Sorrento, now …

She sat on the stone seat that was carved into the wall of the villa and looked out over the Bay. Lights from the city, from the boats that bobbed in the marinas, from Naples across the water, twinkled in the gloom of twilight. Inca rubbed her arm absentmindedly. The wound, a through-and-through like the one in her side, had healed now, two months after the shooting, but it still ached occasionally. Mostly when she allowed herself to think about what had happened that terrible night …

Willowbrook, then …

She opened her eyes to see Tommaso, Raffaelo, and a stranger gazing down at her, all talking at once. There was pain in her side, her arm, her head and she couldn’t see out of her left eye. No, not blind, there was something …blood. There was blood streaming into her eye.

I’ve been shot.

OhGodohGodohGod … Luna. Luna shot me. Luna killed herself …

Inca struggled into a sitting position, despite the protestations from her lovers and the paramedic attending her, her one good eye searching. She saw the covered body on the marble floor, the front door to the mansion opened behind her.

No. No, please, no, Luna …

She pushed their hands away and tried to crawl towards her old friend’s body, tears beginning to flood down her face. She screamed at them, hysterical now as they stopped her. Raffaelo pulled her forcibly back against him, while Tommaso, his beautiful eyes scared, cradled her face in his warm hands.

“Bella, there’s nothing you can do, mio caro, nothing to do …let us look after you.”

Inca stared at him as if uncomprehending. “She didn’t mean it,” she whispered, eventually. “It was a mistake. Don’t let them crucify her … please, don’t let them. Oh God … Olly. Someone has to tell Olly. I have to tell Olly …”

“Miss Sardee, please, we have to take care of you now.” The paramedic exchanged worried glances with Tommaso, who nodded. Inca felt the prick of a needle in her arm. They were sedating her.

“No,” she said. “No. Please, I need to—I need to …”

She felt her body betray her again as the sedative took effect. As she lost consciousness, she felt a tear drop down her cheek, and Raffaelo’s lips kiss it away.

Raffaelo felt sick. He and Tommaso were at the hospital now, waiting in the relative’s room as Inca was being examined. When they’d heard the shots and rushed out to the sight of Inca lying on the floor, blood pouring from her side, her arm, and worse, her head, his heart had failed. Looking at Tommaso now, he could see his brother felt the same.

Tommaso turned terrified eyes on him. “She’ll be okay, right?”

Raffaelo knew Tommaso was looking for him to be the strong one again, to be the positive one, but this time, God, this time, he didn’t know if he could be. The relief at seeing that the head wound Inca had suffered was only a flesh wound despite the blood, was counteracted by how she had reacted with panic, fear, and terror. After everything she had been through lately, if she had a psychotic break, no one would blame her.

God, what a fucking mess. The horror at seeing Luna Rosenbaum, her blue eyes staring, half her head missing … what the fuck had happened? Raffaelo felt both rage and sympathy for Olly—had he put his sister up to this? In his heart, he knew he hadn’t, but God …

“I’m going to call Tyler.” Tommaso’s voice broke into his reverie. “He should hear this from me, not the police.”

“Good idea.”

Tommaso pulled out his phone, but before he could call Tyler, the doctor came in. “She’ll be fine,” he said, nodding to them. “Both bullets went straight through with no major damage. Her arm suffered a slight fracture but it won’t even need a cast.”

Raffaelo frowned. “I thought she was shot three times.”

The doctor shook his head. “The wound to the head was a deflection—she raised her arm like this.” He demonstrated, raising his arm in front of his face. “The perpetrator aimed at her face, and her arm got in the way. It saved her. From the trajectory, the second bullet would have hit her in the forehead and probably killed her.”

Raffaelo tasted bile then and saw Tommaso wince. “Will she need surgery?”

“Minor, just to close the wounds. We’ll take her into surgery in a few moments. Would you like to see her before we take her down?”

Inca was still drowsy from the sedative, but the blood on her face had been cleaned up and butterfly stitches across the graze on her temple. Raffaelo couldn’t help but see what the doctor had described, a bullet hole smashed into her lovely forehead, her dark eyes open and sightless.

She’s alive; she’s here …

He waited until Tommaso had bent down to kiss her before leaning in. “Ti amo,” he whispered in her ear as he kissed her cheek. He was aware of a female police officer, a doctor, and a nurse in the room; the last thing they needed now was to have the secret of their relationship out in the open. He didn’t think Inca could survive any more pain.

Inca nodded at them both. “Love you,” she whispered, and her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t understand why Luna did it … why?”

She began to cry quietly, and Tommaso sat beside her, his arm wrapped around her. Raffaelo was heartsick. He wanted to be able to comfort her like that, declaring his love publicly.

God, is that what you’re thinking of at a time like this?

But Raffaelo knew that his love for Inca was becoming his reason for being, his whole life. He would give everything to be with her.

“They’re going to take you down soon, but the docs say you could be out in a couple of days.”

Inca nodded. “Will you call Tyler? Tell him not to come back here because of this. Tell him to stay there, stay safe—at least until the funeral … Mom’s funeral, that is. After that, please, both of you, can we just go to Italy? I don’t want to be here anymore, don’t want to be here …” She began to sob.

She sounded so depressed, so scared, and so devastated that it broke Raffaelo’s heart. He saw Tommaso blink away tears. Raffaelo leaned forward and took her hand. “Of course, we can leave, mio caro. We’ll make all the arrangements. Just concentrate on getting well. We’ll leave as soon as you’re physically able.”

Inca squeezed his hands. “Thank you, Raff. Thank you, Tommaso …”

Nancy’s funeral was attended by most of the townsfolk. Inca clutched Tyler’s hand tightly, guilt making her chest ache. She felt the eyes of the congregation on her—judging? Blaming? I’m so sorry, Mom. I love you. She felt a hand on the back of her neck, comforting. Raffaelo. He and Tommaso had helped carry Nancy’s casket into the little church. Hunter, Knox and a friend of Tyler’s, Jim, had also helped Tyler as pallbearers.

Olly wasn’t there. He had apologized to Tyler with a phone call and told him he wasn’t ready to see Inca yet. Tyler had reassured him that they understood, but that was another layer of guilt for Inca.

God.

The medical examiner hadn’t yet released Luna’s body, but she knew that when he did, Olly would not want her at Luna’s funeral.

Whatever you need, old friend.

She sighed. Knox looked over at her and gave her a reassuring smile. She tried to smile back, but just shook her head. Knox had been attentive since the shooting—she was grateful, but she knew Tommaso and Raffaelo were getting annoyed at his constant presence.

“Does he think we can’t protect you?”

She thought about that now, staring over at the Sound. So much loss. She brushed a tear away. Boomer came wandering around the corner and shuffled over to her, sticking his nose into her hand for a fuss.

“Hello.” She was surprised. “Who let you out?”

“I did. I thought he needed a run.” Raffaelo followed Boomer around the corner. “Hope that’s okay?”

She smiled and nodded. Raffaelo sat down next to her, pulled his tie apart, and undid his collar. He winked at her, reaching out and running his hand lightly down the back of her head. She leaned into his touch.

“How are you, bella?”

She nodded again. “Okay. What about you?”

“Same.” He gave her a sad smile. “It was a beautiful service.”

“Least I could do.” Her voice had a catch in it.

Raffaelo frowned and leaned his face closer to hers. “Hey.” She looked at him. He put his head on the side and smiled. “It’s not your fault.” He slid his hand onto the back of her neck. There were tears in her eyes.

“How can it not be, Raff? My name cut into her and the other victims. Why doesn’t he just kill me?”

Raffaelo winced. “Please, bella. Please stop saying that. I can’t bear it. The thought of you dying … it would kill me.”

“Hey. I thought I’d find you hiding out here. Hi, Raffaelo.” Knox pushed the back door open. Inca turned and smiled at him. Raffaelo ignored him, smirking when Boomer started to growl.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Knox cleared his throat. “Some of your guests are leaving, Inca.”

Raffaelo looked round at the other man and gave him a cold stare. Inca began to stand up, but Raffaelo pulled her down.

“I’m sure they’ll find their way to the front door.” Raffaelo’s tone was frosty. “Inca’s done enough for the day. And they’re Tyler’s guests too, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Knox stared back at him, eyes narrowed. “Inca?”

Inca sighed. “It’s okay, Knox. They’ll find me if they want me. If not …”

“As you wish.” Knox turned and went back into the house.

“Jerk.”

For once, Inca agreed with Raffaelo. Today, Knox felt more like an intruder. His presence had been irksome, his ability to always be there when she turned around, irritating her.

She looked at Raffaelo, sleek in his dark suit, and smiled.

“You look handsome in a suit.”

He grinned, cocky. “Oh, I know.”

She laughed. Boomer, who had been lying patiently on the grass, got up and gave a little woof. Despite Raffaelo’s initial wariness of the dog, they’d become good friends.

“I’m actually going to miss this little monster when we go to Italy. Sure you don’t want to bring him?”

“I do, but I don’t want to put him through that flight. Besides, Tyler wants to take him back to Connecticut.”

“Shame.”

She sighed and held her hand out to Raffaelo. “Come with me and help walk this pooch?”

“Yes ma’am.” He took her hand, winding his fingers through hers. They walked down to the cove, the full moon lighting their way.

Olly stood at the edge of the woods, watching Inca and Raffaelo walking along the little jetty. He watched them walked to the end of it, both of them looking around to make sure they weren’t seen. Then, to Olly’s shock, he watched Raffaelo Winter take her in his arms, slide his hands into her hair, and kiss her.

Olly’s jaw tightened, and he slipped away from the scene before getting into his car. So, Inca was cheating on Tommaso with Raffaelo? He had to admit, he was shocked … stunned, actually. To say it was out of character for Inca to be unfaithful was an understatement—or so he had thought. An idea occurred to him then, one he couldn’t shake. And so, when he saw the Winters and Inca leave, hugging Tyler goodbye, he followed them home—at a decent interval, of course.

The Winters’ security was laughably easy to get past. Olly walked around the perimeter of the house, checking in all of the windows. At first, all was dark and quiet. Then he saw the flicker of firelight from a large window at the rear of the property. He edged to the window and peered in. As he watched the three of them, he began to both smile and shake his head.

Inca was fucking both of them—or rather, from the looks of it, they were fucking her, both absorbed in pleasuring Inca’s beautiful body. Olly couldn’t stop staring at them; the three of them were so gloriously good-looking that it was almost hypnotic to watch. Olly felt himself getting hard and turned away, making his way back down the grounds.

“Hey!”

One of the security guards had spotted him and was running towards him. Olly sighed. He had his gun, but he didn’t want to start any trouble. Instead, he got his badge out. “Police. Just following up a report of an intruder.”

The security guard looked skeptical, but allowed Olly to leave. Olly drove back into town, deep in thought. Did the killer know about Inca and the Winters? Was Nancy’s murder a punishment for that? Kevin Harnett was still in jail, and now that Nancy had been murdered, it made no sense that Harnett was the serial killer; from talking to him, Olly had surmised that his only goal had been to kill Inca for leaving him. He didn’t possess the knowledge or means to escape justice if he was behind the other murders.

Olly parked next to the police station and sat in his car.

Like a cancer.

He kept replaying Luna’s words in his mind. He still couldn’t believe that his sister had died, let alone shot Inca. They had grown up together … was Luna right? Was Inca to blame?

No.

Even in his grief, he knew she had done nothing to bring this down on them. It was the work of a mad man, a psychopath.

He just hoped the killer wouldn’t get to live out his sick dream. Olly hoped beyond hope that Inca would be safe.

The town seemed subdued, still, the week after Nancy’s funeral. When Inca took Boomer to the country park on Monday morning, she noticed no one else walking their dogs, no kids sledging in the snow. With a jolt, she realized that the whole island was mourning the loss of one of its own. She let the dog off the leash and walked slowly across the park to the beach, sitting on one of the large pieces of driftwood. The water, unusually calm, was an emerald mirror. Boomer bounded gleefully into it and Inca laughed, brought out of her reverie by the dog’s antics. She glanced around her. No one else was on the beach.

In a few days, she would leave with Raffaelo and Tommaso for Italy, for sun, for heat, for escape. Tyler and Boomer would be in Connecticut—and there would be nothing left for her here. Would she ever come back? Her thoughts drifted to Olly and she felt sadness settle on her heart. Would they ever find their way back as friends?

The thought that they might not brought tears to her eyes, and when Boomer came to check on his mistress, she hugged him to her and buried her hot tears in his fur.

Sorrento, now…

And now she was here, her physical injuries almost healed, but still hurting inside for what had happened. More than that, she was angry. Angry at Kevin for tormenting her all those years; angry at Olly for playing fast and loose with her heart; angry at Luna …

Angry at herself. Had Luna been right? Was her perceived beauty a cancer? Was she really responsible for Kevin’s actions? Olly’s?

No.

She knew she wasn’t. It disgusted her that she was judged merely on her physical attributes.

I’m more than someone’s idea of beauty, she thought savagely.

What she would take responsibility for, though, was her acceptance of the strange relationship between her and the Winter twins. Because it was odd, she knew that, and she knew she was being careless with both of their hearts. If their love for her caused a rift between them, she would never forgive herself.

A cool breeze blew in through the open window, and she shivered, but enjoyed the sensation on her hot skin. She heard voices in the hallway and looked up to see Raffaelo push open the door. Tommaso was behind him, and she smiled at them.

“Hey, how was the meeting?”

“Long and deathly dull,” Raffaelo said, pulling off his tie.

Tommaso grinned.

“He’s not wrong, Principessa. How was your evening?”

Inca slid off the window and padded barefoot to them. “Lonely.”

Raffaelo smiled down at her, bending to kiss her. “I think we can do something about that. What do you say, Tommaso?”

Tommaso’s fingers were already at the zipper of her dress, pulling it slowly down to kiss the length of her spine. Inca shivered with pleasure as Raffaelo’s lips found her throat.

“I think, mio caro, I need to shower first. Would you care to join us?”

In the shower, Raffaelo kissed her thoroughly, while Tommaso, his face buried in her sex, teased and tasted her, nipping her clit with his teeth until her legs shook. Then he stood, his smile wide, his eyes lazy with desire.

“Fuck her, Raff. Fuck her hard.”

God, when he did that, Inca felt herself growing wetter and wetter. Raffaelo picked her up and carried her, still dripping with water, to the bed and pulled her on top of him. Raffaelo, his cock purple with blood and huge, thrust into her. Inca clawed her fingers into his back as she cried out and Tommaso moved behind her so he could enter her from behind.

They found their rhythm easily, so practiced were they now at this game. After they’d all come, they would begin the kinkier games—the brothers dominating her entirely, tying her up, taking their turns to fuck her. Inca reveled in the lovemaking; it had freed something inside of her, something wild and uninhibited and wanton. At the end of the evening, Tommaso would ask for his favorite thing; he liked to watch Raffaelo and Inca fuck while he jerked off. Inca would lie under Raffaelo as he moved inside her, watching both his beautiful face as he moaned with pleasure, and then Tommaso, his eyes alive with lust as he watched them.

When they fell asleep was when she felt most secure, held by both of them, loved by both of them. For her, since they had been in this beautiful country, she had found where she belonged. During the night, just before dawn, she might wake or be woken by one of them, and they would make love gently. Lovingly.

It was Raff who woke her this morning, his lips against hers. He slid inside her and they moved together slowly, their gaze intense on each other.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, and he smiled, kissing her.

“Il mio amore,” he said softly and stroked her hair away from her face. Inca bit into his shoulder to muffle the cry of her orgasm, a mellow, intense thing, and they lay back. Beside them, Tommaso slept soundly, and Inca ran a fingertip over a frown line between his eyes.

“Is he okay?”

Raffaelo sighed. “I’m not sure. Inca, there is something you should know about Tommaso; he’s very sensitive.”

Inca looked at him in horror. “Oh God, do you think …”

Raff smiled, hushing her with his mouth. “Not about this. Not about us. You’ve seen how he is; he loves this whole situation. No, what I meant was … we’re here in Italy, where we both want to be. The only thing is—our father is here too. He and Tommaso do not have the best relationship.”

“Why?”

Raffaelo hesitated. “That’s not for me to tell you—I just know that when our father comes here—and he will come here—Tommaso will need both of us to get through it.”

Inca nodded, her eyes fierce. “He’s got us, Raff. I won’t let your father hurt him.”

Raff kissed her. “I know you won’t.”

Inca looked over at her sleeping lover. “Sometimes, he seems so much younger than you,” she said softly. “And yet other times, he’s so …”

“Bossy?”

She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “Yes.” She giggled and Raff joined in, shaking the bed so that Tommaso opened one eye.

“I’m trying to sleep, rompicoglioni,” he grumbled, which only made Inca laugh harder. She stroked her fingers through his messy curls.

“Come join us, beautiful boy,” she said in a low purr. Tommaso grinned and pulled her down on top of him, her back to his chest.

“Let me in,” he murmured into her ear and she gasped as he thrust into her ass, his fingers locked over her belly. He nodded to his brother. “Take her, Raff.”

Raffaelo grinned and moved so he could plunge his cock into her cunt. Inca sighed happily as they fucked her … God … would she ever get tired of this?

She loved when they went out into the city together to hang out at one of the cafes or visit the bar at one of Raff’s clubs. Walking through the streets, arm-in-arm with them both, she would look at people staring at them and wonder if they could tell she was having both of the beautiful men at her side. That she loved being fucked hard and long by both of them; that she would do and try anything with them.

That she had never been so happy in her life. Here, in this glorious city, she could forget the horrors back home and bury her head in the sand about the fact that more than one person had tried—and failed—to kill her. She could forget that she would have to go back to face her adoptive father, her friends … Olly.

Olly’s devastation at Luna’s suicide knew no bounds. He had refused to see Inca, and she knew he blamed her for his sister’s death. He and Tommaso had nearly come to blows when Tommaso demanded that a thorough investigation be made into whether Olly had put Luna up to it. She’d used their dad’s old service revolver—a gun that Olly had thought safely locked up in his gun cabinet. It was the same gun used to kill Scarlett.

“What a fucking mess,” Knox had said to Raffaelo when they’d dragged the two men apart, and Raff had hauled Tommaso out to his waiting car and told him to stay there. Raffaelo sighed and apologized to Knox.

“It’s okay, dude,” the other man had said sadly. “There are no winners here. Tell Inca I hope she feels better soon.”

“Come see her,” Raffaelo had urged him. “I know she’d like to see you.” He had looked across the room to where Olly was slumped in a chair. “I know she’d like to see a friend before we leave for Italy.”

Raffaelo had told Inca all of this as they flew to Sorrento, a few days after she was released from the hospital. Knox had kept his promise and visited her, and he too had told her that Olly didn’t want to see her.

Inca was sad, but resigned. “Just tell him I’m sorry, and I love him, and I still love Luna.”

“I will, sweetheart.”

They’d hugged each other tightly and Inca had felt moved to tears. “I’m so sorry about everything, Knox.”

“It’s not your fault, baby. Everything is just fucked up.” He let her go and studied her. “You okay? What’s Tyler doing?”

“He said he’s going to stay with Nancy’s family for a while. He doesn’t want to come back here yet either.”

Knox sighed. “Just tell me you won’t disappear forever, Inca.”

“I promise.”

Inca called Tyler in Connecticut after lunch. It was still early there, and her adoptive father sounded depressed and lonely. “Come to Sorrento,” Inca begged him, but he demurred.

“No, sweetheart. I think it’s best if you stay there and be happy with Tommaso. Your mother would not want you to be in Willowbrook. I’m staying in Connecticut for the time being. Nancy’s nieces and nephews seem to want me here. They love Boomer too.”

“I miss you, Popsicle,” she whispered, and she heard him let out a shaky breath.

“I miss you too, Bubba. And I don’t want you blaming yourself for any of this.”

But she did blame herself—how could she not? Raffaelo, seeing her blue mood, suggested they go into the city and distract themselves. Tommaso told them he was flying to Milan that afternoon for a meeting.

“Since when?” Raffaelo looked startled. Tommaso smiled.

“I’ve neglected my work for too long, and there’s a chance we could get a meeting with the government’s environmental department at last. I have to be there for that. Hey.” He kissed Inca softly. “Promise me you’ll miss me?”

“You know I will,” she whispered, and pressed her lips to his.

“When will you be back?” Raffaelo waited for them to draw apart before asking.

Tommaso rubbed a hand through his hair.

“I think tomorrow night, but could be longer. You’ll be okay?”

Raffaelo grinned. “Of course. Look, call us when you get in.”

“I will.”

Raffaelo and Inca walked through the streets of the city before finding another café to sit in. Inca looked around it. “You know, I do miss running the teahouse,” she said quietly. “I used to love the social aspect more than anything, but also the smell of the teas, the organization. I miss working.”

Raffaelo stroked his hand down her cheek. “You know, we could always open a teahouse here. I’m tired of running clubs— I’m about fifteen years too old to be in them, for one thing. Maybe we could open a chain.”

Inca smiled. “Ambitious.”

Raffaelo grinned. “Okay, so I took the idea and ran with it. How about, then, we just open one? Totally your baby.”

“I do have the money from the Sakura.”

“No,” he said. “That’s your nest egg. Let me finance it.”

Inca pondered. “Halves?”

Raffaelo rolled his eyes. “Fine. Let me just …”

He trailed off, suddenly staring over the other side of the small square. Inca followed his vision. “What is it?”

Raffaelo’s eyes raked the street then he shook his head. “No, sorry. I just thought I saw someone.”

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter. Sorry, anyway, yes. So we’ll go scout some locations around the city … in fact, why don’t we do that now?”

He seemed in a hurry to move, and Inca didn’t question him. They strolled hand-in-hand, trying to spot empty storefronts or other suitable locations, but by the time they ate dinner at a local eatery, Inca felt tired, just wanting to go back to the villa.

She took a long soak as Raffaelo caught up with some business calls. She was just drying herself when he came into the bathroom and stopped, his eyes soft on hers.

“So beautiful,” he said simply, and she went into his arms, feeling his hands roaming over her bare skin.

Tonight would be the first time since they had been a threesome that Raffaelo and Inca would spend the night alone and she knew he was as excited as she was. She reached down to cup his cock through his pants. Already she could feel how swollen and hot it was.

“Put that inside me, Raffaelo Winter,” she whispered and, with a growl, he carried her to the bed, shedding his own clothes quickly. His cock stood proud and thick against his belly as he covered her body with his own. Inca stroked his face.

“What do you want to do to me, Raffaelo?”

“Everything,” he groaned, gathering her to him. His lips were rough against hers, his cock already nudging at the entrance to her cunt as he thrust inside her, not able to prolong his desire anymore.

Inca took him in, her nails digging into his buttocks, urging him deeper, her gaze fixed on his. “Fuck me hard, Raff,” she gasped, and he obeyed, slamming his hips into hers, stretching her legs wider. His mouth clamped onto her shoulder, his teeth biting down, causing pain, but she cried out, begging him not to stop as they fucked.

Animal instincts took them over; Raffaelo, keeping his focus on her, reached into the nightstand and pulled out one of the dildos they used, sliding it into her ass as his cock reamed her vagina mercilessly. She clawed at his back and bit his lower lip with her teeth, drawing blood. It was as if they wanted to merge and sink into the other, however painful it might be.

They came quickly, then Raffaelo tugged her to the floor, grabbing a silk tie and binding her hands behind her back. He pressed her legs apart and clamped his mouth over her sex, his tongue hungrily seeking her clit, before plunging deep into her cunt. Unable to touch him, Inca moaned and wriggled with pleasure; his hands roamed over her belly; his thumb fucked her navel in rhythm with his tongue in her cunt.

Raffaelo felt like a man possessed. Not giving her the chance to recover between orgasms, he flipped her onto her stomach and thrust into her ass, fucking her hard until she cried out with pain and pleasure. He felt animal, feral in his desire, his desperation for her limitless. And when his cock slammed back into her cunt, he felt himself explode inside her, his thick cum shooting deep into her belly.

“God, Inca … Jesus …” Raffaelo collapsed on top of her, freeing her hands. Inca’s body was undulating with her breathlessness, but she grinned at him.

“Raff … have you ever fucked in public? Or at least somewhere where you might get caught?”

Raffaelo chuckled. “Feeling kinky, Miss Sardee?”

“Always.”

“Well,” he said, “we can certainly explore that. My club in the city has an office upstairs with a two-way mirror … when the room is dark, no one in the club can see, but we can see everything.”

“Hmm.” Inca pushed him onto his back and straddled him. “Now that sounds like something we should definitely try.”

Raffaelo chuckled and pulled her face down so he could kiss her. “I love you, Inca Sardee.”

Inca nuzzled his nose. Then, as she impaled herself on his huge cock, she gave a happy sigh. “I love you, Raffaelo Winter … more than you will ever know …”

When Inca was asleep, and when Raffaelo was able to drag himself away from her, he walked down to his study and closed the door behind him. He called the head of his security team and asked him to meet him.

The man, Pietro, nodded to him as he entered the study. “What’s up, boss?”

Raffaelo indicated he should sit. “Has anyone from my father’s team been in contact with you?”

“Not as far as I know. Why?”

“Because I think I saw a couple of his goons follow Inca and me earlier. I hardly need to tell you I don’t want my father anywhere near Inca—or Tommaso, when he returns. I’m concerned they may try to take Inca to mess with us.”

Pietro made a disgusted noise. He had known Raffaelo and Tommaso since they were kids, and he was unfailingly loyal to the twins; their father was another matter, and Pietro had no time for the man. Edgar Winter was, in Pietro’s opinion, a nasty piece of work; jealous of his sons’ looks, tastes, and talents, he excelled in trying to destroy his offspring’s confidence and lives.

“We won’t let that happen, Raff; I promise. But we won’t be able to prevent your father coming to the house; it does still belong to the family.”

Raffaelo looked unhappy. “I know. Just make sure his security knows that Inca is off-limits.”

“No problem. You know, if he’s here, then at least we can be sure to keep an eye on him.”

“Right. I just worry about Tommaso’s reaction. Thank you, Pietro.”

He went back to bed, curving his body around Inca’s. Although he had made his peace with sharing her with Tommaso–after all, he had been the cheater this time—this time alone with her was precious. She had entirely invaded his heart and mind; there wasn’t a second he wasn’t thinking about her or their future.

Except … how could he think of their future? How would it work? While they were young and free, yes, they could revel in their unusual relationship. But what about when marriage and kids were an issue?

Raffaelo sighed and buried his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, of her skin. For now, he would enjoy the fact that they were safe; that no one here would try to kill her … back in Washington, he had lived every day in terror that she would be murdered. That terrible night when she’d been shot …

Inca murmured in her sleep and turned around, snuggling into his arms. Half-asleep, her lips sought his, and as soon as her skin touched his, his cock responded, growing thick and huge.

“Bella … do you want me?” He wasn’t even sure if she was awake, but, without opening her eyes, she nodded, and slowly hooked her leg over his hip so he could slide inside her. Raffaelo moved slowly, carefully, not wanting to break the spell of this dream-like coupling.

She whispered his name so softly, with so much love that his cock swelled inside her and he moved his hand down to caress her clit, intent on giving her the mellowest orgasm he could. His own was building, a slow burn in his belly, as he trailed his lips across her soft skin, kissing her closed eyelids and the sweet swell of her cheeks.

Inca tensed and sighed through her climax, giving a soft moan that sent Raffaelo over the edge. Feeling himself cum deep within her, he allowed himself a fantasy that his child was conceived and that Inca would be his alone. He wanted more than anything to be with this woman forever—to have her to himself— but he would never tell her or Tommaso that. They were the two people he loved more than anything in this world and he would not cause them pain.

So, he swallowed his own pain, and reveled in these small moments, just enjoying the fact their life here in Italy was the happiest he’d ever been.

But, of course, it didn’t stay that way for long.

Edgar Winter took the envelope from his head of security and opened it. The photographs were sharp and focused. Edgar started to smile. His son, Raffaelo, with a dark-haired beauty—God, she was something else—sitting in the middle of Sorrento, none the wiser that they were being watched. His son was kissing the beauty, his face soft with love.

“Who’s the girl?”

“Her name is Inca Sardee. American, from Washington State. I did some digging; apparently, she was injured in a shooting recently. As well, an ex-husband tried to kill her. Her mother was murdered too not long ago. Adopted mother, I should say. The birth mother was also murdered, but Ms. Sardee never knew her.”

Edgar raised an eyebrow. “That’s a pretty horrific history. What does she want with my son?”

The security man smiled nastily, his eyes triumphant. “Sons,” he corrected, and handed him another photograph. This one wasn’t so clear, taken from a distance through a window. What was unmistakable though, was that Inca Sardee was being thoroughly and enthusiastically fucked by both of his sons.

“Well, well, well.” Edgar was almost giddy with glee. “My boys have gotten themselves a whore.”

His security head grinned. “Looker, too.”

Yes, she was. Edgar studied the photograph; her body was curvy and full, her skin beautiful, her long dark hair tumbling down her back. He looked at his guard. “I think it’s time I reconnected with my boys—and their lovely companion. Make the arrangements, would you?”

Washington State …

Belinda Clements hesitated before she pushed open the door to the police station. It had been years since she had spoken to Oliver Rosenbaum—years since she’d gotten him drunk and fucked him. He’d been so angry at himself the next morning and had warned her not to tell Inca. She had laughed in his face, but inside … she hadn’t told Inca. Why? \

Because she hadn’t wanted to burn her bridges with Olly. She’d been crazy about him since they were kids, only to see him with her mortal enemy, Inca Sardee. Belinda had always hated her for her beauty, her warmth and intelligence, and the way she was popular with everybody. It was sickening. When she heard that Inca had been shot, she cheered at the television. When she’d heard who the shooter was … God, the smile disappeared.

So she was here now, a couple of months after Luna’s death. A decent interval. Inca had recovered, but had been spirited away by her Italian billionaires (God, that rankled), which left Olly all alone. She’d heard, via town gossips, that he was focusing entirely on work and was pushing everyone else away.

Knox Westerwick was on the telephone, and didn’t even look up as she went in. Olly was pouring himself a coffee, but stopped when he saw her. Belinda smiled at him.

“Hi, Olly.”

“Hey.” His voice showed his surprise. “How long have you been back in town?”

“A while.”

There was an awkward silence, then Olly nodded towards the coffee pot. “Want some?”

“Yes, please.”

She took the coffee from him, then asked if she could talk to him for a while. He looked surprised. “Sure.”

“How are you?” Belinda blew on her coffee to cool it and looked up at him. Olly shifted a little uncomfortably.

“You know. Getting there. Keeping busy.”

“I’m so sorry, Olly. I would have come before, but I thought you might want to be alone.”

Olly gave her a strange smile. “And we haven’t seen each other in what? Ten years?”

“Ten years? Really? God, time goes so quickly.”

Olly studied her. “What have you been up to?”

Belinda smiled sheepishly. “Married twice, divorced twice. Could never stick at it. You? I heard you and Inca split.”

Olly’s eyes took on a guarded look and he glanced away. “That didn’t stick either … but that was my fault, not Inca’s.”

He was obviously waiting for her to say something bitchy about his ex, but Belinda shook her head. “I feel bad for the way I used to treat her. Put it this way … I know better now. I wouldn’t say we’d ever be friends but … is she still away?”

Olly nodded, seeming to be relieved that Belinda was being pleasant. “Yes. After … what happened, she didn’t want to be around this place anymore. Can’t say I blame her.”

Belinda put her hand on his. “No one would judge you if … well, never mind. Look, I wanted to say hi … maybe we could grab a drink one evening?”

Olly hesitated, glancing over at Knox, who was studiously ignoring them, then nodded. “Sure. Why not?”

Belinda smiled. “I’ll call you. Soon, though, okay?”

“Sure.”

Olly sat back in his chair, not knowing what to make of Belinda Clement’s visit. She certainly seemed … changed? Was that the right word? But he remembered all the times she and Inca had clashed, right from childhood, and he’d always had Inca’s back. So why was Belinda reaching out to him now? Did she sense that he was still raw from Luna’s suicide and see it as an opportunity to stick the knife in Inca’s back? He winced at that. Way wrong expression, dude. Knox had disappeared from the office, called out to an incident, and suddenly Olly wanted to talk to his oldest friend, his old love. He glanced at the clock. It would be early evening in Italy.

Only hesitating for a second, he pulled out his cellphone and dialed. When he heard her warm voice, he knew he had made the right decision.

“Hi,” he said, softly. “It’s me.”

Inca was so happy that Olly had called her that her mood infected dinner. Tommaso had returned, and she and Raffaelo told him about their plans to open a teahouse in the city.

Tommaso smiled. “I think that’s a great idea. I know how bored you’ve been.” He grinned mischievously as she laughed.

“Oh, yes. So bored.”

“Actually, Tommaso, we have an invitation for you.” Raffaelo tried to hide his smile as Inca giggled. “How would you like to come clubbing with us?”

Tommaso looked surprised. “Really?”

The other two laughed. “Yes,” Inca said. “We have … a plan.”

“Okay.” He looked suspicious. “Will I like it?”

“Oh, I promise, you will love it.”

They took a cab into the city at ten p.m. Raffaelo’s club was packed with party-goers, the atmosphere sweaty and sultry, drinks flowing. The three of them stayed downstairs for a while, drinking and dancing, grinding up on each other. Inca was wearing a short, dark maroon dress, which clung to her full breasts and flared out at the waist, a simple long gold chain her only jewelry, her long dark hair tumbling in waves to her waist. She was a happy drunk, and Raffaelo nudged his brother as they watched her dance.

“Look at her,” he said in an awestruck voice. “Have you ever seen anything that beautiful before?”

Tommaso laughed. “No, brother, I never have.”

Inca danced over to them, grabbing their hands and sliding them under her dress. She was naked, and she grinned at their surprise as they encountered bare flesh. “I belong to you,” she said to them.

Soon, Raffaelo led them both upstairs to his office, where, as promised, an entire wall looked out onto the dancefloor. Inca grinned when she saw it and pressed herself against the glass.

“And they can’t see in?”

“Not when the light is like this. If the lights went out below, then yes, they could.”

Inca turned around and faced them, pausing for a second but then pulling her dress over her head. Under it, she was wearing the leather harness, the straps crisscrossing her beautiful body, her breasts, over her belly, framing her navel. “Then let’s hope the lights don’t go out.”

Raffaelo and Tommaso, both gaping at her, moved towards her, and she kissed them while they stripped off, dropping to her knees and sucking each of their cocks in turn, just briefly, before Raffaelo picked her up. Tommaso laid back on the desk and she straddled him. She took his cock in her hand and began to stroke him towards orgasm as Raffaelo plunged into her cunt from behind, fucking her hard as she jerked Tommaso off. Tommaso came on her belly as she cried out her own orgasm, then, swiftly, it was Tommaso inside her as Raff fucked her ass. Raff’s hands were massaging her breasts; Tommaso’s fingers stroking her belly, finger-fucking her navel.

The three of them, fevered and delirious, tumbled to the floor of the office, then Raffaelo was thrusting into her cunt again as she lay beneath him. Tommaso, panting, kissed her mouth and her face, murmuring what he wanted to do to her.

Inca shuddered through another two orgasms before they all took a break. “Wow,” she said, panting for air. “Now, which one of you is going to fuck me against that glass?”

Tommaso sat down at Raffaelo’s desk and grinned at his brother. “It’s your office, brother …”

Raffaelo threw his head back and laughed; Inca had never seen him so laidback and loose. Hardly surprising, given this situation. She kissed him as he took her in his arms. “I like Happy Raff.”

He laughed. “How drunk are you?”

“Very …”

He kissed her, lifting her up and pressing her back against the glass. His cock nudged at her cunt and she smiled. “You’re so hard …”

He thrust hard inside her, and she gasped at the feeling of him. Tommaso was watching, his favorite thing to do while they fucked. Afterward, Raff turned her so her breasts and her belly were pressed up against the glass as he took her from behind. Knowing that any minute the light could change, and a whole club full of people would see them fucking, was thrilling to her.

Eventually, they had to admit exhaustion and, dressing slowly, they decided to walk through the warm night, back up to the villa.

It was nearly dawn before they reached home and, falling into bed, they slept soundly until mid-morning. Inca was in the shower when she heard shouting.

Dressing quickly, she ran to see what was wrong. She heard Tommaso angrily berating someone. “Why did you let him in? What the hell were you thinking?”

Inca saw someone standing a little way down the driveway and she went to Raffaelo. “What is it, Raff? What’s going on?”

Raffaelo turned to her, his eyes dark. “It’s our father, Inca. Our father is here.”

Belinda felt a hand under her elbow and Knox Westerwick pulled her into an alleyway. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

Irritated, she wrenched her arm out of his grip. “It’s none of your concern, Knox.”

“It is if you’re messing with my friend’s head.”

Belinda took out a cigarette and lit it. “I’m doing no such thing. I’m merely reaching out to an old friend.”

Knox snorted. “Spare me the bullshit.”

Belinda studied him. “Please don’t tell me you’ve gone soft on me, Knox. You were the only other interesting person in this shithole of a town.”

Knox sneered at her. “You’re not interesting, Belinda; you’re what you always were. A stone-cold bitch.”

Belinda smiled coldly. “But, apart from that whore who is in Italy, practically the only woman left alive. At least, of your friends.”

She knew it was a low blow, and she watched Knox’s expression shut down.

“You’re mistaken, Belinda. We were never friends.”

She watched him walk away and smiled to herself.

Inca stayed out of the way while Tommaso and Raffaelo dealt with their father. Raffaelo came to tell her that his father was insisting on staying at the villa for a couple of weeks and they’d agreed, on the condition that his security team left. He agreed—if he could keep his private secretary with him, an obsequious man called Giuliano who looked more a Mafia heavy than a secretary.

“After all,” Edgar had told his sons. “This house is mine.”

Inca was introduced to him briefly, and in those moments, she formed an opinion of him that wasn’t positive. He was handsome and tall, like his sons, but he had none of their warmth or joy. Instead, his dark eyes were small and piercing and the way he smiled at her, half-mocking, half-dismissive, didn’t make her want to know him any better.

Instead, she and Raffaelo concentrated on their plans to open a teahouse and spent a great deal of time in the city. Tommaso accompanied them when he could, but his own work seemed to be keeping him busy.

Inca had her own room; they all thought it best while Edgar was there, but Raffaelo made sure it had a working lock, and Inca didn’t fail to lock it at night. Edgar made her uneasy; the way his eyes would rake over her body made her feel nauseous.

She managed to escape his presence mostly, but one day, just by chance, he managed to corner her in the garden.

Inca had found a little quiet place where she could curl up with a book, but he came upon it, and Inca couldn’t see a way to politely excuse herself as he sat down beside her.

“You have certainly made my son very happy,” he began, his tone pleasant.

“Tommaso’s a wonderful man,” she said carefully, edging away from him on the seat. Edgar laughed.

“Of course he is. Tommaso …”

Inca flushed. Did he know? How could he? They had been so careful. “Both of your sons are a credit,” she said, not being able to help the snark she felt.

To their mother, asshole, not you.

Edgar smiled at her coldly; she saw her barb had hit home. “And how about your family, Inca? I’m sorry to hear about your mother—your adoptive mother, I mean.”

She stiffened. “Thank you.”

“Your birth family is interesting, of course.”

Inca’s heart froze. “Not really.”

Edgar feigned surprise. “Really? I would call murder interesting.”

Inca swallowed; she made to stand, but Edgar’s hand shot out and pulled her down again. “My family is none of your business, Mr. Winter.”

“Oh, but it is. Your birth mother was murdered … because of you, I understand.”

Inca gritted her teeth and said nothing, looking away from his penetrating gaze.

“Strange, they say karma is a bitch. Your mother got what she deserved.”

Bastard.

Inca lost her temper then. “Go fuck yourself,” she hissed, and he laughed in delight.

“That’s better, a little spirit. So, tell me, Inca, will you go crazy like your mother? Will you do to Tommaso—or, let’s be honest, Raffaelo—what your mother did to your father? Because then, I assure you, my delectable Inca, it will be very much my business.”

She wrenched her hand away from his grip and stepped away. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Winter, but I will tell you this. Tommaso and Raffaelo deserve better than a bastard like you for a father. Whatever it is that you did to them, that you did to Tommaso … I will make you pay for it. Just watch me.”

She stalked off, her anger flooding through her veins like hot lava. Fucker. Asshole. She wanted to scream the words, but she knew if she did, the twins would come running, and all hell would break loose. No, this was her fight, not theirs. What the hell had he meant by ‘what your mother did to your father’?

She locked herself away in her bedroom. Then, later, when Raffaelo came home telling her about the premises he’d found for their business, he looked so happy Inca didn’t him about the incident with Edgar that morning. Inca looked out of the window and chewed her lip. If she told Raffaelo what Edgar had done to her, Raffaelo would go insane and probably shoot the fucker where he stood.

Inca gave a grim smile. No, she couldn’t risk Raffaelo going mad, but she had to tell him something, something that made him aware of the depth of Edgar’s hatefulness, his threats. Because that had scared her more than anything. Inca went into her bedroom and started to strip, throwing on some old sweats. She moved to the window to close the blinds and then stopped. Edgar Winter was standing in the gardens, staring up at her window. His smile was chilling. Inca slammed the blinds then. Making a decision, she went to find the twins.

Tyler Sardee was tired, but happy to be with Nancy’s family. Being with them had helped him grieve for his beloved wife, but he missed Inca terribly. He sat alone on the porch of the house, Boomer asleep at his feet. His cell phone buzzed and he smiled when he saw the caller ID.

“Hello, sweetheart. It’s good to hear from you.”

“Hey, Popsicle. How are you?”

Tyler and Inca chatted easily for a while. Then, hearing his daughter take a deep breath in, he felt his chest tighten. “What is it, little one?”

“Dad … I need to ask you something, and it’s not going to be easy. But I need you to tell me the truth now. Please.”

Tyler closed his eyes. He had known this moment would come—for years, ever since Inca was a teenager, he had been waiting for it. “It’s about your birth parents, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. Please, just tell me everything you know, however hard it might be to hear.”

Tyler sighed. “I will, but before I do, please, Inca, just tell me … are you in trouble? Is that why you need to know right now?”

“No …” she hesitated. “I’m not in trouble, but I could potentially be if I don’t know all the facts. There’s someone who … who could make things difficult.”

His heart was beating hard against his ribs. “Inca …”

“I just need to know so I can tell Tommaso and Raffaelo before they hear it from someone who could twist it. Dad … did my birth mom kill my father?”

Oh God.

“Yes, sweetheart. I’m sorry; she did.” He felt strangely relieved to be telling her the truth. “She was very sick, schizophrenic, and one day she snapped and beat him to death. She tried to take you with her when she attempted suicide, but, obviously, you survived.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. “Inca? Are you okay?”

He was relieved to hear her voice, strong, resigned. “Yes, Pops, I’m fine. I think I always knew it was something like that, so it’s not the biggest shock. I don’t remember it.”

“That’s good.”

“Yes.”

Tyler rubbed his eyes. “Sweetheart … I think we both need to go home at some point and make our peace with what happened. The lawyers are on at me to get Nancy’s estate settled and I think … well, I think I’ll sell the house and move out here permanently. Nancy would want me to start again, and I do like it here. So does Boomer.”

Inca chuckled quietly. “I miss his shaggy head. But, yeah, Dad, I think you’re right. At this moment, I can’t imagine going back to Willowbrook for anything other than to say goodbye.”

“Italy feels like home already?”

“Tommaso feels like home.” There was a slight hesitation after she said his name that Tyler picked up on.

“Raffaelo too, yes?”

“Yes.”

“They’re good boys.”

“They are, truly, Pops. I know you had your doubts …”

“Not anymore. They’ve kept you safe, and that’s all I ask.”

When Inca had said goodbye, Tyler stared out at the setting sun. It was cold here, but somehow it didn’t matter. Inca was safe; the Winter twins had kept her that way, and for that he was grateful. Tyler wasn’t stupid; he had guessed at some kind of … unusual arrangement between his daughter and the Winter twins, but he couldn’t judge any of them harshly. They made each other happy, and that’s all he could ask.

“Two weeks,” Tyler said to himself. “Two weeks and I’ll go home, settle things.” He scratched Boomer’s silky ears and sighed.

Time to move on. Time to live.

Raffaelo was like a little kid on Christmas morning as he showed her around the empty coffeehouse. He’d spotted it by chance as he’d passed to go to a friend’s … it had beautiful views over the Bay, over to Vesuvius. A balcony on the second floor overlooked the streets.

“God, this is perfect,” Inca said, as Raffaelo pulled her into his arms.

“You’re perfect, mio caro,” he said softly. His eyes were shining, and she could tell he was excited about the place. “We can complete on this this week, if you really like it.”

“I do, I really do …” But his lips were against hers then and, grinning, he danced her back into the empty building. Inca giggled at the mischievous look on his face. “I know what you’re thinking, Mr. Winter, and you’re a very, very rude boy …”

But she didn’t protest as he lifted her onto the counter and pushed her legs apart. “Always so much underwear on,” he mock-protested as he removed her panties. She collapsed into laughter as he bunched up the delicate cotton and threw them out of the window.

“They were my favorite pair!” she protested, but then he was between her legs and his tongue had found her clit and she couldn’t do anything but moan happily. He drove her to a state of almost frenzy, then unzipped himself and plunged into her, his cock huge and engorged, thrusting deep within her. His eyes never left hers.

“Ti amo tanto,” he said. “I love you so much.”

She clung to him as they moved together, her lips hungry against his. “Ti amo, Raffaelo. Ii amo.”

“Inca, sposami … sposami ed essere mia per sempre… Marry me and be mine forever …”

And at that moment, only the two of them existed in the world. She nodded, hot tears dropping down her cheeks. “Yes, Raffaelo. Yes, I will marry you …”

Of course, when they had returned to reality, they knew it wouldn’t be as easy. Tommaso.

“I can’t break his heart,” Inca whispered. “I won’t do it. I love you, Raffaelo, I do, more than … I love both of you. I can’t hurt him.”

He kissed her softly. “I know … I’m sorry I put you in this position. I should never have asked you … it was just, in the moment, it felt …”

“Right,” she said, and leaned against him. “It did. It does. But not at the expense of Tommaso.”

Raffaelo nodded. “I know. I know. Please, do not make yourself unhappy, mio caro. We three are happy. Let us stay like this.”

But however happy the three of them were, there were two things standing in the way.

One, their father. While he was there, they had to keep their distance from each other. Inca was growing increasingly tired of letting this man dictate to them. “No more,” she told the twins, and that night she led Tommaso to Raffaelo’s room and they made love long into the night. When they were asleep, Inca woke to see Edgar standing at the end of the bed, watching them. She met his gaze steadily until he smirked and walked out. She slid from the bed and locked the door after him.

There. Now he knows. No more secrets.

She didn’t give a fuck what Edgar Winter thought of her—if he thought she was a whore, so be it.

The other thing that stood in their way was her unfinished business. “I think I have to go back for a while, just to say goodbye.”

Neither brother thought it was a great idea, but they understood why she needed to do it. “We’ll come with you,” Raffaelo said. “We won’t interfere, but I don’t think either of us feels comfortable you being there without us.”

Inca nodded, but something was bothering her. No, ‘bothering’ was the wrong word. Haunting. And she couldn’t pin down exactly what it was, just that, soon, very soon, all this would end. That she would die. She could feel death at her shoulder, just waiting for the opportunity. So she was greedy, wanting to spend all of her time with Raffaelo and Tommaso, not caring what anyone else thought.

At night, they shut the rest of the world out and made love to each other, then talked until dawn, making plans. Inca worried about Raffaelo, who seemed to be plagued with nightmares and dreams that he would not share with them, but which would keep him up.

Inca was thinking about this as she went into the study to return a book. Deep in thought, she pushed open the door and went to the bookshelf. As she slid the book back into place, the door behind her slammed. She turned—and saw Edgar Winter smiling nastily at her.

“Alone at last.”

That’s all he had to say to let her know this wasn’t going to be a friendly meeting. She glanced at the window—if she could get to it, she could push it open and get away. He caught up with her before she got halfway across the room.

“Let me go!” she struggled against his strong hands and he laughed.

“I don’t think so, Inca. How about you just lie back and let me show you what a real man could do for you.”

Losing her temper, she laughed in his face. “A real man, you piece of shit, doesn’t spend his life trying to destroy his sons.”

“What have I destroyed, Inca? Tell me? Because the way I see it, my boys have had every luxury, and now …” he kissed her roughly; she spit in his face. “They get to fuck a pretty little cunt like you. “

He had her trapped against the wall and his hand snaked up under her skirt. Inca screamed, but Edgar clamped his hand over her mouth. “Come on, beautiful, what’s your problem? After all, you’re fucking both of my boys … surely you have something left for me?”

He was twice her size and, struggle though she might, Inca couldn’t get free from him. He slammed her down onto the desk and held her down as he unzipped his pants. Inca kicked out at him, got lucky, catching his groin with her heel, and he buckled. She rolled from the desk, sobbing, but he grabbed her ankle and pulled her down.

“No, you don’t, you little whore. I’m going to take what I’m owed, and afterwards, I’ll decide whether or not I’ll let you live another minute.”

Inca struggled with all her might as he tried to enter her, twisting and shutting her thighs, but when Edger raised his fist and punched her in the stomach, the pain was incredible and all the breath left her body.

She felt him watching her and struggled to stand up—pain racked her body and, as she looked at him, she was horrified to see lust in his eyes. He’s enjoying my pain, she realized, he’s turned on by it. Adrenaline kicked in then and she managed to stand up straight. The searing pain in her stomach dulled.

“Please, don’t …”

But he didn’t listen. For Inca, the next few minutes were worse than hell. Edgar groped her sex, grinning triumphantly, nastily. Inca was sobbing, her arms flailing around for anything, anything to help her, when her fingers felt steel. Scissors, that had fallen from the desk during the struggle. She gripped them as best she could and drove the point into Edgar’s shoulder. He roared in pain and jerked back.

“Fucking bitch!” He screamed for his guard, who ran in.

“Hold her down,” he ordered as he ripped the scissors from Inca’s hand. “I’m going to gut this little bitch.”

Inca went cold, but she screamed and fought with her captors. As Edgar raised the scissors, a shot rang out and plaster from the ceiling rained down on them. Edgar stopped.

Tommaso, his face contorted with rage, leveled the gun at his father. “Let her go. Now.”

Edgar gave a nod and Inca was released, still sobbing. She ran to Tommaso, who put his free arm around her, pressing his lips to her temple. “It’s okay now, bella. You’re safe.”

Edgar smirked, and Tommaso’s eyes narrowed. He leveled the gun at his father’s head. “Give me one more reason, Father. Just one.”

His father’s guard edged forward but, from behind them, Inca heard Raffaelo enter the room.

“Don’t,” he said to the guard, who balked.

“Raff, take Inca outside and help her. Me and Daddy Dearest are going to have a little chat.”

Raffaelo and Inca exchanged worried glances. Tommaso, without looking away from his father, half-smiled. “It’s okay, both of you. Leave us.”

Whatever had passed between Tommaso and his father, he never told them, but when he came to join them, to tell them that Edgar had left the house, he seemed different. Stronger. He and Raffaelo hugged for a long moment, then Tommaso asked if he could speak with Inca alone.

“Of course, brother.” Raffaelo smiled at them both, then left the room, closing it quietly behind him.

Tommaso sat down next to Inca, his fingers sweeping the hair back from her face, briefly touching her split lip. “Are you okay, Principessa?”

She nodded, leaning against him. Her eyes searched his face. “Are you?”

He considered the smiled. “Yes, actually. More than okay. I said everything I had ever wanted to him. I doubt we’ll see him again. It’s no loss. I’m so sorry for what he did to you; I knew he was vicious, I never realized he would go that far.”

“It’s okay.”

“He was going to kill you, Inca; it’s not okay.” He closed his eyes briefly, as if imagining it, and shivered. Inca nudged him.

“Hey … I’m here. I’m okay. At this point, I’m probably immortal.”

Tommaso chuckled and kissed her forehead. “It wouldn’t surprise me.” He sighed. “I hope I turn out to be a better human being than my father.”

Pain passed across his face and she touched his arm. “Tommaso, you are already a million, trillion times the man he could ever be. You are not your father.” Her voice hardened at the mention of Edgar Winter.

He studied her. “Thank you. And you,” he hesitated. “You are not your mother. You will never be your mother.”

“Thank you, Tommaso.” She pressed her lips to his and he returned the kiss but then pulled away, his eyes serious.

“Inca, Raffaelo told me what happened between you and him—that he asked you to marry him.”

Inca flushed and started to stand, but he made her sit. “Inca, I know exactly what you’re thinking. I know you. I can tell you feel guilty, but let me ask you this. Did it feel right? Be honest.”

She chewed her lip. “I don’t know.” She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Yes. I suppose so.”

He leaned in, a small smile on his lips. “I’m happy for you, Inca, for you and Raffaelo. Both you and I know … you are meant for each other. I have been selfish, not wanting to give you up, indulging my … fantasies. But you and Raff … it is a love for the ages. We all know that. I have to let you go, Inca, and you have to do the same for me.”

Inca smiled gratefully at him. “I wish I knew myself as well as you seem to know me.”

He shrugged. “You do. You just won’t let yourself believe it.”

Inca leaned her forehead against his, knowing that this was goodbye—at least as far as their love affair went. “I do love you, Tommaso; don’t ever think I don’t.”

“I know, bella, and I will always love you. Just … in the right way now. As my sister. My very best friend.”

She couldn’t help the tears that dropped down her cheek then. “Tommaso …”

He wrapped his arms around her. “Ssh, it’s okay, Principessa. It’s okay. I promise—we will all be happy.”

They flew back to Washington a week later. On the plane, they discussed how to explain the fact that the ring on Inca’s left hand wasn’t from the Winter twin people expected. Inca studied it as Raffaelo—her fiancé, she thought, laughing to herself—and Tommaso talked about what they had planned for the Winter mansion.

After she and Tommaso had talked, a few nights later, Raffaelo had taken her out to dinner and proposed again. Tears of happiness flowed from both of them as Inca had said yes, and he’d swept her up into his arms and kissed her, clearly over the moon.

“I’m going to marry Raffaelo Winter,” she kept repeating to herself. She hadn’t wanted a big gaudy ring; instead, she and Raffaelo went to choose one. He rolled his eyes when she picked the cheapest one in the store, but she genuinely loved the simple design, the single diamond.

Tommaso had congratulated them both, and Inca could see no sadness in his eyes when he hugged her.

It was strange to think she would never kiss him or make love with him again. He’d rented an apartment in the city and moved there to give them privacy.

Now, she smiled at her family—they were her family—as they enjoyed the luxury of the Winters’ private jet. “Tyler said he’d be with us by the weekend. I can’t wait to see him.”

She’d already told Tyler about her and Raffaelo’s engagement and, after he’d asked her if she had chosen the one she really wanted, if she was sure, then he had congratulated her warmly. “As long as you are happy, Bubba.”

Now they were on their way to Washington and Inca felt optimistic about the future in a way she hadn’t for a long time. The Winter twins had legally separated their lives and businesses from their father, and they hadn’t heard from him since that terrible day.

There are monsters everywhere, Inca thought to herself now, but also angels. These two men with her now … they had changed her life completely.

Washington was freezing cold and snowing. Tommaso grumbled—to Raffaelo’s and Inca’s amusement. “Does it ever get warm in this godforsaken place?”

They went straight to the mansion, which seemed like a place from another time for all of them. Inca was smiling until she saw the bloodstains on the stone steps … Luna’s blood. Someone had obviously tried to clean it, but when it had frozen, the blood had leached into the porous stone and stained it.

Raffaelo put his arm around her. “We won’t have to see it much longer.”

They had decided to sell the mansion and move everything back to Italy. Inca was glad. Although she had always loved her home state and her own country, she didn’t feel like she belonged anymore. She didn’t belong anymore.

Raffaelo touched her cheek. “Let’s get warmed up. Then we can talk about what our plans are.”

Olly saw the limousine snake up the hill to the Winter mansion and felt his body tremble. She was back. Inca had called him, somewhat nervously, to tell him she was coming to visit, to settle Nancy’s matters, and to say goodbye. She was really leaving for good. Olly couldn’t quite get a handle on it. He’d expressed his sadness, and Inca had cried a little.

“It’s not like you don’t have a passport,” she had said eventually, a little annoyed, and he’d laughed then.

“That’s better; now you sound like you.”

He heard her chuckle. “I miss you, Olly.”

“I miss you too, Inks.”

Now she was home, and he was strangely nervous about seeing her. They’d agreed to meet the next day and talk; then, later in the week, Inca asked if they could go and lay some flowers on Luna’s grave.

“Of course we can,” Olly said softly, letting Inca know he didn’t blame her for what had happened.

He drove back to the police station and pulled off his coat. He felt as if this visit—Inca’s last visit home, probably—would be one where they would hash out everything. Olly had never forgiven himself for how he’d behaved when she’d met the Winters—his jealousy, he knew now, had made him go crazy for a while, buying the Sakura apartment and not telling Inca, and buying that hideous house in the woods—what the hell had he been thinking?

Since Luna’s suicide, Olly had been seeing a psychiatrist and taking medication. Both he and Luna had been diagnosed with a personality disorder but had left it untreated all their adult lives. He was sure now that that was why he had dumped Inca in the first place. If they’d both been treated, maybe Luna—and Scarlett—would be alive now.

God, the things we do to each other …

“Hey again.” Her voice broke through his reverie and he realized he had been daydreaming. Belinda stood in front of him.

“Would you like to come to the new coffee shop?”

He was silent for a moment, then smiled coolly. “No, thank you. Actually, I need to run some errands, so …’” He got up. Belinda looked surprised.

“Oh … okay, then …Hey, come over for dinner later, to the house, I mean. It’s just an Irish stew, but there’ll be plenty to go around.”

He inclined his head and smiled. “Thank you, but not tonight. I’ll be seeing you. Belinda.”

He left quickly, aware he had surprised her, possibly even hurt her feelings. He climbed into his car and sat for a while, watching her walk down the street. Maybe he had been too dismissive.

“Belinda?” He got out of the car as she turned. “I’m sorry. I was rude. I can’t make dinner, but yes, shall we grab a coffee now?”

He was surprised how grateful she looked and felt better. There was no need for any unpleasantness. After all, he needed all the friends he could around here.

Tommaso excused himself at ten p.m., and Inca and Raffaelo walked slowly up to their room. A good meal, two bottles of a superb red, and Inca was feeling very chilled out. Raffaelo grinned at her.

“You are drunk, Ms. Sardee …”

She giggled and wound her arms around him before, suddenly, her face dropped. Frowning, Raffaelo looked in her eyes.

“What is it?”

“Oh God …”

“What?”

“My name will be … Inca Winter.”

Raffaelo burst out laughing, half with relief. “God, you scared me. I thought something was really wrong.”

“It is! My name will be Inca Winter!’ she moaned, but, seeing her lover collapsed with laughter, she started giggling too. “Stop laughing, you with your sexy sexy name. Think of your wife’s humiliation.”

He pulled her down on top of him, rolling her onto her back on the bed. “If it bothers you that much, keep your name. Or I’ll take your name.”

She stopped, looking in amazement at him. “You would do that?”

Raffaelo nodded. “Of course. I would be happy to give up the last thing that my father gave me. How does Raffaelo Sardee sound?”

She grinned. “Italian … and sexy as all hell.”

“Then it’s decided.” He kissed her, his lips moving against hers slowly. “Now we just have to decide when to get married.”

“Hmm, let’s talk about that, but not now … not while I can’t concentrate on anything else but your face, or your eyes, or …”

Raffaelo grinned, his hands already pushing her dress up. “I need to taste you, mio caro; it’s been too many hours.” He moved down the bed and buried his face in her sex, his tongue lashing around her clit then plunging deep inside her.

“God, Raff … yes … yes …”

Inca let herself relax into the heady sensation of his mouth on her. Then, as her arousal grew, she smiled down at him. “Baby, let me taste you while you’re … busy …”

Soon they were both naked, and Inca took his cock into her mouth as he continued to lick and taste her swollen, quivering cunt.

Her fingernails dug deep into his buttocks as she brought him to a climax, then swallowed his seed as he came in her mouth. Her own orgasm ripped through her, then Raffaelo moved and his cock ploughed into her, hard, pushing her legs apart further and further to sink deeper into her. Inca loved it when he got all riled up like this, fucking her hard, dominating her body, his hands pinning hers above her head, his mouth rough on hers.

His teeth nipped at her lower lip; he growled her name again and again; and then, when he came, he came so hard that the bed shook with the force of it.

“My God. My God,” Inca breathed, her body vibrating with pleasure as they panted for air. “It just gets better and better with you. Were you holding back before? I mean when we were with …”

Raffaelo nodded. “A little, I admit. Some of Tommaso’s kinkier things … like when he used to watch us, I didn’t mind him doing so. I even found it weirdly erotic, but I didn’t feel as if I could ever fully really let myself go. Even that time we were alone at the villa—I felt his presence in our bedroom. That’s not true anymore.”

Inca stroked his face. “What a strange beginning we had. But I wouldn’t change a thing.”

He brushed his lips against hers. “Me neither, my love.” He traced a line from her throat down to her navel. “God, you’re beautiful … I’m going to keep telling you that every day.”

She grinned through tear-filled eyes. “Raffaelo Winter, you are the love of my life.”

And they began again where they had left off.

She was back. In the States, in Washington, in Willowbrook, and this time, he would make sure she would never leave again. Not alive. God, it was so close now; he could taste it, taste her, smell the blood she would shed for him. But first … a little ‘welcome home’ present …

He grinned to himself. Before Inca died, she would suffer another devastating loss.

Inca was surprisingly edgy as Raffaelo dropped her off in front of the restaurant. “This is silly,” she said. “Olly’s my oldest friend, my ex-boyfriend. Why am I so nervous?”

“Think of everything you’ve been through—of course it’s natural to feel like that. Look, if it gets difficult, I’m a phone call away.”

Inca walked into the restaurant and saw Olly already sitting at a table. He stood to kiss her cheek, then they both laughed and hugged each other, hard.

“God, I’ve missed you.” Her voice was muffled as her face was buried in his shoulder, and when she looked at him, there were tears in her eyes. He captured one that escaped down her cheek with his finger.

“And I’ve missed you, Inks. Come on. Let’s sit and get some food going. That’s a guaranteed way to break the ice.”

She chuckled, shrugging out of her coat. “You know me so well.”

They chatted easily for a time, then Inca put down her fork. “Olly … I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am about Luna. I don’t understand why she was so angry with me, but I wish I did know, had known, so that I could have found a way to …”

“Inca … Luna was ill. You knew about the breakdown she had, but what you didn’t know was that she was much sicker than we thought.” He sighed and looked down. “We both were. When we were teenagers, we were both diagnosed with a personality disorder. We were on medication, but by the time we were in our twenties, neither of us took it seriously.”

He took her hand. “Inca … if we had, Luna would still be here. Scarlett would still be here. None of it was your fault. And I need to apologize for scaring you that time in the woods, with that dumb house. And for wrecking your plans with the Sakura apartment. I really don’t know what I was thinking.”

Inca was crying quietly as he spoke. Then, when he finished, she got up and came around the table to wrap her arms around him. “I’m sorry, Olly, I’m so sorry.”

They held each other for a while, ignoring the stares of the other diners. Later, over coffee, she told him about her engagement.

“Raffaelo, hey?”

She nodded, giving him a curious smile. “You don’t sound surprised.”

Olly met her gaze and grinned, and she reddened. “Oh my God. Does everyone know?”

Olly chuckled at her embarrassment. “No, of course not. Don’t worry. I found out by, um, accident. During a crazy moment.”

Inca put her burning face in her hands. “We really need to invest in drapes.”

Olly laughed. “That might be a good idea.”

“Well,” she said, sighing, “it’s irrelevant now. I’m marrying Raffaelo.”

“How’s Tommaso about that?” Olly shrugged when she gave him a meaningful glance. “I just know what it’s like to lose you, is all.”

“No one is losing anyone anymore,” she said determinedly.

She had no idea just how wrong she was …

Tyler Sardee arrived back at SeaTac and hailed a cab, eager now to see his daughter. And her fiancé, he thought to himself with a smile. Maybe things were finally going to be good. He hadn’t called ahead, wanting to surprise them. It was already late, and he wondered if he should get a hotel room for the night. He decided he would and went into the city first, before heading out to see if he could grab something quick to eat.

He wandered down to the waterfront and ate some hot chowder. Afterwards he wandered along the piers until it got very late. He was about to walk back to his hotel, when he saw a familiar face.

“Hey … hey, how are you doing?” His smile spread across his face.

He was still smiling when his throat was slashed open and he was pushed into the dark, freezing waters of Elliott Bay.

Inca hugged Olly goodbye; she saw her friend give Raffaelo a friendly wave as she got into the car.

“How was it?” Raffaelo kissed her softly.

“Great. Really great. He sent you congratulations—and, he said, the dumbass, commiserations, because he knows how much trouble I am,” she chuckled. And Raffaelo laughed.

“You’re glowing,” he said, smiling, and she nodded.

“I’m with you,” she said simply.

At home, the house was quiet and they went straight to their room. Desire pulsed through Inca’s body and Raffaelo took her hand and led her to the bed. He slid his hands under her T-shirt and pulled it off, kissing from her neck down to her belly. Inca gasped under his touch, waves of pleasure shuddering through her. She kissed him, her longing for him all consuming.

Inca pulled her phone out to call Tyler—but when someone else answered, her heart froze as she listened to them and realized the nightmare wasn’t over.

Olly’s eyes widened in horror as Inca burst through the door of the police station, breathless, tears pouring down her face.

“What the hell?”

Inca interrupted him. “Tyler is missing. He’s been missing for days. He didn’t tell anyone he was coming to see me in Seattle so they didn’t know to inform Missing Persons here. Olly … oh my God …”

She was shaking badly, her distress making Olly’s chest hurt. He made her sit down, calmed her, and took her trembling hands in his.

“Okay, sweetheart, just breathe. Knox?”

His deputy had come in to see what the commotion was. Olly quickly filled him in. Knox nodded. “I’ll get on it … Inca, you okay?”

She nodded, unable to speak. Olly hugged her as she calmed down.

“Please not my dad, Olly. Not my dad.”

“It’s okay, darlin’. We’ll check it out. It may be nothing. He may be just …” He faltered when he saw the disbelief on her face. “Yeah, okay.”

Knox came back into the room. “Tyler got off a plane at Sea-Tac the evening of the fifth that’s the day you and Olly had dinner, right?”

Inca nodded, her face drawn. “Yes. God, Knox. Olly …”

She was trembling so violently that Olly put his arms around her and nodded to Knox, mouthing something at him.

He left the room and Inca sighed. “Olly, if anything has happened to him, I don’t think I can handle it. I can’t handle …”

“Ssh, ssh, ssh.” Olly held her as she sobbed.

After a few minutes, Inca dried her eyes. “Who is doing this, Olly? Who hates me so much?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart, but we don’t know what ‘this’ is yet, so let’s be positive.”

Exhausted, Inca leaned against him. “I don’t know. I just … hope he’s still alive, still okay. I couldn’t bear it if another person died because of me.” But she couldn’t finish. Olly wrapped his arms around her, but his face was serious.

“Listen to me, Inca Sardee. You listen good now. You are not responsible for everyone. You can’t save everyone. People make their own decisions. Your mom did when she killed your dad. Luna shot Scarlett and you—that was her decision. Tyler, wherever he is, made the decision to fly here. You are only responsible for the choices you make. I know it will take time, but you need to start now, today.”

“Start what?”

“Stop blaming yourself for everything.” They both turned to see both Raffaelo and Tommaso in the doorway and Inca realized Knox must have called them. Olly released her and she went into Raffaelo’s arms.

The police search for Tyler went on for days. They found his luggage in the hotel in Seattle and traced his credit card to a waterfront restaurant. Blood was found at one end of one of the piers. Inca let the police into her parents’ home and waited while they went over it with a fine-tooth comb.

Raffaelo was with her, his presence comforting, but when the police were finished, she turned to him.

“Baby … can I ask a favor?”

He touched her face. “Anything.”

She drew in a deep breath. “In my heart … I know he’s gone. I know it. And I’d like to … be alone with them for a while. Do you mind?”

“Of course not. Just promise me you’ll stay locked inside? Call me when you want me to come pick you up?”

“I promise.”

Inca watched Raffaelo drive away and now she was alone for the first time in … she didn’t know how long. She had thought it would good to have the house to herself, to breathe, to think.

She walked through the house now, lingering in each room, trying to find the peace she craved. It didn’t come.

Ghosts of the living and of the dead hung about the rooms. Inca realized that it hadn’t ever been her home, it had been their home, hers and Nancy and Tyler’s. And now that they were gone, and any connection she felt to it was broken.

She went into the kitchen to fix herself some tea, splashing her face with cold water while she waited for the water to boil. She reached for the towel to wipe her face, her fingers knocking against the chalkboard that hung next to it on the wall. She scrubbed her face dry as the kettle began to whistle. She turned to fill her cup, then froze. Her breath caught in her throat.

A photograph she’d never seen before dropped from behind the chalkboard. Nancy, Tyler, and herself—it must have been on her birthday last year. Scarlett had photobombed them, and Luna and Olly were at the edges of the group.

A year. Just a year.

Inca took the photo and sat on the floor of her parent’s kitchen. Once again, she went over and over everything that had happened, looking for a clue that might tell her why. It was a weird sort of comfort that she could take some responsibility for Kevin’s attempt on her life, at least. But Nancy had been murdered after he had already been arrested. Luna, having admitted killing Scarlett, couldn’t have done it. So, who? Who hated her that much?

When Olly had been acting crazy, she had wondered if it could be him— Tommaso taking that restraining order out might have tipped him over the edge. But now? No. No way.

She went upstairs to her old room and lay down on the comforter. They hadn’t changed it much since she’d left—some of her old books and paintings were still on the shelves and walls. But it felt like a stranger’s room, another life, a million years ago.

She had no more tears to cry and soon, she fell into an uneasy sleep, wrapped in the comforter. She didn’t hear the intruder slip quietly through the back door, thanks to the tricky lock, and pad quietly up the stairs.

He’d seen the bastard billionaire drive away and couldn’t believe it. He’d left her alone? Jesus …

But he wasn’t prepared for the kill. He had it all planned and now wasn’t the time … but he couldn’t waste an opportunity to be near her. So, he waited until he saw her go upstairs and gave it another ten minutes. He figured, when she didn’t come back down, that she had gone to sleep. So, he broke in; he knew of old that the back door was tricky, and crept upstairs. She was in bed, asleep.

“Inca?” His voice was a whisper. She murmured. He pulled out the hypodermic he always carried, regretting not bringing his knife with him, and slipped the needle into her neck. She moaned as he pressed the plunger. “Sleep, my darling.”

He waited until he heard her breathing deepen, becoming steady. He stripped down, took the knife from his pocket, and lay down beside her. He drew the tip of the blade over her skin, imagining pushing it deep into her, feeling her hot, sticky blood pulse over his skin as she bled out, the look of terror in her eyes as he murdered her, terror and resignation at his betrayal. The blood roared in his ears and he felt his heart quicken.

Soon. But not tonight. He was hard. He dropped the knife, slipped on a condom, and began to masturbate, stifling his grunts, burying his face in her hair. When he came, he dreamed of holding her ruined body as the life went from her eyes and her last breath sighed from her perfect lips.

Raffaelo sat in silence, waiting for Tommaso. The bar wasn’t busy; there were just a few customers drifting in and out. Raffaelo felt antsy. He wanted to see Inca; a day away from her made him nervous. The TV was on behind the bar, the sound muted. Raffaelo stared at it, watching news reports, reading the headlines running across the bottom of the screen. A drug-related shooting in the city, a building collapse, a body being pulled from the dark water of Elliott Bay. He leaned over and turned the sound up.

“The body has been badly mauled by marine life, but the police were able to tell us that the victim was a man in his eighties and that his death is suspicious. Further details are expected to be released later today after a full autopsy.”

“That’s what I came to tell you.”

Olly’s voice made Raffaelo both start and, as he turned to him, he could see the strain on his face. Raffaelo’s heart began to thump heavily against his ribs and he knew what Olly was going to say before he said it.

“It’s Tyler.”

Raffaelo stood, his gaze intent on the cop, and Olly nodded.

“King Country confirmed it to me just now. Raff …” Olly’s voice was low but urgent. “We need to get to Inca. Now.”

Raffaelo was already out the door before he’d finished his sentence.

The funeral was a sad repeat of Nancy’s, except, this time, Raffaelo stayed with Inca as her father’s coffin was brought in. She hadn’t slept since the night Raffaelo had come for and she’d opened the door, seen his face, and knew.

She hadn’t cried. Numb was the only emotion she felt now. After Tyler’s coffin was lowered into the ground, she turned and walked away before the pastor had even finished his prayer. She kept walking and walking until she reached the road. She knew Raffaelo, and probably Tommaso and Olly, would be following her, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered.

She stopped and let out a howl of complete rage, grief, and frustration. “Come and get me, motherfucker! Come on! I’m right here! Fucking kill me and let’s get this done!”

She went on screaming and cursing until her voice gave out. When Raffaelo wrapped his arms around her, she struggled, but he wouldn’t let her go and eventually she cracked, sobbing in his arms.

Raffaelo closed the bedroom door and went down to the study. Most of the furniture had been covered or taken to storage now in preparation for their move back to Italy and only a skeleton staff remained to tend to the Winters and their guest.

Tommaso was waiting for his brother. “How is she?”

Raffaelo looked exhausted. “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

Tommaso nodded. “You’re right. Raff … I didn’t want to tell you before, what with the funeral and everything, but I have some news.”

Raffaelo rubbed his eyes. “Not more bad news, please.”

Tommaso chuckled softly. “No. Not exactly … it’s just that …when you and Inca move to Sorrento … I won’t be coming with you.”

Raffaelo’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

Tommaso smiled. “It’s time we lived our own lives, now, Raff. This past year, loving the same woman—although I’ll never, ever regret one day—well, after the crap with Dad, I think I realized, I have to move on. Find my own Inca. She gave me a beautiful glimpse of what could be. I’m looking forward to finding out what the future holds.”

Raffaelo got up and hugged his brother tightly. “Don’t go too far.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

They made plans to travel back to Italy at the end of the week. Inca told Raffaelo she wanted some time with Olly and Knox before they left. She still couldn’t believe they were the only ones left. So much death, so much sorrow.

Olly opened the door and Inca saw he was wearing pain-spattered overalls. He looked sober and even, Inca couldn’t believe it, relaxed. He held up a brush.

“Painting the living room. Come on in.”

She followed him into the kitchen and studied him as he made coffee.

“You look remarkably chipper.”

He grinned, and he looked like the Olly she’d loved and adored for more than half her life. “Chipper? Make sure you drink your coffee with your little finger out if you’re going to come around here using them posh words.”

She giggled. “Loser. Seriously, though, I mean it.”

He shrugged, flushing in embarrassment. “Took some time off. I needed this time to get my head right. Sort out my priorities. Let other things go.” He gave a small laugh. “It’s been good. I’ve been … regrouping.”

Inca said nothing, sipping her coffee. Olly’s overalls were spattered with green paint and she nodded at them. “Suits you. How’s things with the Whirling Derp-bitch?”

Olly had told her, hesitantly, that he’d ‘sorta, kinda’ been dating Belinda Clements. Inca’s reaction had been unexpected; she’d burst into peals of laughter and told him to “have at it, but, boy, am I going to make you suffer for it.”

Olly snickered, but tried to look disapproving. “All right.” His smile faded. “How’s things at home?”

Inca sighed to herself. She could see behind the question. She spoke carefully when she replied. “I’m getting there, Olly. It’ll take some time.”

“It will. Look, for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing. A new start. I hate to admit it, but I like your Raffaelo. He’s a good man.”

Inca grinned. “Still not keen on Tommaso, then?”

Olly laughed. “He’s okay too.”

Inca smiled, but then her face become serious. “You know, you’ll always be welcome in Italy. For however long.”

Olly nodded. “You’re sweet, but I think it’s time for me to build my own new life.”

Inca raised her glass to him. “Here’s to a new life.”

Later, Knox came to pick her up and they decided to get pizza and go back to his place. Raffaelo would pick her up at eight, but Inca glanced at the weather with concern. Another winter storm was coming in and the snow was getting really heavy. She and Knox talked and ate, but she couldn’t help being a little nervous about Raffaelo in the snow. She kept looking at her watch.

After the fourth time that Inca glanced at the clock, Knox grinned. “He said he’d be here at eight and he’ll be here at eight.”

She grinned. “Sorry. It’s just … finally we get to be happy, and it would just our luck if the weather … well, you know.”

Knox rubbed her shoulder but said nothing. Inca smiled at him, then frowned when she noticed he wasn’t looking at her.

“What is it? What’s up?”

Knox sighed. “Oh, you know … I just wish I had what you and Raffaelo have. What Raffaelo has.”

Inca swallowed, embarrassed by the compliment. “Knox …”

“You look really beautiful tonight, Inca.”

Inca glanced down at herself—a simple white T-shirt, admittedly a little skintight, and old tattered jeans. She looked at him, askance. “You need your eyes tested.”

Knox’s face was red and he threw back the rest of his drink. “Sorry.” He got up and went to the kitchen. Inca hesitated for a moment. She hated to see him like this, shy, embarrassed. “Knox?”

“I’m good, Inca, really. I’ll be out in a sec.” His voice seemed normal.

She shrugged and glanced again at the clock. Raffaelo would be in here in five minutes. God, she hated herself for saying it but she hoped Knox would go—she wanted Raffaelo all to herself tonight.

Knox came back, handing her a soda. She waved the T remote. “Wanna watch some crap?”

He smiled. “Sure thing.”

Inca flicked through the stations until she found a comedy show. She grinned and turned to him. “Knox, I …”

Knox, calmly but forcefully, slammed his fist into her temple and everything went dark.

Raffaelo couldn’t wait any longer—he wanted Inca to have her time with her friends, but the snow was turning into a blizzard now and he had no intention of sleeping apart from her tonight. He left a note to tell Tommaso where he was going, then got into his car.

The storm was bad. By the time he got into town, it was hard to see out of the windshield.

Raffaelo knocked on Knox Westerwick’s front door and waited. Strange. No answer. He knocked again. “Knox? Inca?” Nothing.

His heart began to pound. He went to the window and looked in; there was nobody there, but something caught his eye. A smashed bottle … and blood. Not much, but drops of it on the floor. Raffaelo cussed and went back to the door, kicking it in easily. He dashed into the living room and stopped, terror screeching into his veins. There was more blood on the floor. Raffaelo grabbed it and turned—and his heart stopped.

In blood … Inca’s? … scrawled across the wall were written six words:

You’ll never see her alive again.

Everything fell into place. Knox. Knox Westerwick, the easy-going cop, the flirt. Everybody’s buddy. As Raffaelo raced out of the house and into the snow, towards Olly’s house, he could only think one thing.

How did we not see it?

Olly took one look at Raffaelo’s face and knew. “Jesus, no …”

“It’s Westerwick,” Raffaelo spat. “He’s taken her. There are signs of a struggle at the house, and blood … and a message.”

Olly held up his hands. “Now, wait. We don’t know that it’s him. Someone might have taken them both.”

Raffaelo fumed, his terror making him antsy, but Olly was right. Olly picked up his cell and tried to call Knox.

His deputy answered in a happy, sing-song voice. “Hey, boss. God, this storm is really closing in.”

Olly frowned and, looking at Raffaelo, switched the phone to speaker. “Hey, Knox. Where are you?”

“We thought you were with Inca.”

“I am.”

“You went out in the storm?”

Knox laughed and both of the men listening heard the slightly hysterical tone. “Well, I wanted to make an event of it, you know? I could have just killed her at my place, but what fun would that have been? This way, in this storm, I get to take my time, and there’s really nothing you can do about it.”

Raffaelo moaned, and Olly looked appalled. “Knox … what are you talking about?” He needed to hear him say it.

“I’m going to kill Inca, of course.”

Olly felt the breath being pushed out of his lungs. “You? Knox? All this time.”

Knox laughed. “God, you were all so blind. Yes, me, Olly. Yes, I killed those women. Yes, I’m going to kill Inca, and believe me, she will suffer the torments of the damned before she dies.”

“Why?” Raffaelo was now on his knees. “Please, Knox … please, don’t hurt her.”

There was a silence on the phone then, in a mocking voice, Knox said, “I’m sorry you won’t be able to say goodbye before I stab her to death, Winter, but you should never have loved her. She is mine.”

The line went dead and Raffaelo howled. Olly grabbed him, trying to calm him down. “Raff. Raff, come on. We have to think straight, think about where to find her.”

“What’s going on?” Behind them, Tommaso, his face pale, was standing in the doorway. Raffaelo stared at his brother, his eyes bottomless pits of sorrow.

“It’s Inca,” he said, his voice breaking. “She’s been taken.”

Inca woke, dazed, in the trunk of a moving car. Her hands were bound behind her back and, although she tried, she could feel they were bound with plastic ties. What the fuck was going on? Knox? He was the killer? She tried to clear her fuzzy head, her mind whirling.

Knox was the killer. He had killed her mother, her father, and now he was going to kill her. It didn’t make sense … why?

The car stopped. Oh God. The trunk opened and she was hit with a blast of freezing snow. Knox easily pulled her out of the trunk. Inca screamed, but the sound was lost in the blizzard. Knox carried her over to another car, then she saw the other car … and Belinda Clements waiting.

“Hey, bitch,” Belinda said as Knox dumped Inca into the new car’s backseat.

“Go fuck yourself,” Inca growled, then winced as Knox stuck a hypodermic into her arm. Unconsciousness came quickly …

Belinda smiled at Knox. “Do me a favor … make sure you cause that bitch serious pain.”

Knox was stone-faced. “A knife in the gut will do that, I think I can promise. Get inside … we have a phone call to make.”

Belinda smiled as they walked into her house. “I still don’t know why we have to bring Olly into this.”

“Because,” Knox said impatiently. “With the storm, they won’t be able to bring in anymore police and I get to take my time with Inca. Now call your damn boyfriend.”

Panicking, Olly and the Winters made a list of where Knox might take Inca. “He’ll want to take his time,” Olly said, feeling sorry for Raffaelo as he said it. “So it’ll be somewhere that’s not easy to find, or which would be cut off in the snow.”

Olly got a map out and began to circle where he thought they might be when Raffaelo put his finger down on the place he’d first met his love—the Winter Mansion.

Olly shook his head. “It’s too obvious.”

But Tommaso agreed with his brother. “I’ll go with you.”

Raffaelo shook his head. “No, we need to cover as much ground as we can. I’ll go to the mansion.”

They decided Tommaso would go to Tyler’s house and the twins left Olly to search the town. He was about to leave when his cellphone buzzed. Belinda. He made an annoyed sound,

“Belinda, this isn’t a good time. I’m sorry.”

“He’s here.”

“Who’s here?” A flash of irritation took before what she said had sunk in.

“He says he’s going to kill me, Olly. Knox. He says he’ll kill me unless you come.”

Olly’s face hardened. “I don’t believe you, Belinda.” He heard a scuffle and Belinda cried out in pain. Then his stomach turned over as he heard his voice.

“Rosenbaum, I currently have a .22 caliber pistol pressed against your girlfriend’s throat. I will kill her unless you get here in five minutes. Do I need to tell you not bring anyone else, to come alone?”

“No.”

“Do it.” Knox hung up.

Olly took off, out into the storm and down the road. He parked and jumped out of the car, weapon drawn. The door was open. He went in, checking around him, his police training kicking in. He got to the living room and stopped. Knox was standing against the fireplace, smiling at him. His gun sat on a chair, away from his reach. Olly frowned.

“Hello, Chief.”

Olly glanced around him, never taking his weapon off Knox. “Where’s Inca?”

Knox laughed. “That’s just typical. Even now, with your girlfriend in danger, your first thought is of our lovely Inca. Inca isn’t your problem anymore, Olly. Soon, she’ll be no one’s problem.”

“Why did you call me here, Knox? When you could have gotten clean away?”

Knox’s smile dropped. “Loose ends.”

Olly’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s Belinda?”

Knox laughed. “Right behind you.”

And then there was pain, a searing, shocking blow, and Olly’s head felt like it had exploded. Olly dropped to his knees. Another blow, and then there was nothing.

Knox nodded at Belinda as he walked casually over to Olly and relieved him of his gun. Belinda beamed. “Did I do good?”

“You did good.”

Belinda looked down at Olly’s prone body. “Pity. He was a good fuck, if nothing else.”

Knox smiled. “And yet your hatred of Inca Sardee outstripped your need to get laid.”

Belinda laughed. “Just the thought of you gutting that bitch is keeping me warm. So, what now?”

Knox met her gaze. “Like I said … loose ends.” And he shot her in the head.

Tommaso raced along the road to Tyler’s house, the car skidding and swerving on the icy roads. The car almost smashed into the porch steps of the house, such was Tommaso’s hurry and panic, but one quick search of the house proved fruitless. He was back in the car in seconds and racing back towards town. Then he stopped as he reached the main street. Olly’s car was outside another home, one he didn’t recognize. He got out of the car and searched around, calling Olly’s name, the blizzard taking his words and flinging them to the wind.

Then he saw it, glinting, half buried in the falling snow. He went over and picked it up. Inca’s watch. His heart began to beat fast—there were tracks leading away from where the watch was, half hidden now by the snow.

A movement to his side caught his eye and he looked around to see Olly, blood pouring from his head, staggering from the house. Tommaso dashed to help him, moving back into the house, out of the blizzard, kicking the door shut behind them.

Then he saw her. A woman, dead, prone on the floor. “Jesus.” Tommaso stepped over her and checked her pulse, but it was obvious she was dead.

“It’s Belinda. She was working with Knox. He killed her. I didn’t.”

“If she was working with Knox, then she got what she deserved,” Tommaso spat. He grabbed a towel from the kitchen and pressed it against Olly’s head wound. “What happened?”

Olly gave him the basics. “Knox is insane, man. He’ll kill Inca. I know it.”

Tommaso’s face was pinched and pale as he pulled out his phone to call Raffaelo. “I think Raff was right—if he’s this petty, he’ll want to kill her where it’ll hurt us the most. Our own home.”

The snow was three feet deep by the time Knox pulled Inca from his car and marched her, hands bound behind her back, into the night. She shivered uncontrollably as the freezing air hit her skin. She recognized the garden immediately and she gritted her teeth. Bastard. He would use her murder to add more hurt and pain to Raffaelo and Tommaso.

Motherfucker.

Knox pulled her into the open garden—a vision of pure white snow. The killing ground. He’d fixed up a light so that it shone in a pool on the snow.

“I’m going to stab you to death here, Inca,” he said matter of factly. “I like the look of your blood on the snow.”

“You’re insane,” Inca whispered. “Completely insane.”

Knox smiled, then cuffed her around the face, splitting her lip. “And you’re a dead woman walking, Inca. Your billionaires aren’t going to save you now. Listen …”

All around them, all she could hear was the cold wind, the snow whipping around her. Knox forced her down onto her back. Her skin reacted to the cold snow, and he knelt above her.

“I waited until it was like this, because I don’t want you to die too quickly. I want to savor this, want you to feel the utter agony of what I’m going to do to you. The cold will slow your heart.”

The knife in his hand was a bayonet knife—Tyler’s knife. He saw her look at it and smiled. “Yes, I killed your mother with the same knife. Both of your mothers. And your father. And all those women who looked like you. Practice runs for the big event. Now,” and he placed the tip of the knife into the hollow of her navel, “I’m going to do this real slow.”

And he pushed the blade slowly into her belly. Inca gasped, the pain unimaginable as the steel sliced through her. Knox smiled. “Beautiful … beautiful.”

He pulled the blade out and Inca felt her blood pumping out of the wound onto the snow. She could smell it, rust and blood. Dark spots were at the corner of her eyes and they whirled in her head. Knox slapped her face, hard.

“Don’t lose consciousness, now, baby. I’m not nearly done with you.”

From somewhere, she thought she heard a voice. A shout. A cry in the night. Another stab from the knife. Her systems began to shut down.

Just let me die …

She heard Knox laugh. “You’re not getting off that easy, my darling.” There was needle in her arm, and she was shocked back to full alertness. Knox’s face was very close to hers. “I told you; we’re going to take our time here.”

“Just kill me,” she said. “I’m already dead.” The blessed delirium of unconsciousness had been taken away by whatever he had injected into her and she watched the knife, dripping with her own blood, as he raised it above his head. Suddenly, despite the agony, despite the hopelessness, Inca began to laugh.

That stopped him. “What the fuck are you laughing at, bitch? I’m killing you, for fuck’s sake!’ His face was a picture of rage that she could have the nerve to be laughing at him at this moment.

“I know,” Inca laughed at him, “and I’ll probably die right here. But right now, behind you, Raffaelo Winter is holding the gun that’s going to blow your head off.”

Knox whipped around and got to see Raffaelo’s furious face just for a second before Raffaelo did indeed blow his head off. Knox slumped to the snowy ground, the eye that was still attached to his head open and staring in disbelief.

The adrenaline left Inca then, as Raff dropped to his knees beside her, ripping his coat off and wrapping it around her, and she began to feel the agony burn through her body. He pulled his sweater off and pushed it against her wounds. “You live? You hear me? You hang on!”

Inca nodded, knowing that it was impossible to hope, but in her final moments with this man, the man she loved so very deeply, she didn’t want to be sad. “I love you so much, Raffaelo. So very much.”

Raff’s face was pale, but he had never looked more gloriously handsome to her. “And you are my life, Inca. Please, I know it’s bad, but please try …”

She leaned her head against his chest as he carried her back to his car and laid her in the passenger seat, grabbing a blanket from the front seat and tucking it around her. “Keep talking to me, Inca. Keep putting pressure on your wounds if you can—I have to drive us back through the storm.”

Raffaelo saw she was shivering violently now and knew the cold, and the blood loss meant her body was going into shock.

God, please, no.

He was having a hard enough time seeing her so badly hurt … dying.

No. No way.

Inca, his love, his life, was going to be okay.

Inca touched his face. “Where’s Tommaso?”

Raffaelo hesitated. “He’s dealing with Rosenbaum. Olly’s pretty badly hurt.”

Inca’s eyes opened wide. “What?”

Another pause. “Knox attacked him, knocked him out. We think your old friend Belinda had something to do with it, but it doesn’t matter anymore She’s dead.”

Inca moaned softly and he looked around. “Inca?”

“I’m okay—are you or Tommaso hurt?”

Raffaelo swallowed. “No, we’re fine. Look, we’ve got some people just up here; Rosenbaum gave us a few places he could think of, so we split up. It was just luck that I found you, my darling. I’m so sorry.”

“You saved me.” Her voice was growing weaker.

“Inca, stay with me. Keep talking to me …”

“I love you.”

Raffaelo couldn’t help the tears that poured down his face then. “I love you, Inca Sardee. Don’t you dare fucking die on me.”

“You’re so sexy when you curse in that accent. You wanna pull the car over and we’ll get busy right now?”

He laughed. “Even now, you’re making jokes.” He knew why she was doing it, so that when—no, if, she died—he would at least have a happy memory of their last moments together. “God, I love you so much, but I will fucking kill you if you die.”

He was gratified to hear her chuckle, but he could also hear the pain in her voice. “Baby … I want you to know … it was always you, Raffaelo. Always you…”

That broke him and he began to sob, his whole body shaking uncontrollably. “Oh God, Inca. Please don’t leave me … we’re so close, so very close …”

“I’m trying, baby. I promise. I don’t want to die.” But her voice was getting weaker. The car skidded all over the icy road, the snow battering down, almost completely obscuring his vision. For a second, just a second, he considered pulling the car over and dying with her, but something was stopping him. The promise, the hope for their future.

We have survived so far; we’ll survive now. There is a reason I love her as much as I do …

He reached back and held her hand for a moment. “We’re going to be okay, Inca. I swear we will. And I’m going to marry you.”

Inca laughed softly. “Well, you’d better …”

Hope suddenly soared as he saw the lights of the town in front of him. Raffaelo almost laughed. “Almost there, mio caro, almost safe …”

Inca was silent, and Raffaelo, half-crazed, looked around. Her eyes were closed, the blanket soaked with blood.

“No … no …” The car screeched into town, towards the blue and red lights of the emergency vehicles, braking sharply, and he was out, opening the passenger door, desperate to get to her.

“Raff!” He heard his brother through the storm. Raffaelo gathered Inca up in his arms and trudged through the snow towards the emergency vehicles. Hot tears were flooding down his cheeks. He saw Tommaso’s expression when he saw her. Fear. Grief.

Then they were surrounded by paramedics and police and everything was a whirl.

Inca opened her eyes and drew in a long, deep lungful of cool fresh air. Alive. There was pain, yes, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Because, there, right in front of her, Raffaelo Winter saw her eyes had opened and his smile was better than any morphine.

Three months, four days, six hours. That’s how long they had been back in Italy. Back, safe, alive …

Inca stroked her fiancé’s face, marveling at his glorious beauty, the way he looked at her, the feel of his arms around her body. They sat in their bed, in their new villa in Naples, across the bay from Sorrento. They’d decided, like Tommaso in Venice, like Olly in Portland, on a new life, a new home.

It was summer, and the evening was sultry. They had dinner in a small trattoria in the city, then walked back up the hill to their home. As they walked into the villa, Inca had pulled her little white dress over her head, looking back over her shoulder at a grinning Raff. She lost her panties and her bra on the way to their bedroom; Raff lost his shirt and pants …

Now they held each other, enjoying the feeling of skin on skin. Nothing was hurried, nothing was desperate. They knew they had forever. Inca glanced down at his cock, thick, long, and rigid against her belly, and smiled, lying back and spreading her legs so he could plunge into her. They fucked slowly, leisurely, and came, shuddering and vibrating, kissing each other and murmuring their love.

Outside, the sun slid beneath the horizon and lit up the sky with fire as the lovers, catching their breath, began all over again …

The End