Corey

The moment I get home, I can’t figure out what my hurry was. I hate my place. This is the stupid apartment I shared with Dean, after all. The lecherous asshole loser I picked. I can’t even remember what I saw in him. I guess he let me live small. Slow myself down. His lack of ambition made my life choices shiny in comparison.

It’s no surprise I returned to my place totally changed. It’s like when you go on vacation and when you come back, you see things through fresh eyes, at least for your first day back. I’ve been living in the Bellissimo with Stefano Tacone for the past forty-eight hours. The second-hand furniture in my apartment now appears dingy and sad. The stained carpet moans to be replaced and nothing in the place even represents me.

Have I even been living a life here?

What was it?

I don’t know who the fuck I am.

No, that’s not true. I’m just exhausted. I was a prisoner for the past forty-eight hours. Except I know that’s not really true.

I may have stripes on my ass that says it is, but it’s not.

Or maybe it is, but I was a most honored prisoner. I mean truthfully? Stefano Tacone—for all his power and fearsome capabilities, for all the mighty control he flexed—treated me better than Dean ever did. And Dean never raised a hand to me.

I had the best orgasms of my life. I ate good food and drank expensive wine. I came home with thousands of dollars worth of clothing, carried to my car by a most attentive bellhop. I’m still wearing twelve hundred dollar diamond earrings.

But I’d be a fool if I attached any meaning to any of it.

Stefano is a player. Fucking women and showering them with parting gifts is probably par for the course for him.

The doorbell of my townhouse rings and I frown. I’m not expecting anyone. I open the door a crack and look out. A large man in a suit immediately pushes it open and my stomach bunches up to the size of a nut.

It tightens so much it hurts, because the man pushing into my apartment is the last man I want to see on a normal day. But I especially don’t want to see him today.

It’s my goddamn dad.

Shit.

“Hey, Corey.” His slow drawl belies the aggressive way he entered. “Is that any way to greet your dear old dad?”

I can’t dignify that with an answer. I cross my arms over my chest. “What are you doing here?”

He walks around my place, his critical gaze probably cataloguing everything he sees to use against me in some way. “I’ve been transferred to Las Vegas.”

Fuck.

“I’m working a possible murder case. Turns out my own daughter might know something about it.”

My heart’s in tachycardia but I curl my lip in a sneer. “How do you figure?”

“I heard you’re the dealer for the private games now.”

Now my heart stops. How in the fuck does he know this? How? Has he been casing out the Bellissimo this whole time? The Tacones?

Jesus, he’s going to get me killed! Me and Sondra both.

“A man named Eric Donahue disappeared after attending a private game Saturday night. Were you dealing that game?”

I can’t believe Stefano didn’t go over alibis with me. Tell me what to say if I’m ever questioned. I’m a freaking accessory to murder, and there’s no way my dad won’t see through a lie. He’s a seasoned federal agent. And he’s my father.

I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not discussing anything with you. You’re not welcome in my home, and I need you to leave. Now.”

My father doesn’t move from where his ass is perched against the arm of the couch. He studies me with gray eyes.

Yeah, I just confirmed everything for him. Whatever he wanted to know, he knows it now.

I’m so fucked.

“I’m sure you don’t want to be uncooperative with a federal investigation.”

“I’m sure I do if it’s led by you.”

“Okay, what is your problem, really? I didn’t call enough after I moved to Detroit? Didn’t pay for your college education?”

“I don’t have a problem. I just don’t want you in my life. It’s quite simple, really.”

He stands and walks toward me, spreading his arms like he wants to hug me. “Corey, what is this all about? I never understood why you stopped talking to me.”

“I grew up, Dad. That’s why. I grew up and realized you were a shitty dad, and I didn’t want to have a relationship with you. It’s not that hard to understand. Aren’t you supposed to be a member of Mensa or something?”

“So are you,” he murmurs. “Maybe we’re just too similar.”

“Or maybe it’s because you’re a bully and you cheated on Mom and all you ever did was shove your judgments down my throat.” I’m getting myself worked up and—fuck!—I hate when I lose my temper. Especially because it does make me just like him.

“Out,” I snap, pointing to the door.

He shakes his head like he pities me. “Getting involved with the Tacones is a big mistake.”

My nostrils flare. Of course, every word of this upcoming speech is predictable, but I still can’t stand hearing it.

“I heard about Sondra’s engagement. Big. Mistake.”

“Yeah, well no one asked your opinion.”

“Her father did,” he corrects me.

Ugh. That sucks. Sondra doesn’t need the stress of having her parents oppose her marriage after talking to my dad.

“Nico Tacone will never hurt Sondra.” That was more than I wanted to blurt. I don’t need to convince him of what I needed convincing of myself. He doesn’t deserve a say in this. I sure as hell hope he’s not invited to the wedding.

I make a mental note to talk to Sondra about that. I’m sure she’ll agree, seeing as how her future husband could be harrassed by my dad.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” my dad drawls dryly.

“I told you to get out. I’m not discussing this or any other part of my life with you further. Don’t come back.”

He pulls an amused face, like I’m a silly toddler but saunters for the door.

Thank God.

I hold my breath until he shuts the door behind himself. Even then, I don’t know how long it takes me before I exhale. But as soon as I do, my stomach scrunches up under my ribs again.

What if Stefano’s having me watched to make sure I don’t talk about what happened? What if I just proved his suspicions about me are true?

I’m so fucked.

Stefano

“Fanculo. You look like shit.”

Nico’s face is covered in bruises, his lip’s split and one eye is swollen shut. He texted me to say he’s back and to meet him in his office. I can see why he’s hiding up here instead of being out on the floor.

I make a mental note to bring him that salve from Lucia.

“Junior is such a testa di cazzo,” I mutter as we give each other a back-slapping hug.

Nico shrugs like getting beat to a pulp by your own brother is no big deal. Which to us, it really isn’t, considering how we were raised. “It’s done. Settled. We’re getting married in a month back in Chicago and the whole fucking lot can show up to kiss my ass.”

“He just had to show you he’s still boss, eh? Even though you’re the Tacone who brings in the real dough? Who makes their shit legit?”

“The order came from Pops. Junior picked us up as soon as I hit Chicago. Whatever. I had to pay for defying orders. Now it’s done.”

I sprawl in one of the comfortable leather armchairs and prop my ankle over one knee.

“So tell me,” Nico says.

“Tony didn’t already fill you in?” I ask but didn’t wait for his response before continuing. “His name was Eric Donahue. Junior says Pops strong-armed his brother out of his restaurant five or six years ago. The guy committed suicide not long after. Seems like this was a revenge attempt. Not sure why he wanted you, but I’m guessing it’s because your name’s in the press. Like you were easier to look up and find in a public place. So he shows up and finds out how to get a private audience with you. And when he finds out you’re not here, but your brother is, I’m just as good a target.”

Nico rubs his head. “Cazzo. You couldn’t make this wash out clean?”

“There was a connection to Pops. Nothing’s ever clean there, and when that shit shows up here in your casino? Fuck, yeah, I’m going to make it disappear. What would you have done different?”

Nico taps his desk, then shakes his head. “Nothing. You’re right. I just don’t want any kind of investigation here.”

“I know.”

“And the rest of it? What the hell are you doing with Corey?”

“I was keeping an eye on her. Until I could be sure. Her dad’s a fed, you know.”

“Yeah, I fucking know.” He gives me a searching look. “You fuck her?”

“Yeah.” I raise the end of the syllable like it’s a question. Like, why the fuck does it matter what I did with her?

He continues studying me. We’re tight, me and Nico. If anyone knows me, it’s him. I don’t know what the fuck he’s seeing now, because I don’t even know what I think about the Corey situation. “What do I need to know?”

“Nothing.”

He won’t drop it. Apparently, he still sees something. “You trust her now?”

I nod. “Yeah. But I got into her phone records and put a guy on her, just to be sure. The situation with her dad could be a pain in the ass.”

Nico tips his head to the side. “You have a thing for her?”

Not sure how he got that from me putting a guy on her. “Yeah,” I admit.

“You getting anywhere with that?” There’s doubt in Nico’s voice and I laugh, because he must know Corey’s a tough nut to crack. I don’t ever fail with women. Maybe that’s part of the attraction.

“I’m working it, still.” I spread my hands. “What about you? Where is Sondra? I want to meet my new sister-in-law.”

Nico smirks and it’s nice to see a smile on his face. My brother’s been wound tight for as long as I can remember. He definitely seems different now, underneath the bruises.

“Come on, she’s in her office.” He leads me out.

“Ah, she works for you.” Why hadn’t anyone told me that?

“Yes.”

“Yes? That’s it? What does she do?” When he doesn’t go on, I make an impatient tell me more motion.

“Sondra is curating the art wing in the Bellissimo. We can display all those masterpieces we’ve acquired from the whales over the years.”

Huh. Not a bad idea. When big gamblers get desperate, they start putting up all kinds of treasures: keys to their cars, vacation properties, and often the priceless art hanging on their walls. We take anything here and we always collect. Which means we have dozens of paintings by famous artists in our vault.

We get off the elevator and Nico leads me to a wing that had been previously used as additional conference area and I see it’s been transformed into a gallery.

“Very nice,” I murmur, looking around at the beginnings of intricate security systems designed to protect the masterpieces that have not yet been placed. The placards are there, though. Titles, dates, artists, along with docent-like information about each painting.

“Sondra, meet my brother, Stefano.”

I don’t know what to expect. What kind of female would be the first to capture my driven brother’s heart. I guess I painted her in my mind as Corey’s twin—a tall, feisty redhead who doesn’t take shit from anyone but secretly loves a strong man.

When a cute blonde emerges from the director’s office, I realize I was way off. Oh sure, I see the resemblance. They both have the vivid blue eyes. But that’s where the similarity ends.

Corey’s the type who could pull off a Catwoman in black patent leather. Or wield a crop across some trembling businessman’s ass while he licks her thigh-high leather boots.

Sondra’s the girl next door. Petite, soft, blonde. She has dimples, for Gods’ sake! She’s youthful and sweet—probably submissive down to her gentle core.

Nico circles her waist with his arm and kisses her temple. It unnerves me to see my prickly brother so affectionate with someone but in a good way.

I reach for her hand and bring it to my lips.

“Don’t.”

I stop with her hand midway to my mouth. There’s enough danger in my brother’s voice for me to know he’s serious.

So. He’s the jealous kind. Who knew?

I drop it and give Sondra a bow instead. “Piacere di conoscerti.”

Her glance at Nico confirms my suspicion—definitely submissive. Their relationship is so fucking sweet it warms my heart.

“He said nice to meet you. He’s a goddamn show-off.”

“What?” I shrug. “I just came from the old country.”

Nico rolls his eyes.

“Well, I won’t intrude anymore. I just wanted to meet the woman who stole my brother’s heart.”

Sondra blushes, her gaze darting to Nico.

Unbelievable. The girl doesn’t know how lost my brother is to her. Well, maybe he wants it that way: like it’s a bit of a power or control thing. Nico is definitely as alpha as they come. Or maybe he’s just been too busy and now that I’m here, he can show her.

“I’ll see you both around. Or maybe I won’t. I think I’m supposed to be here so you can spend more time together.” I waggle my brows and Nico shakes his head.

“Get out.”

“Leaving,” I call over my shoulder as I walk to the elevator, a grin tugging at my lips.