Brilliant-blue eyes flash through my mind and I feel my lips tug upward. The wait is finally over.“Ladies,” Gunn says as he enters, followed by Colwill and an older gentleman. We all turn to him. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Gunn Sinclair, and this is Colwill Lewis and his uncle, Jack .”Colwill stands at one end of the table while the other two move to find seats. “Before we begin, I want to thank each of you for your presence today. And as a show of gratitude, I’m going to offer you something that may save your lives.”He places a stack of papers in front of Gabriel Jesus , who takes one and passes it down to the next person. We do this until we’ve all got a packet of copied documents stapled“Guat is thees?” Joselu Cebalos asks in his heavily accented voice. “Why is my uncle on thees list?”I read the “list” Ward was referring to on the first page. Gustavo Robertson i, Rodri Jesus , Scott Trippier , Gonzales Rico , Joelenton Ward , James Madison.“Those are the names
I peer at the names again. Colwill ’s “evidence” that we’re in the crosshairs of a man hell-bent on revenge. According to this, Robbert Kroos has purchased land or buildings near everyone involved. But not in New York.He’s right. Whatever was done to Robbert , the Lewis weren’t a part of it.But my uncle was.Having known him as well as I did, worked for him, pledged my loyalty to him, I can say without a doubt that he was not a man who would have ever forged an alliance with the enemy. Yet if what Luca is telling us is true, which all evidence points to, Gustavo did.“How do we know this isn’t all some made-up bullshit?” Arnold asks. “I never heard of a Ferryman.”“Exacly,” Joselu Cebalos , Rico’s nephew, pipes in. “How do I know jou aren’t the guan behin oll thees. I never heard of a Ferymen.”“I’m not behind anything,” Colwill snarls. “My own brother was killed by this asshole. His bitch attacked Jack’s place and nearly took out Gunn.”Gunn’s head snaps up. “She didn’t come o
“Everyone, this is wilock ,” Gunn introduces when it seems Luca can’t speak. “ColWill ’s wife.”“You were saying about a vote?” one of the men asks.“ColWill ,” Jack sneers.“My wife was just leaving.” ColWill grabs Wilock by the arm and tries to drag her out.Tiny as she is compared to him, she manages to hold her ground. “Actually, I believe I have much to contribute. It was my smarts that discovered the Ferryman.”“She knows about the Ferryman?” Mac asks.“My father is Gregorio Di Persia. He’s spoken of him,” she says.ColWill leans in close. “I’d like a word with you in private.”She glares at him as she tries to free herself. “After the meeting.”“Now.”He finally manages to drag her out and shut the doors behind them.We’re left staring after them. But no one moves. Especially not after the sounds of fucking follow their argument.“I feel dirty,” Joselu comments. “But I guish they had left the door open. If jour gonna fuck during a meeting, let me see.”“This is ridiculous,” Ja
It’s good to be back. I sigh as I stare at three months’ worth of mail waiting on my desk. Even the thought of going through all those bills isn’t enough to bring down my mood. I’ve missed New Jersey, missed my home, and, even more so, the gallery. Don’t get me wrong, our trip around Europe was fantastic. Meeting new artists in hopes of bringing them to the States, visiting my most-loved piece at The Louvre,Orphan Girlby Eugène Delacroix, and getting to finally step into the National Gallery in England. Scotland was my favorite stop. It’s where my ancestors are from, after all. Not that I ever met any of my relatives. Or know anything more about them beyond the few names I forced from Dad. But it was amazing to see nonetheless. I wanted to stay longer. To continue with our new American culture traveling gallery and become more intimate with every art museum and showcase we participated in. But I was also homesick. Every time I touched a canvas or inhaled the smell of paint, I thou
An hour later, I come to the conclusion that if I don’t put the mail down and take a break, I’ll go blind. Not to mention, starve. My stomach groans in protest of its emptiness and I grimace.This morning, I was so excited to get to the gallery, I filled my cup of coffee and rushed out of the house.“Remy, I’m going to Kubano for lunch. Can I bring you anything back?”She looks up from the setup she’s working on. Her gaze catches on something over my shoulder and she grins from ear to ear like a fool. “You may want to wait on Kubano. Something yummier is coming this way.”I look behind me and my breath catches as, through one of the large windows of the gallery, I spot Nathan peeking inside.When his warm eyes lock onto mine, heat rushes to every inch of my face, and my own lips pull into a wide grin.Oh my God, he’s here! I do a quick mental check of my appearance. My hair loose in tight waves, the powder-blue shoulder-tie dress and white sandals. I dressed for comfort, not to impres
However, Nathan barely touches his food. His brow furrows as he pushes a sweet potato fry across his plate. “Did you enjoy your trip abroad?”I nod and drink some more water to wash down my food. “It was very nice. Have you ever been to Europe?”“Italy,” he says. “I have a house in Brera.”Impressed, I raise my brows. Not that I know where that is. “It must be nice to have a place to stay while you travel.”“I rarely go. Work keeps me too busy here.”And here’s my chance to ask what I’ve been so curious about. “What type of work do you do?”“I’m a consultant.”I laugh. “That’s the response you give someone when you don’t want to tell them what you do.”“Maybe I don’t want to say.”Cocking my head, I chew my lower lip and study him. “Can I guess?”“I’d love to hear what you think I do. It will be sort of judging a book by its cover, though.” He grins devilishly, as if he can’t wait for me to trip up and say something insulting.“Well”—I tap my finger against my chin—“based on looks, I’
I shrug, then laugh. “Maybe I should hire you instead. You can be one of our artists and then people’s jobs would be safe.”“I’m not a good artist.”“I’ll tell you a secret.” I lean in. “No one really is. That’s what makes it so beautiful.”“Are you always this happy?”“Why wouldn’t I be?” I pick up one of my fried plantains and shove it in my mouth.“Life can really suck sometimes.”“Hmm. It can, I suppose. Especially for the ones who lose their jobs when you show up,” I tease.“Someone will take mine too someday,” he says.I nod and grab another thin plantain. “The way I see it is, life hands you all these paint colors. You don’t have a choice in using them—they all have to be used. But you choose which ones to paint your immediate surroundings with. Personally, I like to keep the grays in the background. Like little storm clouds in the distance on a summer day.”He stares at me again in that scrutinizing way, as if he’s trying to make me out.“Why do you look at me like that?” I as
“It’s on me.”“I’m the only one who ate.” I point at my plate. “You lied to me, Nathan . You weren’t even hungry, were you?”“Iamhungry, Natalia . But not for food.” His intense stare leaves no question about his meaning.“Oh,” I whisper, my mouth gone instantly dry.As he works on calculating the tip for our meal, I stare at him. At his handsome features. He must be in his early thirties; however, very few lines mar his face.I recall my mother saying lines on your skin are like a map that tells you where someone had been. Crinkles around the eyes and mouth say a person has known joy. But if they’re on other parts of the face, parts that don’t normally pull when a person smiles, that means they’ve been through hell.Nathan doesn’t have lines around his eyes or mouth. His are between his brows and one long indent that forms on the side of his cheek when he’s deep in thought. Like now.“Nathan ,” I say.He signs the receipt and places his credit card back into his black leather wallet,
“You’re here!” I say, heading toward it but stop when it’s Katy who appears.“You!” she hisses. “I knew something was off. He didn’t kill you!”Before I can answer, she’s on me like a rabid cat. She claws at me, slapping every part of me she can make contact with.Startled, I raise my hands protectively over my face, afraid to hit her back and severely hurt her. As it is, Nathan already hates me for any part I might have played in the death of his father.The woman may be older and weaker, but her strikes are impactful. She shoves against me, slapping her palms against my shoulders and chest, driving me toward the rear of the deck. It all happens so fast that I don’t realize I’m so close to the glass rail until it hits my lower back.“You have to calm down!” I plead.“Why did he have to want you? You look nothing like me! But Leo always liked them younger. Tell me, did you like how he fucked you?”“What? You think I slept with your husb—” Another whack, this time right across the chin
But he saved my life. He risked himself to keep me alive. And fuck it all, I love him! I can’t just sit back and let him die.A chair is pushed and the sound of footsteps come my way. Before they reach the doors, I bolt out the entrance and am already across the street when I hear, “Natalia !”But I don’t stop. Don’t look back. My mission now is to save Nathan Natalia Irun like the Devil is at my heels, not bothering to glance back over my shoulder, because even that simple action could cost me precious seconds.For blocks, I maintain that speed, my lungs burning and the stitch on my side threatening to bring me down.When I’m far enough that I feel anyone following would have lost sight of me, I tuck myself into an alley and wait. After several minutes, I tug my cell phone out and dial Nathan , but it goes straight to voicemail.“Pick up, dammit!” I dial again, but like before, it goes to his mail.“Nathan . You have to leave your house. A man named Steven Kroos is coming. He’s bri
“The hell it is. Do you have any idea the worry you put me through? No calls or texts the last couple of—” His eyes bulge from his skull as he takes in the blood on my shirt. “You’re hurt.” “No, Dad. It’s not my blood. I’m not hurt.” He digs his fingertips into the corners of his eyes as if he’s trying to keep from crying. “I thought I would lose my mind when I found out exactly who you were with. His name isn’t Nathan Manguire . It’s Nathan Carlos .” I rear back in shock that he knows. “What?” “My gut was right, Em. He’s a fucking criminal. The worst kind.” “How do you know that?” From the study, the handsome man who visited the gallery to meet with Dad steps out. Steven Kroos . His icy-blue stare roves over me, and he smiles. “I’m glad to see you’re home safe. Especially after being in the Robertson den.” “Mr. Kroos is the one who tracked down information on Carlos . Nathan is their new godfather.” His eyes narrow on me. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?” Looking betwee
He tilts his head, his eyes raking over my face, searching. “What makes you think that?” “It was in the way he looked at me,” I say. “It’s the same wayyoulook at me. I know you said he loved your stepmother, but I swear it’s true.” “I saidsheloved him. I never said he loved her back.” He glances out the windshield, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “Is that why you killed him? You didn’t appreciate his attentions?” “He came to the house when my father wasn’t there. I’m not even sure how he got in. But he followed me from room to room and begged me to give him a chance. I asked him to leave, told him that he was scaring me. He decided to grab me and try to kiss me. “I got out of his hold and ran to the desk drawer my father keeps his Glock in and threatened him. He still refused to leave. The moment he took a step toward me, I shot. It was meant to scare him, nothing more. I could never kill anyone. The bullet grazed his arm, but he was alive.” “You didn’t follow him out?
“You cut yourself,” I say. “It wouldn’t have been believable otherwise.” “Why did you do it, Nathan ? Why did you spare my life?” He pulls over several blocks from my house. We sit there in silence for what seems like forever, the only sound the pitter-patter of scattered rain against the windshield. “Why did you save me?” I repeat the question that’s been burning in my mind. “Your mother wants me dead, but you saved me.” Without turning to me, he replies, “Iwanted you dead.” His response is another blow to my already battered heart. But he deserves the truth. “I didn’t kill your father, Nathan . It wasn’t me.” Now he does turn to me and I almost wish he hadn’t. The shadows I’ve wondered about from the start have emerged and they’re darker and more terrifying than I could have imagined. They’re blackened with Nathan ’s fury, hate, grief, and confusion. They tear at my chest, splaying it open. Raw pain fills me at the sight of those beautiful golden eyes looking so tortured, spa
My gaze flicks from her to the elevator and to the rooftop access door, wondering if I could somehow reach either of them. And if I did, are they unlocked? As if from out of thin air, Nathan produces a piece of rope. When he tries to take one of my wrists, I make to get up again, but I’m slammed into the damned chair again. It doesn’t matter how much I fight, he easily pulls my hands behind me and ties them. “You wanted her, there she is,” he says to her, and I notice with at least a bit of satisfaction that he’s panting. I guess I wasn’t that easy to subdue. Nathan ’s stepmother comes toward me, her hips swaying. She sips her wine as she studies me. “You killed my husband.” I don’t bother to respond to her comment. She doesn’t care what I have to say. If she did, she would have asked me if I did it. And if so, why. All she cares about is revenge. The who, what, and why of it doesn’t matter to her. Turning to Nathan , I realize he’s not once asked me either. They’re the same. Part
“Mmm. Is it that or that you have Natalia Kane in your bed?”I stiffen, feeling my heart leap into my throat. She knows my name?“Who I have in my bed is none of your concern,” Nathan says.“It is when that whore killed your father! That’s right,” she adds, “I know it was her.”My heart isn’t just in my throat anymore. It seems to have stopped. Suddenly, my blood pressure drops and every pore in my body releases sweat.“John ” I hear Nathan murmur just as I pull away.There’s walking, the sound of heels clacking against the wood floors. “John was loyal to Gustavo and Leo . Of course he would be loyal to me as well.”“Then he’s useless to me,” he says.“You’ve known it was her for days and have done nothing about it!” she shouts.“It is at my discretion to decide what and when I will do something, Katy .”“The godfather only has power so long as the men respect him. How do you think they will react when they find out that instead of killing her, you’ve been fucking her?”My mind racin
Or maybe I’ll just fuck you until we both die.” Her eyes fly open, and for a moment, there are no walls between us. The pain, betrayal, and lust are bared fully. “Then fuck me,” she finally says. “And maybe we’ll die together.” My mouth is on hers then. I slide my fingers from her cunt and we both work savagely at getting rid of my clothes. All the while, we kiss with a passion that only the dying know. The instant I’m naked, I’m inside her, thrusting, burying my dick all the way to the balls, pulling back out, and slamming home again. Natalia is wrapped around me, arms and legs holding me tightly against her as she lifts her hips up, meeting each of my thrusts. We fuck like we’re drowning and these are our last gasping breaths. Deep and desperate. She fits me like a fucking glove, her pussy tight around my dick, her body molding to mine perfectly. The way she tastes, smells, feels… It all fits me like no one else ever has, and for the briefest of moments, I almost wish I’d neve
I flip it open and freeze, focused intensely on the drawing of a pair of eyes.Myeyes. Only, they’re not the way I’m accustomed to seeing them. They have the same shape, same dark spots on the irises. There’s a deep crease between them. But in the drawing, they’re slightly upturned and crinkled at the edges, and there’s a slight gleam to them, as if I’m smiling.Because I was.Several times, she called my name, grinning so widely when I looked at her that I couldn’t help but smile. She captured those moments.Does light penetrate shadows, or do the shadows drown out the light?I asked that question not long ago. The answer is both. She’s managed to light up my eyes while I’ve filled hers with darkness.Blowing out a breath full of exhaustion, I set the sketch aside. Tired, I shut my lids and must drift off instantly, because a bolt of lightning that rumbles even through the sound barriers I’ve erected around the loft wakes me. Instantly, I glance at the door.Though she has access to w