Layla He was safe. Alive. Wrapped in my arms. Breathing, warm, little heart thudding against my palm. Alive, safe, here. “Eli. Eli.” Panic still clutched my throat in a brutal vice, choking out the sobs, the words built up in my chest. “I thought … I thought they …” My words came out in shatte
But before I could ask, a sharp cry cut through the quiet like the aforementioned knife. An unfamiliar man in a black suit staggered to his knees in the sand, clutching his side. Crimson blood seeped through his fingers. The sight of that blood drove back everything else. I was a doctor first and
Aldo Even hours after Layla’s rescue, the men couldn’t stop talking about how calmly she’d handled the situation. How, with a man bleeding out on a beach, two men dead behind her, the scent of gunpowder still heavy in the air, she’d knelt in the sand and stitched a bullet wound. “She’s calmer than
I recognized her immediately. Maria Moretti—wife of the don of the Moretti clan. “Goddamn.” I breathed. As much as I’d known Marco was no good, as much as I’d wanted to prove him the piece of shit I knew he was, this was beyond anything I could have imagined. “He doesn't just have ties to the fam
Layla I kept seeing Aldo’s face: as I grabbed coffee from the abandoned kitchen the next morning; as I slid behind the wheel of my car to head to work; as I rode the elevator up to the emergency surgery wing. The grim determination in that expression was either honesty, or the look of a man who’d
“Feelings?” The word felt fat and foreign on my tongue. “What kind of feelings?” My mind raced, struggling to make sense of that word. Feelings. Of all the things I’d expected—and from all people—this was the last thing I’d ever expected to hear out of Marco’s mouth. “I want more than friends.” Ma
Aldo Morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of my study, illuminating the cluttered desk I’d been ignoring for hours. Reports and files lay scattered across the wooden tabletop, each representing something vitally important that demanded my attention. And yet, I’d given no thought to a
Aurora was beautiful, intelligent, and part of the world I had given myself to. Part of the family I’d been born to lead. Everyone wanted—expected—us to end up together. Had always expected it. I stood abruptly to pace the length of my study. My feet sank into that loathsome bearskin rug. Layla had
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