad into the hall.

  The ice machine goes off, cubes clinking into the glass, and I inch forward, easing down the hall so I can peek around toward the visitors. The water dispenser runs, and then footsteps sound. I wait until Grey’s out of the kitchen and then take another step.

  There’s a pause, and then the visitor snaps, “You let her eat out here?”

  The harshness of his tone makes me jump.

  “What does it matter?” Grey says in that same strained tone as before. “She can’t leave.”

  The visitor snorts at that, ice clinking again as the glass moves. “Just as well. There’s a change in plans. It might be good to spend a bit of time with her.”

  I ease forward another inch, and the stranger’s shoulder comes into view. He’s sitting on the couch, his back to me. Same color hair as Grey with a few gray streaks. It’s shorter than Grey’s, slicked back and shiny. The suit he wears hugs his broad shoulders and wide torso like it’s custom-made for him. He’s leaning forward slightly, the water glass on the coffee table between him and his son.

  “What change?” Grey sounds wary now.

  I wait silently as the stranger, his father, responds.

  “Franco knows we have her.”

  “Dammit, how the hell—” Grey breaks off and swears then says, “I told you we had a rat.”

  “Regardless of who leaked it, Franco’s got his own people spreading the news that we’ve taken his granddaughter.”

  I get a look at the back of the man’s head. Dark hair, broad shoulders, black suit. Strong cologne wafts toward me, and I wrinkle my nose.

  “Are you serious? The man’s truly lost it then. He’s only making himself look weak—”

  “No, he’s making us look like assholes,” the man snaps.

  Grey’s gaze flicks to me. The moment he sees me, his eyes widen, and he looks quickly back at his father.

  “We can’t afford public opinion to shift,” the man goes on. “Not after all the work we’ve done to position ourselves this way.”

  “There’s not much we can do considering it’s true.” Grey’s expression is hard now. He’s purposely not looking at me, but a muscle in his jaw is twitching.

  He’s pissed.

  “Not we, you,” his father says pointedly. “And yes, there is something.”

  “Forget it. I’m out,” Grey says viciously enough that I take a step back. He goes on, his words laced with fury. “I came back here and did this one last favor for you, but that’s it. I’m not part of this—”

  “Bullshit!” The man shoves to his feet, towering over his son. “You’re part of this family, like it or not, boy.” His tone is cruel now. Angry. “You can pretend otherwise, but that won’t stop the shitstorm from landing on your doorstep just as much as mine. Or have you forgotten you are the one who brought her here in the first place?” He pauses as if to let it sink in. “It’s you they want now, not me.”

  “You fucked me,” Grey says quietly. “On purpose.”

  His father doesn’t acknowledge the accusation. “One way or another, you’re involved. At least, playing offense means you’re in control.”

  “I should have known there’d never just be one favor with you.” Grey’s tone is bitter. “What do you want from me now?”

  “You’re going to convince that bitch to marry you.”

  I make a noise of surprise, and the man whirls, giving me a clear view of his face. And him of me.

  Shit.

  Up close, I see that he and Grey do share a physical resemblance, but where the elder might have been handsome once, there’s a callous expression etched across his face that is deeply lined as if he wears it permanently.

  “What the fuck are you doing out here?” he demands.

  The cruelty in his eyes sharpens to daggers at the sight of me, and I shrink back against the far wall, silent.

  Grey jumps up, heading off his father as the large man rounds the sofa toward me.

  “I told you, she can’t leave, so what’s the point of locking her in a room?” Grey says, sliding between me and his father.

  “The point is that this conversation is none of her damn business.” The man stops, looming over both of us.

  “It’s my business if it’s about me,” I say, the words tumbling out before I can hold them back.

  At my words, the man’s eyes gleam in a way that makes me want to shrink all over again. “All right, sweetheart. We’ll play it your way.”

  “Don’t,” Grey begins.

  “No, she’s got a right.” He waves Grey aside and puts out his hand. “I’m Vincenzo Diavolo.”

  I step around Grey and shake the man’s hand, pretending I’m not trembling with fear. “Lexi Ryall.”

  His grip is already firm, but the moment he has full hold of my hand, he squeezes—tightly. I grit my teeth, wincing as the pain threatens to drag a scream from my throat.

  “Enough,” Grey snaps, and Vincenzo lets go.

  I exhale and snatch my hand away again, stepping back so that I’m standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the asshole’s son. It’s stupid considering I’m technically a prisoner of both of them.

  “Glad to see you’re not some wilting little flower,” Vincenzo says, scanning me like he’s sizing me up.

  “Glad to see you’re the asshole I thought you’d be,” I fire back.

  It’s stupid of me to cross him when he clearly has zero fucks to give about me, but I can’t stop myself. No wonder Grey told me to wait in the bedroom. He’s a bigger asshole than I could have imagined—even with all the horrible mafia stereotypes in mind.

  Grey tenses beside me, but Vincenzo just throws his head back and laughs uproariously.

  “She’s a firecracker, isn’t she?” he says.

  “No argument there,” Grey mutters.

  I ignore it and cross my arms, refusing to let this man see me sweat.

  “I’m not going to just let you do this to me,” I say.

  He stares at me, still smiling. “And who’s going to fucking stop me?”

  “Sir,” Grey says wearily. “She’s right. Marriage? That’s insane.”

  I snort, because same.

  “It’s the only way to convince Franco’s pack we didn’t kidnap her,” Vincenzo says. “That she came willingly.”

  “But I didn’t,” I say, glaring. “And the moment you put me in front of someone willing to listen, that’s exactly what I’ll tell them.”

  His eyes flash, and then he moves so fast I don’t see it coming until he’s backed me against the wall and leaned in, his face so close to mine that I can smell the club soda on his breath.

  “You listen to me, you little bitch,” he snarls. “This might have started with your piece of shit grandpa, but I’ll finish it with you, and I won’t lose a single fucking night’s sleep doing it. Your family is done running this town, and you can either get on board, or we’ll get rid of you entirely. The choice is yours, but I suggest you make it fast, or that pretty little mouth of yours won’t be alive long enough to run itself to anyone again.”

  “Stop!”

  Grey shoves Vincenzo, and I watch as the surprise of it sends the asshole side-stepping away from me. He recovers fast, glaring at his son. Something passes between them, a crackle of energy that paralyzes me despite wanting to flee back to my room. Anywhere to be away from the monsters before me. Instead, I watch, unable to look away, as Grey stares his father down, hands fisted and trembling.

  Vincenzo takes a single step toward us again and then stops.

  “Don’t you ever put your hands on me like that again,” he warns.

  “Lexi, go to your room,” Grey says.

  I decide to do as he asks without argument, slipping away before Vincenzo can object.

  At the end of the hall, I step into my room and go still, listening.

  Both men are silent for another long moment, making my imagination run wild with what I can’t see. Maybe they’ve both shifted into wolves. Maybe they’re going to tear each other apart limb from limb right there on the luxury carpet.

  Maybe—

  “You can’t ask me to do this,” Grey says, and desperation leaks into his tone, driving out the fury from before. “Not with her.”

  I tense, unable to avoid the little ping of hurt his words cause.

  Stupid.

  He doesn’t even know me.

  And I hate him.

  Why should I care if he doesn’t want to marry me?

  I damn sure don’t want to marry him either.

  “You gave your word you’d help this family get to the top,” Vincenzo says darkly. “This is how you do that. So, stop fucking whining about it.”

  “You asked me to bring her here. To use her as leverage to make the old man hand over the reins. That was our deal. You never said anything about marriage.”

  “Well, I’m saying it now.”

  “That wasn’t the agreement.”

  “And plans change, boy. Get over it.”

  “You’re a son of a bitch,” Grey says.

  The answering crack is so loud I wonder if the bar broke in half. Unable to help myself, I peer out and down the hall—then go still as I watch Grey straightening from where his whole body was driven sideways. When he straightens, a large, reddish bruise is already forming just below his eye.

  Holy shit. Vincenzo hit him?

  I brace myself for what Grey will do in return, but he only glares back at his father, eyes blazing with the fires of Hell.

  “She won’t do it,” Grey says.

  “Then change her damn mind,” Vincenzo booms. “Make her fall for your sorry ass. Do whatever you have to.”

  “You want me to manipulate her into actually liking me?”

  Vincenzo looms over his son, poking Grey in the chest. “I don’t give a shit what you say or do; just get it done. You have three days before we go public with this, and she needs to be on board, or she’s useless to me.”

  Vincenzo shoves past him and heads for the door.

  Grey barks out a laugh. “This is insane. I can’t do it. I won’t.”

  Vincenzo spins and growls, the sound of it vibrating through the walls, shaking the artwork, and coming up through the carpet at my feet. “You’ll do it, or you’ll suffer the same consequences Franco’s son did.”

  I shudder at the open violence in the man’s tone. But Vincenzo doesn’t wait for an answer before he stalks toward the elevator with the confidence of a man expecting to be obeyed.

  When Grey finally speaks again, his voice is hard and controlled. “This is the last favor I do for you, old man. When we’re done, I don’t ever want to see your face again.”

  “It’ll be no loss to me,” Vincenzo scoffs. “And my advice? Use protection when you do your convincing. Who knows what she picked up from that club before you yanked her worthless ass out.”

  A second later, the elevator door dings, and the hum of the doors sound.

  Then, the apartment is quiet.

  Minutes tick by.

  I don’t move, waiting to see if Grey will come to get me. But he doesn’t appear, and there’s no sound from the living room.

  I emerge slowly, making my way down the hall with my heart in my throat.

  Marriage… to Grey? No way. It’s not like my life was anything special before, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to tie myself forever to a man willing to toss me into a trunk.

  He’s on the couch, his head hung low, his hands propped on his knees.

  When I step into the room, he lifts his eyes to mine, and the look he wears punches me in the gut. I see nothing but pure, raw pain, and layered over that is utter hatred.

  “If that’s what family’s like, I guess I’m better off.” It’s a horrible joke, but the bleakness in his eyes lightens just a little anyway.

  “Yours is no picnic either,” he shoots back.

  “So you say.”

  He drops his head again. A moment of silence passes between us.

  “Would he really kill you?” I ask quietly, but I think I already know the answer when he snorts.

  “Who knows at this point.”

  I bite my lip, thrown by the idea that a father could kill his own son. I’ve never had a family before, but I’ve always imagined something, well, better than this.

  “Will he be home anytime soon?” I ask, already dreading a round two with that asshole.

  He looks up, his brows furrowing. “He doesn’t live here.”

  “Oh. I thought—”

  “My father has multiple houses so that he can be in one while his family members are at another.” His voice twists in a way that tells me he’s learned this the hard way.

  “Do you have siblings?” I ask, finding myself wanting to know more about this guy—as fucked up as he is.

  He shakes his head then looks down again. “No, and that’s a good thing. I don’t want to think about what it would be like to watch anyone else be hurt.”

  I want to ask what he means by that because there’s a haunted look in his eyes that is at odds with his answer. Instead, it makes me think about my family. The parents I never knew and apparently were taken from me, thanks to my supposed grandfather.

  “Did Franco really kill my dad?” I ask.

  He looks up at me again. “That’s the rumor.”

  I sink onto the oversized chair beside me. The leather is cold enough to make me shiver—or maybe it’s the hard truths that have been continuously dumped on me today.

  Grey’s sharp eyes don’t miss it. “Cold?”

  “A little.”

  He hesitates then reaches over and pulls a blanket off the back of the couch. Then he stands, makes his way over to me, and drapes the blanket across my lap.

  “Thanks,” I tell him softly. He sits again, and I shake my head. “You don’t seem like a mafia type.”

  His brow arches. “I wasn’t aware there’s a type. Or that you know so many of us already.”

  “I just mean… my friend Violet, her brother took a loan from a mafia guy in Indigo Hills once. Apparently, he couldn’t repay it on time and was never seen again. I thought you were all criminals and murderers.”

  “What makes you think I’m not those things?”

  “Your dad is scary and mean. He sounds like a killer. But you…”

  I trail off, biting my lip as my thoughts jumble on the possible ways to end that sentence.

  He leans forward so that our knees are nearly touching. “What about me?”

  “You’re not scary.”

  It’s not exactly true, but I can’t bring myself to explain that Grey scares me in ways that have nothing to do with physical harm.

  His mouth tightens. “Guess I’m not trying hard enough.”

  “Apparently, you’re not supposed to be trying at all,” I point out. “According to the new plan, you’re supposed to be convincing me to marry you.”

  I expect him to rant or get pissed all over again. Something involving backing away from me because I really need some space right now. But he only leans closer, cocking his head to one side in a smug sort of challenge as his closeness sucks all the air from between us.

  “Is that what you want, princess? For me to convince you to want me?”

  My heart stutters at the way he looks at me now. Hungry. Like a predator who wants to eat me—and in this particular case, I might just want to be eaten.

  I think of the lap dance, and it pisses me off.

  “You already tried that, and it didn’t work,” I toss back.

  His smirk tells me he knows exactly what I’m talking about—and recognizes the lie for what it is. “I’d say it worked pretty well considering you’re sitting here now.”

  I glare. “Only because you kidnapped me afterward.”

  “You made it so easy, darlin’,” he drawls. “Running slow and then pretending to faint so I’d have to carry you against my naked body.” He winks, and my temper spikes. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

  Heat shoots through me at his words, but I refuse to acknowledge my body’s reaction. “You abducted me from my home,” I snap. “Tied me up and threw me in your trunk. No, it was not good for me.”

  “Home, huh? And what exactly is waiting for you back there?”

  “Friends,” I snap. “And people who need me.”

  “Right. You keep telling yourself that while you sit in this luxury penthouse in a city your family practically owns. Your life is so terrible, isn’t it?”

  “You know what? I take it all back. You’re a complete asshole.”

  His smirk widens, but it’s more a flash of teeth than a smile, like he’s reminding me what a predator he really is. “You keep acting like I’m supposed to be some saint, but the proof is right in front of you, darling.” His voice twists with sarcasm on the last word. “Your future husband is as dark-hearted as they come. Better get used to it.”

  12

  GREY

  From the balcony of my bedroom, I stare out over the twinkling city lights. One hand grips the railing with more force than necessary. With the other, I take a sip of the whiskey I’ve been nursing for an hour. From up here, the twinkling city of Indigo Hills looks harmless, but I know better. I’m not nearly as naïve as my father thinks I am, which is why I saw this coming from the moment he first tracked me down a month ago.

  I knew then he wouldn’t let me walk away as easily as he promised. There’s never just one favor with him. I assumed all along he’d do something fucked up to keep me reeled into his schemes. To punish me for mine. Still, I never thought he’d pull some shit like this.