I nod. "Yes. We could do that."

  "Then why don't you?" she asks. "Why implement this complicated Lailah plan instead of just going in and killing them? I thought that's how criminals operated."

  There's a disdainful tone in her voice that I don't care for. It may be done unconsciously, but she talks about us as if we're second class people. It shouldn't come as a surprise, considering she's nothing but a spoiled brat, but it still grinds my gears.

  "You understand very little of this world, our world, little girl," I tell her, sounding equally condescending. "Going on a rampage like that would be effective, but also stupid and short-sighted. It would fail to take our future into consideration. If we barge in there and shoot and kill everybody, we will always only be known as the Scivola killers, nothing more. True, it could instill fear among the weak, but it will also draw unwanted attention to us and everybody working with us."

  She tilts her head to the side, and by the puzzled expression on her face, I can tell that she’s trying to understand where I'm going with this line of thinking. "Unwanted attention?"

  "From the police," I clarify. "A huge investigation will be launched after a bloodbath of that magnitude. It will put us on the radar and stop anybody from wanting to work with us. No one wants to have ties to the group with an X painted on their backs."

  She nods in understanding, pressing her lips into a thin line.

  She throws me a cautious look. "So instead you use a woman to infiltrate them, going for a silent kill," she says in a low voice. "But why? Why do you want to kill them?"

  I sigh, shaking my head. "The less you know, the better it will be for you."

  "No!" she protests furiously, jumping up from the bed and positioning herself in front of me, her hands planted on her hips. "No. I won't let you shut me out again with that dumb excuse! I want to know. I need to know."

  I frown, rising to my feet as well. Towering over her is simply a physical reminder of her inferiority, a way for me to put her in her place.

  And it works like a charm. She lowers her arms, sighing tiredly.

  "Please," she utters, now looking at me with a defeated expression. "I hate to be kept in the dark. It never bodes well for me and the decisions I make."

  I hesitate, trying to come up with the perfect middle ground. I didn't lie when I said that ignorance is in her own interest, but I understand why she feels that she must know the truth.

  I would demand the same if I was in her position.

  "Does it suffice to say that we're working for someone else?" I ask. "For another family."

  "Another mafia family?"

  "Yes."

  "They hired you to do this?" she wants to know.

  "Not exactly. We presented them with an offer to do something about the Scivolas for them. The families have been rivals for ages, and eliminating the Scivolas would put them at an advantage in this never ending war between families within the New England mafia—and grant us protection."

  Her lips move as if she wanted to ask another question, but something stops her and she furrows her eyebrows instead.

  This is all she needs to know. She doesn't need to know anything more about the other family, the Lato family. They run one of the largest crime syndicates in the Boston area, and there's a chance that even this innocent girl is familiar with their name. It won‘t do her any good to be associated with them in any way, especially if she wants to get out of this mission alive and return to her regular life.

  If she ever does. This may be the one detail in which I stretched the truth.

  No, the second detail. But the first is buried so deep that even Daveed and Mike don't know about it, and neither does our boss. No one does.

  No one but me, because I’m the one pulling the strings all by myself.

  And it will be best if it remains that way. For now.

  "I don't know if I can do this," she says simply, a contemplative expression gracing her pretty face as she turns to look out the window. "I'm not a murderer."

  "It won't feel that way. It's a soft kill." I say in an effort to reassure her.

  She huffs again at the sound of those words, her eyes trailing over her shoulder to look at me. "You keep saying that, but what does that even mean?"

  "A soft kill—you will be the reason why they die, but it won't be because you had to stab or shoot them."

  "I still don’t understand what you mean. How will they die?"

  "Poisoning," I reveal. "You'll poison them. It's clean, simple, and untraceable."

  Raising an eyebrow in disbelief, she shakes her head at me. "That sounds almost too easy. Why would you need to concoct a fake marriage to pull that off?"

  "Because we need to establish a way to get them to trust us, and the way to do that is to have them come to trust you," I say, closing in on her. She jerks back when I lift my hand, my index finger tracing along the outline of her cheeks.

  "Lailah was a queen in the art of seduction," I whisper softly. "She knew how to wrap a man around her finger, how to make them weak in the knees, and trust her entirely, without question, without suspicion. It's something only a woman can do, this kind of disarmament."

  "I can't do that," she insists, looking up at me through wide, anxious eyes. "I'm not like her."

  "That's right, you're not," I agree. "But you're no less charming and no less smart than her. You may not feel like it, but I know you're capable of doing this."

  She shakes her head so subtly that it's barely visible, but the objection is there. It becomes more noticeable when she takes a step back to free herself from my touch.

  "And remember," I warn her, my gaze darkening. "If you don't, your parents' lives are over."

  I expect to witness another wave of horror spreading across her face, to see her eyes widening, a hand flying up to cover her opened mouth while she sucks in a shocked gasp. There may even be tears, born of terror and hopeless protest.

  But there is nothing. She doesn't move, her face remains expressionless as her eyes lock on to mine, observing, assessing.

  As if she knows I am lying.

  Chapter 17

  Malia

  There he goes again. Trying to intimidate me by threatening to kill my parents.

  A threat that I assume is an empty one.

  I want to tell him. I want to say it out loud, to let him know that I see right through him.

  But I won't. I will be smart about this. I can still use this knowledge to my advantage.

  And besides, even if he really doesn't know anything about me or my parents now, he could still gather that information and turn the threat into a real one.

  I don't want that to happen. It's one thing to fear for my own life, I can handle that, but it's an entirely different thing when it comes to my loved ones. It's bad enough that they have to deal with my disappearance right now.

  I wonder how long it took Liliane to realize that I was gone? Did she want to let me sleep in and waited until the afternoon before she knocked on my door? Did she try calling me to go for breakfast? How did she react when I didn’t answer? What did she find once she got into my room? Did she tell my parents right away? Are they searching for me already? Is there anything her husband Jayson can do to find me? He's wealthy and well-connected in a world inhabited by people who can pull strings... the police, local government. Is he powerful enough to pull the strings necessary to start a search investigation for me?

  If he is, this could all be over before it even starts. It could be over long before I even have to touch a gun again.

  "You understand that, don't you?" Nate snarls, tearing me away from my thoughts. The stern, unyielding look on his face stands in stark contrast to the soft, caring tone of his voice from this afternoon that still echoes deep inside my chest. "You're putting your family at risk if you don't do as you're told, Onyx."

  Onyx. I won't lie, it's the nicest and most creative pet name anyone has ever used for me.

  "I understand," I say, batting my eyelashes nervously, suppressing the urge to spit out the truth at him. "I already told you I'll try my best. I'm just worried that it won't be good enough."

  I sigh, the weight of responsibility heavy on my shoulders. "You said Lailah grew up in this world. She was trained for years and familiar with your ways. How am I supposed to catch up within just a few days? You're asking too much of me."

  "Maybe I am," he admits. "But we'll try. It's all we can do."

  Again, he speaks as if I was involved with devising this plan, as if it was my destiny to be fulfilled. I wonder if it's part of his strategy to make me feel like I belong, like I am one of them.

  Like I am his.

  "You said you trained Lailah," I say softly, deciding to boldly step out of my comfort zone to ask a question that's been bothering me since the start. "What kind of training specifically? Did you just train her for combat, or..."

  I evade his eyes as I feel the blush heating my cheeks. He has seen me naked, he made me shower in front of him, ordered me to prepare my body for God knows what—and every time he touched me, he said I needed to get used to it.

  But why?

  "Or for what?" he prompts, stepping closer.

  I don't know how to react. Instinct tells me to retreat, but another part of me yearns for his touch. How can it feel so good when it's clearly so wrong?

  "Or did you also teach her to... you know, seduce people?"

  My face must be burning as the embarrassment worsens when I realize that he must be able to see it, despite the dim lighting in this room.

  "What do you think?" he asks, his finger tracing along the side of my body. The touch is subtle, barely noticeable through the fabric of the sweatpants I'm wearing. Barely noticeable, yet it sends electric shocks ricocheting down my spine.

  "You said I need to get used to being touched by you," I dare to say. "Is it because being physically close to you is part of the mission? Because you'll not only teach me how to shoot a gun but also how to seduce a man?"

  He chuckles. "Being physically close. Fuck, that's cute."

  I press my lips together in anger, feeling another wave of shame washing over me. I feel so foolish.

  "Why can't you just answer my question," I blurt out.

  "I think I just did, Onyx," he says coyly, finally withdrawing his hand. I relax instantly, a faint sigh escaping my lips as my shoulders slacken.

  "It's adorable that you're trying to hide it, but don't assume I don't see the effect this has on you," he says. "You're very responsive to my methods, which is why I think you'll do just fine."

  "I won't sleep with anybody to-"

  "Who said you'll have to sleep with anybody," he interrupts. "Don't worry. I won't let anyone come near you."

  I look up at him then, finally daring to meet his eyes.

  "And what about you?" I ask. "Will you come near me?"

  The smirk on his face is enough of an answer. He will touch me. He will do things to me.

  And the worst part is I'm not horrified by it, not as much as I should be.

  What is wrong with me?

  "Not tonight, I won't," he says, checking the time on his wristwatch. I never noticed before that he's wearing a Rolex, an actual Rolex. The only other man I've seen wearing one of those is Liliane’s husband, and he's the richest man I know. Based on what little I know about Nate, I'm sure the watch on his wrist must be stolen because I can’t believe he’s anywhere near as wealthy as Jayson. But he wears the watch with a casualness that makes it seem like he was born with it.

  "We should try to get some sleep," he announces. "Let me get you back to your room."

  "No!"

  The objection flees my lips before I can stop myself. "Please. Please don't bring me back to that horrible room! I don't want to be in there again, alone," I plead.

  He raises an eyebrow at me. "You don't want to be alone?"

  I nod, biting my lower lip. Even I don't know where I'm going with this or what the hell I'm hoping for, but the idea of going back to that horrible room and being locked away in the darkness, surrounded by mold and disgusting creatures living in the walls, fills me with terror.

  "Well, you can't have my room," he says. "And I'm sure Daveed and Mike will tell you the same about theirs. There's a reason why we stuck you in that hole, it's by far the worst place of all."

  My breathing accelerates as panic rises deep inside my chest. I turn helplessly, my eyes flying around the room as if the answer was written on the walls. I pause when they meet the comparably clean sheets of the queen size bed.

  "Interesting," he remarks, his gaze moving back and forth between me and the bed. "You want to spend the night here? With me?"

  I throw him a dark look. "That's not what I said."

  "Oh, yes, you did, little girl," he says snidely. “And to be honest, I like the idea. It would make my job so much easier.”

  “How so?”

  He leans down to me, placing his arms on my shoulders as he bends down, his face so close to mine that we almost touch. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my upper lip when he speaks.

  “It’ll be so much easier to keep an eye on you,” he says in a voice so low that it resembles a hushed breath.

  “So much easier to take control of you.”

  Chapter 18

  Nate

  "Take control of me?"

  She repeats my words as if they were news to her, a surprise even.

  And not a bad one.

  Next to the fear and disgust she's obligated to feel, there's something else flickering in those raven dark eyes.

  Mesmerization.

  She can't hide it from me. The faint trembling of her lower lips as they part without giving way to words, the way her eyelashes join that subtle dance as they suggest fluttering, and the blush that blossoms across her olive skin.

  Only a blind man would miss these enticing signs.

  She may not know it, but there's a submissive residing in her heart and soul, only waiting for the right moment to come out.

  Or for the right man's hand.

  I've noticed the way she leans into my touch, like a flower reaching toward the sun. She didn't want to. It wasn’t a conscious movement. The decision wasn't dictated by her mind but by her body, and sometimes our bodies speak more truth than our minds ever could.

  But now it's up to me to figure out what beat she's marching to.

  Is it pain? Humiliation? Objectification?

  No.

  I'm shaking my head as I wrap my arm around her neck, studying her expression, my eyes locking on to hers. The answer to my question is hidden in the depths of those black gems, the ones that symbolize her name.

  "Confinement," I say in a whisper, her black locks dancing when they are kissed by my breath. I can't be sure until I try, but unlike the others, I can't rule this one out right away. She's not into pain, and she's too stubborn and strong-headed to allow herself to be pleasured by humiliation.

  But she didn't fight the rope binding her wrists and ankles when I tied her to that bed. She even looked a little lost when I removed the ties.

  This could be interesting.

  "I'll have to tie you to the bed."

  A surprised expression appears on her face.

  "Like you did before?" she asks. "After you kidnapped me?"

  "Not quite," I respond. "But you understand that I can't let you sleep next to me just like that, especially with a weapon in the room."

  She swallows dryly, and—much to my surprise–nods in understanding.

  "Of course, that would be stupid," she says. "Especially now that I know how to use one."

  Her face remains solemn, but I can't suppress a chuckle at her sassy remark.

  I like this side of her. I prefer it to the frightened little doe she seemed to be at first. A part of me was inclined to link this trait of her personality to Lailah, but that would be the wrong conclusion to draw. Lailah was strong and determined, but she wasn't sassy or insubordinate in any way. Her obedience came naturally, and it wasn't in her nature to object or fight back. She was brought up to serve in any way demanded, knowing very early on where her position was within the Covey.

  This girl is different. Her obedience must be earned, elicited through the right measures by someone who knows how to push her buttons.

  "Get on the bed." I let go of her to give her some space to move freely. "Naked."

  She was just about to move, but the additional word causes her to freeze.

  A furious flame flickers in her eyes when she glares at me. "Excuse me?"

  "You heard me, little one. Get naked—and then get on the bed."

  "Why do I have to be naked? I can sleep in these sweats. There's no reason for me to-"

  "Because I say so," I cut her off. "Strip. Now."

  "But-"

  She gasps in shock when I silence her with a fast, tight grip to her throat. I'm not choking her, not really, just holding her in place with a subtle threat.

  And it does the trick. She stares up at me, eyes wide and terrified, but laced with the delicious allure that only a submissive can cast.

  "I told you, there's more for you to learn," I hiss, my face so close to hers that our lips almost touch as I speak. "And this is part of the job."

  She croaks, clearly overstating the effect my hold has on her.

  "But you said you wouldn't touch me tonight."

  "Correct. And I meant it."

  "But-"

  "One more 'but' and I'll spank your sorry little ass until you pass out, Onyx," I stop her cold with my words. "And I know you don't want that. There are girls who'd gladly accept a hot, sweet spanking, their pussies drooling while they call it a punishment—but you're not like that, are you?"

  She's quick to reply this time, shaking her head as much as my grip allows.

  "Well, I suggest you obey then," I say, releasing my hand from her slim throat. "And fucking trust me."

  I can see her fighting the urge to spit a defiant remark at me dancing across her face, but she's smart enough to stop herself this time. Instead, she opts to shoot me an angry glare while she strips off the frumpy clothes I gave her to wear. It's about time to replace those anyway.