His Brother's Wife by Michelle Love (1)

 

HIS BROTHER’S WIFE

 

Not for the first time, Amalia Rai gazed in the mirror and wondered how the hell she had gotten here. This is the twenty-first century, right? And, yet, she, a successful classical pianist and music professor, was about to be married to a man she barely knew—and who she could barely stand.

Amalia closed her eyes. She could hardly stand to look at the sadness in her own eyes. At twenty-seven, she had accomplished so much and had thought herself free of her controlling father and all the bullshit that went on in their family. If it hadn’t been for her desperation to save her little sister’s life, she would never have agreed to this.

But her father held all the cards. He would not allow Selima to divorce her abusive husband unless Amalia agreed to marry Jackson Gallo—her father’s rival in business and the man who had nearly brought her father to his knees. When Gallo offered Gajendra Rai a lifeline—give him his eldest daughter in marriage, and he’ll give Gajendra a multimillion dollar cash –injection—Gajendra had not hesitated in going to Amalia and demanding she marry Jackson.

Amalia had turned him down flat. That she and her father were not close was an understatement. For months, she had held out, until the day Selima had called her from the emergency room of the hospital. Her husband had beaten her so badly that she could barely speak, but just sob over the phone to her sister. Amalia went to her and was horrified by her injuries and by what she had been through. Gajendra, though, refused to let Selima divorce her husband …unless Amalia married Jackson.

Desperate, Amalia agreed, and now, in a few minutes, she would take her father’s arm and walk down the aisle in the church Jackson’s family had built in their luxurious compound on the outskirts of San Francisco. A prison, not a compound, thought Amalia as she straightened the wedding dress that had cost seven times her salary. Her father had paid, of course, and although Amalia would have preferred to marry in the traditional Indian attire befitting her heritage, her father insisted that a white dress would be more suitable for the society pages.

Amalia shrugged to herself now. What did it matter? This wasn’t a real wedding and it wouldn’t be a real marriage. She had made it clear to Jackson that under no circumstances would the marriage be consummated. Jackson had laughed, and she knew he thought she was joking. He would find out tonight that she was deadly serious.

Jackson Gallo was handsome in a bland, preppy way. The youngest son of billionaire property magnate Macaulay Gallo, Jackson was often to be found in the pages of gossip magazines, romancing some of the world’s most beautiful women. When he had laid eyes on Amalia at a benefit gala where she was performing, he’d pursued her relentlessly until Amalia had grown frightened of his vehemence. She had finally thought he’d gotten the message she wasn’t interested when the call from her father came. Jackson had been victorious when Ama had agreed to marry him, but for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why he would settle on her. Yes, she was a renowned pianist and a very successful professor of music at The San Francisco Conservatory of Music. Yes, she knew she was considered a beautiful woman, with her creamy coffee-and-pink skin, bright green eyes, long, wavy, dark hair, and curvaceous body, but to society and Jackson’s world, she was completely indifferent.

A knock came at the door and her sister, dressed in a simple lilac silk sheath, came in and smiled at her. “Hey, sis … are you nearly ready? Dad’s hovering outside.”

Ama smiled at her. “Almost.” She sighed and stood. Selima came up to her and studied her.

“It’s not too late, you know. We can skip out of here and escape somewhere hot.”

Ama laughed sadly. “And live on what, Lima?”

Selima shrugged, but her eyes were sad. “I hate that you’re doing this for me.”

Ama hugged her sister. “I swear, knowing that you’ll be free of that bastard is the only good thing about this.”

Selima nodded. “Thank you, Ama. I mean it. And look, the prenup says …”

“I’m trapped for two years.” Ama tried to make a joke of it. “Trapped, but living in luxury. How many women would kill to be me right now?”

Selima’s nose wrinkled. “With that creep?” Selima had as much of a low opinion of Jackson as Amalia did. Her smile brightened. “Olivier, on the other hand …”

Olivier Gallo was Jackson’s older brother, and Ama had grown very fond of him. He was in his early forties and a workaholic, but kind and quiet. He was the only one in the family who didn’t stand for Jackson’s arrogance or posturing, and there were many times when he’d met Amalia’s gaze over the family dinner table and rolled his eyes at what Jackson was bloviating about on that particular night.

And yes, Olivier was gorgeous and tall, with dark hair and brown eyes, but there was sadness in him that Amalia didn’t understand. Macaulay had once told Amalia that Olivier had been particularly close to his mother, who had died giving birth to Jackson, who was thirteen years younger than Olivier. Amalia was curious about that, and about the fact that Olivier seemed to have no time for anything else, but work in his life.

Selima had a huge crush on the older Gallo brother. She grinned at Amalia now. “I bagged the seat next to him, too. Hey, isn’t today when we all meet the black sheep?”

Amalia nodded. Enda Gallo was the middle brother …well, middle half-brother, the result of an extramarital affair Macaulay had had with an Italian actress. Amalia had never met him, but knew he kept to himself, mostly living in Italy. Since Enda had been ignored by his father for the first thirty years of his life, it was only because Olivier had reached out to him seven years ago that Enda had finally been brought into the family fold and had reconciled with his father. Jackson couldn’t stand him, always referring to him as ‘the bastard’ and badmouthing him. Amalia, having never met Enda Gallo, was already disposed to liking him because Jackson hated him so much.

The clock struck noon and Amalia sighed. “Let’s get this thing over with.”

 

Gajendra laid his daughter’s arm over his and smiled at her. “You make me very proud today, Amalia.”

Amalia didn’t reply, keeping her expression blank as they walked down the long aisle of the church. At the altar, she could see Jackson waiting, a supercilious smile on his face. Olivier, his best man, smiled at her and winked. Amalia gave a little sigh. If she could just hang out and be friends with Olivier, then maybe she would get through this. There were hundreds of people there, most of whom she didn’t know. Some of her friends from the conservatory sat on the left-hand side of the church. Christina, her best friend, a no-nonsense Korean cellist, made a face at her and Amalia tried not to laugh. Christina was the only one of her friends who knew the real reason behind this marriage. Amalia had told her she wasn’t going to ask her to be maid of honor, “because I want to save you for my real wedding someday.”

Christina had grinned and toasted her. “Hell, yes. Let’s drink to that.”

God, thought Amalia. Their nights out drinking seemed so far away now. Would Jackson stop her from enjoying her freedom? Probably.

Amalia was nearly at the altar now, and she saw Macaulay Gallo smiling at her. Despite his weaknesses, she liked the old man …he just had no idea how to raise children and had left all the responsibility of the Gallo estate to Olivier. Amalia smiled back at him now. She could have worse as a father-in-law.

Then her eyes met the man standing next to Macaulay and her breath caught in her throat. Tall, athletic, with dark curls messy around his head, he glowered at her, his bright green eyes intensely fierce. His face was set grimly and he looked like the most dangerous man she’d ever seen.

And the most devastatingly handsome …

Amalia stumbled a little and her father steadied her. The man, who she guessed had to be Enda Gallo, stared at her. He hates me …he hates me …she thought, her heart sinking. There was no mistaking the man’s expression. Loathing. He looked like he wanted to kill her …

Don’t be stupid. He doesn’t know you. And you don’t know him. Maybe that’s just how his face is; moody and dark, with a definite edge. His sensual mouth was set in a straight line, as if he were gritting his teeth, and Amalia felt as if she could feel the heat of anger coming from him. As she passed by him, she breathed in a wave of woodsy, clean cologne. It sent her senses reeling, and her body reacted, her nipples hardening and a pulse beating between her legs. He radiated pure animal, dangerous sex.

Even as she was saying her vows in a monotone, she could feel his eyes on her. As Jackson, his face set in the fakest smile she had ever seen, recited his own vows, Amalia chanced a glance at Enda Gallo. His eyes were fixed on her face, and briefly, Amalia entertained the fantasy that he would stop the wedding, grab her hand, and run away with her, intending to take her away and fuck her senseless …

Woah …where did that come from? Ama struggled to pull her attention back to the present and realized, with a sinking heart, that she’d missed the moment. Her last moment of single life.

She was married.

 

The greeting line, the dinner, and the speeches were all a blur. Ama didn’t bother to listen to the platitudes of her new husband. Even Macaulay seemed a little subdued. It was only when Olivier stood to speak that she took notice. He said all the things that were expected of him, and Ama could see he struggled with finding good things to say about his brother. When he turned to her, though, his eyes softened.

“And to my new sister …I am very glad to have you in our lives, Amalia. We are privileged to have someone so brilliant, kind, and independent. I can assure you, sweetheart, that we will always care for you …and encourage you in your career and aspirations.”

His meaning was clear—don’t worry, we won’t let Jackson control you—and Ama smiled back at him warmly, mouthing ‘thank you’ to him. She had an ally. It made her feel more secure. She saw Enda Gallo at the back of the ballroom, propped against the bar. He met her gaze and Ama felt a flush creep up her face. Why did he have such a visceral, feral effect on her? It was a new feeling for her. She looked away, and when she looked back, he had gone.

 

The reception seemed to go on for days, and by midnight, Amalia was drooping. She had changed from her wedding dress into a simple, dark burgundy slip dress, freeing her hair from the intricate bun she had worn for the ceremony and pulling it over one shoulder.

She was tired of Jackson parading her around as if she were an object, and when she returned to the ballroom, she sought out her sister and Christina who were huddled in the corner, clearly making fun of the prissy society people.

“Ama!” Christina was already drunk, and Amalia grinned at her. Christina hugged her friend and looked her up and down. “That’s better. You look more like you now.”

“Agreed,” Ama laughed, but in the next moment, she felt Jackson’s hand on her upper arm pulling her away from her friends.

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

Ama wrenched her arm out of his grip. “It’s called a dress, Jackson.”

“On your feet,” he said darkly and pointed down to her comfortable and admittedly well-worn flat pumps. “Go and change into heels, right now.”

Ama looked him in the eye. “I will not. I’ve had heels on all day and now I want to be comfortable. It’s after midnight, Jackson. I’ve played the part you wanted long enough for one day.”

Jackson’s eyes were fierce on hers. “May I remind you, you are my wife now?”

Ama’s smile was cold. “Wife. Not staff, Jackson. Did you hear me say ‘obey’ in my vows? No, you did not. Now, some of your guests are looking at us, probably wondering why I look so pissed off. Want me to tell them why?”

Jackson’s jaw clenched. “We’ll talk about this later. In bed.”

He stalked off and Ama saw him switch on the charm instantly as he spoke to the guests who had been watching them. Ama felt sick. No. No way would they do anything in bed. Ever.

She returned to her friends, but soon excused herself. She needed to be alone for a few moments to get some air. She slipped out into the beautiful gardens surrounding the mansion and walked quickly down to the little Japanese garden that had been her go-to place for escaping Jackson since they’d become engaged.

There were a few lanterns giving the place a soft glow and she sat down on one of the stone seats and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in. Silence. Bliss. She only heard the tiny trickle of the water feature.

Then she caught a breath of cigarette smoke and opened her eyes. Enda Gallo stood on the other side of the garden, staring at her. Ama’s heart began to pound against her ribs and she stood. She didn’t know what to do. Running would seem rude, but the expression on Enda’s face was …what?

She turned to leave, and in a flash, he was beside her. Trapping her against a tree in the cage of his arms, he gazed down at her. Ama couldn’t look away. God, he was beautiful …those eyes, that craggy, yet boyish face. She noticed he had a half moon scar at the corner of his right eye, and without thinking, she traced the line of it with her finger. His eyes never left hers. Ama could barely breathe, such was the tension between them.

Enda bent his head and brushed his lips against hers. Ama froze. What the hell was going on? Was he testing her?

He kissed her again, and this time, she couldn’t help but kiss him back. His lips were soft, but his kiss was rough---almost violent---and she found her fingers twisted in his dark curls as they embraced. When she felt, his hands push up her dress, a jolt of panic slid through her, but then he pressed his body against hers and she was lost. She had never wanted anyone as badly as she wanted Enda Gallo right here, right now. His fingers were caressing her through her panties and she felt herself dampen with longing. Cupping his cock through his pants, she marveled at the size of him and panicked at the same time. Could she do this? Should she?

Could she really, finally, lose her virginity to her brother-in-law on her wedding night?

Enda’s eyes were questioning now …and somehow Ama knew that if she asked him to stop, he would, without question.

But she didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him here, now …

Enda swept her off her feet and onto one of the stone tables that framed the little garden. He unzipped his fly, freed his diamond-hard cock from his pants, and climbed on top of her.

Ama felt like this was a dream—a fantasy—right up until Enda Gallo thrust into her and she gave a little cry of pain. It faded quickly, and then all she felt was an all-consuming pleasure as he made love to her, kissing her tenderly, his cock driving deeper and deeper into her with every stroke. His hands pinned hers to the table, his eyes locked onto hers as they moved together, her legs wrapped around his hips. Ama felt her orgasm build, and when she came, her back arched up off the table, pressing against him as she gasped and shuddered. Enda kissed her passionately, then raised his head and groaned as he too came, pumping thick, creamy semen deep into her belly. He gave her no time to recover; his mouth found her clit and teased it until she was weeping with desire, and then his cock was inside her again driving her onwards and onwards, toward her climax.

Afterward, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. He still had not spoken one word to her. He touched her face once more …and then he was gone.

Ama, her legs still shaking, sat down quickly on the bench, blinking. Did that really just happen? Her body answered—god, yes, yes …

She had just fucked Enda Gallo …or he had fucked her. Ama gave a disbelieving laugh. She sat there for a further five minutes, then made her way slowly back inside the house. Most of the guests had gone now and Christina was looking for her.

“Have to go, sweets, before I drink this place dry.” She hugged Amalia, then studied her. “Hey, are you okay? You look weird.”

Ama blinked, then tried to smile. “Just tired, babe. Look, promise me we’ll get together for lunch on Monday.”

“Promise.”

 

She went back into the main ballroom, her heart thumping at the thought of seeing Enda in there. But he was nowhere to be seen. Jackson came over to her. “Our guests have left—would have been nice of you to say goodbye. I hope you’ll be more sociable in the future.”

“Fine.” She didn’t want to argue. “Goodnight, Jackson.”

He caught her arm. “Where are you going?”

“To bed.”

“To our bed.”

Ama sighed. He would never stop trying, would he? “No, Jackson. To my room. I told you once, and I meant it. I will never, ever have sex with you. Find one of your many admirers—I assume you’ve worked your way through most of them anyway. I’m sure one of them will be up for it.”

Jackson stared at her, his face angry, then stepped closer to her. “You will submit to me one day, little girl, or I’ll break you. I swear I will.”

Ama wasn’t impressed. “Go away, little boy. You don’t scare me.”

She turned and walked out of the room, running lightly up the huge staircase, hoping he wouldn’t follow her. Selima was in her room, packing her wedding dress away. “Dad’s just bringing the car around.” Selima had tears in her eyes as she hugged her sister. “I’ll never be able to repay you for what you’ve done for me, Ama. Never. I just pray you find some happiness.”

Ama held her sister, feeling the tears threatening again. “Go along now. Dad’s probably waiting. I’ll see you soon.”

Selima nodded. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

 

Alone, she locked the door and put a chair up against it. She didn’t trust Jackson not to have a spare key. There was no way she was letting him in. Sure, enough, a half hour later, as she walked out of the shower, toweling her long hair dry, the door handle rattled. She smirked to herself as she heard him curse, but he soon gave up.

Amalie sat down on the bed. She was married …and had lost her virginity all in one day. And to two different men. What the hell was I thinking?

She already knew she regretted one of those things …and it wasn’t anything to do with Enda Gallo.

 

Olivier Gallo drove into town and was at the restaurant fifteen minutes before his half-brother arrived. He stood to hug Enda, who clapped him on the back. “Hey, brother, good to see you.”

“You too.” They sat, and Olivier beckoned the waiter over. “Could we have the drinks menu please?”

“No need,” Enda said in his deep, accented tones, “Red. Third down from the top.”

Both brothers laughed, and the waiter nodded. He knew these Gallo brothers—they had been coming to this restaurant for a few years now and were good tippers. They treated him with respect, unlike their asshole brother Jackson.

The restaurant itself was mid-range and less flashy than the places Jackson liked. It had a frontage, which opened out onto a jetty overlooking of the Bay. They sat outside so Enda could smoke. Olivier grinned at him as he lit up a cigarette. “You ever going to give up?”

Enda squinted through the smoke. “Probably not.”

Olivier grinned. “Fair enough. How have you been? I didn’t get to see you much at the wedding.”

“As I recall, you were doing your best man thing, trying to keep the toddler under control.”

Olivier rolled his eyes. “Mostly for Amalia’s benefit. Poor kid looked shell-shocked.”

“She’s no kid.”

Olivier’s eyes opened wide. “You don’t like her?”

“I didn’t say that. I just meant, she’s a grown woman. She knew what she was getting into.”

Olivier chewed his lip for a moment. “She did it for her sister, Enda.”

Enda nodded. “I’m just saying …it sucks for her.”

“Yep.”

They paused while the waiter brought their wine and they ordered their food. Enda sat back and took a slug of red wine. “She’s beautiful.”

“Who?”

Enda rolled his eyes. “Our brother’s new wife.”

“Of course. Sorry. Yes, she is. Also, brilliant, funny, and smart.”

Enda nodded. “She also seems to have …what is the word …empathy?” He pronounced it ‘em-patty.’

“Like I said, she’s a sweetheart.”

“You like her?” Enda grinned at Olivier’s eye-roll.

“As my sister, yes.” Olivier chuckled. “If it’s any of your business, I’m seeing someone.”

“Oh, yes? Wait, please tell me it’s not that blonde from the reality show?”

Olivier laughed. “No. That was …jeez, what was I thinking? Anyway, no. She’s a journalist from San Diego. Helena. Early days, but yeah, she’s cool.”

Enda looked skeptical. “A journalist?”

Olivier grinned. “Not that kind. She’s focused on business and financial stuff. I like her.” Their food arrived then—steamed salmon for Olivier, rare, bloody steak and garlic butter for Enda. Olivier shook his head, laughing. “Dude, you are a walking heart attack.”

Enda grinned, his smile lighting up his intense features. “Hedonism is my default position.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Olivier cleared his throat. “So, what did you think?”

“Of what?”

“Amalia.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“You said that.”

Enda shrugged. “I don’t know her, Olly. I barely spoke to her. If you tell me she is a good person, I believe you.”

Olivier speared some asparagus with his fork. “Enda …I’m worried. Lately, Jackson has been more …out of control than normal. This deal he made with Amalia’s father …you know he engineered it so that Ama was practically forced into this marriage.”

“Ama, is it now?” Enda teased his older half-brother, but then his smile faded. “That sounds just like Jackson, though. He always got what he wanted. Didn’t matter how.”

Olivier sighed. “I know, but this is a person we’re talking about. If and when she does something he doesn’t like …Enda, he has addictions. Cocaine, for one. And this thing with Ama …he’s obsessed with her. I’m worried.”

Enda looked away from his brother’s gaze. “What can I do?”

“Stick around ‘Frisco for a few months. Help me keep Jackson on a steady keel. See how the land lies.”

Enda closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Olivier could see his internal struggle. Enda hated Jackson with the fury of a thousand suns, but he didn’t owe Amalia Rai anything. He didn’t even know her.

“I’m thinking about dad in this too. If Jackson were to do something rash or worse, Dad wouldn’t survive it. I’m not saying you owe him anything either, but for me, maybe.” Olivier’s voice was low and Enda nodded.

“I will stay. I can oversee the business from here. We have been thinking of opening an office here …maybe it’s time. I’ll talk to Raffaelo in the morning.”

 

Jackson Gallo was frustrated. It had been a month since the wedding and Ama had barely spoken to him, let alone touched him. She attended functions with him and behaved impeccably, but he couldn’t bust through those walls of hers. Her bedroom door remained locked and barred …if it wasn't for the fact that his father slept in the same house, and that their staff also were there at night, he would have busted down that door and taken her.

But he knew she would leave him if he forced himself on her. So, to satisfy his aching balls, he had started fucking other women almost immediately after the wedding. If Ama guessed, she didn’t seem to care, and it drove him mad.

It had been particularly galling that, since the wedding, Gajendra Rai’s business had flourished, being linked to the Gallo name. And Amalia’s sister, Selima, had settled into her new life as a student in Los Angeles. It seemed to Jackson that Amalia had reaped the rewards of their union, while he still hadn’t.

He sat in his office now and decided to call her. She picked up the phone eventually, sounding harassed. “What do you want, Jackson?”

He rankled. “Well, for one, I’d like you to speak to me with respect.”

Amalia sighed. “I’m busy, Jackson, What do you want?” There was no noticeable shift in her tone.

“I would like to take you out to dinner tonight.”

“Fine.”

“Be ready at eight.”

“Fine.” The phone clicked in his ear. So much for sweet nothings. Jackson put his phone down and smiled to himself. He’d actually arranged to have dinner with his brothers that night, but he couldn’t resist bringing Ama and showing her off to them. Look at my glorious wife. Look how beautiful she is.

Suddenly an idea struck him and he laughed to himself. Flicking through his contacts on his phone, he made the call, smiling to himself.

 

Ama saw Enda as soon as they entered the restaurant and knew Jackson had set this up on purpose. “I didn’t know we were having dinner with your brothers.”

Jackson smiled. “Family time.”

Ugh. More like bragging time. She was being trotted out like a prize horse. But at the moment, she could think of nothing else, but Enda Gallo’s eyes on her. God, she’d forgotten just how gloriously good looking he was. Olivier stood and kissed her cheek, and then she was in front of Enda. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Bella.”

That voice—deep, mellifluous, accented—was dripping with sex. She wondered if he could see the blatant longing in her eyes.

She was mostly silent through dinner, ignoring Jackson as much as she could, to Enda and Olivier’s obvious amusement. Olivier distracted them all with jokes, and Enda, too, she found, was fun to be around. He and Olivier were obviously close, and both busted Jackson’s chops, which was fine by her. For once, she saw Jackson as he really was—the baby of the family. Despite his bragging, he was still just a little kid. Olivier and Enda were men. She couldn’t help, but compare them. Jackson, his dark blonde hair slicked back; Oliver, neatly trimmed beard and dark brown eyes, so beautifully dressed. Then there was Enda—his looks had a wildness to them, a devil-may-care look. He oozed easy sex appeal. God, I want you, Ama thought, then pushed the thought away. He was off-limits. At least, now he was.

“What are you smiling at?” Jackson demanded of her suddenly, and Ama jumped slightly. Jackson’s arm had been along the back of her chair, possessively, and her back ached from sitting forward to avoid him touching her.

“Just marveling at how different you are from your brothers,” she said coolly. You don’t snap at me like that. Ever, her eyes said, and Jackson backed off. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go freshen up.”

In the bathroom, she splashed some water on her face and tried to stop thinking about Enda. When she finally got up her courage to go back to the table, she exited the bathroom. She gave a little cry of surprise as two hands gripped her waist from behind and pulled her back into the dark alcove. She turned and saw Enda smiling down at her. “Hello again.”

His voice sent thrills through her body, and when he kissed her, she couldn’t help, but give a little moan of desire. They were hidden from sight, and when Enda slid his hands under her skirt, Amalia’s body reacted, curving into his. “I want you so badly,” she whispered, and Enda grinned, his lips rough against hers.

“If it wouldn’t get us arrested, cara mia, I would fuck you right here. Sadly, I think my brother’s suspicions would be aroused.”

“I’m not sleeping with him. I don’t know why it’s important to me that you know that, but it is.”

Enda stroked her cheek. “I know, Bella. Listen …I must see you again. Can I come to your office?”

She nodded and gave him the address. “I know this is wrong, but …”

His lips silenced hers and she could feel his erection through his pants. God, she wanted him so badly. Her skin felt like it was on fire.

She went back to the table a few moments before Enda, but couldn’t help but feel that their lust for each other was obvious. Jackson seemed not to notice, though, and when Enda returned, there was nothing in Jackson or Olivier’s glances that gave anything away.

Ama felt sick with excitement. He wanted her …what the hell was she supposed to do? She barely knew him, but she knew, without a doubt, that she was falling for Enda Gallo.

 

As Olivier and Amalia walked ahead of them, Jackson held Enda back with a touch of a hand. He smiled without humor at his half-brother. “I hope we will see you at the house more often.”

Enda looked askance. “That’s new. Since when?”

Jackson’s expression was mocking. “Now I’m happily married; I just want us to be family. And when my children are born …well …” He smiled smugly, and Enda wanted to pound his face in.

“Fine.” He turned and walked away, catching up with Olivier and Ama. He had no time for Jackson’s games. Since that farce of a wedding, all he could think about was Ama. When he had seen her walking down that aisle, apparently terrified, his heart had started to beat quicker, and when their eyes had met, a thrill of desire had run through him. Later, in the garden, he hadn’t been able to help himself when he saw her so sad and so lovely in that slip of a dress, her long hair tumbling around her shoulders. No one that beautiful should be that unhappy. He hadn’t meant to kiss her, but when she’d looked up at him, her lovely eyes so troubled, her dusky skin glowing in the low light, her lips so red and plump, it was the most natural thing in the world to kiss her.

As soon as their lips had touched, he had known he was lost. Making love with her …yes, he should feel guilty, and he would do if it had been any other man’s wife. Not that the guilt had stopped him before. But something about Ama was different. He knew it had been an arranged marriage and that she was an unwilling participant in it. And, god, he had wanted her so badly …

 

He and Olivier said goodbye to Ama and Jackson as they got into their car. Ama met his gaze and smiled slightly. Her eyes told him everything he wanted to know. As they drove away, Olivier sighed. “I hope he treats her right.”

“God help him if he doesn’t,” Enda said darkly.

Olivier studied him. “You don’t think …I mean, the thing with Penelope was years ago. He learned his lesson, right?”

Enda looked at his brother. “God, Olivier, I really hope so.”

 

The package was waiting for Ama on her desk when she arrived at work the following Monday. Her assistant, Lena, greeted her with a smile “Jeez, Ama, was that the honeymoon? That was quick.”

Ama tried to smile. “We’ve postponed it for a while, because of work. It’s no problem, really.” Lena didn’t need to know Ama had refused to go on honeymoon with Jackson. She had no doubt that if she had been alone with him …god, she couldn’t bear to consider what might happen.

She went into her office and dumped her purse on the desk, glancing at the parcel. The label was handwritten—just her name in a beautiful cursive scrawl. “When did this come?”

Lena grinned. “This morning. Girl, you should have seen the delivery guy. Gorgeous. Italian, I think.”

She went back out to her desk, not realizing the frenzied excitement that had started in her boss. Ama touched the label, running her finger over her name. Picking it up, she opened the parcel. A burner phone. She switched it on. Only one number was programmed into it, under the name ‘He.' Ama smiled. She was really going to do this, wasn’t she? Have an affair …

She thought about Jackson trying once again to get into her bedroom last night and her teeth clenched. Yes. She was going to do this. Hell, yes.

She closed her office door quietly and pressed the dial button. Her heart was beating against her ribs and adrenaline spiked in her when she heard his voice. “Cara mia …”

“Hey there …He.” She chuckled, hearing him laugh.

“I thought that was the safest name I could come up with. How are you today?”

“Better now that I’ve heard your voice,” she said softly, “When can I see you?”

“Can you be free for lunch?”

“I can.” God, she felt like a love-struck teenager.

Enda laughed. “Good. Write this address down.” He gave her an address in Russian Hill. “Take a cab. I’ll meet you there.”

 

At noon, a very nervous, but excited Ama was in a cab, being driven to Russian Hill. When she got there, Enda was waiting outside an apartment building. He took her hand and led her inside. “I rented an apartment. I thought it would be safer.”

Ama felt like she was in a dream. In the elevator, Enda took her in his arms and kissed her. ‘Hello again,” he said softly, and she smiled up at him.

The ‘apartment’ was, in fact, the penthouse of the building, and Ama stood open-mouthed at the door, suddenly feeling intimidated. Enda laughed. “You live in a mansion and an apartment is what scares you?”

Ama relaxed, chuckling. “Sorry. It’s beautiful.”

Enda came to her. “You’re beautiful. This is just bricks and mortar. Come with me.”

He led her into the bedroom, beautifully decorated in gray and navy. Enda’s fingers were at the belt of her wrap dress. “I’m sorry, Bella, I can’t wait any longer …”

Ama gave a soft moan as he pulled open her dress and dropped to his knees, his mouth on her belly, his tongue tracing a circle around her navel. She tangled her fingers in his hair as he pulled down the lacy cup of her bra and took her nipple into his mouth, teasing the small bud until it grew hard and sensitive. She closed her eyes as he did the same to the other nipple, and then he was sliding her panties down and burying his face in her sex.

Holy hell …the feeling of his tongue sliding along her sex, lashing around her clitoris, then plunging deep into her red and swollen cunt was intoxicating. Her limbs felt they were liquefying.

Enda pushed her gently onto the bed and spread her legs wide, eager to taste her further. He began to slide two fingers in and out of her. Ama was gasping, her entire body aflame, and she came shuddering and moaning.

“I want to taste you,” she whispered, and Enda grinned. He stripped down quickly as Ama shed the rest of her clothes, sitting up, then taking him in her mouth. She had no idea if she was doing it right, but she went with her instincts, tracing the shaft up and down with her tongue and teasing the tip. She heard Enda moan appreciatively as she began to move his cock in and out of her mouth, sucking gently and massaging his sac with her hand. With the other hand, she dug her fingernails into his buttock and heard his hissed “Yes!” His obvious enjoyment made her heart soar, and when he drew away and pushed her back onto the bed, his cock was almost straining, engorged, and rock-hard.

Enda crushed his mouth against hers as he hitched her legs around his waist. “Are you ready for me, baby?”

Ama gave a frustrated moan, and he laughed before launching his cock into her and ramming his hips against hers. Ama gave a cry of intense release and clung to him as he fucked her, her fingernails digging into the toned muscles of his back. “God, Enda …yes …harder …harder …”

He obliged, laughing, and kissed her passionately. She was utterly lost in this man’s arms, completely at the mercy of his body and his desire for her …Jesus, his cock was incredible, and she was amazed she was able to take him in so deeply. She clung to him, wanting to savor every moment of his skin against hers, his mouth hungrily kissing hers, and the clean scent of him.

She came again, hard, and Enda reached his climax, pumping cum deep inside her. She didn’t want him to pull away at first, and so, for a few minutes, he stayed inside her, kissing her tenderly. “Bella Ama,” he whispered in that deep, sensual voice, and Ama sighed happily.

Finally, he lay at her side, propped up on his elbow, gazing down at her. His hand traced a path down her body, his long, warm fingers splaying over her belly. “Ama? May I ask you something?”

Ama smiled up at him. “Anything.”

“Before your wedding …had you ever made love?”

She gave a half-embarrassed chuckle. “Is it that obvious? No, I hadn’t, Enda. I was a virgin.”

“It surprises me …and to answer your question—no, it’s not obvious. At all. Just a hunch on my part. You are an incredible lover, my darling.”

My darling. The words thrilled her. She stroked his face. “About the wedding …Enda, you saved that day for me. I was so miserable, but when I saw you in the church …god, I have never felt like that before.”

Enda smiled. “Me either, although my reputation would probably contradict that.”

Ama grinned. “Luckily, I knew very little about you. I know very little about you. I’m looking forward to getting to know you.” She sighed. “If I had met you before …well, it wasn’t even as if I had a choice in marrying Jackson.”

Enda nuzzled his nose to hers. “I know. Olivier told me the reason. I think you are a selfless person.”

“Sometimes I can’t believe this is modern times,” she muttered, half to herself.

Enda studied her. “Ama …why were you a virgin? Can I ask, or is that too personal?”

She smiled at him. “Like I said, you can ask me anything. The reason is …I know it’s modern thinking to just enjoy yourself and sleep with anyone and that’s an absolutely fine way to live. It just wasn’t for me. Before now, I was completely focused on my work.”

“I would love to hear you play sometime.”

She kissed him. “And so you shall. We have a recital coming up at the end of the month, at the conservatory.”

“I’ll be there.” He moved his body on top of her. “When do you have to be back at work this afternoon?”

Ama grinned, wrapping her legs around his waist. “Not for an hour or two.”

“Hmm,” he grinned and plunged his cock into her. “What shall we do for an hour or two?”

Ama moaned as he thrust harder and harder until she was screaming his name.

 

Lena eyed her. “Why are you glowing?”

Ama, knowing that the multiple orgasms that Enda had given her were the reason, shrugged. “Just having a good day.”

She went into her office and slid the burner phone from her purse into her desk. In the small bathroom attached to her office, she looked in the mirror and saw her eyes shining. Her skin indeed was glowing. You look like a woman who’s been thoroughly and expertly fucked.

Enda Gallo. My lover. She kept saying it to herself over and over as she worked, and when she went to teach her class that afternoon, her good mood infected her students and she had a blast with them.

Driving home, though, the usual dread set in. She could barely stand to be in the same room as Jackson, and it was with relief that she saw Olivier’s car in the driveway.

She was smiling when she went in, still lost in her memories of the afternoon, and distracted. She didn’t see Jackson approach her until he crushed his lips against hers. Horrified, she pushed him away. “Take your hands off me.”

Jackson was unrepentant, grasping her upper arm.

“Come. We have a visitor.”

Olivier stood and hugged her. She deliberately made a fuss of him to annoy Jackson and was rewarded with a glare from her husband.

“This is a nice surprise …you’ll stay for dinner, yes? Where’s Mac?”

“Upstairs, not feeling well.” Jackson’s tone was dismissive.

Olivier smiled at her. “Love to stay. How are you?”

“In the four days since I saw you last?” She grinned at him. She had the feeling that his presence was for her benefit; Olivier had an air of the protective older brother about him.

 

Over dinner, a sumptuous duck dish prepared by Mac’s chef, Ama and Olivier chatted easily, mostly ignoring the glowering presence of Jackson. He finally had enough of not being the center of attention.

“I hear your father’s business is in trouble again,” he said suddenly. Ama looked at him, her expression smooth.

“Not that I know of, but then I haven’t spoken to my father in a while.”

Jackson smirked. “The cash injection I gave him soon got spent. Seems your bride price wasn’t enough. That’s what you get for having a cheapskate dad, I suppose.”

“Jackson,” Olivier’s tone was harsh. “That’s enough.”

Ama was staring at Jackson with undisguised disgust. “And, yet, my ‘bride price’ wasn’t enough to allow you everything you wanted, was it?”

Jackson’s smile faded, and Ama realized he’d probably been boasting about his conquest of her to his brothers. For a moment, she regretted saying anything. Olivier looked uncomfortable.

Ama took a slug of wine and tried to ease the atmosphere. “Listen, we are having a recital at the conservatory at the end of the month. Would you like to come, Olly? Bring a date?”

Olivier nodded. “I would love to …are you playing?”

She nodded. “Although, I’m very rusty. I need to practice more than I have been. It’s hard to find the time with work being so hectic.”

“We should get you a piano here,” Jackson said suddenly. “Then you could practice here, and maybe I could see more of you.”

Ama didn’t know how to respond to that. Was he being friendly or setting a trap for her?

“That might be a solution,” she said carefully. Jackson gave a nod.

“Consider it done.”

Ama exchanged a glance with Olivier. She hated that every conversation she had with her husband was loaded, making her feel tense and jumpy. She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“You okay?” Olivier, of course, was the one asking, and she smiled at him.

“Just tired.” From fucking your glorious half-brother, she wanted to scream at Jackson, but then she felt remorse. Maybe her own attitude wasn’t helping the marriage. She wasn’t going to go soft on him …but she could make an effort to be friendlier. Was she so scared of leading him on?

Yes.

The thought of Jackson making love to her made her want to vomit. He had bought her, for chrissakes. That wasn’t love. That was possession. Ama felt sick and pushed her chair back.

“Forgive me, Olivier …Jackson. I really am tired. I think I’d better go lie down. Will you excuse me?”

“Of course.” Olivier stood as she got up and kissed her cheek. “Get some rest, honey.”

She smiled at him gratefully and thought, if I weren’t already falling for Enda, it would be so easy to love you, you sweetheart of a man. She glanced at Jackson.

“Goodnight, darling,” he said in an even tone. She nodded.

“Goodnight, Jackson.”

 

The next evening, when she returned from work, a Bösendorfer Imperial Concert Grand piano was waiting for her in the drawing room. Ama couldn’t believe it. She sat down on the stool and ran her fingers lightly over the keys.

“I hope you like it.”

She turned to see Jackson in the doorway, watching her. She cleared her throat. “It’s too much.”

“No.”

He walked over and pulled up a chair next to her. “Ama …we have gotten off on the wrong foot. I know you don’t love me, and I’m not saying that I’m in love with you. But I want the chance to be. At least the chance to see if we can make this work. I’m not under any illusion that you won’t file for divorce the moment the contract is up. But maybe we could enjoy these two years.”

Ama considered his words. “Jackson …I don’t want to live in a house of misery, where I’m afraid to sleep with my door unlocked. Let’s get one thing straight. I will never, ever sleep with you. Ever. But if we can put that aside and tolerate that …we could try to be friends. Companions. If you need sex, feel free to look around. There are plenty of open marriages.”

Careful now, she told herself, don’t give him any reason to suspect you. Just because your brain is still frazzled from having Enda Gallo’s cock buried deep in you this afternoon …careful.

Jackson’s expression was carefully composed. “Fine.” He got up and walked away from her, and she sighed. The house was too quiet tonight. She went to her room and locked the door behind her. Had she done the right thing? Or had she aroused his suspicions, which would make sneaking off to the apartment much harder?

Ama reached into her purse and pulled out the burner phone. She had been about to put it on her desk at work before she left, but something told her to take it home. She wanted to know that she could talk to Enda whenever she wanted. That she could hear his voice. This afternoon she had spent another blissful hour in his arms, but they didn’t have time to actually talk or to find out about each other in the stolen moments they spent. Not that she was complaining …her lover had ravished her body, leaving her shivering with pleasure.

She smiled at the memory and went to draw a bath.

 

Enda Gallo went back to his hotel. He knew he could stay at the apartment he had rented, but every time he went there increased the chances he would be recognized and that his cover would be blown.

And, besides, without Ama in his arms, the place seemed lonely, echoing with the memory of her. At least at the hotel he could distract himself and get some work done. Back in Italy, his property business had taken him years to build, but now he was about to form a partnership with his friend, Raffaelo Winter, to open a chain of boutique hotels around the world.

He called Raffaelo at home in Naples now. It was eight a.m. in Italy, and Raffaelo picked up straight away.

“Ciao, Raff.”

“Hey, ciao, my friend.” Raffaelo sounded relaxed, and Enda guessed that he must be at home with Inca, his gorgeous wife of almost ten years. Enda had met Inca soon after she and Raff had become engaged and had been devastated when she had been stabbed by a jealous stalker. Enda had tried to be there for Raff as much as he could during her recovery and the time they had spent together had only strengthened their bond. People remarked on their physical similarities, but Enda had laughed off the suggestion they could be related. His mother, his dear mother, had passed away only recently, and it was due to Raff and Inca—and Raff’s twin brother, Tommaso—that he hadn’t felt entirely alone in Italy.

He chatted easily with his friend now before Raffaelo told him his news. “We’re coming to the States soon. Inca wants to visit her friend, Olly, in Seattle, so we thought we’d do that and then come down to SF. Sound good?”

Enda was overjoyed. “God, man, yes. How soon can you come?”

Raff laughed. “That bad, eh? Well, we’re flying to Seattle this Friday, staying for a week, and then down to you. So, ten days? We don’t have any restriction on time, so we can stay as long as we’re welcome. Bo is performing at Pride, then doing a couple of nights at the Fillmore, so Tommaso and their vast brood will be there too.”

Enda grinned. Tommaso had fallen in love with singing superstar Bo Kennedy at Raffaelo and Inca’s wedding—or just after—and between them, they now had seven kids: five of their own, Matteo, Tommaso’s son, and Tiger, Bo’s teenage boy, both from previous relationships. They divided their time between Italy and the United Kingdom and so they were rarely in the US.

Suddenly Enda wanted to tell Raffaelo about Ama—about how much he cared for her and thought about her all of the time. He so desperately wanted to introduce her to his friends. Maybe there was a way …

“Hey listen, before you go, I wanted to float an idea to you. I know we said on the next project we would concentrate on hotels, but how about we look into building music schools for the less privileged? Jackson’s new wife,” he almost choked on those words, “Amalia, is a classical pianist and tutor, and she got me thinking maybe there’s a new outlet.” He knew he was rambling now. “Anyway, just something to think about.”

“Of course. I like the idea of that. Let’s talk when I’m in town. Maybe we should meet Amalia.”

Enda punched the air silently, grinning. “Definitely.”

When he had ended the call, Enda went to shower, then got into bed. What he would give to take Ama to meet his friends as his partner. Two years, he said to himself. Two years and she’ll be free, and then I’m going to marry that girl.

The thought brought him up short. Marriage? Wow. Marriage had never been something he had aspired to or wanted, but with her …with Ama … well, damn.

His phone bleeped, and it was with delighted pleasure that he recognized the number as Ama’s burner phone.

Missing you. Thinking only of you.

Enda smiled and tapped out a reply.

I wish you were with me right now, Bella.

Me too, gorgeous. Sleep well.

 

Enda brought up the subject of the music schools at dinner with his family, careful not to give away that he and Ama had already discussed it earlier that day, when they had spent a blissful afternoon in his apartment, screwing each other senseless and talking. They were learning so much about each other in those precious hours. Enda discovered that, despite her great beauty, Ama hated to be judged on that, and preferred to be complimented on her brain or her humor. That underneath her almost regal presence, she was, at heart, a book nerd, an art lover, and someone who declared she would be unable to live without music. Not just classical, either, but rock, and cheesy pop songs—and Johnny Cash.

Enda found himself opening up to her about his family—or lack of it—until Olivier came to find him. “I never knew they existed,” he admitted, and then grinned at her. “And in the end, I got the best and the worst of brothers. I love Olivier. He gave me a way to know my father, and he’s been nothing but supportive. I even suspect if he had known about us, that he would have been our biggest cheerleader.”

Ama smiled at him. “I was thinking the same thing, actually. Still, I don’t think it’s a good idea to clue him in. I would hate to put him in an awkward position.”

“Agreed.”

 

So, now, as they all sat around Macaulay Gallo’s vast dinner table, Enda made sure he didn’t make eye-contact with Ama when he told them his and Raff’s ideas.

Jackson made a scoffing noise. “Really? Where’s the profit in that?”

Enda looked at him coolly. “I would think, in your position, that you would see that money isn’t everything. How many more billions do you need, Jackson? Isn’t it time you gave something back?”

“Didn’t I just broker the deal that saved Amalia’s sister from an abusive marriage?” Jackson grinned at his wife, who stared back in dislike.

“I don’t think that’s what Enda meant,” she said softly. She turned to her lover and tried not to show in her face how much she felt for him, “I think it’s a wonderful idea. Schools all over the country are having their funding for the arts cut to almost nothing. They’re forcing the kids to focus on science and math and disregarding the kids who were born to be artists, actors, musicians. It’s just wrong.”

Enda smiled at her. “Maybe you should come along, meet Raffaelo, and be our consultant on the inside.”

“Love to.” Ama hid a grin, obviously realizing what he was up to, but Jackson cleared his throat.

“I don’t see why that would help.”

Ama turned cold eyes on him. “I wasn’t asking your permission.”

Enda saw the anger in Jackson’s eyes. His father did too, apparently, because Mac changed the subject hurriedly. “Jackson, I was going to ask you. I got a call today from that interior designer you told me about. She was under the impression that you have arranged for some work to be done.”

Jackson nodded. “I have. All of the bedrooms, except yours, Dad, because I know you’ve just had it remodeled.”

“Excuse me?” Amalia looked bemused. “All of the bedrooms?”

Jackson nodded, his smile smug. “Yes, darling, all of them. I thought we could take a penthouse at a hotel while the work is being done.”

Ama flushed angrily, and Enda narrowed his eyes at his brother. He was trying to force her to share his bed. Asshole. Ama picked up her wine and sipped it casually. “A single room will be okay with me. Or I can stay with a friend.”

There it was. In the open. With those simple words, Ama had outed the sham of her marriage to both Olivier and Macaulay. If she had shouted, ‘I’m not sleeping with Jackson,’ at the top of her voice, it couldn’t be more obvious. Enda watched Jackson’s face turned from red to purple and suddenly felt afraid for Ama. He knew of old what Jackson’s temper was like.

 

Penelope …three years ago, she had borne the brunt of Jackson’s temper and what had happened had scarred everyone …

 

Three years ago …

 

Enda took a slug of whiskey and turned back to the party. He hated these things, but his father, Macaulay Gallo, who he couldn’t get used to calling ’dad’ yet, had insisted.

“If you want to be part of this family, Enda, you must see how we operate.”

He had meant it kindly, but it struck at the heart of Enda’s misgivings. He hadn’t yet decided that he wanted to be part of this family. It had been four years ago when Olivier had found him, and since then, he had grown close to his older brother, but his father was still distant. The youngest Gallo son, Jackson …Enda had loathed him on sight.

He looked over to him now and saw him standing with his girlfriend, Penelope. They were obviously having some sort of argument, Jackson berating his girlfriend for some slight he perceived she had made.

Penelope was a lovely young woman. With caramel-colored hair and dark blue eyes, she was the head of a local charity. Her family was old money, but Penelope worked tirelessly to help others. What the hell she was doing with Jackson, Enda had no clue.

 

It was two days later, in the city, that Enda had seen her meeting with another man. From the delight on his face—and hers—they were obviously in love. Enda was glad. Penny looked radiant as she talked with the man. Good, Enda thought. Jackson can go fuck himself. You go for it, Penny. He had intended to just walk away, but she suddenly spotted him and the color drained from her face. Enda cursed to himself, then walked over.

“Hey, Penny. Hey there, I’m Enda Gallo.” he smiled at her companion and shook his hand.

“Danny McNamara. Would you like to join us?” The young man looked uncomfortable. Enda hesitated, looking at Penny. He didn’t want to be rude. Penny nodded tightly.

“Just for a minute, then I have to be going.”

They sat, and Penny explained who Enda was. The young man, Danny, nodded.

Enda couldn’t bear the tension. “Look, I just wanted to say. I’m glad. You both look so happy. Hell, I’m delighted for you, Penny. You have my word; Jackson will not hear of this from me. Fuck him.”

Danny looked relieved and Penny looked close to tears. She put her hand on his arm.

“Thank you, Enda.” She sighed, wiping away her tears. “I tried to finish it with Jackson …he won’t accept it. He just cuts me off. I can’t do it anymore, Enda. He’s …abusive. He cheats constantly. And he …” She broke off and shook her head. Enda and Danny exchanged a concerned glance. Penny didn’t have to say anymore. That Jackson beat her was obvious.

“You don’t have to worry about it anymore, Pen,” Danny said.

Enda nodded. “Is there somewhere you can stay while he gets the message?”

Penny nodded, looking over at Danny. “We’ve just bought an apartment in Palo Alto. He’ll have no clue we’re there.”

 

A week later, Penny had called Enda in hysterics. “It’s Danny. He was in a hit-and-run. Oh god, oh god, they’ve taken him to the hospital, but it’s bad, Enda, so bad. I know it was Jackson …please, can you come?”

He raced to the hospital, but it was too late. Danny was pronounced dead on arrival, and Enda had to help a hysterical Penny while processing his own shock. Was Jackson really capable of murder? He didn’t want to believe it, but something in his half-brother’s make up made him think he would be. A month later, his worst fears were realized.

 

A still-grieving Penny left her office just after eight p.m. and went down to the parking garage. She got into her Mercedes and was distracted by her phone ringing. She smiled when she saw who was calling.

“Hey, Enda, how are you?”

“I’m okay, sweetheart. I was just thinking about you. How're things?”

“I …”

Penny never got to tell him. From her backseat, a masked attacker pounced, one arm curling around her neck. When she grabbed at his arm to try and prize it free, he drove a knife into her stomach again and again. Penny screamed until she could no longer breathe when the blood loss and shock grew too much. Her killer was savage and merciless, stabbing her again and again until she slumped in the seat. In her last moments, she could hear Enda screaming her name and the final whisper of her killer.

“Jackson Gallo wants you to know—nobody leaves him.”

With a last thrust of the knife, he stabbed Penny in the heart and ended her life.

 

Enda would never forget that night. The sound of a defenseless woman being brutally murdered …and the worst thing was, in the midst of it, Jackson had walked into the room where Enda was with a triumphant look on his face, and Enda knew, for sure, his half-brother was a murderer. Enda flew across the room and punched him, the brothers rolling around until Olivier pulled Enda off Jackson. Enda stormed out of the room, calling the police as he got into his car and sped to Penny’s office. He got there just as the police arrived. He would never forget the sight of Penny, slumped in the driver’s seat, covered in blood. She had been butchered. That much was obvious. Enda had no compunction in telling the police everything he had heard and that he thought Jackson was behind the murder.

 

Jackson was questioned about Penny’s murder, but never arrested or charged. There was simply no evidence against him. Penny was buried, at her request, next to Danny, but at her funeral Jackson played the part of the grieving boyfriend perfectly. Staggered by the lack of justice wrought by Jackson’s position and billions, Enda was repelled by him and had left the country. He’d stayed away from his family since then—even Olivier, who he adored. Olivier had finally flown to Italy to plead with him not to abandon him and Mac, just because of Jackson. It had taken some persuasion, but finally, Enda agreed. When Olivier told him, a few years later, that Jackson was marrying Amalia, Enda couldn’t help but feel a chill go down his spine.

When he found out the circumstances of the marriage, the arrangement, and the coercion of Amalia Rai to marry Jackson, Enda had felt the shock keenly. Enda determined then to go to the wedding and make sure that the signs weren’t there—that Jackson had finally fallen in love for real.

He had been disappointed, but not shocked, when he saw in his younger half-brother the same possessive contempt that he had shown Penny. Amalia was there to be his property. Enda was pleased to see that Amalia hadn’t been as subservient as Jackson would like, even on her wedding day. And when he, Enda, had made love to the beautiful bride in the garden just hours later, he’d seen her strength.

He just hoped it was enough to save her life.

 

Ama was relieved when Olivier accompanied them home. “I just want to talk to dad for a while,” he said, but she knew he was there to keep the peace, at least until Jackson calmed down. Enda had been desperate to do the same, but she had shaken her head at him. I don’t want him to guess, she tried to communicate with her look, and she thought Enda had gotten it. God, she was crazy about that man, though. She would call him later, when it was safe.

She went to her room as soon as she got home and began to run a bath. Going back into her room, she checked the door was locked, then propped her usual chair underneath the handle. God, what a way to live. But Jackson scared her. There was violence in him, she was sure, and it wasn’t far from the surface—ever. Ama knew Olivier and Enda thought so too.

She stripped off and sank into the tub, feeling the soothing water ease her aching body. She ached from tension constantly now. The only time she ever relaxed was with Enda, naked and gasping for air in his arms. God, that man …

She slipped her hand between her legs and began to rub, thinking about the last time they’d made love. It had been a slow, leisurely afternoon of making love, Enda cradling her in his arms as his cock plowed deep inside her. God, would she ever get tired of this? He had flipped her onto her stomach, parted her buttocks gently, then asked if she was sure. She had nodded, and he had eased into her ass, his other hand stroking her clit. She’d come almost violently, surprising herself. When he’d wrapped his tie around her wrists and fucked her, holding her hostage to him and his huge cock. She’d loved every moment of being dominated by him. Even when she was straddling him, he was in charge, impaling her on his cock, gripping her hips with strong fingers, and cumming on her belly and breasts.

Amalia could hardly bring herself to leave him every day, and she fantasized now about going home to him in the evening. About opening the front door, only to be greeted by his fierce kiss, his hands pushing up her skirt, and his cock thrusting into her as he fucked her hard against the wall.

Ama gave a soft moan as she stroked and dreamed her way to an orgasm. Relaxing afterward, she wondered if she could call him later and maybe indulge in some phone sex.

That man has turned you into a nympho, she grinned to herself. God, I love you, Enda Gallo.

Her eyes flew open and she gasped in shock. Oh god …she did love him. She was completely in love with the man.

“Shit,” she said and got out of the bath. Love complicated everything, and it made her uneasy. What if she couldn’t hide it much longer? What would Jackson do?

And she didn’t want to risk Enda’s position in the family. From what he had told her, he had loved being a part of it, for Olivier’s sake at least. The two Gallo’s she loved with her whole heart would be hurt and she couldn’t stand that.

She dried herself, wrapped the towel around her, and went back into her bedroom to dry her hair. She was lost in thought as she grabbed her brush.

“Nice show you gave me there.”

Ama gasped and whirled around. Jackson was leaning against her door, smiling nastily. Ama reddened at the thought of him watching her masturbate.

“What the fuck are you doing in my room, asshole?”

Jackson smiled, then in a flash, he had her by her throat. “Watch what you call me, wife. I’ve had just about enough of your insubordination.”

Ama kicked out at him, struggling to get free. He clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Ssh, ssh …” He lay on top of her. He took out his phone and showed her a picture. “Do you recognize this apartment?”

Ama went cold. “It’s my sister’s place.”

“That’s right. Now, this photo was taken, oh, about three minutes ago. Your sister’s alone there right now.”

Ama stopped struggling. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Jackson grinned and kissed her, grinding his mouth down on hers. Ama tasted blood. “One of the two Rai sisters is getting fucked tonight, Amalia. It’s up to you which one.”

Ama’s horror was overwhelming. “You bastard …you leave her alone, you fucking bastard.”

Jackson grinned. “That sounds like a decision to me.”

He yanked her towel away, admiring her naked body. “God, it’s about time I got to see the goods. You’re so fucking sexy …”

He was unzipping his fly now and Amalia started to cry. Would he really have Selima raped if Ama didn’t sleep with him?

Yes. You know he would. Oh my god …

Jackson pushed her legs apart and thrust into her, and Ama cried out. Jackson clamped his hand over her mouth again. “Now listen to me, whore. I’m going to fuck you every night of our marriage, and you’ll let me, or I swear to god, I will hurt everyone you care about. Everyone. And I’ll finish with you, Amalia. I swear to god. And if you ever leave me? I’ll kill you. I’ll rip you apart.”

He continued to thrust as silent tears poured down Ama’s cheeks. She closed her eyes as he pumped away, his cock shooting thin streams of cum inside her. No. No, this cannot be happening.

He pulled out, satisfied. “Guess I got the worth of the bride price now.”

Ama curled up in a ball and sobbed. Jackson chuckled. “Get used to it, little girl. I mean it when I say I’ll destroy you if you tell anyone about this. Anyone.”

And then he was gone.

Ama stayed curled up on the counterpane, shocked to her core about what had just happened. Rape. Jackson had raped her. He’d threatened to have her family attacked and threatened to kill her.

How the hell was she ever going to survive this marriage? Her burner phone vibrated in her nightstand drawer, but she couldn’t face talking to Enda—not to the man she loved when the man she despised had just done this to her.

Ama wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and never wake up.

 

Raffaelo Winter bear-hugged his good friend Enda as soon as Enda saw them alight from the private plane. Inca, Raffaelo’s exquisite wife, was grinning and rolling her eyes at them. Enda laughed as Raffaelo released him and he embraced Inca.

“Hello, gorgeous. Still married to this wretch, then?”

Inca smiled at him. She had stunning eyes, he thought, warm and loving, and her face was perfection. Her long, dark hair was caught up in a ponytail, and she was adorably scruffy in t-shirt and jeans. Enda was hit with the thought that she and Ama would have a lot in common. Both Indian-American, both gorgeous talented and funny.

They chatted as they drove in Enda’s limousine from Raffaelo’s private jet, and Enda marveled at the easy love between Raff and Inca. They had been through hell together, but were still as in love as ever. Raffaelo, his dark curls now cropped close to his head and flecked with silver, sported a beard which made him look, according to Inca, like a ‘sexy grumpy professor.’”

“And who knew my kink was sexy, grumpy professors?” she joked, and Raffaelo ran a finger down her cheek, grinning.

Enda felt a spark of envy. How he would love to have this open, joking, fun relationship with Ama, but over the last week, she had been subdued and withdrawn. She told him she was just tired, but even though they had known each other for such a short time, he knew she was holding something back from him. When they made love, she clung to him as if she wanted to never let go, but it was tinged with a quiet desperation.

Today, though, she would meet up with him and his friends in public, ostensibly to discuss the music school idea, but really, Enda hoped, just to bond with his friends. The music schools would provide good cover for Ama meet up with him and Raff, and if she and Inca were to become friends …

“Hey, Enda? You in there? When are we meeting Amalia?”

Enda checked his watch. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to the hotel and get some sleep? We’re not due to meet her until one.”

Inca colored slightly. “We, um, slept on the plane.” She and Raff exchanged a conspiratorial grin, and once again, Enda felt a pang of loneliness.

 

As they were seated at the restaurant, Enda looked up to see Amalia entering and speaking to the maître d’, then glancing over to him. Her face lit up when she saw him and he stood to greet her.

“Ciao, Ama. Great to see you.” It felt weird to kiss her on the cheek, rather than taste her sweet mouth. She looked beautiful, but he could see dark violet circles under her eyes, and she looked like she had lost some weight. Her cheeks were slightly hollowed, and there was an air of sadness around her. What the hell was going on?

Enda introduced her to Raffaelo and Inca, the latter of whom hugged the other woman. “It’s so good to meet you.”

Ama smiled at her. “And you. I’ve heard so much about you both. And, damn, Raff, you and Enda could be twins.”

Raffaelo grinned. “I already have one of those, but I know what you mean. Good to meet you, Ama.”

Enda wanted so badly to hold Ama’s hand as they sat together; he had to be satisfied with just sitting by her, breathing in her perfume.

Inca grinned at him, and he realized she had guessed exactly what Ama meant to him. He was glad. The four of them chatted easily throughout dinner. Inca and Raff told them they were contemplating adoption, but at the same time, enjoyed their independence.

“I love having Tommaso and Bo’s kids to stay, but when they go home, I have to admit, I’m exhausted. So …we don’t know. Maybe kids aren’t for us,” Inca shrugged and smiled at her husband.

“Maybe not,” he agreed and laughed. “It would be harder for us to go on one of our adventures.”

Inca told Ama about their penchant for travel. “We went to Peru last year, hiked up to Machu Picchu, and went to the Convento de San Francisco Ossuary.”

“That was creepy. Entirely made out of human bones.” Raff shuddered, but Inca grinned.

“I loved it. The worst was that rope bridge you made me walk across. God.”

“Wuss.”

Inca play-punched his shoulder. “The words ‘hand-woven’ and ‘bridge’ should never go together.”

Enda, watching how easy and playful his friend’s relationship was, couldn’t help but slide his hand along Ama’s thigh. She started, dropping her fork, which slid from the table. “Oops, sorry.”

She bent over to retrieve it, and her shirt rode up, revealing a strip of creamy, golden skin …and the very definite imprint of a boot, bruised into the skin of her side and stomach. Enda’s breath caught in his throat and Inca, who had seen it too, met his gaze in alarm.

Jackson. The bastard. The fury burned in Enda’s throat, and when Ama sat up, tugging her shirt down and flushing, he saw her reaction to his confusion.

Lunch was subdued after that. Raffaelo seemed a little confused by the sadness that had come over the other three, and when Enda and Ama said goodbye, he hugged his friend.

“We will get together soon, yes?”

Enda nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The two men watched the women hug, and Inca whispered something to Ama, who nodded, tears in her eyes.

 

Enda took an un-protesting Ama back to his apartment and poured them both a whiskey. As she sipped, he lifted her shirt and studied the horrendous pattern of bruises on her stomach, back and sides.

“He did this.”

She nodded, looking shattered. “Yes.”

“That’s it. I’ve had it. I don’t care about anyone else but you. You need to leave that house tonight.”

“No.”

“No?” Enda was astonished.

“I can’t. He …he’ll hurt people. People I care about.”

“He’s hurting you!”

“I can take it.”

Enda lost it then. “How can you be so blind? You’re an intelligent, brave woman and he’s reducing you to what? His punching bag? Is he doing anything …?” He only got part way through the question before he realized. “Oh, dear god …is he raping you?”

Ama gave a sob and nodded. Enda took her in his arms. He wanted to kill Jackson right there, right then. “What’s he holding over you, baby? What is it?”

She told him and he closed his eyes. He had no trouble believing Jackson would have Selima or anyone else Ama loved hurt or even killed. He could understand how Ama thought she was backed into a corner. Bastard.

Enda sat down with her on his couch. “Ama, I know you want to protect your sister. I do. But I think there’s something you need to understand about Jackson. He’s …psychopathic. My father won’t hear it, and Olivier struggles with accepting it even though he knows it’s the truth. Has Olly told you about Penelope?”

Ama shook her head, looking desolate and exhausted. “No.”

Enda took a deep breath in. “Penny was Jackson’s girlfriend, of sorts, a few years back. They didn’t date for long; Penny could see what kind of man he was. So, she tried to end it. Jackson, of course, is never dumped. By anyone. When Penny met someone else, Danny, Jackson had them both murdered. Danny by a hit-and-run driver. Penny was stabbed to death in her car.”

Ama looked as if she was going to throw up. “Jesus. Jesus.” She bent double, wrapping her arms around herself. When she looked up at Enda, tears were flooding down her face. “What if he does the same to Selima?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I might leave him, but what if he has her killed before I’m even down the driveway? At the very least, he’ll destroy my father’s business.”

“Inca saw the bruises too. What did she say to you?”

Ama smiled through her tears. “She told me all I had to do was ask and she’ll be there for me. I love her already.”

Enda took her in his arms. “I’m so scared for you, baby,” he said softly. “I swear, we will find a way out of this.”

Ama nodded, pressing her lips against his. “I don’t want to go home, just for tonight. I’ll tell him our meeting with Inca and Raff went late, so I decided to stay in the city with friends.”

Enda kissed her back. “Cara mia, I want to make you happy again.”

 

Ama pulled away from him and stood, pulling her shirt over her head and slipping out of her skirt. Enda pressed his lips to her belly, careful not to hurt her bruises. Jackson certainly knew where to beat someone so that it wouldn’t show. Fucker.

With a rush of adrenaline, Enda swept her into his arms and carried her to bed. Ama gazed up at him as he stripped. “Don’t wait, my darling. Don’t wait.”

His cock, already ramrod hard and bobbing under its own weight, entered her and she shivered with pleasure as her cunt tightened around it. They fit together so perfectly it almost seemed unbelievable. They made love slowly and intensely until both came, shivering through a mellow orgasm. Enda kissed her tenderly.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?”

Ama shook her head and tried to smile. “No. You’re erasing bad memories, if that helps.”

To his surprise, Enda found tears in his own eyes. “I hate this. I hate what he is doing to you.”

Ama nodded, clinging to him. “I know. But I have to protect my family. Until I can figure out a way …”

There was a furious pounding on the front door of the apartment and they both froze. Nobody knew they were there or even knew Enda owned the penthouse. Enda sat up and wrapped the sheet around Ama. “Go into the bathroom and stay there. Keep the light off.”

She nodded and disappeared into the dark room. Enda got up and tugged his jeans on as the knocking came again.

Steeling himself, he tugged open the door. Olivier stood outside and Enda gaped at him. “Olly …what the hell?”

Olivier shook his head. “No time for explanations now. It’s dad, Enda. He’s had a massive heart attack. He’s in the hospital.” Olivier looked devastated and scared. “Bring Ama. We’ll tell Jackson we picked her up on the way.”

 

As they all three ran the corridors of the hospital, a million questions whirled around Ama’s brain. So, Olivier knew about her and Enda and knew about the apartment. How the hell did he know? She couldn’t think of a way that wasn’t negative. And that’s what was killing her—thinking bad things about Olivier, whom she adored, as she knew Enda did. She trusted—had trusted—Olivier with her life. And now …

They saw Jackson up ahead, and for once, Ama felt sorry for the monster. At this moment, he looked like the lost little boy, rather than the scheming rapist and possible murderer she now thought of him as. This was a different Jackson—vulnerable. She patted his arm awkwardly. “I’m so sorry, Jackson.”

He looked right through her, ignoring Enda entirely and looked in desperation at his older brother. “They won’t tell me anything, Olly.”

Olivier nodded, his face grim. “They’re probably still trying to do what they do, Jack. Let’s go sit together and wait.”

Ama couldn’t bring herself to sit with Jackson, so she sat opposite him. She caught Olivier’s eye, and he smiled kindly. She felt a rush of relief that he wasn’t judging her for sleeping with Enda. Enda sat next to her, his arm across the back of her chair, and it was so tempting to just snuggle into him. He looked shocked, but grim-faced, and Ama could tell he was trying to keep it together.

An hour later, the doctor came to see them. “I’m Dr. Friedan. I’m the chief of cardiology here,” she said and gave them a warm smile. “Mr. Gallo suffered a severe heart attack, as you know. Now, we’ve managed to stabilize him, but the next twenty-four hours are critical.”

“Can we see him?”

Dr. Friedan shook her head. “I’d rather you didn’t for a few hours. Let him rest. He regained consciousness briefly, but he’s sleeping now. Come back in the morning.”

After she’d gone, Jackson slumped in his chair. “I’m not leaving.”

Olivier looked at Enda. “Maybe you should take Ama home and stay with her at the house until we have some news.”

Ama looked at Jackson, who hadn’t even seemed to hear Olivier. “We should go.”

 

At Macaulay Gallo’s home, the place rang with emptiness. Ama didn’t want to sleep or go to the room where Jackson had been abusing her all week, so she and Enda made camp in the large kitchen. There was a large, well-worn couch and they sat there together, watching dawn break outside the window.

“You know, it’s funny,” Enda said quietly, “Even now, I can’t think of him as my father. I know the DNA tests said he was—sorry, is, but …it’s Olivier I stayed for. If it had just been Mac and Jackson, then maybe I would have not been so involved with the family.” He smiled sadly at her. “But then I wouldn’t have met you, amore mia.”

Ama stroked his cheek. “So we have to talk about the fact that Olivier knows about us.”

“It would seem.”

They sat in silence, contemplating what that meant. Enda gave up. “I just can’t figure it out. We were so careful.”

Ama was chewing her lip. “Do you think Jackson knows?”

He shook his head. “No. Because if he did …”

He didn’t have to finish the sentence. Ama knew he meant that if Jackson knew, they’d both probably be dead right now. Ama’s mind went back to what Enda had told her about Penelope. Ama had no problem imagining Jackson stabbing her to death for sleeping with Enda. She tamped down the terror. Better her than Enda …or Selima, but she didn’t say that out loud.

Just after seven a.m., she finally fell asleep, wrapped in Enda’s arms as they lay on the couch together.

At eight a.m. Olivier called them to tell them Macaulay was dead.

The funeral was attended by hundreds of people. Inca and Raffaelo came too, sad-eyed, hugging Enda and Olivier. Ama dutifully took Jackson’s arm as they followed the casket into the church and sat with him as the service began. Jackson seemed out of it, and Ama wondered to Enda if he had taken something to get through it all.

Macaulay’s death had hit him hard. Gone was the hubris and posturing; Jackson was grieving. Even Enda had felt sorry for the –man—as much as he could. He couldn’t shake the anger he felt towards Jackson over his treatment of Ama—the threats to her family if she didn’t comply with him. He studied them as a couple now; Jackson’s perfectly coiffed hair and cleanly shaven face, next to Ama’s ethereal, sad beauty. No. They made no sense as a couple. Why was Jackson so entirely set on pretending they were?

Enda was plagued with nightmares about Ama being murdered by one of Jackson’s goons. He pictured her in her car, gutted, blood everywhere…Jesus, man, stop it. He bent his head, closing his eyes to erase the images. He felt Raff’s hand on his shoulder and smiled at his friend gratefully.

 

At the wake, Ama stayed with Jackson for a time, then excused herself. She felt exhausted, drawn, and numb. She had liked Macaulay a lot, even though he was a weak man, and now that he’d gone…god, she would be alone in this house with Jackson. God knows what he would do to her when no one was there to stop him. She went to her room to change out of the formal black suit she had worn to the church and into a simple, but comfortable, black dress. She heard a soft knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Inca poked her head around the door and Ama sighed with relief. “Come in, please. I need some girl time.”

Inca hugged her. “It’s awful. I’m so sorry.” She perched on the end of Ama’s bed and studied her. “How are you? Really?”

Scared. That was the first thing that flew into her mind, but she bit it back. “Okay. Sad. He was a nice old coot.”

Inca smiled. “He was. And sometimes, he had good DNA.”

Ama chuckled. “Yes, sometimes.”

Inca lowered her voice. “Ama, you can tell me anything. It’s pretty obvious, to Raff and me at least, that you and Enda are together. I don’t blame you, or judge you, except to say …yay. Selfishly, I want my friend Enda to be happy, and it’s clear to me that you are the person for him.”

Ama wanted to cry. It was such a relief to be able to be honest with someone about her feelings for Enda. “It’s true. It’s just complicated.” She told Inca about the threats Jackson had made.

Inca nodded sagely. “I get it. Look, Ama, I don’t know how much Enda has told you about my past, but I had some pretty serious …enemies, shall we say. There was a lot of violence and I nearly didn’t make it. So, I’m saying …I’ve dealt with the kind of things I think Jackson is threatening.”

“And you made it out.”

Inca nodded, her lovely face serious. “I did. And I want to help –you—we both want to help you and Enda. I don’t know how, yet, but we will. Jackson has a lot of power, and now with even a third share of his father’s fortune, he’ll think he’s untouchable.”

Ama sighed. “You’re right. Did you know about Penelope?”

Inca nodded. “Yes. Look, Ama, I’ve had some experience with obsession. It’s unpredictable. I think our first step would be to secure both your and your family’s safety.”

“I agree. My family comes first, though. If Jackson’s going to take anything out on anybody, I’d rather it was me.”

Inca gave her a strange smile. “You and I are more alike than you think. I would rather die than let anything happen to Raff.”

Ama smiled. “He worships you, and I expect he’d say the same.”

Inca laughed. “He would. Hopefully, that part of our lives is over and done with.”

Ama squeezed her hand. “And now you’re on a mission to save mine.”

“You betcha.”

 

After her talk with Inca, Ama felt lighter and more positive. She rejoined the wake. People were starting to leave, and she saw Enda and Olivier talking to some of the stragglers. She moved towards them, but a hand shot out of a group of people, and Jackson hauled her to his side. The smell of alcohol coming off of him was overpowering.

“Isn’t she beautiful, my wife?” He slurred and kissed her on the cheek. Ama tried to not to cringe. Macaulay’s friends looked uncomfortable, but Jackson hooked his arm around Ama’s neck. “I’m a very lucky man, wouldn’t you say?”

Ama tried to deflect attention by smiling politely at the elderly couple. “How are you both? You look well.”

Jackson snorted. “Come on, what do you say? Arthur? Magda? Isn’t Ama the most beautiful woman you ever saw? Her sister’s pretty too, if you know what I mean.”

God. Ama pushed him away from her. “That’s enough, Jackson.” She turned, red-faced, to the couple. “I’m so sorry. He’s taken Mac’s death really hard.”

The elderly couple smiled sympathetically at her and made their escape. Soon only the family, Inca, Raff, and one other couple were left. Jackson lurched at Ama. “Don’t ever contradict me again in public, bitch. That’s not your job.”

“That’s enough, Jackson.” Enda strode over and put himself between Jackson and Ama. “Go to bed and sleep it off.”

Jackson sneered. “Oh, look, it’s the bastard. Are you still here? Daddy dearest has gone now, so you can just go fuck yourself, you Italian asshole.”

Enda kept his temper. “Go to bed, Jackson.”

Jackson looked at Ama again and grinned nastily. “Okay. If Ama comes with me. She can suck my cock while I decide whether or not to fuck her sister too.”

Ama gasped in horror, and Enda, incensed, launched himself at Jackson, landing punch after punch. Jackson staggered back against the window, smashing it, but Enda yanked him to the floor.

It took both Raffaelo and Olivier to haul Enda off the bloodied Jackson. A shocked Inca had locked her arms around a trembling and sobbing Ama and was trying to calm her down.

Jackson scrambled to his feet, wiping his mouth, and then stopped, looking between Enda and Ama. “Jesus Christ …you’re fucking her. You’re fucking my wife. Bastard!”

He threw himself at Enda, but Olivier stepped between them and took the full force of Jackson’s rage. They both staggered back, and it took Raffaelo to steady the pair. Olivier got his arms around his younger brother. “Stop. Stop.”

“You filthy Italian cocksucker,” Jackson screamed at Enda, who glowered at him, “I’ll fucking kill you, I’ll kill both of you.” He struggled against his brother’s hold, turning his white-hot anger on Ama. “Bitch whore. I knew the precious princess act was fake. How long have you been opening your legs for him?”

Suddenly, Ama lost her temper. She extricated herself from Inca’s arms and went to Jackson. “Do you want to know how long, Jackson? Do you really want to know? Our wedding night, Jackson. And do you know what else? I don’t regret one moment of it because I’m in love with Enda. That’s right, I love him. He’s my world now, and you’re just a bug on a windshield to me. Do you really want to me to tell them all what you do to me? How you raped me, beat me, and threatened to have my sister raped too? My father’s business ruined? Fuck you, Jackson Gallo, you’re not worth one billionth of Enda, or Olivier, or anyone.”

There were tears pouring down her face now. “I’m leaving you and seeking an annulment. Screw you. Screw my father for doing this to Selima and me.”

Jackson smiled nastily. “I’ll never agree to a divorce, Amalia. Never. You belong to me.”

Ama slapped his face, hard. “I don’t belong to anyone, asshole. Remember that. I choose to be with Enda because I love him.”

“I will ruin both of you. Both of you! Get out of my house, all of you. You,” Jackson snapped at Raffaelo now. “Take your whore and get out.”

Inca gave him the finger and Raffaelo smirked. “Pathetic child. Ama, how long will it take you to pack your stuff?”

“Ten minutes, tops.”

Raffaelo nodded at Enda, who was still amped up, ready to kill Jackson if needed. “Go with her, Enda. We’ll make sure the toddler here is occupied.”

Olivier nodded at Enda, his arms still locked around Jackson, who was just grinning openly now. As Ama walked past him, he spat at her, his saliva spattering across her face. Ama merely kept walking, wiping her face, and tugging Enda with her.

Jackson stopped struggling and instead decided to stare at Inca, who regarded him coolly. His eyes ran up and down her body. Inca glanced at Raffaelo and grinned at him. He rolled his eyes.

“Is she a good fuck, Raffaelo? She looks like she’s a good fuck …nice tight little cu …”

Inca calmly stepped up to Jackson and smashed her knee into his balls. “Quiet, boy,” she said in a cold voice. “You’re on very, very thin ice.”

“Seconded,” Raffaelo said and took Inca’s hand. Olivier tried to hide a grin.

Jackson groaned, bent double with pain. “Fuckers. You have no idea what I could do to you all. None of you will get away with this.”

Olivier gave an exasperated sigh. “Jackson, haven’t you learned yet? You have no power here. None. Dad’s gone. Ama’s gone. Stop with the empty threats. Grow up.”

Ama and Enda came back in, Enda pulling her suitcase. Jackson smiled at Ama. “Aren’t you going to say goodbye, baby?”

Ama didn’t even look at him. “Thank you, Olly. Raff. Thank you, Inca.”

And, hand-in-hand with Enda, she walked out the Gallo house forever.

Outside, he stopped her and took her in his arms. “You love me?”

“I know it’s crazy fast, but, yes, Enda Gallo, I love you.”

Enda grinned and kissed her. “Ti amo, Amalia Rai. Ti amo.”

 

Three months later …

Sorrento, Italy …

 

Enda took her nipple into his mouth and Ama sighed, running her hands over his head and shoulders as he sucked and teased the tiny bud. When they were so sensitive she could scream, he moved up to kiss her and slid his huge engorged cock into her, Ama’s legs wrapping themselves around his waist.

They had been living in Italy together for three months now, and it had been the happiest time in Ama’s life. The villa that Raffaelo had found for them was airy and spacious, and rustic enough that Ama felt that she was really in a different world. It had wooden shutters at the windows and delicate, white voile drapes that billowed out into the rooms, giving them a dream-like quality.

When they had left San Francisco, Ama had called the dean of the conservatory, explained the situation, and asked for a sabbatical. Given the circumstances, the dean had agreed, but still, Ama felt bad about leaving them in the lurch. Enda had arranged for Selima to have a private security team, and although her sister chafed against the invasion of privacy, she had been horrified to find out what Ama had been through. Ama had tried, without success, to have her move to Italy with them, but Selima, finally free to do what she liked, had refused.

“I’m sorry, Ama, but I have a life here now. I’ll take the bodyguard, but otherwise, it’s business as usual. Go to Italy with your gorgeous man and be happy.”

 

And Ama was happy. Her father hadn’t been. He screamed at her about disloyalty and dishonor until she’d had enough.

“Dad …you pimped both of your daughters out to men who beat and raped them. Who has the dishonor?”

Her uncle, Omar, had stepped in and defended her. “Gajendra, this has gone far enough. You do not have the right.”

Gajendra, his pride hurt and his business shaky, swore never to talk to his daughters again. Hurt but defiant, Amalia told him it was his loss.

“I guess we’re both orphans now, baby,” she told Enda, trying to put a brave face on it, but when she burst into tears, he held her tightly.

“You are my family, Amalia Rai. You, Olly, Selima, Raff, and Inca. I think myself a very lucky man.”

 

Ama gazed up at him now as they made love on this sultry Italian night, moving together, Enda’s cock harder and deeper into her with every thrust. She felt drunk with love all the time now, and so sensual in her own femininity that she had become more adventurous in the bedroom. Enda had her hands pinned above her head, and she moaned as his pace quickened, the friction of his cock in her cunt sending shivers through her.

“I love you so much, Enda,” she whispered, then gave a cry as her orgasm ripped through her. Her back arched, her belly pressing against his as she felt his cock shooting thick, creamy cum deep inside her. Enda, panting for air, kissed her, not wanting to disconnect. She squeezed her thighs around his waist. “Stay inside,” she urged, and he grinned.

“If only I could forever.”

Ama giggled. “Man, that would make grocery shopping awkward.”

“And business meetings.”

“And recitals. Here, tonight, a recital by pianist Amalia Rai, who, you will notice, will perform while being comprehensively fucked by an incredibly handsome man. Front row tickets extra.”

Enda laughed out loud. “Those tickets would sell out for all the wrong reasons.” He nuzzled her neck with his lips. “Although, the thought of people watching you cum and seeing that beautiful rose flush in your cheeks …that’s kind of hot.”

“Kinky.”

“Guilty. What about you? Have you any kinks I should know about?” He finally pulled out of her and lay on his side, his hand stroking her belly. Ama smiled up at him.

“You know, it’s hard to tell, because when I’m with you, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t try. But I don’t think I have enough experience to start thinking that way yet. If you want to suggest some things, I’m willing to consider them.”

“Hmm.” Enda stroked her cheek with his finger. “Not sure. I’m sure we can come up with something together—no pun intended.” He slid his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to him. Ama snuggled into his arms and breathed in the night air wafting in through the open windows.

“This place is heaven.”

Enda smiled. “I’m glad you like it. Listen, I was thinking …not wanting to stand in your way or anything, but have you thought any more about going back to San Francisco?”

Ama felt a wave of nausea. Being so close to Jackson again …but then, there was her work to consider. “I keep going over it in my mind. I don’t want to be driven out of the job I adore because of Jackson and his threats, and I owe the conservatory at least a proper goodbye if I leave. My contract stipulates three months’ notice.”

“Sounds like you’ve been considering leaving.”

Ama nodded, her eyes serious as she looked up at him. “Truthfully, Enda, I have. I would be happy never to go back to the States. This place feels like home to me. You feel like home. I mean …” She went red and sat up, suddenly shy. “I’m not expecting you to …I don’t want to make you feel like you’re stuck with me, is all.”

Enda chuckled. “Piccolo, I’m in this for the long haul. For good. You have no need to worry about that.” He ran his hand down her back. “As soon as the divorce is finalized, I would like to …well, I don’t want to make any demands of you, but I would be honored if you would think about …a commitment of some kind. Engagement, marriage, whatever we both want. Even just a commitment ring, if you feel like you don’t want to be legally tied to someone else. Whatever works for us. I love you, Amalia, and this is it for me. You are my person.”

Ama tried not to let the tears in her eyes fall. “You always know how to make me feel like the most loved person in the world. Thank you, baby.” She pressed her lips to hers, then pushed him back onto the bed, climbing on top of him. Enda cupped her breasts in his hands, then traced the indented line down her stomach to her navel. She shivered with pleasure as he circled it with his fingertip, her own hands reaching for his still half-erect cock and stroking it until he groaned and she lowered herself onto it, sighing as it filled her cunt.

“God, Enda, I will never get tired of this …never …”

 

The next day, Amalia met Inca for lunch in the town. They found a little trattoria and ordered a light seafood linguini and salad for lunch. Since being in Italy, she and Inca had grown incredibly close, and now Ama couldn’t remember when they hadn’t been friends. Inca was sweet, funny, very intelligent, and was so full of empathy for others that Ama marveled at her capacity for love.

They also had the same sense of humor—bordering on raunchy—and they often talked about their men in their lives. Inca was obviously still head-over-heels for Raffaelo even after all this time.

“He was a tough cookie to fathom when I met him,” she admitted now as they ate, “But just his presence used to send my body reeling with desire. Honestly, he’s my walking, talking aphrodisiac.”

Ama grinned. “I know how you feel …except my lightning bolt moment happened when I was walking down the aisle to marry Enda’s brother. Talk about awkward.”

Inca’s cheek flushed scarlet then, and she tried to hide a smile. Ama squinted at her.

“What’s this …gossip? What are you hiding, Sardee-Winter?”

Inca grinned. “Oh, you might as well know. Tommaso was my boyfriend first, before Raff. And then it was Raff. And there was a little …overlap.”

“You cheated on Tommaso.”

Inca shook her head. “No.”

“He knew?”

“Yes.”

“And he didn’t mind?”

“No.” Inca looked at her steadily.

“So, you were sleeping with both of them …” Suddenly Ama got it and gave a shocked giggle. “Both of them? At the same time?”

Inca grinned. “Guilty. Are you shocked?”

Ama processed this new information. “No,” she said finally, “Not shocked. Definitely not judging you, either, just F.Y.I. Kind of …envious? I’d love to be that uninhibited.”

Inca looked relieved. “Eventually, it had to come to a choice though …and Tommaso knew that, although I did love him, it was Raffaelo who had my heart. And then I got stabbed, which kinda put a little of the wrong kind of kink in the relationship for a while,” she quipped, grinning, and Ama was amazed at her ability to joke about it.

“The thing with Enda and me …I was a virgin before him.”

“You were?”

Ama nodded. “And although the sex is mind blowing, I’m a little scared to …suggest anything more adventurous yet.”

Inca nodded sympathetically. “Before the Winter twins, believe me, I wasn’t nearly as open, shall we say. I think it’s just the matter of being with that one person who you can entirely trust in.”

Ama smiled at her friend gratefully. “Thank you for sharing your experience with me, Inks. It does help …and, girl, you were wild.”

Inca laughed. “I’m still wild, just with Raff now, as it was meant to be. I also have a great relationship with Tommaso now. I think because he has changed so much and grown more content in himself. He was unsteady emotionally when I met him. Our time together …I think it both messed with him and helped him, too, as strange as that may seem. Anyway, now he’s with Bo and their quadrillion kids. They’re coming over soon …I can’t wait for you to meet them.”

 

Ama was still thinking about what Inca had said as she drove back to the villa. She felt a pang. She missed her own friends—Lena, Christina, and her sister. She would try to invite them all to Italy, although they had to be careful. Enda had made sure their tracks were covered, so Jackson couldn’t find them. Yes, he probably knew they were in Italy, but where, he wouldn’t be sure.

In the three months since she’d left him, they had only communicated once, through their lawyers. Jackson wasn’t going to give her a divorce or an annulment. She would have to wait for the two years before she could divorce him. She had even tried to say that he could claim she cheated—because, technically, she did—but he just wouldn’t even consider it. She didn’t want his money or anything from him, but her freedom.

That they hadn’t heard from him since was a relief to her, but she knew it made Enda uneasy.

“He’s planning something,” he would fret, but she had told him.

“This is what he wants. He wants us to be nervous, to be constantly looking over our shoulders. No. I refuse to live like that. What will be, will be.”

 

She walked into the villa now. It was silent, but cool—a relief from the hot sun outside. Enda was still at work, still planning on building music schools with Raffaelo, but currently catching up on the work he’d let slide when he was in the States. Ama dumped her bag, changed into shorts and a halter-neck top, and checked the time. Four p.m.

She hadn’t wanted any staff when they moved here, and Enda had agreed. So, now only a light security team were on the premises, but they worked the perimeter of the grounds and the house was a private sanctuary for Ama and Enda.

She went to the cool, open-plan living area and sat down at the piano. She thought of the beautiful Bösendorfer that Jackson had bought her, trying to curry favor, and realized she preferred this much older, well-loved instrument here. Enda had told her his mother used to play on it and so it felt more like a friend than an object. Ama ran her hands over the keys and played a few bars of various compositions; Mozart, Bach, Copland. She closed her eyes and let her fingers move of their own accord with a new composition, light but sensual …a love song. She hadn’t written anything for months now, it seemed, but as her fingers moved across the keys, she could feel the imperative within her. She switched to modern music—Tori Amos, Sarah McLachlan, Norah Jones—singing along softly with the music.

“I had no idea your singing voice was so beautiful.”

Ama turned and smiled at Enda. “Ha. Thank you. It isn’t, but thank you anyway.” She started to stand, but he waved her down and joined.

“Stay, and play some more for me.”

So, she did. With Enda’s arms locked around her waist, she played through some of her own compositions for him. Neither of them noticed it had gotten dark by the time she had finished. Enda pressed his mouth to hers.

“That was glorious. Grazie, cara mia.”

Ama leaned into his embrace. “You, music, and this beautiful place. I’m in heaven.”

She felt his arms tighten around her. “I’m glad you feel that way, piccolo.”

Ama stayed in his embrace for a moment, then her stomach growled and they both laughed. “I hadn’t realized it was so late. I was going to make us some supper.”

“Let’s cook together.”

 

They went into the kitchen that Ama had grown to love. Exposed brickwork and old-fashioned fixtures belied the state-of-art kitchen equipment. She opened the vast fridge. “It’s too hot for curry,” she said, grinning at his disappointment. Since meeting her, Enda had become addicted to spicy meals. “Well, I suppose I could do a light vegetable one, and we could have it with salad and roti?”

Enda grinned. “Sounds good to me …but you may be right about the heat. Maybe something lighter for tonight?”

Ama laughed. “Look at us all domesticated.” She turned back to the fridge and made a decision. “Stir-fry?”

Enda nodded. “Sounds good.”

 

They ate out on the terrace, over-looking the Bay of Naples, Enda’s hand on her thigh. Ama was thinking about what Inca had said earlier. “Isn’t it weird that, when you meet the right person, anything goes?” she said now to Enda.

“I know what you mean. I keep thinking back to that day. Your wedding day. You might think I’m the kind of guy who does that all the time, but no. It was just a confluence of events and feelings, and I thought what the hell? You looked so sad, Piccolo. It got me here.” He touched his chest. “I felt as if I couldn’t breathe until I kissed you.”

Ama was moved. “Ditto.” She grinned mischievously. “I was talking to Inca today …she was pretty wild when she was younger. Not that she’s old now, but you know what I mean.”

Enda grinned widely. “I do.”

Ama studied him. “You know? About?”

“The three of them? Yup. It was quite the scandal here back then. Well, not really scandal … not like it would have been back in the States.”

She stroked his hair. “I think I would be too jealous to share you.”

Enda kissed her. “Yeah, that scene isn’t for me.”

“What is? You know, I would try anything with you. Anything.”

Enda wiped his mouth on his napkin and studied her, a grin on his handsome face. “Okay …challenge extended. Let me fuck you somewhere we could get caught.”

Ama chuckled, a thrill going through her. “For example?”

“We have that benefit in town later this week. We could sneak behind a pillar and go for it.”

Ama considered, then stuck out her hand. “Challenge accepted.”

Enda laughed. “There’s a part of me that hopes we do get caught.”

“You know what,” Ama said, smiling widely. “Me too.”

 

***

Jackson Gallo picked up the phone. “Tell me you’ve found my wife.”

His detective, Larry, chuckled. “And then some. They’re in Sorrento, as you thought. They have a villa—pretty comprehensively guarded, but both of them go out quite freely. Your wife had lunch with another woman today. Another Indian woman? Her sister?”

“No, her sister is still here in the US. That must be Inca, Raffaelo Winter’s wife. They were unprotected?”

“As far as I could see. Want me to kill her?”

“No,” Jackson said sharply, “If anyone’s going to kill my wife, it’s me this time. The Winter woman …maybe. Another Penelope situation for her, I think. But not yet. I want to have all the pieces in place before I hit them with it all. What I have planned for them …they won’t have dreamed up in a million years. I don’t just want to kill my wife. I want to destroy her, my bastard brother, and anyone else who loves them before I finally kill Ama. I can wait for the right moment.”

He gave Larry some final instructions just to keep watching and reporting. Putting down the phone, he smiled to himself. What he had planned wasn’t just murder.

It was a slaughter.

 

Ama lay in Enda’s arms as he slept. It was past midnight, but she couldn’t get to sleep at all. She wondered what was bothering her and couldn’t get a grip on it. Something was changing inside of her, and she couldn’t figure out whether it was physical or emotional or …what the hell is it? she thought in frustration, but the answer would not come. She gazed at Enda’s sleeping face. In rest, he looked so much younger, less stressed, more boyish. I love you, so much, she thought as she looked at him. I can’t imagine my life without you.

The thought of being without him made her feel sick, and she gently extracted herself from his grip and went into the bathroom. The nausea passed, and she brushed her teeth again, looking in the mirror. Something was different with her. Her face looked fuller, her eyes sparkled, and her hair hung long and lustrous down her back. Her breasts seemed larger and her belly softly curved. Was it just that, finally, she saw herself as a sexual being? More confident? Maybe, Ama thought now.

“Hey, you okay?” Enda had woken and was standing naked in the doorway, eyes sleepy, his dark curls wild about his head. He looked adorable.

Ama grinned and went to him, pressing her nakedness against him and feeling his cock respond. She brushed her lips against his. “Fuck me, Enda …fuck me hard …”

A thrill of danger and arousal flooded her as he pushed her roughly against the wall, his mouth harsh against hers. He spread her legs with his foot. “Open them wide for me, woman.”

She did, grinning, and his cock, huge and swollen, thrust hard into her. His fingers bit into her skin as his teeth did the same to her shoulder. She gasped at the pain, but clawed his back with her fingernails, urging him deeper into her. He tumbled her to the floor and pressed her knees to her chest, driving himself into her as hard as he could, almost violent in his actions. Ama screamed her pleasure to him, calling out his name over and over, urging him to be rougher. He slammed her hands to the cool tile with his, growling his need for her, his cock plowing deeper and faster with every stroke until she came explosively, her whole body shaking violently. Enda pulled out and came on her skin, creamy cum spattering over her belly and breasts. His thumb delved deep into her navel, finger fucking her as he bit down on her nipples, then crushed his lips against hers until she tasted blood.

It was feral, animal, and they tore at each other as they fucked. Enda thrust into her perfect ass, hooking her legs over his shoulder. “God, you’re so goddamn beautiful, Ama, I could spend my life just fucking you over and over and over again …”

Ama came quickly, quivering and shuddering. “Enda …please …nail me to the floor. Fuck me everywhere …”

And they did. They spent all night fucking each other in every room in the villa, even the tiny utility room. Ama sat on the washer as Enda thrust into her again and again.

By the time dawn came, they were sated and exhausted. This time, Ama had no trouble falling asleep.

 

The same night, Raffaelo Winter was also having trouble sleeping. For some reason, although he and Inca had made love as usual—rapturous love—when she had fallen asleep, something was nagging at him too.

He got out of bed and went to get some water, staring out of the window over the Bay. Lights of the boats in the Bay bobbed around, and the night was serene.

But he felt something. Something was coming. Lurking in the shadows, waiting. Watching. He emptied the glass and went back to the bedroom. For a long moment, he stood at the door, watching his wife sleep. Her long, dark hair clouded around her on the pillow, her thick, dark lashes resting on her downy cheeks. Her beauty had always made him weak. The last ten years with her had made him happy beyond what he thought was possible.

And yet …

He was always that someone would try and take her away from him. Inca had survived so many attempts on her life—both offenders were thankfully dead now—but he was always tensed for the next attack. Her beauty attracted admirers and obsessives.

His mind flipped to his friends now. Enda and Ama had fitted seamlessly into their lives here, but the woman his friend had fallen in love with had a little too much in common with Inca for Raffaelo’s liking. Jackson Gallo was very much alive and well and was undoubtedly planning his revenge. And who knew who would be caught in the crossfire?

Yes, Raffaelo thought grimly. Something is coming.

And I know, I just know …nothing good can come of it …

 

San Francisco

 

Selima Rai picked her phone up and saw it was her sister calling. She glanced quickly at the sleeping man beside her and scooted gently out of bed. She went into the living room, slipping into Chase’s t-shirt before she answered the call. “Hey, sis.”

“Hey, I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Not at all.”

“Why are you whispering?” Ama sounded amused and Selima chuckled.

“Hot guy asleep in next room.”

“Good work.” Ama laughed. “Sorry to call so early. I always forget the time difference.”

“I don’t care. It’s lovely to hear your voice. How are you?”

“Beyond good. How’s your program going?”

Selima was studying for her Master’s degree in criminology and was loving every day, even though it was hard work. “Good, darling, really. I like my tutors a lot; they’re more like friends at this point.”

“Suck up.”

Selima laughed. “You know it. God, Ama, I miss you.”

“Oh, me too, boo. So much. When your semester is over, promise me you’ll come to Italy?”

Selima smiled into the phone. “Try and stop me.”

Ama seemed to hesitate then. “How is your protection working out?”

Selima’s smile faded. “So far, so good. They’re very discreet, but still …I could do without them. I have Chase now.”

“Chase, is it? Well, he’s probably not going to be locked and loaded, is he, so the protection stays. Sorry, sis.” Ama chuckled. “But tell me more about Chase.”

 

Later, when Chase got up and sleepily lurched into her bathroom to shower, Selima took stock of what her sister had said. Selima was overjoyed that Ama had split from Jackson Gallo. The man was a creep who had kept hitting on her throughout his engagement to Ama. But the repercussions of how they had split up had crashed through Selima’s life here in Los Angeles. Jackson Gallo’s threats to her own safety had shocked Selima, but his obvious rage and obsession with her sister scared her more. She had no doubt at all that Jackson would harm Amalia if he could, and although Selima was glad Ama was with Enda, she didn’t know Enda at all well and didn’t know if she could trust him to protect her sister. It made her sick to the stomach to think of Ama being hurt.

Chase came into the kitchen, stealing a piece of toast from her plate. She had met him only recently. He was a new transfer in from a college in Minnesota, and he had a warm, guileless charm that she loved. He’d grinned at her across a lecture hall, and although she tried to play it cool, her stomach filled with butterflies. Turned out, he was a friend of one of her friends and on a group night out, they had gotten to talking. Since then, he’d stayed every night.

He bent to kiss her now, tasting of toast and toothpaste. She wrinkled her nose. “Yuck.”

Chase laughed a deep rumble through his broad chest. He was absurdly tall—nearly six-seven—with blonde hair sticking up in every direction, big blue eyes, and an easy smile. “That’s what a man likes to hear when he kisses his woman.”

Selima grinned. “Who said I’m your woman?”

“Me. And I don’t mean that in a caveman, ugg ugg, beat you over the head and drag you to my cave way. I mean, you’re my favorite woman, is all.”

“That’s nice. Thank you. And so was the kiss.”

“Oh, I know.” He was cocky, self-assured, and safe in his masculinity. Selima loved that about him. Here was a man not threatened by a strong woman. “Now,” he said, coming over to her and lifting her onto the table. “I need to have a good breakfast.” He pulled her silky robe open and looked around. “Ah ha.” He grabbed the little jug of maple syrup and Selima giggled as he poured it over her breasts, then bent to lick it off. “Lay back for me, darlin’.”

She did, and he smiled down at her, drizzling the syrup onto her belly so it filled her navel, then down into her sex. He dropped to his knees and ran his tongue from her navel down to her cunt, pressing her legs apart so he could taste her properly. His tongue lashed around her clit and Selima gave a little moan of pleasure. “Just relax there, baby. Let Chase take care of things.”

His mouth on her, sent her senses reeling, and when he stood and freed his cock from his jeans, she almost wept at the feel of it plunging into her red, swollen cunt. “God, yes, Chase, harder …”

Grinning, he fucked her expertly, leaving her gasping, panting for air, and arching her back from the table as she came. Chase groaned, pumping cum deep inside her, then gathered her into his arms to kiss her. “God, baby, where have you been all my life?”

Selima kissed him back. “Just tell me we can do that every day.”

Chase grinned. “Sure thing …although we’re gonna go through a lot of maple syrup.”

 

She was still glowing as she made her way to class later that day, and didn’t see the man watching her.

 

Enda and Raffaelo arrived at the restaurant just before their client and were sitting, chatting, when he arrived. Roger Fallwell was an American property broker who dealt with all the major property scions around the world, but Enda and Raff were surprised when he called them to talk about their project. He had wanted to meet with them on this specific day, at one p.m. and was very adamant about it, which make them scratch their heads.

“Maybe he’s just here for one day? How did he even find out about it?” Enda wondered now, and Raff shook his head. “No idea.”

Enda shrugged. “Ah, well.”

Raff grinned. “You are so chilled out these days, my brother.”

Enda chuckled. “Ama,” was all he said, and Raff smiled.

“Gotcha.”

Enda grinned to himself. Last night had been the benefit they had talked about, and he had indeed fucked Ama in a dark alcove, where anyone could have walked past and caught them. No one did, though, but it had been a thrilling ride anyway.

 

At home, Ama was practicing a piece she had written over and over when her phone rang. “Ama?”

It was Christina, her best friend. Ama was delighted, but Christina’s voice was trembling. “Chrissy, what is it?”

“I’m not sure …someone broke into my home this morning. I was at the store buying milk. They left a message.”

Ama’s heart began to beat faster. “Chrissy, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“No …no, I’m not hurt. I don’t think this is about me. Ama, the message was written in blood on my wall. It said …‘Tell her everyone, until she’s the only one left.' Sweetheart, I think …”

“…it’s Jackson. Chrissy, I want you to pack a bag and get out of there now. Did you call the police?”

“I did; there’s an officer here. I told them what I told you and they agree – I need to leave for the time being. Darling …there’s something else. There was a fire at the conservatory. No one was hurt, but there was a lot of damage.”

Ama’s legs gave out, and she slumped to the floor, panting for air. Her chest felt as if it were in a vise. “Chrissy …my sister …”

“I already thought about that. There are police on the way to her apartment right now.”

“Thank you. Thank you. Chrissy, get out of there now.”

“I will, I promise. Keep in touch, Ama, please. Be safe.”

“You too. I love you.”

 

Enda checked his phone and saw three missed calls. Damnit. He’d forgotten to switch it off silent mode. He saw the calls were from Ama and he frowned. Just then, though, their guest arrived.

Roger Fallwell looked sweaty and pale as they shook hands, and Enda realized he was trembling. Was he going to have a heart attack? “Are you okay, Mr. Fallwell?”

Fallwell closed his eyes, muttering something to himself. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this …”

Enda and Raffaelo exchanged worried glances. Raff cleared his throat and signaled to the waiter. “Could we have some ice water, please? Our guest is unwell.”

Fallwell shook his head. “No, it’s okay, I’m not …god, oh god …”

As they looked on in amazement, Roger Fallwell started to sob.

 

Inca was at her favorite tea house in the city, the one she had opened with Raff soon after they became engaged. With an upstairs tea room over-looking the Bay, it was always busy, and Inca liked to help out as much as she could. It made her feel less like the princess in the ivory tower. The staff and customers alike adored her, and she loved spending time there. It had also improved her Italian exponentially, and she could chatter away to people easily now. She often told Raff that she felt more Italian than American now and she knew he was pleased.

Today, the upper tea room was packed, but downstairs was quiet and cool. Inca took the opportunity to go down and clean. She didn’t see the two men enter behind her until one of them cleared their throat. They were dressed casually and wore friendly smiles, and she grinned back. “Hey, fellas, come on in. We have plenty of room. Upstairs or down. I’m Inca, so if you need anything, just ask.”

The two men looked at each other and for a second Inca wondered if they had understood her.

Then the large man grabbed her so quickly she couldn’t react, clamping a huge hand over her mouth and easily holding her arms with the other massive arm. Without hesitation, the other man stepped forward.

Terrified, Inca only saw a brief flash of steel before he drove the knife into her belly again and again.

The pain was unimaginable.

 

Enda tried to calm their guest down. “Sir, please …what is it?”

Fallwell gasped and gulped and finally calmed himself. “He has my wife and my four-year-old daughter. He told me he’ll kill them unless I brought you here today, at this time. Both of you.”

Both Enda and Raff knew instantly. Jackson. Raff leaned forward. “What does he want, Roger? Why bring us here today?”

Roger looked at Raff with sorrow-filled eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Winter …he wanted her unprotected.”

Raff’s color drained from his face. “No …no …not Inca …”

Roger started to sob again, nodding. “And, Mr. Gallo, he told me to tell you …this is it. This is where they all die, including Amalia.”

 

Stella, the tea house’s barista heard the scream from downstairs and hurried down. At first, she just saw the shocked tourist standing at the doorway, her hands at her mouth, staring down at the ground. As Stella rounded the corner, her heart almost failed.

Inca was splayed on the floor, eyes closed, with blood spreading everywhere across her dress. Dark purple knife wounds were on her stomach and belly. Her breathing was ragged and hitching, and as Stella dropped to her knees, Inca opened her eyes. In them, she saw confusion, bewilderment, and agony. On the floor beside her was a lethal-looking knife, covered in blood. The tourist was crying, but was on her phone, obviously calling the emergency services.

“Oh, mio Dio, mio Dio.” Panicked, Stella pressed her finger gently to Inca’s throat. There was a weak pulse, but it was slowing.

Inca made a strange noise, like she was fighting for breath, and then her eyes closed and her head slumped to the side. Stella knew instantly.

Inca was dying.

Then Stella too started to scream for help.

 

Raff was out of the restaurant in a second, his face yellow with terror, his phone to his ear. Enda followed him, trying to call Ama, but the phone was engaged. As he reached Raff, the other man was talking to someone on the phone. He looked at Enda, and there was untold grief in his green eyes.

“Oh god, no, please …yes, yes. No, I’m coming now …god, please, Stella …tell me she’s still breathing …thank god …I’m on my way.”