The warm, humid air clings to my skin as I walk down the street in a short cocktail dress. I take Johnny’s hand, forcing him to slow down and walk by my side. The night hums with the slight buzz of packed bars and happy voices. We pass by a closed restaurant and he grins at me before pulling me behind a privacy screen of the outdoor seating.

“What are you—?”

The backs of my legs hit the wooden bench next to the folded-up chairs, and he climbs on top of me, silencing me with his lips pressed against mine.

Damn it—it’s instant heat between us. Or at least, I feel it burning my chest. The heat is right above my heart, which flies like a bird.

He pulls back with that crazy, animalistic look in his eyes and bends swiftly to kiss the swell of my breasts—and bite.

“Johnny!”

A growl rumbles in his throat and then he sucks in air, straightening from me. He pulls me to my feet effortlessly, and I bump into his chest. Then he reaches a hand under my dress and gives my ass a squeeze.

Jesus Christ.

“You look hot.”

His voice creeps inside me as his hand lingers on my ass.

“Tonight’s for going out.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He promised he would take me out so we could get to know each other a little better before our engagement party, although I doubt he really gives a shit about getting to know the finer details of who I really am. Still, I can’t be mad with him. He’s making an effort.

My insides simmer as we walk down the street, hand in hand. According to Johnny, my father’s people would snatch me the moment I strayed from his presence. I know they’re here, watching me, but I don’t really mind. I’m desperate for news about my mom, and Chuck.

I follow Johnny without really seeing where I’m going, full of doubt. Weeks ago I was following my dreams. The classes for beauty school started a week ago, and it’s hard not to feel a pang for what I’ve lost.

Now I’m just a pregnant mob fiancée destined to become the don’s wife.

Johnny stops walking and I nearly crash into him. I look at the tiny hole in the wall. Napoletana.

“This is one of my favorite places.”

I’m skeptical as he leads me inside, eyeing the amateurish painted mural on the wall and the plastic green-checkered covered tables.

“How’d you find this place?”

“My father took me here all the time.”

We squeeze through the narrow entrance and Johnny heads toward an open table in the side room where it’s a little quieter. He pulls back the chair for me and I sit down. Then he circles the table and sits across from me. A passing waiter notices him immediately.

“Bonsoir, Monsieur Cravotta.”

He gives him a little nod of his head and the waiter returns with two menus and a bottle of wine. The waiter pours just a small amount of wine and Johnny tastes it, nodding in approval. Johnny looks at me across the table and smiles as the waiter pours him a full glass. When he goes to fill mine, Johnny makes a stopping motion with his hand.

“She can’t drink.”

That’s right. Shit.

My hand unconsciously curls around my stomach. “I keep forgetting that I’m pregnant.”

“I haven’t.”

He surveys me across the table, the low visibility obscuring half of his face in shadows. Then the waiter lights one of the candles and softness flickers over his tanned skin.

“Are you—are you scared of becoming a father?”

I know I don’t feel ready to become a parent. Johnny mulls it over with a slight smile and shakes his head.

“No. I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

It just doesn’t compute. Why would a sex-crazed mobster want anything to do with kids? Why have anything get in the way of fucking as many women as he wants and going out all night?

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” he says, shrugging. “I guess I just didn’t feel like a whole man. There was something missing—a void.”

His black eyes blaze with restless hunger as I curl my hands over the table. I can’t identify with that. I was just trying to have fun, to get out a little bit, not sign up for a lifetime of domestic bliss.

“But you don’t even know me. I might be a terrible mom.”

He shakes his head, smiling.

“I might smoke and drink while I’m pregnant—beat the kid or something.”

“I don’t get the crazy vibe from you.”

I don’t get any kind of vibe from you.

“What makes you think that a baby is going to fill this void of yours?”

The intensity in his eyes drops to a low simmer. “I didn’t know how badly I wanted a family until your dad threatened to take it away from me.”

A small thrill runs through me when I feel the protectiveness of his words, but it’s not just that. He wants a family—he wants to possess me.

“I know it doesn’t make sense. I can’t explain it.”

I never thought I would keep a baby from a one-night stand, but here we are. I don’t know why, but I trust him. He’ll take care of me and the baby. He’s a fucking Italian, for fuck’s sake. It’s practically encoded in their DNA.

“All I know is that I just need to protect what’s mine.”

My heart jumps in my chest. “You’re mine, too.”

A small smile curls his lips as he slides his hand down the table and takes my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. “Yes.”

“I mean it, Johnny.”

“I don’t plan on getting another wife.”

“You know what I mean. No fucking strippers, cocktail waitresses—I’m the only one who gets to touch your dick.”

A smirk staggers across his face. “I find the fact you think that I chase hired pussy insulting—”

“I saw you staring at that cocktail waitress’ ass the second time we met.”

His smirk refuses to disappear and my insides boil with heat as he leans across the table, his hand stroking my knee underneath. “You’re already fucking jealous, huh?”

It’s not exactly jealousy, but I can’t deny that I’m worried. He has a crazy sex drive, and what’ll happen when I’m huge and there are hot waitresses and strippers strutting around him all day at work?

“You don’t need to be jealous, Maya.”

“My stomach is going to swell and I’m going to get fat—”

It feels ridiculous to admit these stupid, insecure fears of mine as he inches his hand up my thigh.

“You’ll be sexy.”

His dark eyes seem to glow at me from across the table, and I can tell that he means it. Maybe he’s even looking forward to it. It brings a smile to my face.

“My child is inside you, and you’re wearing my ring. Why would I want someone else, when I have you all to myself? All I want to do is fuck you until my cock stops working.”

Greedy fingers squeeze my thigh and a sudden flare shoots between my legs, sending heat to my face. No one’s ever looked at me the way he does. He makes me feel like a prize. It’s the way his eyes linger on every inch of my skin, and the way he strokes my body after he fucks me, as though he still wants me. I’m addicted to that. The more I look into his eyes, the more I just want to call this whole dinner off and go home.

“Have you thought about names?”

“A little bit,” he admits. “I like Matteo, for a boy.”

Thinking of the baby sends my heart racing.

“I worried about becoming a mom.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“I have no one to look up to. You don’t understand what it was like growing up in that place.”

“That’s exactly why you’ll be a great mom. You survived that shit-hole.”

Confidence blazes from him, but I can’t help the trembling of my hand. I wish I could be that sure of myself. I only know what I know.

“You’ve been there?”

“Many times.” He clasps his hands on the table. “Bikers have no fucking class, no offense.”

He’s right, but it’s a little rich to hear him say that.

“Your opening line to me was, ‘I want to fuck you.’”

White teeth flash at me as he lets out a short laugh and shrugs apologetically. “I was just getting to the point, sweetheart.”

“Nothing gets to a girl’s heart faster.”

The corners of his lips turn. “You didn’t seem to mind any of the filthy shit I said to you.”

“Well—”

“You definitely didn’t mind that filthy shit when I did them to you.”

Cocky bastard.

“If you’ve been to the fortress, then you know what it’s like there.”

“I guess.”

I lean in across the table. “I don’t want our kid to be surrounded by violence.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

My voice lowers to a whisper. “But your job—”

“Unlike your father, we don’t involve our women and kids in the family business.” He slides his hand along my arm. “I don’t bring my work home.”

My eyes search him, the handsome, dark suit, his hair neatly swept, the deep, earnest eyes. He’s not lying. How could that be possible?

“Sounds too good to be true.”

The smirk lifts to his eyes. “It probably does after living in that place for so long. It may come as a surprise to you after hearing your father’s bullshit, but we respect our families.”

His hand slides away from me as I slowly digest that. It sounds like a fantasyland.

“What’s your family like?”

He makes a face at the question, quickly hiding his discomfort under a smile. “Can’t complain.”

The guy can’t stand talking about himself, can he?

“Was your dad like you?”

At the mention of his dad, Johnny compulsively grabs his wineglass. “He was in the life, yeah.”

I’m startled by the grittiness in his voice. “What was he like?”

His eyes cut into me as every trace of warmth recedes from his body. I feel it like a wave of frost curling around my limbs. He gives me a look as though it’s none of my fucking business.

“I’m just trying to get to know you.”

“You don’t need to know anything about my dad for that.”

He looks like he might snap the stem of his wineglass. Fine, I’ll drop it. It’s not worth him getting pissed off, but he changes tack with lightning speed.

“What did you want to do before you met me?”

A sagging feeling makes me slump over the table. The hair salon. Beauty school. Both dreams, crushed. I can’t stand to talk about it now.

“It’s stupid.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Come on.”

Fine.

“I wanted to go to beauty school, and I worked at the café because I was going to save up money to move out and work at a hair salon. Maybe have my own business, one day.”

It was a stupid, modest dream, but it was mine.

There. Go on. Laugh at me.

But he doesn’t laugh. “That’s not stupid. Lots of my guys’ wives work in hair salons. Who gives a fuck?”

Seeing him shrug it off lightens a huge weight sitting on my chest.

“My dad said it was a waste of money. He wanted me to stay in the compound, date a biker, and watch everyone’s kids. Anyway, he made me quit my job and refused to pay for the school.” I shrug hopelessly. “And now I’m here.”

And now I’m depressed.

“What was it about it that you liked so much?”

I stare at the small hole in the plastic tablecloth, avoiding his gaze because I don’t want to see how sorry he feels for me.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I was supposed to go to college, and then that fell through because my dad thought it was a waste of time, so I shouldn’t be surprised that he thought beauty school was a waste of time, too.”

He frowns at me as the waiter drops a deep-red pizza in front of us, the cooked tomato aroma hitting my stomach immediately. Shit, that smells delicious.

“My father said the same thing to me.”

“What?”

“He never really gave a shit about education. He just wanted me to start working for him. You know, help provide for the family.”

We’re quiet for a moment as he cuts a slice for me and slides the wedge onto my plate. He cuts one for himself, slicing into the plate with a knife so loudly that the ceramic shrieks and I wince.

I guess he still hates his dad.

He picks up a knife and fork, cutting into the slice.

“You seriously eat pizza with a knife and fork?”

He looks at me, his utensils raised. “What?”

I sputter with laughter as he gives me a serious look. “I never took you as a prissy guy.”

“I get my hands dirty all the damn time.”

Then he winks at me and my heart squeezes.

“So pussy juice is okay but tomato sauce isn’t?”

“Don’t talk like that here—”

“I seem to remember you laying on filthy lines at me at that sausage place.”

“That was different. People know me here for being—”

“—For eating your pizza with a knife and fork.”

“Come on.”

“I promise you that they gossip about it.”

He drops the knife and fork and grabs the slice with his hands, tearing off a piece with his mouth as he stares at me, chewing. “Are you done breaking my balls?”

“Why? It’s so much fun.”

Hell, I’m actually smiling for the first time in days. We eat the rest of the meal in comfortable silence and I feel as though a little weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I still don’t know much about him, but I learned a few bits. At least he has a sense of humor.

“Mr. Cravotta, thank you so much for coming. I hope you have a pleasant evening.”

Johnny gives the waiter a genial smile as he stands up, slapping a bunch of bills on the table.

“Do you ever get tired of people sucking up to you?”

He lets out a long sigh as he guides me out of the restaurant. “Why do you always say whatever’s in your head?”

I slip my hand into his as we walk down the street, and a smile pulls at his lips.

“Do you want me to be a sycophant like everyone else?”

“No.” He stops in the middle of the sidewalk and tugs my arm so that I fly into his chest, and then he looks down at me through smoldering eyes. “I want you to shut up and kiss me.”

The moment I feel his breath on my lips, I lean forward because I’m tall enough in these heels to catch his lips. Something more than desire heats up inside me as he curves his arm around my waist and kisses me back right in the middle of the sidewalk. It feels as though there’s something leaping inside my stomach and a breathless wave of happiness hits me as he pulls back and smiles.

* * *

“It’s so nice to meet you!”

A woman I’ve never seen before in my life embraces me and bumps her cheek against mine. I get a strong whiff of perfume and for a moment I’m dizzied by the smell. She looks like a richly decorated tree with her golden bracelets and necklace. All I have is my gaudy engagement ring that still needs to get sized. Her manicured nails seize my hand as she catches a glimpse of it.

“Oh my God, it’s gorgeous! You must be so excited!”

“Uh—yeah.”

I’m practically bursting with excitement.

“Have you set a date?”

I resist the urge to glance at Johnny. “Not yet.”

“Well, I can’t wait. Lovely to meet you!”

My head spins as the next person sidles into view, her teeth nearly cracking from her fake smile. “It’s such an honor.”

An honor? I’m only here because we didn’t use a condom.

“Thanks for coming.”

Then the next one comes along, and the next. They treat me as though I’m a goddamn queen, but I’m just waiting for my dad to show up and cause a huge scene. I stand at Johnny’s side like a prop as a line of guests greet him one by one, sucking up to the don.

“Hey, there he is!”

Here we go again. Another one.

One of his captains wraps his arms around Johnny and gives him a kiss on both cheeks.

“Congratulations, Johnny,” he says, giving me an admiring look. “You’re a lucky guy.”

“Thanks,” he says, beaming.

“So what’s the plan after this? You’re going to get married right away?”

“That’s what I’d like, but I’d prefer to get her old man’s approval.”

Never going to happen.

“Isn’t he here?”

“Not yet.”

He turns his head, looking at the small group of people, and then I recognize him as François, the man who hit on me in the bar right before Johnny cock-blocked him. François shrugs and turns back toward his boss.

“Do we have time to talk a little business?”

“What do you have for me?”

François bends his head, his grin splitting his face into two. “Really fucking good news. We’ve got the keys. We’re going to be fuckin’ rich.”

The boss’ face remains impassive at the news. “Good.”

“We got one of the girls to fuck him upstairs while Tommy and I took his keys and made a copy. He won’t have any idea.”

“Keep your fucking voice down.”

What the hell are they talking about?

“Right, this isn’t the time.”

Whatever it is, it’s got my fiancé on edge. I don’t know much about his work, other than what everyone else already knows: construction scams, extortion, the ubiquitous money-laundering Salerno cheese, etc.

“No sign of my future in-laws so far.”

He should be glad they aren’t here.

It’s a peaceful, quiet party. Pristine white dishes sit on the rustic tables, the waiters slowly gathering them as I sit in one of the wooden chairs of the outdoor garden of Le Zinc. I’m possessed by a sleepy lull brought on by a full stomach, and darkness slowly descends over the party. Soft lights in the trees illuminate the tables.

A tall man with rugged good looks walks into the courtyard, a baby in his arms. Johnny’s small circle breaks to greet him, “Tony!” A small woman, who I’m assuming is Tony’s wife, gives Johnny a scathing look and heads for my table, ignoring him completely. She looks unhappy to be here.

She’s my new favorite person.

The men crowd around the baby, and a huge grin lights up Johnny’s face when it reaches out and grabs his finger.

“She has a strong grip.”

Smiling, I turn back to the woman, who watches her baby anxiously. She notices me and smiles reluctantly.

“Hi, sorry, I’m Elena.”

“I’m Maya.”

We shake hands and she falls back into her chair, looking at me curiously.

“I’m the one who got knocked up.”

“O—oh!”

My face heats up. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

Elena’s anxious face breaks into a smile. “No, it’s okay. Are you—ah—excited?”

Everyone keeps asking that, and I don’t know how to feign excitement. I am nervous about it, but everyone expects me to scream about how lucky I am to marry Johnny Cravotta, the boss of the family. The king of Montreal.

“I don’t know.”

Elena’s voice lowers so that I can barely hear her. “You don’t have to marry him.”

Well, that’s a first.

My skin crawls and I look around for Johnny, but he’s still playing with the baby. No one is within earshot.

“I don’t have much of a choice,” I say in an undertone.

But I find it bothers me less than it did a couple weeks ago. He’s not a horrible man. I’ll be treated well, far better than any of the guys in the MC would have treated me. It’s just not every girl’s dream, you know? Marrying the guy who knocks you up—who dreams about that?

“You don’t have to be with him if you don’t want to.”

I look at her, wondering who this woman is and why she has the courage to say such things to me. Johnny would go nuts if he knew one of the guests at his engagement party was trying to convince me not to marry him.

“Maya, I know you don’t know me, but you don’t know him.”

“You do?”

She drags her arms across the table and raps on the wood with her fingers, debating whether to tell me or not.

“My husband used to work for Johnny. He almost got both of us killed. He’s a self-righteous, arrogant, cold bas—person,” she amends quickly, turning a brief shade of red.

Cold bastard. Even I’ve called him that.

My heart rattles against my chest, and my gaze flickers toward him. “He’s been okay to me so far.”

Her deep-brown eyes bore into mine. “You barely know him.”

“Yeah, but—”

“You have to get out of this Mafia shit. It won’t end well for you or your baby.”

My heart thuds against my chest. I don’t want to hear this kind of crap—not now, when I’m already in too deep.

“Ladies, having fun?”

The scream catches in my throat as Johnny’s voice cuts through the tension. He leans with one hand on the table, clutching the edge as his eyes smolder with an indeterminate amount of cool rage.

“We’re fine,” Elena says, standing up without speaking to him and walking back to her husband.

Johnny watches her leave. “Bitch.”

What just fucking happened?

The bench creaks as Johnny sits down beside me and lays his hand on my leg. “What did she say to you?”

I don’t know why I’m so unnerved by that woman, who is already hanging by her husband’s side.

“She doesn’t like you very much.”

He sneers in her direction and gives her a little wave. Elena tugs her husband’s arm, giving him a frightened glance.

Jesus.

“What the fuck is that all about?”

Johnny gives my concern a dismissive gesture.

“She’s just trying to start trouble because she hates me.”

“Why does she hate you?”

“I made a mistake and put her husband’s life at risk. It’s a long story.”

Well, that explains her hostility, but it still doesn’t explain why she was practically begging me to get away from him.

His eyes follow the direction of my gaze. “She’s not the first person you’ll come across who won’t care for me.”

“Well, Jesus.”

“People don’t like the man in charge. You should know that better than anyone.”

My mouth twists. “I don’t like him because he’s a bastard, not because he’s in charge.”

He looks around the small courtyard, at the men milling with drinks in their hands and guns strapped to their waists. “I don’t care if they don’t like me. They just need to respect me.”

“What about me?”

A heart-stopping smirk reappears at his mouth and he grabs my chin between his fingers. “You like me.”

“Yeah, but what if I didn’t?”

His head turns suddenly so that he whispers right into my ear. “I can live with you hating me so long as I have your pussy available to me whenever I want.”

A violent shudder runs through my body when his lips kiss the shell of my ear.

“Carlos!”

“Get out of my way, asshole.”

Oh shit.

The blood drains from my upper limbs as Johnny pulls away from me, his head perking up with the air of a hound scenting a rabbit. A small group stands at the entrance of the courtyard, their dirty leather cuts at odds with everyone else. I recognize Tanner and Blaze standing next to my dad, who pushes aside an older woman with raven-black hair—Mom!

They’re actually here.

Oh God, this is about to get ugly.

Through his grizzled mane of hair, he spots me sitting down at the table, Johnny at my side. Hair swinging wildly, my dad walks across the courtyard, making a beeline straight toward me.

François heads off my dad before he can take a couple steps, placing both palms on his chest as the rest of Johnny’s men frisk my dad’s entourage. They back away, finding nothing, and Johnny slowly rises to his feet.

“Stay here, Maya.”

My legs lock together as he walks away to meet Dad, but I just can’t get over this impending sense of doom. Shit is going to get bad, really fast.

It takes seconds for me to jog up to Johnny’s side, and he gives me a stern look that I ignore. Whatever. He doesn’t know how to handle my dad. I do.

“Carlos, I’m glad you could come.”

Dad looks as though he hasn’t shaved in about a week and his eyes have a permanent red tinge. My ball-busting mom stands behind him, looking wrecked. Her hair’s a mess and her makeup is half made up, as though she forgot about it halfway through applying her mascara. Her pale lips tremble when she sees me, and suddenly I can’t hold back the dam.

What has he fucking done to her?

“Maya!”

Suddenly what I want most in the world right now is just to feel Mom’s arms around me. Am I fucking crying? I take a step toward her, but a cold, clammy grip holds me in place. Johnny’s hand curls around my elbow, his face grim.

“Let me go!”

“I need to talk to my daughter alone.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

Johnny speaks in a polite tone, but Dad reacts by spitting on the ground, dangerously close to Johnny’s feet.

“I don’t take orders from you anymore, John.”

“Our business arrangement still stands.”

“You fucked over our alliance when you decided to stick your dick in my daughter.”

A small crowd gathered nearby erupts into scandalized gasps, and Johnny glares at me, jerking his head.

No, I’m not fucking leaving!

Johnny steps in Dad’s space, their faces inches from each other as rage ripples off my father’s body. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

“I told you, I don’t take orders from pieces of shit like you.”

Jesus Christ.

“I let you run your fucking mouth at that meeting—I won’t let you do it here at my fucking engagement party.”

In slow motion, I watch as Dad lifts his hands and shoves the boss’ chest. Johnny stumbles back, which seems to be just what his soldiers were waiting for.

Everyone knows that you don’t get physical with the boss. You don’t touch him.

They draw their guns, and Mom and Dad are right in the line of fire.

“Do you have a fucking death wish?” one of them screams.

“STOP! That’s my mom!”

I shove one of them aside and sprint into the thick of that circle, ignoring Johnny’s outrage. “Maya!”

She wraps her arms around me, and I squeeze her middle, breathing in the smell of her clothes—smoke and gunpowder. God, I missed her.

“Back off!”

Over my mom’s shoulder, I watch as they lower their guns. Blood pounds through the veins in my head. I hear the roar almost drowning out Johnny’s voice.

“Let’s go somewhere private to talk.”

Johnny motions with his head and two of his soldiers follow Dad as I trail behind with Mom. We walk inside the empty restaurant and Johnny sits behind his usual table. It’s pleasantly cool inside, but dark. Mom sits beside me.

“Are you okay, baby?”

“I-I’m fine. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

God, having her here makes me realize that there are a lot of people back home who I care about.

“What happened to Chuck? Is he all right?”

Mom’s eyes lower and she gives me an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Then I feel a gaping void in my chest. That poor man was just about the only decent guy in that place. The only fucking man who stood up for me is dead.

Suddenly I hate everything about my father, from his grizzled face all the way down to his shitty, steel-toed boots. All he ever did was wear me down and make me feel less than human, and now he’s a murderer.

“You killed him.”

Johnny’s hand finds my knee under the table and squeezes it. Shut up.

I won’t shut up.

“He never did anything wrong, how could you?”

His voice explodes as his fist smashes into the table. “How could you let one of them touch you?”

“I wanted him, and he wanted me. It’s that simple.”

“They’re the enemy.” He points his finger at Johnny’s face. “This guy doesn’t give a shit about you. The moment you have his kid, he’ll throw you aside like garbage.”

Blaze puts his hand on Dad’s shoulder as Tanner winces at his comments.

God, even they think he’s fucking nuts.

“I’m going to ask you to shut the fuck up one last time, and if another insult comes out of your fucking mouth, I’ll cut your fucking hand off.” Johnny squeezes me so hard that I can’t feel my circulation. “Put your anger behind you.”

My father’s face turns a nasty shade of puce. “You destroyed my only child.”

Johnny releases my hand and folds his arms, looking indifferent, but I can see the vein pulsing in his neck. He’s a lit fuse, about to explode.

“You insulted the club by seducing my daughter and getting her pregnant, but I’m willing to let things slide if you meet my terms.”

Oh Jesus.

“Which are?”

“We want a thirty-percent reduction on your wholesale prices, and we want to regain our territory.”

Johnny’s teeth look like they’re about to crack. “And?”

“And my daughter gets an abortion—immediately.”

The air stills as my father’s voice rings across the restaurant. I don’t dare look at Johnny’s face, but Mom clenches my fingers in my lap. I don’t dare breathe.

“I will kill you if you suggest that again.”

“Johnny!”

I’ve never seen him like this. It’s scary. His lips are white and shaking, like a wolf curling its lips over its fangs.

“She is mine. Our child is mine. I will not let anyone come between us.”

“Then we’re going to have a problem.”

Flecks of spit fly from Johnny’s mouth as he yells across the table. “You’re the one with the fucking problem. I want the Devils and the family to continue our business arrangement. We’re running a fucking business, not a pissing contest.”

“You fucking Italians think you can do whatever the hell you want—”

“Dad!”

He leans over the table, staring at Johnny’s whitened face. “Go ahead, fuck my daughter. Do whatever the hell you want with her. Salute. Is that what you want me to say?”

“Carlos, shut up!” Mom tries to grab his arm, but he rips it out of her reach.

“You fucking animals nearly tore us apart in the ’90s—”

“Without the support of the family, you wouldn’t even be president. I own you and your fucking club.”

“Not anymore! We’re fucking done taking orders from—!”

“From what?” Johnny stands up, his screams stabbing my ears as one of his soldiers holds him back. “From what, you fucking coward? Say it!”

Horrified, I glance at my father, who remains tight lipped. He can’t—he’ll be killed for sure. Beside me, my mother moans. “Please, don’t!”

“Say it so I can blow your fucking head off, right here. Right now.”

“If you do, you’re dumber than your father.”

Johnny’s arm moves and then two deafening shots explode in my ears. Something wet showers over my face and I look at a fine sprinkling of little red drops, all over my hand. Tanner and Blaze crash over the table, blood spilling from their heads like two cracked eggshells.

“Oh my God!”

Mom screams as we both stand from the table as blood creeps over the wood. My heart seizes in my chest as I watch Johnny calmly stand up, the silence ringing in my ears as he grabs the scruff of Blaze’s shirt and yanks him from the chair. His body makes a meaty slapping sound as it hits the tiles, and then I see the back of his head, blown open and black, with chunks of pink in his hair. His brains are all over the floor.

The color faintly reminds me of the charcuterie we had as an appetizer, and the rich meal I ate suddenly rises in my throat. I turn away from the carnage and slap my hands over my mouth, swallowing it down.

Johnny sits on the chair vacated by Blaze, his suit ruined, and aims his gun right into my father’s stunned face.

“Johnny, what are you doing?” One of his older men speaks up behind him.

“Getting rid of this asshole.”

“NO!” The scream rips from my mother’s throat and Johnny’s head turns toward us as if sensing our presence for the first time.

“Get them out of here!”

“DON’T KILL MY HUSBAND! NO!”

They grab my arms, and I’m still shaking when I’m outside. Mom fights tooth and nail, screaming.

“Mom!”

“He’s going to kill him!”

I know that. It sinks into my head as she grabs both of my shoulders and shakes me.

“Do something!”

Why should I?

A second later I feel sickened with myself. It’s not enough that my mom obviously would be devastated if he died?

“He’s your father.”

I search within myself for a scrap of pity for him. He shot at me. Killed Chuck. He ground my nose against the dirt to the point of desperation.

“He’s all I have!”

Even she would be better off without him.

Mom’s face falls, and then she goes in for the attack. “What about the people at the club? Don’t you care? This is going to start a war. People will die! Your cousins will get hurt.”

I think about Beatrice and her long blonde hair. Doing her highlights every couple months, talking about guys, convincing her to come with me to a connected bar. There were small rays of sunshine in the fortress, and she was one of them.

I can’t just abandon them.

Do nothing, and you might as well pull the trigger yourself.

“Get out of my way.”

I shove at the two men guarding the restaurant’s entrance, but there are multiple entrances. I run down its side and they take off after me. My shoulder slams into another door and I stumble through the kitchens, where Johnny looks at me as though through a mask of blood. My dad kneels on the tiles, staring straight at Johnny. I realize they moved him to the kitchens because it would be easier to clean the blood from the floor.

“Don’t kill him!”

A chill descends over me as Johnny’s handsome face turns toward me, his eyes detached. They’re endless, black tunnels. Nothing. Jesus, there’s nothing there.

“He needs to go.”

“Johnny, please.”

“This was never going to work out.”

The harsh sound of Mom’s voice grates in my ears. “Maya, stop him! Oh God!”

“He’s the president. You’re going to start a war.”

I scream his name, but it’s like yelling at a brick wall. His men grab my shoulders and rip me backward, and my heels connect with someone’s shin.

“Fucking bitch!”

Johnny gives his soldier a deadly look and eyes me with the same deadened expression. “It’s too late now.”

Blood runs from my dad’s nose, which looks broken. “Pull the trigger, you son of a bitch. Watch what happens.”

Johnny digs the muzzle in my father’s skull. “What’ll happen is this bullet will go right through your fucking head!”

“No!”

I shove his arm away and he grabs me, rage contorting his features as he attempts to shove me out of the way. His face tightens under my fingers as I grab him.

“Please, Johnny.”

“Why? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill him.”

I search for reasons inside me, anything that might spare my drunken asshole of a father for the sake of my mother’s tears. I just know deep down that killing him will make things worse.

“Two dead bikers is bad enough, but their president? You’ll have to kill every last one of them.”

“Then that’s what’ll happen.”

“He deserves a chance—”

The restaurant echoes with his hollow laughter. “You don’t know me very well. I don’t give second chances.”

He smiles against my hand, and it’s his smile that makes my throat tighten and tears slide down my cheek.

“Give him one. For me.”

Then slowly, little by little, he lowers the gun from my dad’s head, his haunted eyes never leaving me.

* * *

From here on out, we’re done. You stray from your territory, I’ll kill you. You make an attempt to contact my fiancée, I’ll kill you. You so much as suggest to her that she should get an abortion, and I’ll take my time pulling you apart, limb from limb.

The sodden rag I’m holding drops into the dirty dishwater.

Pink mist.

Like the suds of this dishwater, except blood red, flying through the air in fine water droplets.

He just killed them. Two men from the MC. Foul bastards, but still. They had wives. And he just blasted them as though they were nothing. He was going to do the same to my father.

My heart pounds a wicked beat as I wash the dishes.

Just keep him happy. Keep him content.

Or he’ll kill your father, and that’ll be enough to start a war between the bikers and the mob.

I don’t want anyone else killed for me. I wanted so badly to get out of there that I wasn’t prepared for how much I’d miss my mom. My cousins.

And now it’s all turned to shit. What’s going to happen when Dad goes back to the MC and tells them that the boss of the Cravotta family gunned down two of his men?

It’ll be a long, bloody war with casualties on both sides.

So how the fuck do I stop it?

I need to control him.

There’s no fucking controlling Johnny Cravotta, you idiot.

I have to try.

A key scrapes in the lock and I jump to action, washing the rest of the dishes and hurriedly putting them away.

He steps inside. I hear the hollow sound of his footsteps and a chill runs up my spine.

I’m not weak.

I barely hear my own footsteps as I walk toward him. A smooth dark-navy suit glides over his body like silk, and he glances up at me even though I’m not making a sound. I feel as though I’m balancing on a tightrope the closer I get to him. Looking at him feels hot and cold. His smile makes my skin break out in a hot flush, but his eyes clench my insides with a cold grip. I can’t look at him the same way I did before. I force myself to step closer to him. My hands tremble as though I’m trying to tiptoe past a lion. He stares at me as though I’m meat. I hook my fingers under his jacket and I pull it off his lean shoulders. His lips stun my cheek and I feel a glow burn into a sudden flare, but I turn away toward the closet.

My feelings toward him are so fucked up.

I hang his jacket in the closet, and when I turn around he’s still staring at me.

What did I do?

“What’s that I smell?”

“Oh, I made dinner.”

“Huh.”

I never make dinner, because I can’t cook for shit.

He walks into the kitchen and grasps the edge of the dining table, looking at the neatly laid silverware and dishes. A smile tugs at his mouth.

“What is all this?”

“It’s dinner.”

“I can see that,” he says, pushing off the table and stepping into my space. “You can’t cook.”

“I’ve just never tried.”

He takes a look into the sink filled with suds, the pans blackened. I should have just ordered something, for Christ’s sake. He lifts the lid off the pan on the stove and raises an eyebrow at the fish.

“Are you trying to kill me with all this black shit?”

The smirk in his voice sets me off. “I took all the black shit off. Don’t be a baby.”

A shadow crosses over Johnny’s eyes and my heart leaps. Then he threads his fingers through my hair and yanks my head back, and the two men he butchered in front of me are tugged to the forefront of my mind. I never saw so much blood in my life.

His breath hisses over my neck.

“All of this reeks of desperation.”

I am desperate.

“Johnny—”

“Stop it,” he snarls. “Stop being so fucking scared of me.”

But I am scared of him. He could end this fucking war if he wanted. Only he can ensure whether the people in the fortress live or die, my mom among them.

He reaches under my shirt with his other hand, smoothing over my back. My bra snaps against my skin as he lifts the strap. My muscles contract at the small sting.

Then his voice rolls over me, smooth as velvet. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

“You killed those men right in front of us—”

His eyes are like lead. Seductive fingers twist my strap, slowly loosening the hooks. The skin around my straps starts to tingle and a flush spreads over my chest.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, but I’m not sorry for killing them.”

All this time I never saw the darkness. I knew it was inside him somewhere, deliberately hiding out of sight. Now it’s staring at me in the face, talking to me through his remorseless tone as he removes my bra with a loud snap that makes my legs clench together.

His hands smooth over my bare back, bringing me within his intoxicating embrace. The dimples curving into his face tell me that he knows exactly how affected I am.

“You didn’t have to do it.”

“I’m the boss of the family. “

“He mentioned your father, and you went berserk.”

Johnny’s eyes blaze. “He pissed me off beyond endurance. It set me off.”

What if he does the same thing to me, someday?

His fingers slide out of my hair and the smile disappears. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re going to start a war!”

The apartment rings with my voice before I remember that I’m supposed to be playing the demure housewife role. Oops. Too late.

All smiles again, he descends on me, his hands soothing my shoulders, my face. “Is that what’s got you so worked up?”

“Of course it is.”

His voice is like honey. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’m the most powerful man in this city. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

But I can’t say the same for your family.

“You killed two of the MC’s men. If you think they’re going to sit back and just—”

Johnny takes both of my hands suddenly and walks backward with a huge smile on his face. “I got you something.”

“Got—what?”

I’m distracted by the excitement in his voice, my heart still beating fast.

“A little engagement present.”

He slips his hand inside his back pocket and removes a long, thin envelope, which he hands to me, smiling.

“You can’t just distract me with a present.”

“Open it.”

He looks so fucking pleased with himself. I stare at it for a long while. He can’t just fucking bribe me like this. 

What’s in it?

I stick my finger inside the envelope, but it’s already open. I can’t imagine how a piece of paper is going to make me happy. A folded, pink paper falls out.

It’s a letter from the Robertson Beauty Academy.

“Read it.”

“Dear Maya, on behalf of the Admissions Committee, it is my pleasure to welcome you into the Robertson Beauty Academy for the Hairdressing Program.” My voice trembles and breaks. “How did you do this?”

“Turns out, I know a guy who knows a guy whose wife works there.”

The paper shakes in my hands as I reread that sentence over and over. It’s one of the best schools in Montreal. The curriculum is better than anything I could’ve ever dreamed of.

“I can’t believe it.” Tears fall from my nose. “Why would you do something like this?”

Warmth glows from his hand, which smooths my cheek and wipes away my tears. “I want you to be happy.”

No one’s ever said that to me, even my own mother. Happiness was valued last over the MC and family.

“Why do you care?”

It’s just such an alien concept to me. I’m so used to seeing people treat their wives like crap that part of me believes this has to be a trick.

His gives me a chaste kiss on my forehead. “I want our kid to grow up in a happy home.”

He wants me to be happy.

I can’t believe he actually bought the courses for me—he remembered what I told him at the restaurant and got the classes. It’s such a sweet gesture that I have a hard time reconciling this with the man who blew away two men in front of me.

“Now you can follow your dreams.”