Think of giving not as a duty but as a privilege.
—John D. Rockefeller, Jr.
BASTIANO ROMANO
I hated liars.
I hated people who pretended to be something they weren’t.
Like Elsa.
Like Graham.
Like Ariana.
I should have hated her.
I wanted to hate her.
But I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
I wasn’t meeting with Damiano De Luca because I wanted to save my family from embarrassment. I was meeting with him because I wanted to save Ariana’s life. A life I knew nothing about.
She’d betrayed me just like Elsa had. Only this time, I’d known not to fall for it, but I did anyway. I’d known Ariana’s last name. I knew never to trust someone from her family. But I’d let her in, and she’d turned out to be a liar.
The worst part was, I knew, despite all the access she’d had since I’d hired her, she wouldn’t use the information she’d acquired.
Not now.
Not after us.
Jupiter and Ganymede, she’d called us.
Reverently.
Like she truly believed that.
“We’re here, sir.” My driver kept his face ahead as he spoke.
The town car pulled up beside Damian’s. The lot to the Wilton University campus brimmed with European cars, but we nabbed two faculty spots in the front, not caring about rules. My driver kept his eyes up front as I sat in the back seat, skimming the contract I’d drawn up earlier.
Damian opened the door and slid in beside me, his face carefully blank. I cleared mine, too, as I took a sip of the green smoothie Luna had made this morning on Tessie’s behest. “You hear from Renata Vitali?”
His throat bobbed, and I knew she was his weakness. “Yes.”
We sat in silence.
The Vitali family could go after Ariana, and she’d be dead. Done. Just gone. Like she’d never existed.
I shifted. “…And?”
“And she agreed to discretion, so long as the matter is sufficiently handled on your end.”
I waited for the caveat, but when he didn’t give one, I prodded, “What does discretion entail?”
“It means the encounter will be slipped into the Vitali archives, and so long as no attention is drawn to this weekend, there should be no reason for anyone to investigate.”
Translation: keep my mouth shut and don’t draw attention to this.
“What does she want in return?”
Renata was a hard woman to pin down. She’d disappeared from the mafia scene ages ago, and I couldn’t figure her out.
“I’ve taken care of that.”
“In exchange for what?”
He took his time answering, and his head hit the headrest as he relaxed into the leather. “One day, probably soon, you’ll take over the Romano family. When you have the power, you’ll use it to bring the De Luca family back into the syndicates’ inner circle.”
I had no plans to take over the Romano family. I was next in line, yes, but I didn’t want the throne. It was the last thing I wanted, but I did want Ariana safe… and I realized that, even though she’d betrayed me, I’d make this sacrifice.
“And if I don’t take over the Romano family?”
“You will.” He turned to face me. “Your uncle is dead, and your dad and remaining uncles are approaching retirement ages. You’re next in the bloodline. Or have you forgotten that?”
My face stayed blank, but my jaw shifted a tick. He’d riled me up.
“Your discretion and the Vitali discretion in exchange for a seat at the table?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.” I pulled out a pen and thick contract paper with the Romano letterhead and seal at the top. “If word gets out, this agreement will be nullified, and retribution will be sought.”
“Understood.” He watched as my pen moved across the page. “Have you heard of The Benefactor?”
“Why?” My pen stilled, and I didn’t look up from the paper. I didn’t like the idea of another party involved in this agreement. There was already a De Luca and a Vitali. “Are you amending the agreement?”
“No.”
I continued writing. “Then, we have nothing to discuss, De Luca.”
“Your family wanted me here.” He kicked a foot up on the mini fridge, the arrogant little shit. “You may as well treat me like a guest.”
My jaw ticked, irritation flooding my bloodstream. “I can assure you we couldn’t give two shits whether you’re here or not.”
“Oh, we have plenty to discuss, Romano. I received a handwritten invitation to Vincent’s funeral, sent from your territory. Vincent is your capo.” He nodded to the paper I held. “The letterhead and seal on the invitation was from your family.” I finally looked up at him, and he pressed on. “Last I checked, the Hamptons is your territory. This involves you, and if it doesn’t, your territory has more leaks than a used condom. Which is it, Romano? Are you involved or are you a used condom?”
“American politicians and foreign dignitaries vacation in the Hamptons. The Romano family stays out of the Hamptons as a courtesy for the work the politicians and dignitaries on our payroll do. In fact, the only mafioso in the Hamptons is…” My eye twitched, and I paused and looked down at the contract before handing it to him.
He waited for me to speak. I didn’t, letting him simmer on that drawn out information, kicking down his arrogance. When he realized I wasn’t going to continue, he skimmed the contract, took the proffered pen from me, and twisted the cap off the opposite end. A small blade sat at the end of the pen. Pressing it to his thumb until crimson smeared across the surface, he stamped his thumbprint onto the contract.
More blood to bind us together.
ARIANA DE LUCA
I’d left my things at Bastian’s, but I didn’t bother retrieving them. For the first time in my life, I wanted the few belongings I owned. I wanted to hold onto them and treasure the memories. Of the shirt I wore while Tessie played silly, off-tune lullabies for me on the piano. The satin sleeping shorts Bastian tore off of me when he took me in the hallway of his penthouse. His Wharton shirt I loved to sleep in—the one that still smelled of him.
But I didn’t deserve those memories.
I’d done this to us.
I’d let us come together, knowing the house that built us was made entirely of lies.
I’d expected Wilks to be surprised as I wandered into his office. Technically, I still had my cover to maintain. I shouldn’t have even come close to the bureau’s headquarters. But for weeks now, I’d been telling myself I needed to end this. Bastian and I were over, but it didn’t change the fact that I couldn’t work here anymore.
“I’m quitting,” I told Wilks without taking a seat.
Again, he didn’t look surprised. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes. Okay.”
I almost laughed at how little faith he had in me. “If you’ve always thought this day would come, why did you recruit me?”
“For one, a friend suggested you. And two, I’ve always believed in you.”
“A friend suggested me?”
“Yes. A mutual friend.”
We had no mutual friends.
“I don’t understand. And…” I exhaled a breath, finally ready to lay out all my truths, including everything that frustrated me. “You never believed in me. I got the worst assignments, the worst caseloads. I was never given a chance to succeed here. And then you threw me into the deep end with this assignment.”
“I knew you would be fine.”
“How?!”
He slid a file to me. I couldn’t wrap my mind around this conversation, and when I opened the file, the pieces fit together so clearly, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before. Wilks was the Romano’s inside man. Vince was our mutual friend. That was how Vince had known about my cover. My last name. He’d given me to the bureau in the first place. He’d led me down this path.
And this folder… it was Vince’s parting gift. His last request.
I shut it and drew it to my chest like a shield as Wilks spoke.
“I never gave you those assignments because I underestimated you. I gave them to you because I cared about you. I couldn’t give two shits about Simmons. He could die, and I could move on unaffected, but the thought of you getting hurt…” He shook his head. “I don’t hate you. I want what’s best for you.”
“I own nothing. I have no one. And now, I have no job. How is this what’s best for me?”
“I’ve kept tabs on you during your cover. I didn’t just hand you off to Dr. Clemson and wish for the best. Your belongings can be replaced. You’re well-qualified. A legend who has learned to adapt under the worst circumstances. You can always find a job. As for not having anyone, it’s not your time.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means you’ve spent twenty-nine years feeling guilty for something that’s not your fault, and in the past months you’ve healed more than you’ve healed in your entire life.”
I wanted to fight at his mention of my mom. Instead, I succumbed to the truth threaded within them. “Because of Bastian.”
“Sure, but Bastian isn’t enough. You need to find who you are. You need to discover yourself. Your identity. You can’t give yourself to someone else before you know what you’re giving away.”
He was right, but I wished he wasn’t.
“I’m tendering my resignation.”
“You can’t come back from that, and if the bureau decides, in the future, that you’re with Bastian, they’ll always be watching you two.”
“I’m willing to take the risk.”
If he’d take me back. It seemed improbable with each passing second.
“There’s another way.” He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his desk, and pressed his fingers together in a steeple. “You could disavow. Keep your cover. There’d be no severance check. No bureau loyalty package. You were wiped clean from our agency databases when you started your cover, but since your cover is you…”
“I still have my Degory degree, my name, a social security number, and a fake job employment history that will pass off as the real thing. I can start over.”
“You can build yourself a new identity.”
An identity I wanted.
Someone I could be proud of.
Not Apate.
Not Ganymede.
Not a liar.
Not a con.
Me.