“I have other clothes for you. I’ll get them after dinner.”

  I licked the rim of the glass, dragging the few drops onto my tongue. Did he know I was purposely being provocative? Perhaps. I was always on edge, playing the perfect girl. I just never realized how much so. “I would appreciate that. Hopefully something more... suitable.” I was still so nervous around him, the very man who could drag every last breath out of my body.

  With passion.

  With danger.

  The dichotomy was electrifying.

  My hand refused to cooperate, trembling to the point the wine sloshed. I watched as two beads slipped ever so slowly down the crystal clear glass, a reminder just how fragile this situation truly was. He could shatter my entire world with a single shot from his gun, or a quick phone call made to one of his soldiers. He could destroy the new life I’d created in an instant, without breaking a sweat. Yes, he made me nervous and weak, despondent and hungry. He was all powerful yet still with a touch of vulnerability that was far too attractive, blinding.

  I quickly took a sip then a gulp, chastising the rather girlish behavior. He wasn’t the star high-school quarterback and I was no prom queen.

  He moved around the island, taking his time and running his fingers along the edge of the counter. “Are you afraid of me, Francesca?”

  Every time he said my name out loud was pure torment, driving into the very heart of me. The kind of deep emotion that would forever keep me ill at ease. “Nothing scares me.”

  “Another lie. What have I told you about lies?”

  Why did his voice have to be so incredibly husky, the deep baritone like a sinful bite of the most decadent dark chocolate? “I’m not lying.” My words were meek, without conviction.

  Using just the tip of his index finger, he delicately brushed down the bridge of my nose. He took his time encircling my mouth, lips that remained plump from the hours of raw passion. The slight growl somehow rumbled into my tummy as he brushed his fingers across my cheek, sliding my long strands of hair behind my shoulder.

  I shuddered with anticipation. Of his touch.

  Of his kiss.

  Of his dominance.

  “You should be afraid of me,” he whispered, allowing his heated breath to cascade across the nape of my neck, his lips so close yet so far away.

  I swallowed, my eyelids suddenly heavy, my heart racing. “Why?”

  “Because I’m a monster.” He tangled his fingers in my hair, yanking me onto my tiptoes and crushing his mouth over mine. This wasn’t about a simple round of intimacy but a moment of controlling obsession, the passion so primal and the kiss so deep that it tore at my defenses, smashing through my walls of protection until I was left drugged.

  Blinded.

  He kept his mouth over mine, his tongue penetrating into my very soul, refusing to accept anything less than my complete submission. I became lost in his world, a girl utterly vulnerable but protected by a man who’d long since given up the joy of living. I was his prize, a blip in time where he could allow his defenses to fall.

  What terrified me the most was never being able to let go.

  I clung to him, drawn to his dangerous ways like a moth to a flame. There was no sense of time or space, only the languishing longing we both shared.

  Soon to be broken.

  No doubt to be scarred.

  When he finally broke the kiss, he struggled to breathe, every muscle in his ripped body tense. “You were always meant to be mine.”

  The words no longer burned or were they jarring. They were a simple fact to a man like Michael.

  He took decided steps away, his beautiful and sensual eyes riddled with the same kind of darkness I’d feared all my life. And I knew. He’d resigned himself to accepting his responsibility, the same damning family honor that had been instilled into me my entire life. He’d become the brutal criminal he’d been determined to walk away from. When he looked away, I caught a glimpse of sadness.

  I had to wonder if I’d ever see it again.

  “We both need to eat but we have a few minutes. We should talk.” The grip on his wineglass was firm and I could swear I heard a slight cracking sound.

  The beautiful spell was broken.

  “Talk. What else can be said?”

  “I need to know all your father’s associates. You will make a list.”

  Back to business. Of course. I was suddenly very exhausted, my eyes watering. “I don’t know them. Not really. I only really know his consigliere, my godfather, but I haven’t spoken with him for years. I’ve seen countless capos come and go over the years, so I have no idea who he employs at this point. I’ve been in the United States for a very long time.”

  “Any names. Every name. I don’t care. His banker. His secretary. Whoever is closest to him.” This was a command, not a request.

  I couldn’t help but bristle. Yes. Sir. Hell, no, I wasn’t going to say that to him. “It sounds like you’re trying to implicate my father in the assassination attempt.”

  “I’m keeping every door open. I will not rest until I have the answers, and no one will stop me from getting them.” He took another sip of wine.

  Another implied threat but I knew he intended on getting exactly what he wanted.

  I was incensed but I had to admit, my father had acted very odd when he’d suddenly appeared on my doorstep, plying me with gifts and having the discussion about Vincenzo and honor. I’d still been stupid or trusting enough to not think twice about his actions.

  Until now.

  “And if you find out he has knowledge?” I had to ask the question, although I didn’t want to know the answer.

  “Then your father will pay. Simple as that.” He edged closer, waiting for my reaction.

  I clenched my fist in my lap, trying not to fall into another trap. Why did I continue to have any kind of caring feelings for this man? Everything was a game to him. “I honestly don’t know anything. You’re going to have to get used to that. You can punish me all you want to, Michael, but that’s not going to get you the answers you want. Not now. Not ever.”

  My personality was changing, perhaps at the wrong time. I caught a glimpse of true anger in his eyes, the kind I’d seen in my father so many times, but Michael backed off, fisting his mouth and moving further away from me.

  Controlling his rage against my defiance.

  “Tell me how your father convinced you to marry Vincenzo.” Another demand but this time more soft-sided.

  He wasn’t going to let this go.

  “My father came to America by surprise. We went to lunch and he said there was a man he wanted me to meet, that our connection could be good for the family. Nothing more. I did what he asked then thought nothing of it for two weeks. He supposedly left to go home, but I have a feeling he stayed.”

  Now he was intrigued. “What makes you say that?”

  “I saw him coming out of a restaurant a week later. I rang his phone, called his bluff. He swore up and down he was still in Italy but assured me that he was coming back. He had a surprise for me.”

  “The surprise being Vincenzo.”

  I nodded, taking a gulp of the wine for courage, and maybe to keep my brain cells alive. I had been a fool. “We talked for a long time and he explained about my trust. I knew there was a trust fund, but I’d never bothered to ask any details.”

  Michael inhaled, holding his breath. “I’m certain that came as quite a shock.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “How did you react?”

  I laughed, almost spitting out the remnants of my wine. “I refused. I would turn thirty eventually and honestly, I just didn’t care.”

  “And?” he asked, tipping his head.

  I tried to remember his exact words. “He said it was life or death. What in the hell? His life? Maybe someone is threatening him? He refused to answer, blew it off by saying it was my duty to marry as required.”

  “Perhaps his life is in danger, but I have a feeling there’s more to this.”

  “I was disgusted at the entire proposition. I even left the restaurant after telling him he was a crazy old fool. Then my father actually did something he’d never done before. He threatened me.”

  “Threatened you?”

  “Not overtly. Just... so subtly that I really didn’t realize it for a full day. I could see something haunted in his eyes. Then the pressure was on, Vincenzo sending flowers every day. Treats. Beautiful clothes. He tried to woo me, but I could see right through him, the pompous ass.”

  “Then why?”

  I fiddled with the wine, swirling the glass back and forth. “I guess honor. At the end of everything, I respected my father and his wishes. The old way.”

  “Yes, the old way.”

  I heard the sound of his phone and hated the interruption.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said after yanking the phone from his pocket. He didn’t even answer the phone until he was out of the room.

  Spying on him wasn’t in my best interest, but while he may want to know the truth, so the hell did I.

  I moved to the door, tiptoeing and trying to listen in. His conversation was muffled but fairly animated and short. It was also riddled with fury.

  “God damn it!” Michael swore.

  The pounding thud I heard made me jump.

  I shifted back to the stool, barely sitting down before he sauntered back into the room. His gait seemed heavy, despondent.

  “We’re going to have a visitor.”

  “A visitor?”

  He hissed, pacing the floor. “A damn cop.”

  I held my breath, waiting for him to explode.

  Michael took two long strides closer, enough so I could feel his heated breath. “You’re going up to the room and staying put behind closed doors. If you as much as utter a peep, you know what will happen. I have no time for childish games. The police can’t help you. I own the police. Only I can solve this riddle.”

  For some crazy reason, I believed him. “I’ll be good.”

  “See that you are. Go. The officer won’t be staying very long.”

  He was furious, fuming to the point beads of sweat had formed along his hairline, his face beet red. Whatever the reason for the visit, he was worried. I headed up the stairs, able to see approaching headlights through one of the windows. Should I attempt to let the police know I was being held hostage?

  My instinct was telling me no. I had no doubt the Cappalini connections were everywhere.

  My brain was telling me otherwise.

  I moved into the bedroom, sliding against the wall but keeping the door open. When the doorbell rang, I shifted even further into the shadows.

  “Shane. What are you doing here?” Michael asked, obviously surprised.

  “I’ve been assigned exclusively to your father’s case. I think this will work out much better for you and your father.”

  They obviously knew each other.

  “Well, that does give me some level of comfort. What are you doing here?” Michael’s voice still held an edge. I heard the front door close then footsteps as he drew the officer into the kitchen.

  I crept closer, still keeping out of sight and straining to hear what was being said.

  “One of the surveillance cameras caught the shooter at the restaurant. It’s grainy given the weather conditions, but I thought it was worth you taking a look to see if you recognize the person.” The detective seemed very calm, matter of fact.

  There was silence for a few seconds then Michael cursed. “Not even remotely.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought, but worth a try.”

  “Any other details?” Michael asked.

  “Not really. Not even much shit out on the street, which is unusual. Well, except that your name has been mentioned a few times. I think they know you’re in charge. Are you in charge, Michael, because if you are, I may have to be reassigned?” The officer’s tone had changed.

  “I’m merely a grieving son looking for the perpetrator who did this heinous act.” I could hear the sarcasm in Michael’s voice.

  There was another silence before the officer cleared his throat. “That’s good to hear and I’ll make note of that in my report. I’m going to put some feelers out, see what I can find. If you think of anything, let me know.”

  “Oh, I will.”

  I heard another round of footsteps and raced into the room, closing the door with a soft click. It was at least ten minutes before Michael came for me. He seemed haggard, more troubled than before.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Maybe. We can resume where we left off.” He waited for me, following me down the stairs. His mood had shifted once again, now all business.

  Exhaustion was settling in. I wasn’t ready for additional questions that I couldn’t answer.

  He refilled our wine, taking several sips before resuming working on the food.

  And stayed quiet the remainder of the time.

  “You’re really not going back to the movies?” I asked, hopeful of starting any kind of normal conversation.

  “Not a chance. There is no joy in that any longer.”

  I still felt a moment of sadness for him, but everything changed. The kind of life we’d led meant we weren’t supposed to get used to what others called normal because there was no such thing.

  Dinner was prepared and positioned beautifully on the plates. We carried everything into the dining room, a stunning spot allowing a perfect view of the crystal clear pool. Unfortunately, the blinds were drawn, just like they all were on the first floor. He was overly cautious.

  And I couldn’t blame him.

  I eased into the chair to his right, uncertain of my feelings in every manner. This was far too... realistic, a couple eating dinner. Not a boy and a girl from two distinct mafia families.

  We were two minutes into dinner when his phone rang again. This time, he ignored the interruption, but his annoyance was very high, his fist slamming on the dining room table.

  “Everything is wonderful,” I half whispered. He’d fallen into another vacuum, completely in another zone, one filled with anxiety.

  He didn’t answer, merely tore at his food with his knife, stabbing the rare beef over and over again.

  When the phone rang a second time, he growled, tossing back his chair and answering it with me still in the room. “What?”

  I continued eating, pretending I didn’t give a shit about the call.

  “I’m sorry? What did you say?”

  I finally looked up. His face was pinched, his mouth twisted in hatred and fury.

  “I will fucking kill them. Do you hear me?” He backed away, his chest heaving. “No, you listen to me.”

  I eased back from the table, moving to a standing position. Whatever was wrong was brutal.

  “You’re certain.” His voice was much softer. “Why? Jesus. Fucking. Christ.”

  The silence was terrifying.

  “Fine. Make certain everyone is there tomorrow. I don’t give a fuck what they think they have going on. Period. Do you understand me, Grinder?”

  Seconds later he ended the call, tossing the phone.

  I swallowed, waiting for him to say something. Anything. “Your father?”

  He slapped both hands on the table, the force enough to jar the dishes, sloshing the wine. “Go to your room.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I said... Go. To. Your. Room. Now!”

  The vehemence of his tone initially pissed me off, the thought of being banished ridiculous. When he lifted his head, his eyes shimmering with the kind of rage that I’d only seen once, I immediately walked to the door. Trembling, I moved into the kitchen then hesitated, glancing back at him. His shoulders were slumped, his breathing difficult.

  Without any warning, he swept his arm across the table, pitching the dishes and glasses against the wall and shattering what little care I’d had for him.

  The man was a ticking time bomb.

  One day, he’d use his anger on me. I wasn’t going to stick around and allow that to happen.

  I raced to my room, slamming the door and taking several deep breaths in order to calm my nerves. As if that was going to happen. What the hell had he just been told if not about his father’s condition?

  I turned on the single light, easing onto the bed. I was shaking from adrenaline, trying to put the pieces together. Whatever was going on had rattled him to an unstable point.

  Minutes passed.

  Ten.

  Thirty.

  An hour.

  I couldn’t take it any longer and tried the door. He hadn’t locked me in. I padded to the top of the stairs, listening for any sounds. There was nothing. No music. No conversation. Nothing. My nerves still raw, I walked down the stairs, slinking around the doorways in my search for him. He was nowhere. I finally heard a sound coming from the great room.

  When I reached the door, I knew what I was hearing but I had to see for myself.

  Slumped onto the couch, a brandy snifter in his hand, Michael sat stoically, staring at the television. His choice? The very movie I’d been watching.

  And even from where I stood, I could swear there were tears in his eyes.

  Chapter Nine

  Michael

  Murder.

  That was exactly what was on my mind. I should say I hated to admit it, but that would be a damn lie. Maybe vengeance was the correct term.

  Retaliation.

  The need was clawing its way to the surface.

  “I found out where Saltori is holing up,” Grinder said quietly as we stood outside Dominick’s house.

  I merely glanced in his direction.

  “He’s got a place in San Diego,” Grinder continued.

  “Of course he does.”

  “I got a couple soldiers heading down that way. What do you want me to do?”

  “Sit on him. I want to know every activity, every visitor. When he shits, I want to know about it. When he goes out to eat, I want to know what he puts in his fat belly.”

  My capo opened his eyes wide. The man needed to get used to seeing me like this. “You don’t want to go through with the... elimination?”

  “Not yet. I’ve received new information that I need to check out. Feds are likely involved. We need to be cautious.” Even controlling the local police department, I couldn’t stop the actions of federal agents. This is a juicy case for them.