Four weeks ago

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“NOAH, DON’T YOU DARE pee on me. You’ve done that to daddy twice already,” Fallon warns around a wide smile.

We lean over our three-month-old son while she changes his diaper on the glass desk in the office at Club 7, the dance club that I co-own with my boss and best friend, Adriano.

My wife looks exquisite in a champagne-colored floor-length dress that hugs the curves of her hips which have become wider since her pregnancy. I tuck her long, wavy mahogany hair behind her ear just as Noah’s twin sister, Milana, who weighs absolutely nothing, stirs while I hold her with one arm. Smoothing her pink dress, I grip her tiny foot that’s covered in a white sock and rub it. When she sighs in contentment, it fills my soul with love like I never knew existed, and seeing my twenty-nine-year-old wife as a mother has made me adore her even more.

As Fallon straightens and picks up Noah, stroking his sparse brown hair back, I gaze into her amber eyes that are so similar to my daughter’s. By now, I’ve memorized every line in her nearly make-up free face, and she’s still just as beautiful as the first time we met. I note that she’s wearing the gold drop earrings I bought her for our last anniversary, knowing how much she enjoys getting earrings since she never leaves the apartment without them.

To this day, I don’t regret a second of how we met four years ago or how I lied about my line of work when we started dating. Even though we broke up when she discovered it, which caused me to spiral down a path of drinking and despair as my lonely soul became restless. Until ultimately, I understood that I couldn’t be without her because she’s my home. She’s my positive counterpart. And thank god, she began to accept my merciless world before we got married in Venice two and a half years ago.

Fallon pulls me out of my thoughts when she speaks in a melancholic voice, “Noah looks just like my father when he was a baby. I’m so glad that he’s his namesake.”

Evidently, she’s reminiscing about her parents, who she lost three years ago in a moment that altered the course of both our lives because we became each other’s sole family. My parents died in a car accident when I was ten, and although I was raised by my uncle, he currently resides in Italy.

While she rocks Noah in her arms, he’s so sleepy that he dozes off before she places him inside the portable baby bed I set up beside the desk. Then I lay Milana next to her brother and move to stand behind Fallon, sneaking my arms around her waist and pulling her into me as we watch Milana grab Noah’s thumb.

“Oh, that’s adorable,” Fallon mutters and lazes back against me, her delectable round ass pressing into my groin as her sweet ambrosia perfume wafts around me and I inhale deeply.

“What are you thinking?” she asks, looking up and to the side, so I brush the tip of my nose down hers.

“Sei una delizia, dolcezza.” You’re exquisite, sweetheart.

Trailing my hand up her ribcage, I cup her breast, and she lets out a soft moan when I push my swelling dick into her ass.

“No, Luca, not here,” she cautions.

“No?” I repeat in a low voice, arcing a brow.

“Yes, no,” she counters, her full lips curling upward. “I know you’re not used to hearing no, but there’s a wedding going on downstairs.”

Disregarding her objection, I slide my palm down her lower stomach to the apex of her thighs and as we lean into each other, I make lazy circles, trying to seduce her. “We’re always interrupted by the twins and I haven’t been with you for days. I want you, Fallon.”

“You’re not playing fair,” she utters around a strangled breath.

I dip my head until my lips graze the shell of her ear, repeating the words I said to her many years ago, “I never play fair when it comes to you. And I want to ring in the new year inside you. Now.”

Whimpering, she pushes into my hand, but the tight fabric of her dress prevents her from opening her legs.

“Turn,” I order as I spin Fallon around before picking her up and setting her on the edge of the desk.

Then I yank up her dress and wedge myself between her legs, shifting my hands to her ass. Pulling Fallon into me, I crash my lips down onto hers, and when she grips my nape, I kiss her hungrily, demanding her to open her mouth. The second she welcomes my tongue and returns my kiss, I eagerly taste her, groaning as her back bows, her body yielding to my touch. Fallon’s warm hands on my neck give me a sense of familiarity only her presence evokes. It’s what I always crave.

I leave wet kisses from her lips to her throat and down to a hardened nipple, taking it into my mouth over the thin fabric of her dress and growling in appreciation when she tugs hard at my hair.

Flustered and out of breath, Fallon rakes her nails down my back as I grind my pelvis against her and hook her right leg around my hip. Then I reach up, weaving my fingers through her hair, and tip her head back roughly to plunge my tongue inside her mouth again.

“I need you.” I push the straining erection in my slacks against her, making her groan, and she wrenches my tux jacket down my arms but stops when there’s a knock on the door.

“What?” I bark.

“Adriano’s looking for you, Luca,” my head Capo, Logan, informs, and I expel a sigh, putting my jacket back on as Fallon grips the lapels.

“I’ll be done in a few,” I answer as I rest my forehead against hers. “We’re finishing this at home.”

She grins in agreement, tilting her face up, so I give her a brief kiss before stepping back. While Fallon pulls down her dress, I run my hands through my messy hair and straighten my bow tie.

After checking that the twins are sleeping peacefully, Fallon and I exit Adriano’s office, and I entwine our hands while we stroll across the balconied second floor of Club 7. Going to the black staircase that leads to the large, brilliantly lit first floor, we descend it, careening around the glass bar that spans the right wall as the beat pulses against my eardrums. Tonight, the place isn’t packed like it usually is, although people are dancing in the center of the black and white tiled dance floor with a raised podium where the DJ is playing. There are also smaller raised platforms scattered around where professional dancers sometimes perform, but not now because Club 7 is closed down for a family wedding. The lights of dozens of gold chandeliers hanging from the fourteen-foot-high ceiling flicker, reflecting off people as they move, and the club is decorated with purple and white flowers.

Fallon and I approach the far side of the room where our family is settled. But when the notes of ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ blast through the speakers, Fallon wheels around so fast that I almost mow over her. I steady her by her hips as she loops her arms around my neck, guiding me forward while she walks backward until we’re on the dance floor.

“It’s our song, so Adriano can wait,” she says in her characteristic soft-spoken voice, gazing up at me with a look of total adoration.

Winding my arms around her waist, I draw her against me until her breasts press into my chest. Then I sway her to the music, seeking out a shadowed area for a few more intimate moments. As everyone around us fades away, it’s as if we’re cocooned in our own little world, our hot breath mingling as I nuzzle her cheek and slide my palm down her spine until the tips of my fingers rest right above her ass. And I’m utterly captivated by her graceful manner, which is what attracted me to her in the first place, her relaxed influence settling the darkness that resided inside me.

“Ti amo, dolcezza.” I love you, sweetheart.

“I love you,” she whispers, going to her tiptoes, which makes her luscious body slide up my front, and a growl escapes me.

She tightens her arms around my neck as I angle my mouth over hers, kissing her ravenously, but just when my cock stiffens, Fallon sends me a mischievous smile and steps back as the song ends.

At that moment, I see one-and-a-half-year-old Amalia in her ivory flower girl dress hopping beside the long refreshment table until she finds some candy strewn on it and steals it. Then she peeks around and her round eyes widen when they lock with those of her father, Adriano, who’s seated across from her, folding back the sleeves of his dress shirt.

With a smirk, he crooks his finger to beckon her over, and after he holds out his palm, she reluctantly gives him her loot as he explains, “It’s too late for candy, baby. You’ll get a tummy ache.”

When she pouts, his grin grows wider and he takes her into his lap, tickling her sides until she breaks out in giggles and pecking the crown of her head just as we reach them.

But before Adriano can speak, his wife, Cam, and Logan advance on us and Cam catches Adriano and me exchanging a glance.

“No business tonight, gentlemen. You promised,” Cam reminds us, and Amalia jumps off Adriano’s lap as he stands up, sifting his fingers through Cam’s bob haircut to cup the back of her head and give her a hard kiss, placating her.

Then when Fallon regards me expectantly, I press my lips to her forehead, saying, “Stay with Cam. I won’t be long.”

Appeased, she and Cam join the happy couple on the dance floor.

As soon they’re out of hearing distance, Adriano tells Logan and me, “Everyone in the office in fifteen minutes.”

Logan and I nod and when Adriano saunters to the bar, we disperse so that our wives won’t notice all of us going upstairs.

“I’ll let Henry know,” Logan comments, following Fallon to the bride and groom where he catches Henry’s eyes and mouths office, and Henry dips his chin in acknowledgement.

Since Logan and Henry are going up first, Adriano and I remain downstairs to mingle, and as I pass Carmine, I inform him, “The office. Ten minutes. I’ll come last.”

“Okay,” he replies while holding his newborn son, Brandon.

I make another round before climbing up the staircase and crossing the balconied floor while I study Fallon talking to Cam below.

Sometimes I omit details for my wife’s protection, and I always keep as much of my business as possible away from her. To lie or not lie – that’s still what it comes down to with us. Ultimately, Fallon and I aren’t a typical couple. Our relationship is anything but ordinary, but she accepts all of me. And even though she grew up as a normal civilian, she’s learned to deal with our way of living. To an extent. Above all, she’s my solace in the midst of a cold-blooded existence.

When I enter the elegant white-painted office, everyone’s already arrived, so I shut the door behind me as Adriano closes the black floor-to-ceiling curtains in front of the arched windows and Carmine switches on one of the two giant chrome floor lamps that are located in opposite corners of the room.

Then Adriano turns around to the portable baby bed and smiles, bending down to pick up Noah as he says, “Are you awake, little buddy?” And he glances at Henry. “You could’ve stayed with my sister.”

“It’s okay. She’s preoccupied with the gifts,” he returns and sinks down into the padded chair in front of Adriano’s desk, loosening his bow tie and looking quite happy since he just married Adriano’s sister, Mary, who he’s loved for a long time.

Logan and Carmine stand next to Adriano as he claims his chair behind his black glass desk, holding Noah against his chest, making him seem so small. Noah’s completely comfortable with his godfather, who’s been my best friend since we were seventeen. And now, at thirty-three, I’m the underboss of his organization, the Chicagoan Cosa Nostra, the mafia, which we both joined in our early twenties. Although none of us are blood related except for Adriano and Carmine, this is my true family, and I’d do anything to protect them without an ounce of remorse.

Together, we form the five highest ranks of the Chicago Syndicate – Adriano is the boss, I’m his underboss, Logan is head captain, Carmine acts as Consigliere/counselor, and Henry is our hacker. The Syndicate rules the import and distribution of the purest heroin and cocaine in the state of Illinois, and we have a legion of captains who take care of the actual drug dealings in and around Chicago. We also have powerful associates in high places ranging from local law enforcement to the federal government and everything in between.

One of the most important aspects of our Syndicate life is to uphold the façade of being a contributing member of society. None of the high ranking men have a criminal record; once you have a criminal record, you can never be anything more than a soldier in the Syndicate. And soldiers are never seen in public with made men.

Our center of operations is here at Club 7, which is a successful dance and sex club in the Chicago Loop that’s open daily. We use it as a front to launder money and to make us appear to be law abiding entrepreneurs, and the secret underground sex club is where a portion of the drugs are sold. But the sex club isn’t a venture we want to keep.

“We need to talk about the underground club,” Adriano informs us, rubbing Noah’s back. “We’ve had five incidents with coked-up guests within the last few weeks, according to the manager, Tez. It’s too risky to keep drugs here for our customers’ sex parties, and it’s becoming too much of a hassle to require these influential men to come to the underground club via the back entrance when the dance club is flourishing. We no longer need to ply any customers, even important politicians; let them get their sex elsewhere. The dance club makes us enough profit to launder our money. Therefore, Luca and I have decided to close down the sex club. But I’ll need to know how to go about it.”

The problem is that none of us have ever actually been involved with the sex club. It’s just a minor portion of our organization and is run by a manager, and because of that, we never go down there.

When everyone remains silent, Adriano says in a feigned mocking tone, “I’m actually asking you.”

Logan and Henry smirk as our counselor, Carmine, who’s Adriano’s brother and a younger version of him with dark brown eyes and hair that curls over his ears, relays, “Well, regarding our finances, it depends on what you want to do with the underground area?”

“I was thinking about remodeling Club 7 this year and moving the dance club down there to turn the first floor into an upscale restaurant.”

“Then it’s easy. We’ll invest in our club because relocating the dance floor to the underground will mean breaking through walls and opening up all the rooms to give us the same space down there as up here, just with a slightly lower ceiling. The underground is already soundproofed, so that’s great. Shutting down the sex club would only be a matter of logistics for us, and Logan can tell the captains to take the cargo from the docks to the warehouse up north from now on instead of bringing it here. The only issues that may arise involve the customers and the girls. However, I don’t think we’ll have a lasting problem with the customers because once they realize we have leverage to blackmail them, they’ll accept the change, especially knowing they can still purchase our drugs from a captain. So that leaves us with the escorts working there; what are you going to do with them?”

“Fire them?”

“And you think they’ll accept it?” Logan puts in, resting his ankle over his knee. “They’re going to want a substantial severance package in return for their silence if you shut down the club. When did you want to close it?”

“As soon as we can.”

“And what are you going to do with the manager?” Henry inquires.

“Tez knows too much of our inside business – we need to keep him with us,” I answer just as Noah stirs against Adriano’s chest while he holds his behind. “We’ll find him a position within the dance club and keep buying his loyalty with a generous salary.”

Henry mulls it over, raking a hand through his thick black hair. “Okay. Then I don’t need to do anything. We didn’t keep any records for the sex club, so there’s nothing for me to wipe. I’ll make sure to store all the security footage we have of the politicians and higher-ups in case we need it to extort anyone.”

“Perfect.” Adriano shifts in his seat.

“Do you still need me now?” Henry asks.

“No, you can go to your bride,” Adriano dismisses him, and Henry gets up and moves to the door, but as he opens it, a guard comes barging through.

“We have a few unwelcome guests who got in. Sex club members.”

Adriano’s lips thin before he stands up and calmly places Noah in the baby bed. Then he turns back and yanks open his desk drawer, where we’ve stashed our guns for just tonight – ordinarily, we’re always armed – and he tosses my Smith & Wesson to me, which I catch in the air as I leap up.

Adriano orders the guard, “Stay with the twins!” Taking out his own revolver, he unloads the ammo and flings it away before clicking a new one into it, tucking the weapon in the back of his waistband, and I mirror the action as we all stride out.

As we tail Adriano toward the stairs, he barks, fuming, “I’m done with these goddamn men. Our wives and kids are here!”

“Adriano,” I warn, because this is his sister’s wedding. “Calma.” Calm down.

He looks back over his shoulder and gestures to Henry and Logan, commanding, “Make sure Mary doesn’t find out that something’s going on, and get Cam, Fallon, Rosalia, and Eva. Now!”

But as we reach the bottom of the staircase, Cam meets us with Amalia propped on her hip.

“Hey, where did everyone go?”

“What do you mean?” Adriano answers as I ask, “Where’s Fallon?”

She frowns at us. “I don’t know. Mary and I haven’t seen Fallon in a while.”

“How can that be?” I scan the room for my wife, not spotting her yet not seeing any unusual activity or uninvited guests either.

Hurriedly, Adriano instructs Cam, “Go to my office and stay there with the guard.”

“Okay. Is something wrong?”

“Yes. We have intruders.”

She runs up the steps as I march toward the guard at the door that leads to the back entrance of the club.

“Have you seen Fallon?”

“No sir,” he replies, and I grind my teeth while a sense of foreboding blisters inside.

Becoming a parent might make others softer, but a Syndicate man becomes more controlling and possessive. The thought of anything ever happening to Fallon or my twins fills me with unadulterated rage, yet it’s a significant threat that continuously surrounds my life.

“Then find her!” I demand, bursting through the door and checking the hall that has Andy Warhol pop art posters hanging on it, before tramping to the elevator at the end of it that travels up to Adriano’s office and down to the underground.

Having no other choice, I rush inside and press the button to ride downstairs where it opens into a long corridor that forks in two directions at the far end. As I get out of the elevator, I could swear I hear a noise, but the entire club is closed tonight, so I shout, “Fallon? Are you here?”

I reach around back to grab my gun, holding it up in one hand, and as I sneak forward and pass the private rooms, I push open the doors with the tip of the barrel, finding all of them empty. After rounding the corner, I slow my pace, but it’s dead quiet as I toss open the door of the last room, which is also vacant.

Fuck!

Quickly, I return upstairs, and when the elevator slides open, the guard is coming toward me from the dimness further down the corridor.

“Sir...” he starts yet hesitates, aggravating me. “Um. Mrs. DeMiliano...”

A stone sinks in my stomach. “Spit it out!” I command, gripping his lapels and slamming him against the wall when my control snaps and I must know my wife’s whereabouts.