Chapter 1

Camilla

I thought smoking in clubs and bars ended ten years ago, but apparently, I was wrong. The club Irena dragged me to was sunk under several feet of thick cigarette smoke, so much that I could see it swirling and dispersing in front of my face with every exhale. Still, the music was a solid mix of techno and electronic music, and it was easy to dance to. Secondhand smoke be damned.

“I’m going to move closer to the DJ booth,” Irena shouted, hitching a thumb over her shoulder to point at the thin wisp of a man behind the speakers, wearing a plunging v-neck and headphones around his ears. “He’s hot, right?”

I shrugged, but that seemed to be approval enough for Irena. She grinned, her tongue sticking out between her teeth, and danced her way across the floor.

We were at the club to celebrate. Or, at least, I was there to celebrate. For Irena, this was an average Friday night. I’d just finished my last final that afternoon. It was for my entrepreneurship class. I’d been working all semester on a business proposal, and the final was to present it to my professor and several colleagues of his to see if they would hypothetically choose to invest. They unanimously agreed that my foster animal coffee shop mash-up was a goldmine. My professor was especially excited about the idea, being an animal lover and a caffeine addict (two facts that were key in my selection of that particular business idea). I honestly wouldn’t be surprised to see it opening up in the next few years with all evidence of my project lost or otherwise missing.

Irena invited me to go with her almost every weekend, but I could rarely spare the time. I worked at the University library during the week, shelving books and running the help desk, and weekends were my time to catch up on homework.

“Well, that was a bust.”

Irena was standing behind me again. Her hips were still shaking with the beat, but in a much more stiff, hesitant way. Honestly, she looked like me trying to dance.

I wrinkled my brow in confusion, and she once again pointed to the DJ. I followed her thumb and saw the man coiled around another man who looked big enough to be a bouncer. For a second, I thought they were wrestling, but even across the dim room, I could see their tongues darting into one another’s mouths.

I winced. “Yeah, you might not be his type.”

“Not unless I gain one-hundred pounds and sprout hair on my chest,” she said. Then she groaned, shook her shoulders as though she was shaking off a jacket, and smiled. “I’m here to hang out with you, anyway. We never get to see each other anymore.”

“Not never,” I said. “We still hang out.”

“You dropping by brunch for twenty minutes while your nose is still buried in a business book does not count,” she said, one of her perfectly manicured eyebrows raised. “You didn’t even drink the mimosa I ordered you because you said you wanted your head to stay clear.”

I held up both hands in surrender. “I’m glad to be here now.”

She smiled in victory and through her long arms around my shoulders. “I’m glad you’re here, too. I cannot for the life of me understand why you spend so much time on school, but you are my best friend, and I will support you through this.”

Irena liked to pretend as if my education was an adult interpretive dance class or some other equally strange, slightly useless hobby. To everyone else in the world, I was building a future for myself. But to everyone in my life, I was indulging a strange desire to learn. How novel.

That was how it was in the mafia, though. At least, for the Don’s daughter. We had more than enough money for me to never work a day in my life, but I didn’t want that. I liked staying busy and taking care of myself. I’d seen enough people go into debt relying on my father, and it never went well for them. Even though I loved my dad, I didn’t want to owe him anything. I wanted to support myself and be free to make my own choices. A business degree offered me that.

“I don’t want to talk about school,” I said, shouting over the thrumming bass that had just dropped. “I’m free for three months. Let’s drink!”

Irena threw a fist in the air and tossed her long bottle-blond hair back in a shout. Then, we charged for the bar like thirsty elephants towards a watering hole. People startled as we ran towards them and quickly made way. I would have been happy with a mixed drink or a cocktail, but Irena was all about efficiency. And that meant shots. Two of them. We downed one and then the other, both puckering our faces as the tequila burned down our throats and warmed us from the inside. Then, it was back to the dance floor.

The next hour was a rotating door of dancing, drinks, and more dancing. Several men filtered in and out, dancing with one or both of us before moving on to a less rowdy group of women, and I didn’t mind. I was there to let loose, not go home with anyone. At least that’s what I thought until a thick wall of a man stepped forward from the crowd, his broad shoulders blocking out the flashing strobes coming from the front of the club.

It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to his silhouette, but when they did, I stopped dancing to study his face. He was tan and cut from marble—sharp jaw, angled lips, deep grooves of muscle running down his arms and across his chest. Tattoos snaked out from the end of his tight long-sleeved shirt, making me wish he’d take it off, so I could see exactly how much of him they covered.

Beautiful, beautiful stranger.

And he was looking at me with a curious look on his face, eyes wide as if he thought I might be unable to understand him.

“She’d love to!” Irena shouted, slapping me on the shoulder and pushing me into the brick wall of muscle and skin.

At that, my brain finally played back his words. He’d asked me to dance.

“Yes, yes,” I said, nodding emphatically. “I’d love to.”

The beautiful man had a friend who was short and much less beautiful, but who Irena agreed to dance with anyway.

“I’m Luca,” he said, bending low so he could talk into my ear. Goosebumps bloomed down my neck and arms.

“Camilla,” I said.

He repeated my name, his lips moving around each letter, his tongue darting out of his mouth on the double-L. My name had never sounded more wonderful.

The music had been going non-stop since we’d arrived, so Luca wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me towards him, wasting no time. Dancing had never been a particular strength of mine. I had a hard time finding the beat and even when I did, my body preferred jerky movements to fluidity. However, pressed against Luca, it was easy to know what to do.

His body writhed against mine in waves, and his hand on my back prodded and encouraged me in all the right directions. I wrapped my arms around his neck and rolled my hips to match his movements. Instantly, my head felt fuzzy, and it wasn’t from the alcohol. Pleasure burned in my stomach like a warm ball with every brush of our bodies. Until that moment, I’d never appreciated the seductive quality of dancing. It had always felt like a necessary club ritual before you could get to a quieter place and get to know one another.

But Luca and I were getting to know one another right there on the dance floor in the purest, most carnal sense. His body was speaking to mine, and I liked what I was hearing.

I looked up into his eyes, but Luca wasn’t looking at me. Instead, he was focused on where our bodies met. On our hips grinding into one another. There was a dark desire in his face that I wanted to explore. So, feeling bold, I turned away from him, keeping only one arm around his neck, and circled myself back into him.

Was that the music or did I just hear a groan?

Luca’s hands came to my hips, squeezing and urging and begging, but I kept my own pace. I could feel him growing frustrated when suddenly, his hands crushed up my sides and then tipped me forward. I placed my hands on my knees and grinded against him to the beat, completely out of my head for the first time in as long as I could remember. The music had complete control.

As the DJ transitioned from the hard, fast beat of the current song into something a bit more rhythmic, Luca pulled me back up and spun me around. Out chests slammed together and we were both breathing heavily, and I knew it wasn’t simply from exertion. My limbs felt electrified with a crazy kind of chemistry.

“Do you want to get a drink?” he asked in a low rumble.

I’d already had too much to drink, and I knew I’d regret it in the morning, but I couldn’t say no to him. So, I nodded, took his hand, and let him lead me to the bar. Luca didn’t ask what I wanted, but just ordered us two drinks. As he did, a hand tapped my shoulder.

Luca’s friend was standing behind me with his arm wrapped around Irena. They both had a thin sheen of sweat over their faces, Irena’s split in a wide smile.

“Enzo,” he said, holding out his hand to me.

I accepted it and shook, surprised by the oddly formal greeting.

“Here’s your drink,” Luca said, handing me a shot glass filled to the brim with amber liquid.

My stomach already felt sloshy and warm, but again, the fear of disappointing Luca overrode my brain, despite the fact it was screaming at me to drink some water. So, we clinked glasses and I tossed the alcohol back, wincing and blinking back tears.

Immediately, I knew it was a bad decision. My vision swam and my feet felt unsteady. The entire club seemed to be at a harsh slant. And it took me several seconds to realize I was being led back to the dance floor. I tried to move my mouth to tell Irena I didn’t feel well and I needed to go home, but my lips wouldn’t cooperate. Everything felt too loud and too bright and too much. I couldn’t focus.

“Are you all right?”

I turned towards the deep voice and saw Luca’s face, brows drawn together in concern. And then everything went black.

Chapter 2

Luca

Camilla Toscano was nothing like I’d expected. Her father was a short, orange-colored man with stringy hair and a big nose. So, in my mind, I saw Camilla as a female version of her father. Ugly and squat, but with long hair. Instead, she’d been luminous.

Golden skin that seemed to sparkle in the colored lights of the sleazy club, honey-colored hair that fell in shampoo commercial waves down her back, and petite curves covered in a tight white dress that made my chest constrict. Camilla Toscana was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen.

By the time we made it back to the dance floor, I could tell Camilla was losing it. A confused haze had settled over her brown eyes and her knees kept giving out. Her entire weight rested against my side, but I would have bet money she didn’t even know I was standing next to her anymore. Enzo said the drug would work quickly, but it was all happening even faster than I could have imagined.

“Are you all right?” I asked, feigning concern.

Camilla turned her face towards me. Her pupils were blown wide, lips slack and parted. She blinked twice, and then her eyelids became too heavy and refused to open again. She was ready.

I let her fall back into the crook of my arm and then held her against my body. In the crush of people on the dance floor, no one even noticed. Except Irena.

“Cam?” She ran over, fingers stroking Camilla’s honey hair. She tapped her friends face and then looked at me, eyes bloodshot, but stricken. “What happened? Is she okay?”

Enzo winked at me over the woman’s shoulder and then grabbed her wrist. “Luca can take care of her.”

Irena shook her head. “No, I need to get her home. If you can help me get her to my car, then I’ll take it from there.”

She was a good friend, and I felt bad for her. It was already too late to save Camilla. The plan was fully in motion now.

“Stay with me,” Enzo said, twining his fingers with her and trying to spin her around.

Irena looked at him like he was a fly in her ice cream and then refocused on Camilla. “She doesn’t get out very often, so she just overdid it tonight. She needs to get back to my apartment and sober up. I can take care of her.”

Suddenly, Enzo’s expression shifted. The carefree smile flattened and his eyes turned black and focused. He grabbed Irena’s wrist more forcefully and pulled her close, his head tipped forward so only the three of us would hear.

“When you leave here, it will be alone, and we’d like you to deliver a message to Camilla’s father.”

Irena looked at Enzo blankly and then at me, trying to find some answer in either of our faces. Then, terror began to seep in.

Enzo must have seen it, too because he tightened his hold on her wrist and shook his head, warning her.

“Make a scene and this all goes down a different way, understand?”

Irena swallowed and then nodded a few times fast.

Enzo continued. “You tell Andrea Toscano that his daughter will be returned safely when he answers Giuliani Lombardi’s demands.”

“I don’t even know what you are talking about,” Irena said in a half-sob. “Camilla doesn’t know anything about her dad’s business. She stays out of all that. She’s in school.”

The words were pouring out of Irena faster than she could keep up with them, and I knew she was saying anything she could to save her friend. I respected it, but I also couldn’t change what needed to happen.

“We don’t need her for information,” I said, clarifying. I hoisted Camilla’s limp body into my arms. “We need her for a bargaining chip.”

Enzo once again reminded Irena what would happen to her if she tried to stop us by holding one finger to his lips and cutting the other hand across his throat. And then, we left.

It was amazing how little attention everyone in the club paid to two men carrying a passed-out woman through the front doors and into a waiting car. One man with a crisp navy suit on even held the doors open for us, assuming we were good Samaritans helping a woman who’d had too much to drink. It was all too easy.

Enzo let out a whoop and drummed his hands on the door as the driver pulled away. “Can you believe Toscano didn’t have better protection detail on his daughter? I assumed we were going to have to fight some enforcers or something.”

“He can’t protect her all the time. And it was a busy club. No one would expect her to be taken from such a public place,” I said.

Camilla was sitting in the seat next to me, but her head was resting in my lap. I absentmindedly pushed the hair away from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. Then quickly looked at Enzo to be sure he hadn’t noticed. And he hadn’t. He was too busy looking out the window and turning around to check we weren’t being followed.

“So, the house is all set up?” he asked.

“Yeah, Lombardi gave me the key and had it stocked with food and supplies a few days ago. We’ll be good to wait it out no matter how long it takes.” In some ways, I was looking forward to the time away from the city. Of course, proven by the fact my time would be spent keeping a prisoner, it was difficult to get away from the mafia life, but still, kicking my feet up and relaxing a bit would be nice.

“It won’t take long, though,” Enzo said, his leg bouncing up and down with excess energy. “Her father will send someone for her right away, I’m sure. No man wants his daughter to be left in the company of men like us. Who knows what we’d do to her.”

“We aren’t going to do anything to her,” I said.

Enzo looked at me, eyebrow raised.

“Lombardi said not to touch her,” I reminded him.

“Oh, I know,” Enzo said. “But her father doesn’t know that.”

That was true. In my experience, situations like this one either resolved by the captive being killed because they were somewhat disposable to the target, or with an agreement being reached. And given that we had kidnapped the Toscano Family Leader’s daughter, I had to assume he would agree to turn over the northeast territory Lombardi wanted. Probably within a matter of days at most.

“Shit!”

My head snapped up as Enzo spun in his seat and pulled his gun from its holster.

“What is it?” I asked, trying to turn around, but not wanting Camilla to spill onto the floor of the car.

“We are definitely being followed,” he said.