The scent of her is still on me when I get into the car. It’s something that’s going to be on me all day, I know, and I’ll remember it even longer. And when I see her next, what’s to stop me from getting her on me all over again?

My eyes flick down to my phone before I stuff it into my pocket and check behind me to pull out into the road.

When I first saw the message, I wanted to crush the phone in my bare hand and throw the remains out the window. My instinct was to tear down anything that would dare step in and interrupt what I was having with Serena. And under any other circumstance, that’s just what I would have done. But this message came from the very thing that forced us to be apart. It was one thing that I hated more than anything, but I knew it was also the only thing that would make sure she could be safe.

My bosses. The mafia.

This message came from Diego Milani, to be precise, a capo. The capos are the guys who manage enforcers and associates like me in our business. I’ve known Diego as long as I’ve been involved with these men. A message from someone like him means either something very good or very bad.

And considering what happened back at Serena’s shop, I have a feeling I’m about to get chewed out. I don’t care. I did what I had to for Serena’s protection, and that’s all my whole career has been about. That’s all I acted for.

Is it, though?

I grip the steering wheel as I move through traffic, trying not to let my thoughts distract me. My mind flashes back to Serena on that bed, me tearing her clothes away, the feeling of her bare skin in my hands, the way my bare cock felt sinking into her to the hilt…

My manhood starts to swell between my legs. Just the thought of her stirs up a beast within me I can hardly control. And that’s the problem. Everything I’m doing with these thugs is to give her a chance at life. I’ve done terrible things to make sure she’ll be kept safe, out of all this ugly business.

I gave up my life to protect her, but I can’t protect her from myself.

When I was a teenager, I let the fire in my soul rule me. I did what I felt was right, what I wanted. Serena makes me feel like that all over again, no matter how much the short years tried to snuff that fire out. It’s dangerous. She makes me dangerous.

I feel a smile tug at my stony face as I pull up on the side of the road. I’ve beaten men down with my bare hands, fought off seasoned enforcers in knife-fights, and rained gunfire on rivals, but this woman who barely stands to my chest makes me more dangerous than any of them.

I climb out of the car and head around the side of the building to step into the room we “rent” at the back of this liquor store. It’s been a place we use for last-minute meetings for a while, and the owner is an associate of ours. It’s not a bad deal for him. He gets a break from protection money in exchange for letting a few musclebound Italians meet in the back of his store. I have my gun on me. I know it’ll get taken, but it’s a formality to show that I’m never unready.

In my business, you could come out of a meeting with your boss with a promotion or in a body bag.

When I get up to the door, there’s a man outside it waiting for me. I’ve seen him before, but I don’t know his name. He just nods to me and opens the door to usher me in. My eyes regard him carefully as I step inside, but he’s relaxed. When a man’s about to fight, he has tells, like a gambler about to lie. I’ve gotten good at recognizing them. A twitch of the finger, legs poised a certain way. You can even see it in the eyes.

But as I walk through the door, he just closes it behind me and gestures for me to hold my arms out. I smile.

“Diego’s not that jumpy, is he?” I ask as he takes the gun from me and pats me down for any other weapons.

“Apparently I need to be,” a voice calls from further in the room, past shelves of stacked liquor and beer, “if my men are gonna start jumping the gun like you. Get your ass in here, Bruno.”

That’s Diego’s voice, no doubt about it. I snort as the doorman finishes checking me over, and I stride down the aisles of stock to the cleared-out space where he takes care of business. I’ve been in here only once before, and it wasn’t on the best terms.

When I step forward, I start to rethink whether I’m about to be killed.

Diego isn’t a man who likes a lot of ceremony, but this looks like a miniature courtroom. Diego himself is looking over a stacked box of expensive Scotch, and in a semi-circle around him are men I recognize. Some, I know by name. Most are enforcers like me, but one man sitting on a crate next to Diego takes me by surprise.

It’s a consigliere. In every business like ours, there’s usually only one man like him, maybe two. Consiglieri don’t stick to our hierarchy.

He’s the Don’s own advisor, which makes him the most important man I’ve been in the same room as for a long time. It also means that this meeting is serious. I feel his hawkish gray eyes watching me carefully as he sits there. Diego turns to look me up and down before I can say anything.

“Bruno,” he says, crossing his arms, “I’m sure you’re familiar with our consigliere, Antonio Tomasi.”

I give the man a nod with a tight but respectful smile. He doesn’t react.

“Mr. Tomasi thought it would be wise to sit in on this little business meeting,” Diego goes on, his formality starting to relax into his usual self. “Because when our men make waves as big as you did out of line earlier today, he likes to hear the very good reason I’m sure you have firsthand.”

“News travels fast,” I say, keeping my eyes on Diego evenly.

“That it does,” he says, pacing in a slow circle around me, “especially when a soldier like you takes it upon himself to pick a fight with the likes of Lorenzo Abruzzi.”

That last name gets my attention. But I don’t show the slightest hint of emotion. I’m being grilled, and Diego can smell a crack in someone’s defenses from a mile away.

“Didn’t get his name while I was knocking his teeth out,” I say, and I watch Diego’s jaw set. “He was in our territory, boss. Deep in our territory.”

“Don’t pretend that’s what this is about, I know where the fight went down,” Diego says, coming to a stop and resting his hands on his hips as he glares at me. “I know you got your reasons to go stalking that girl, and before today, I didn’t give two shits.”

My fists clench instinctively at what Diego is hinting, and Diego steps forward as I say, “It was still our territory, Diego. I caught some Cleaners starting to start shit deep in our territory, and I was taking care of business. I was doing my job.”

“Your job is to do what the family needs,” Diego says, restraining the anger in his voice as much as I’m holding back mine. “And the family did not need to spark a turf war with the goddamn Cleaners!”

There’s a silence in the room for a few moments that everyone can taste.

The Cleaners have been like a bad word the past few months, a curse you don’t say out loud. They’ve been trying to cut in on our territory like nothing our family has ever faced before. Our family—the Costa family—has its heels dug into the Bronx deep, but everyone’s feeling the tension with the Cleaners.

That nickname, “Cleaners,” that’s stuck with them since day one. They’re fast, they’re good at what they do, and by the time they’re gone, the cops have lost their trail before they’ve even started on it.

But as much as us Costas don’t want to admit it, the Cleaners are a rival family of Italians—the Abruzzi family. The family Lorenzo belongs to.

“We’ve butted heads with Cleaners all over town,” I say, not giving an inch on this, “don’t pretend I’m the one out to start a turf war here.”

“This is different, Bruno,” Diego nearly growls. “Lorenzo Abruzzi isn’t some nobody cleaning up the streets-”

“Like me,” I interrupt with a smile, and Diego gives a cruel smile back.

“Yeah, like you, a walking death-wish. No, Lorenzo is Abruzzi blood. You didn’t wonder why he thought he could waltz into our territory like that and push that girl around? He’s a spoiled little daddy’s boy, Bruno—Lorenzo Abruzzi is their boss’s son.”

Shit.

“That asshole calling himself ‘Don Abruzzi’? He’s letting his snot-nosed brat run loose?” I ask with a grimace.

“Yeah, that asshole,” Diego says, striding back to the stacked bottles of beer, looking like he wants to pull one out, bad.

I let out a chuckle that makes Diego raise an eyebrow at me. “You think this shit’s funny?” he says incredulously.

“Kind of,” I admit. “I like seeing ‘royalty’ knocked down a peg.”

Diego shakes his head with a smile of disbelief. “Been trying to send your ass on jobs to get you killed for years, and you keep comin’ back with this shit. You’re something else, you know that?”

He’s only half-joking, and I know by the look in his eyes he’d like to try to beat that smile off my face if he weren’t in front of the consigliere, whose face hasn’t changed this whole time.

“Listen, you son of a bitch,” Diego says, stepping toward me slowly, “I don’t care if you’re the best man I’ve got on the ground out here, you were out of line. You were out somewhere you weren’t supposed to be, doing shit you weren’t supposed to be doing, and you beat the shit outta some guy you weren’t supposed to touch with a thirty-foot pole.”

“So you dragged me out here to tighten my leash?” I say, raising my eyebrows. I hold my arms out, exposing my torso to him and the enforcers in the room. “Well then, take your shots. I can take a beating, I know how this goes.”

Diego gives a cruel laugh, glaring daggers at me. I’m embarrassing him in front of his superior, and he knows it. The man could put a bullet in my head if he wanted to, though, so I know better than to push it. My temper is flaring, but in the back of my mind, Serena’s safety is still my number one priority. If I get myself killed, she won’t be safe. I lower my arms.

“Nah, if this was about that, you’d be feeling it already, and we wouldn’t be getting the floor of this fine establishment dirty,” he says. He then moves back to stand beside the consigliere, and both of them look at me like judges.

“The Cleaners are going to take Lorenzo’s smashed-up face as an act of war,” Diego says, “and if there’s one thing I know about the Abruzzis, it’s that they take insults like that very personally.” Diego pauses to take out a cigarette and light it, and the smell of tobacco fills the space between us. He stares me down. “You got us in some real hot fuckin’ water, Bruno, you know that? Things are tense with the Cleaners as it is—I’ve had people calling me to tell me I oughta have your ass killed to smooth things over with them.”

“Don’t give me that shit,” I snarl, and even some of the enforcers in the room looks surprised at my talking to my boss like that. Diego just watches me, burning cigarette in hand.

“I gave my life to this family, you all know that,” I say, looking around at the gathered people, even making eye contact with the consigliere. “I haven’t forgotten that, and I’ll take as many bullets as you have me dish out to those stronzi. But you know Serena’s safety means more than anything to me, and it has from the very start,” I say, looking back to Diego.

“Think about the past few months,” I say, knowing it’s time to show my bargaining chips if I want to get out of here unscathed. “The fight at the warehouse down by the river? I had that gunfight on lockdown. The Cleaners would have put all our men in the grave that night if I hadn’t been there, ask any one of them. Just last week, when that fucking rat Gabe tried to catch a bus out of state to cozy up to the Russians, I’m the one who put a bullet in his head coming out of his hotel room. When you need a job done right, Diego, you’ve come to me,” I say, “I’m the best you’ve got, and you know it.”

I can tell by the look in Diego’s eye he’s ready to start a fight with me right then and there. Some of the enforcers look to be of the same mind. Diego opens his mouth to speak, but to everyone’s surprise...the consigliere raises a hand.

It’s a simple move, but it silences Diego.

“You’re right, Bruno,” his calm voice says simply. He sounds older than he looks. “Diego, Bruno’s a big boy. He does good work for our family, and he’s proven more than capable. Which is why he’s going to take care of his own mess here.”

Diego and I both look at the consigliere blankly.

“Bruno, part of your ‘agreement’ with us means that we don’t touch Serena De Laurentis or her business. We respect that. But you’ve crossed the line here and dragged her into our business, whether she likes it or not.”

I feel heat wash over my body. Damn him, I know he’s right. I should have been protecting Serena, not getting involved with her like this. I’ve endangered us both just by coming near her. That’s the one accusation I can’t fight off.

“But you’re a man who takes responsibility,” he goes on, folding his hands in front of him as he watches me carefully. “So I have a solution that should make us both happy. I’m assigning you to her and her business. You’ll be her personal guard, and I expect you to handle the situation with all the stubbornness I’ve seen tonight.”

So that’s how it is. That’s why he’s here. He saw a chance to get the family to protect Serena’s business, and he took it. He’s good. And he’s right—because I’d take a bullet to the heart before I let anything happen to Serena.

“Lorenzo Abruzzi takes these kinds of things very personally,” the consigliere says. “If it makes you feel better about watching over Miss De Laurentis’s place, chances are good he’ll see this as between the two of you above all.”

“So what, should I expect a hit squad to come shoot up my place sometime soon?” I say.

“I wouldn’t rule that out,” Diego speaks up, “but Lorenzo has a reputation... with women.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“He’s not good to his girls, and the Abruzzis don’t shy away from the sex trade. Kid’s got an ego so fragile even someone like Serena can shake it. Hell, especially someone like her. He won’t like the fact that you showed his ass up in front of her. That shop of hers is going to be on his mind, Bruno—and so is she. The Cleaners know who she is. That and this new history the three of you have makes her a high-value target.”

They’re goading me into anger, but as much as the heat is boiling up inside me, I won’t show it. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” the consigliere says, standing up and locking eyes with me, “that going after you isn’t enough for a man like Lorenzo. We got a tip. Lorenzo has his eyes set on Serena. If he gets his hands on her, he’s going to make her disappear into the sex trade. Or worse.”