LaylaI froze. Unable to move, unable to fully process the words. Unable to recognize the cold, unfeeling man towering above me. He wore my Vasco’s face and yet, he spoke as a stranger. “We should get a divorce.”No, this couldn’t be my love. When Vasco smiled, he was the sun itself. But this man …
VascoThe wheel turned soft as butter beneath my callused hands. Of course it did. The Bentley hadn’t come cheap, but I’d settle for nothing less for my Layla.Music hummed from the speakers, soothing and subtle. Jazz, for driving mountain roads, Layla had said when she’d picked the station, and I h
LaylaEight years laterSunlight streamed through the wide plate-glass window, glinting silver off the city skyscrapers, as I stripped bloody blue gloves from my hands. Like a celebration of yet another successful surgery—an emergency bypass this time.I gave myself only a moment to bask in that cel
AldoWhy was she here?As silence fell in the wake of the shots, the woman in my arms wrenched away. I let her go, and instantly felt the loss—of her warmth, her softness, the slightly sweet smell of her shampoo. It was the same, the same as she’d always worn.Her smell.My Layla.She wasn’t suppose
How could I not have known … but of course I hadn’t. I’d shut her out so completely, I’d erased her existence from my life. How would I have known she’d returned?I could barely concentrate on family matters.Did my men notice my distraction?Carlo was released from the hospital four days after the
LaylaI turned the car down my street, smiled a little as the brownstone rowhouse came into view. I could practically smell the wonderful dinner I was about to cook for my family. The bag of groceries in my passenger seat would go entirely to that meal—but it was worth it if it was the one I shared
I let my eyes stray sideways, pretending like the sudden heat of his body hadn’t rewired my heart, turned my breath shallow and stuttered.“Do you see the man under that streetlight?”“I see him.” A man in a jean jacket, reading a newspaper. A stranger.“He’s a Mafia foot soldier.”Panic turned my g
LaylaSilence fell in the wake of the shot. The car careened around another turn. The warm hand on my back lifted, allowing me to straighten.My pulse slammed against my eardrums as I raised my head.“Eli!” I lurched forward, but Nonna and Eli both sat, unharmed, in the front passenger seat. Both of
AldoThe Marcello estate hadn’t seen a night like this in far too long. Since Layla and I had wed on this same lawn—nearly a year ago now. How had it been so long? How had time passed so quickly?And more importantly: How had we been married for so many months, yet shared so few moments like this on
I was late to Eli Marcello’s party. But I was also on the hunt, and as a cop, one of those things definitely took precedent. Eli’s party would go on for another several hours. And he’d be ten for an entire year after that.But I’d found a clue, and I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to follow it.I was
One week since I’d given the order.One week since I’d unleashed the Marcello family on the streets of New York with orders to take no prisoners.One week since I’d declared war on the Rossetti family.I sat at the head of the long table, trying to force myself to eat.The rest of the table’s occupa
The estate bustled with movement: Marcello men arming themselves, strategizing, talking shit, waving proverbial fists at the enemy, posturing, preparing for war … All the things men did. But still, they awaited my command.I stood at the head of the table in the grand dining room, where a makeshift
Fear.Shit.“Where is he?” I demanded.Carlo jerked his head toward a nearby room. “The doctors are with him now. It was bad, Layla. The explosion took out half the building. We were lucky to get him out alive.”I nudged past him and into the room.Aldo lay on the hospital bed, his face pale, a deep
LaylaAldo had missed another dinner.Or, rather, he was in the process of missing it. I sat at the head of the long dining table, where he’d normally sit; for some reason it felt wrong to leave it vacant. Beside me, Eli pushed food around his plate with his fork, and on his other side, Vanessa lean
EthanI, once again, found myself at the precinct long after the rest of my desk-mates and cohorts had vacated for the night. I mean, the police precinct was never truly empty—it was New York City, so the place was always hopping—but the difference between day shift and night shift was, well. Night
EthanI got to the coffee shop far earlier than was necessary—close to an hour before Vanessa and I had decided to meet—and proceeded to sulk in the corner like a loser, downing coffee.I’d long since stopped smelling the fresh-baked goods layered behind the glass counter, and I was far too nervous
“But I’m funny and charming,” Ethan said, with a smile that was indeed quite charming. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you for not being able to resist.”I groaned, trying very hard not to smile myself. “This is the worst flirting I’ve ever seen.”“It’s not flirting!” Ethan protested, lifting his hands in