Some days it’s hard to look at Bastien in the eye without flinching. Today is not one of them. My baby shower is this afternoon and I don’t want him there.

Unfortunately he’s already dressed. He waits in the living room, reading for a change. That’s all he’s been doing since we confirmed the heartbeat on the monitor. A box arrived in the mail two days later, filled to the brim with baby books. He sits in the leather lounge chair, the hardcover balanced on his knees. I scan the title: What to Expect When You’re Expecting.

Noticing me, he snaps the cover shut. “Good shit. You should read it.”

“Yeah, I’ve devoured every single pregnancy handbook there is five years ago. I have that committed to memory.”

“Then your information is old,” he says. “You’ll miss the chapters on juice cleanses and raw diets for infants.”

I give the book a derisive glance. “I am not putting the baby on a diet.”

His eyes twinkle with mischief. “Relax, I’m kidding. What’s got you all hot and bothered?”

Oh, merely the fact you killed a man. “Look, I think it’s great you’re reading all these books.”

Bastien examines his fingernails. “I’m sensing a but.”

“But I don’t want you at the shower.” I say it quickly so that I hope it’s like a Band-Aid. Won’t hurt as bad if I rip it off.

“Why?”

Is he serious?

Adrián is missing. The more appropriate word is dead. My dad is sparing no expense to find out what happened, and I have to pretend I’m just as stricken as the rest of them.

It’ll be awful.

“It’s bad enough with Adrián gone and my dad hijacking my baby shower for a meet and greet with the new boss. I don’t need the stress of having you there.”

He stands, clasping my arms. “There’s no fucking way I’m letting you go alone.” He pats me, smiling.

I want to slap him. “I’ve dreamed of this for a long time.”

“And I don’t plan on ruining it, hon, but I need to be present.”

“Your presence complicates things.”

He laughs. “I think it’s highly suspect if I don’t show up to my wife’s baby shower. There’ll be a lot of big players. Johnny Cravotta and his crew. I’m not leaving you in the same house with that man.”

“They’ll talk about Adrián the whole time! How will you keep it together?”

“The way I have all year, Eva. This is my job. And don’t worry about Adrián. As far as they’re concerned, one of the MC gangs got him.”

It can’t be as simple as he claims. “Where did you bury him?”

“He’s on a hilltop with pretty flowers that gets lots of sun—”

“This isn’t funny. You making jokes about the man you murdered does not make me feel better.”

He shrugs. “What am I supposed to do, cry?”

“How can I keep a poker face when Adrián could be found any minute?”

“They won’t find him. Your daddy’s friends taught me well.” His smile does nothing for me. “Don’t dwell on it. Just sit back, relax, and sip your sparkling apple juice.”

He expects me to play games while he and his colleagues discuss what they will do about Adrián?

Hell, I still haven’t decided what I’ll do with Bastien.

“Trust me. You don’t want to come. It’ll be a bunch of women talking about the different consistencies of baby shit and debates on co-sleeping.”

“Considering I did all the reading, I think I’m more equipped for those conversations than you are.”

Like hell he is. “There is nothing in those books I haven’t studied the shit out of.”

“Hmm. Maybe we should play a little game. You answer three questions correctly from this book, and I’ll stay home. Get one wrong, and I’m going.”

I don’t trust that grin. “And if I get them all wrong?”

“You have to blow me before we leave. If you’re feeling rusty, you can always forfeit now.”

“Shut up and ask.”

He grabs the book on the coffee table and thumbs through it. “Which fruit should you avoid during your pregnancy?”

Shit. “Persimmons?”

“Wrong,” he chimes. “Pineapple. One down. Not off to a real good start, sweetheart.”

“Let me see that!” I grab the book from him, scanning the pages. Damn. He’s right.

He pulls it out of my reach. “If you touch the source material one more time, I’m afraid I must disqualify you.”

“Oh, I’m supposed to take you on your word, which is useless as tits on a turtle? I don’t fucking think so.”

“Language, Eva. They say the baby can pick up on words in the womb. I don’t want our kid coming out swearing like a sailor.”

“That is not true at all.”

“You sure?” He laughs, glancing at the book again. “Next question. How many weeks does it take for the father to start nesting?”

“What the fuck? That’s not in the book!”

“I guess someone needs to catch up on reading, ’cause it’s all in here.”

“That sounds like utter bullshit. I have a question. How long before the baby has its first molt?”

“You don’t know the answer. Eva, I’m disappointed in you. Didn’t think you’d be such a sore loser.”

“You’re a cheating asshole, and this game is rigged.”

“Careful, Eva. Language docks you a half point. I don’t want to see you lose from a technicality.”

“Forget the whole damn thing.” I give the stack of books a venomous look. “What if you piss me off and I do something drastic?”

“Make a scene at your baby shower? That’s not you, Eva. I’m more the type to fly off the handle. Rat me out, and you’ll lose a partner forever.”

I hate listening to him talk. “Whatever. Let’s get through one more shitty event. Try to stay away from me.”

“Can’t promise that.” He replaces the book on the coffee table, losing some of his humor. “Eva, all joking aside, be careful. Don’t mouth off to Johnny Cravotta.”

“My dad is still boss.”

“Yes, he is, but for how much longer?”

A chill runs down my spine. “Is he going to kill my dad?”

Bastien’s jaw tightens. “I doubt it. Your father already promised Johnny the territory, but I don’t trust the guy. He’s one of the most vicious mobsters that ever lived and the department suspects he torched the MC fortress of Les Diables.”

I’m shaky with my gang knowledge, but I seem to remember my dad glued to the television a couple of years ago. Flames filled the screen of the old biker stronghold in Sorel-Tracy, a thirty-minute drive from the city.

He did that? Jesus. “I’ll stay away from him.”

“Good,” he says, tension knotting his shoulders. “Let’s go.”

My hand folds in his as he leads me out the apartment. I stop before we pass the door. “I’m not on your side, Bastien.”

He releases me, his voice like a cold finger down my spine. “Sooner or later, you’ll have to pick one.”

* * *

Madison insisted on throwing the baby shower at her house, which I was fine with. She promised to take care of everything and order food from the caterers. I couldn’t say no, but I feel bad showing up at her doorstep in a sour mood. So I force my lips into a grin as Bastien grabs the knocker.

The door flies open to an explosion of magenta and blue, of colorful streamers drifting down the ceiling and winding around the banisters. Confetti litters the floor and balloons are tied to every available surface. Madison steps in front of the doorway, her skin shimmering dark gold. She’s dressed in a rose-pink, floor-length dress, her hair ironed straight with new highlights. Looks like she went all out.

“Come in!” She waves us inside.

My butterflies somersault as I hear dozens of male voices echoing inside. More decorations wait in the kitchen, where the majority of the women are. Blue-and-pink frosted cupcakes sit on a three-tiered platter. Themed treats cover the dining room table.

I don’t know what I did to deserve this. “Madison, this is amazing. You didn’t have to go through so much trouble.”

She bumps her cheek against mine, blinking the mist from her lashes. “Don’t worry about it, hon. It was my pleasure.”

Bastien tugs my arm. “We’ll be back in a sec. Gotta say hi to the boss.”

“They’re downstairs.”

We leave the kitchen, heading for a door under the stairs. Laughter echoes from its depths, and I walk down the steps into a glorious man cave. The walls are a muted crimson, the pool table cherry stained, and squashy leather armchairs surround a big-screen TV. Smoke drifts through the room. Hazy silhouettes shift through the darkness. My dad nurses a water bottle as he sits in a chair, red faced but animated. A ball of fury pulses in my chest for every asshole lifting a cigarette to his lips.

A bright-red glow leaves a man’s mouth, and I step down, making a beeline for the first moron smoking. Bastien catches my wrist, but I yank it from his grip and march to the man with the cancer stick.

“Do you mind? My father is sick.”

Arrogant black eyes narrow at me. He’s younger than I thought. Hair as dark as midnight flows down his head, peppered with gray. A faint expression of surprise lifts his eyebrows.

Is he deaf? “Put out the damn cigarette.”

His lips curl. “Of course.”

Bastien wraps an arm around my waist. He gathers my skin between his forefinger and thumb, pinching hard. “My name is Sébastien Lucchese, and this is my wife, Eva. Eva, this is Johnny.”

My mouth goes dry. The Johnny? He inclines his head, wearing a bemused expression. The ruthless boss of Montreal who earned a nasty reputation looks like he stepped out of a men’s fashion magazine. His charcoal-gray suit is tailored to his slim frame, and rough stubble covers his jaw. He can’t be over thirty-five, and yet his eyes look ancient.

“Good to know you’re a ball-buster like your father. Relax, I think it’s charming.” Johnny crushes the cigarette under his feet and extends his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

I shake it, waiting to see a flash of the monster I heard about. “Yeah, you too.”

“Congratulations on the baby. You guys didn’t waste time, did you?”

Bastien rolls his shoulders back. “She wanted a kid—what kind of man would I be to say no?”

Johnny nods, a wistful gleam in his eyes. “I have two kids. You never love anything like you love your firstborn. My wife, Maya, is upstairs. She’ll tell you all about that.”

He’s not that scary. “Thanks, I look forward to talking to her.”

The air splits with my father’s wracking cough. Johnny frowns. “I’ll tell my guys to stop,” he says, turning around to tap a man’s shoulder. “Put that shit out.”

Bastien lets out a tense breath, unhooking his death grip from my waist. “Eva, be careful.”

A fist-sized lump throbs in my throat as I spot my dad trying to hide his hacking. I rush toward his side, guilt gnawing at my ribs. It’s been weeks since I left home and I haven’t been available to take care of him. The state of his clothes is a mess. He didn’t press his suit. His shirt is wrinkled. His watery eyes find mine, and he smiles.

“Hey, Eva. How are you?”

“Dad, thanks so much for coming.”

Bastien reaches inside his jacket as Dad coughs, and hands him a few tissues. “Easy, Vito. Maybe you should go upstairs.”

“With the women?” he hisses. “You want me to be humiliated to death? No, I’ll stay here.”

“Daddy, the smoke isn’t good for you.” It was a mistake to invite all of them. All I wanted was a small get-together.

He sighs. “Johnny and I have business to discuss. I need to line up all my ducks, Eva. It can’t wait.”

Bastien rolls his hand over my father’s shoulder and squeezes. I want to laugh at the irony. An undercover cop soothing my gangster father. Dad hacks into the tissue with enough force to hurt his ribs.

He clutches his sides, wincing. “I’m all right.”

He’s not all right.

He won’t last another six months, and when he’s gone all I’ll have is my fake husband standing by my side. Who lured me into marriage, got me pregnant, and refuses to let me go.

“I’m so happy for you,” Dad says, emotion thickening his voice. “I wish I could live to see my grandbaby.”

I take his hand. “It might happen. You never know.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Pressure builds behind my eyes, and I bite my lip, smearing lipstick on my teeth.

Dad buries his devastation with a hand over his brow and one of his enforcers, Louis, glances at him. “You okay, boss?”

“He’s fine,” Bastien says. “The smoke is giving him a headache.”

Dad groans. “Seb, take my daughter upstairs. She shouldn’t be breathing in this shit.”

“I agree.” Bastien tugs my arm. I cling to his side as we float through the maze of mobsters. We climb the stairs. I gulp down fresh air as we leave the fumes.

Bastien leads me into the living room with tall bay windows and modern furniture. “You all right?”

“No, I’m not.” I don’t speak louder than a whisper. “Everything’s fucked up.”

He touches my face, thumbs caressing my skin. “My aunt passed away from MS when I was thirteen.” His eyes blaze with pain. “She lived in Vancouver. We visited when we could, but every year she got worse. It was hard to watch. All of us were on the lookout for a miracle cure. We tried everything to keep her alive. Herbs, acupuncture, fucking faith healing.” He shakes his head. “None of them worked. She died anyway.”

I imagine a pint-sized version of Bastien at her hospital bed. “That’s sad.”

“You can’t blame yourself, Eva. And you can’t live your life for other people. Your dad made choices that led him here. It’s okay to live without him.”

Is he right? “If you want to know the truth, I’m pissed off. This was supposed to be my baby shower, and it looks like a mob meetup. They suck the fun out of everything.”

He smiles grimly. “Want me to kick their asses?”

I want you to stop making me feel like this is fine. “I don’t feel like watching a repeat of our engagement party. Ah, shit. Here they come.”

One by one they climb out of the basement, heading for the kitchen.

I plaster a stupid smile on my face and join them. Madison is probably wondering where the hell I am. My guts clench when Johnny walks out with my father. He’s a smooth talker, but I don’t trust him.

I drift to the women perched in chairs in the dining room. Bastien grabs my waist, yanking me toward him. “Stay where I can see you.”

Then he slides his hand lower, squeezing my ass.

Bastard.

I head for the table. It’s near the giant foyer, windows everywhere. Sunlight pours through, warming the furniture. A dozen women I’ve never met before stare at me with varying degrees of indifference. Madison taps the empty seat between her and another woman who looks like she doesn’t know how she got here. “This is my friend, Danielle. Dani, this is Eva.”

Dani is cute as a button. Platinum-blonde hair sits on her heart-shaped face, her apple cheeks so rosy it ought to be a crime.

I shake her hand, and it’s like touching silk.

“We met at the hair salon if you can believe it. She’s new in the city.”

Now I remember the friend Madison wanted to invite to my bridal shower. She’s always doing things like that—trying to adopt strays. I wonder if she’s connected. I had to weed through my friendships ever since I realized my father was in the Mafia. “Don’t talk to outsiders” was his constant mantra.

“You look great,” Dani says. “I love that dress. It fits you perfectly. Where’d you get it?”

“Oh, thanks! I don’t remember where I bought it. It’s an old relic.”

“Thank you for letting me come to your baby shower. Here—it’s not much, but I hope you like it.” She grabs a wrapped package from under her seat.

“Hey, anyone who buys me presents is welcome here. Ooh!” The gift is wrapped in white, and a beautiful golden ribbon sits on top. I pull both ends, slipping a finger into the paper. I touch something soft, and I yank out a baby onesie with a cow-print pattern. My face splits with a grin. “I love it. Thank you so much!”

Dani smiles, looking relieved. “No problem.”

“There’s more where that came from, sweetie,” Madison says, bumping her lips against my cheek. “Look at that pile.”

“Holy crap.” A mound of gifts I didn’t notice piles to the middle of the wall next to the table. “That’s all for me? You guys didn’t have to.”

“Please, it’s so much fun to shop for baby stuff. How’s Bastien holding up?”

I turn in my seat to find him. He’s in the kitchen, lounging on the counter with a beer. He smiles at me.

“Well, he’s reading every single baby book. So I guess he’s taking it seriously.”

Madison exchanges a shocked glance with Dani. “Really? You would have to put a gun to Reg’s head to make him read anything. I’m impressed.”

So am I, if I’m being honest.

Bastien winks at me and puckers his lips. My cheeks grow hot, and I look away.

Madison grasps my arm as she frowns, looking above everyone’s heads. “Do you see Adrián anywhere? I was hoping to set him up with Dani.”

My stomach lurches. “I’ve heard he’s missing.”

“What?” she says.

“No one’s seen him in weeks. I thought you knew.”

“No, I didn’t. Excuse me; I need to talk to my husband. Help yourself to some snacks, for God’s sake.”

With a sway of her hips, she slides off the chair and heads into the crowd of testosterone to find Reg. Dani and I chat as I load my plate with baby-themed food. She’s here on an internship. She seems like a sweet girl, and I want to grab her shoulders and scream, Stay away from these people. These people. I don’t even consider myself one of them anymore.

After a few hours, the liquor flows and the conversation darkens. Adrián. Where’s Adrián? Even worse is watching Adrián’s killer pretending to be concerned over his colleague’s abrupt disappearance. A chill runs down my spine every time I see another convincing performance from my fake husband. I think it’s a comfort to him that I know. He doesn’t have to keep up the charade around me.

I sure as hell don’t feel good about this.

I drift to Bastien’s side, who slides an arm over my waist and kisses my head. Tendrils of heat seize my limbs, and he palms my stomach. Awe glows in his eyes, and I know he’s thinking of our baby growing in there.

My dad shifts through the crowd and notices us. Smiles. He heads toward us and touches my shoulder. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

I roll away from Bastien. “Sure.”

He pulls me from the men talking in the living room and brings me into the kitchen, which is deserted. An uncharacteristically serious look falls on his face.

“This is a long shot, but I wanted to ask you if you’ve seen Adrián.”

“No. Bastien told me he was missing, but the last time I saw him was at the party.”

Dad nods. “It’s just that your husband has a history with Adrián, and I’m worried he took it too far, and something bad happened. He checked in with me on the third.”

Fuck.

Now’s the part where I’m supposed to come clean. Confess I know he’s dead, but I can’t do that without getting Bastien killed.

I won’t allow that to happen. “Let me look at my calendar.” I open my phone and pretend to scroll through dates. “Says I had a hair appointment. I’m sure Bastien was with me that night, and I don’t know. I have a hard time imagining Bastien hurting someone.”

Dad smiles. “He broke Adrián’s jaw.”

“Only because of the filth he was saying. Bastien doesn’t go out looking for fights.”

He thumbs his lip. “True.”

“Isn’t Johnny going to take over soon?”

“He has bigger problems than one of my made guys disappearing,” he sighs. “His mother wants retribution, but we haven’t found his body—don’t even know if he’s dead.”

“God.”

“I’m sorry, hon. I shouldn’t be talking to you about this.”

“C-can I do anything to help?”

“God, no. Stay out of it, Eva. You just got married. Enjoy it.”

He drums his fingertips on the counter and leaves the kitchen. I seize an empty glass to hold something, my hands wrapping around it like a vise.

This is a secret I’ll have to keep buried my whole life.

I clutch the drink until my fingers stop shaking and rejoin the others in the dining room. The girls seated at the table smile at me.

Glass shatters. I glance at the mess. Did they drop something? Pieces lie in splinters over the floor, among them a dark, thin object. It’s beeping. What the—

A blast fills the room, so deafening I’m thrown backward, my eyes blinded by a flash so white it burns the backs of my eyeballs. My elbows crash into tiles and searing pain jars up my arm, but I barely register it. The screaming. The throttles of bikes. Someone, shouting my name.

I struggle to my knees, still blind. Another vicious blast crashes through the windows. The sound is narrower. Gunshots.

I duck, covering my head as more fire through. I grope my way toward the center, hoping to find cover there. Bodies flatten on the ground—I feel a head, hair, a patch of wetness. The grain of the wood swims into focus. I jerk down with every gunshot, and then I spot the underside of the table. I shove it forward, grimacing at the crash of plates as it drops in front of us. I take someone’s hand; it’s full of rings. She squeezes me back. Slowly the world bleeds through the white.

A gun fires behind me. I clap my hands over my ears and scream. The men in the house return fire, and then another volley of shots smashes into the dining room table. They thud into the wood, trapped by Madison’s taste in extremely thick furniture. My eyelids blink tears over the film rapidly coming into view. Women cower on the floor, shrieking, except Dani. She lies still, clutching her arm with a wide-eyed, paralyzed look. Blood spirals down her bicep. I crawl to her. Place my hand over hers. “Were you shot?”

She can’t answer me. I lift her fingers. A nasty gash slices through the side of her arm. Looks painful, but she’ll live.

On my knees, I search for help. “Dad!”

He’s there, crouching behind the kitchen island. White-faced with fury, he screams instructions to his men. “Stop returning fire and run after them.”

“Help!”

Bastien turns his head at the noise and sprints toward me.

Vito watches him go, outraged. “Bastien—get outside! GET OUTSIDE! THEY’RE GETTING AWAY!”

The roar of bikes throttles down the street as Bastien ignores my father and slides to my knees. He grabs my face, searches for any sign of injury. “Are you hurt?”

“What the fuck is going on?”

He shakes my shoulders. “Answer me.”

“I don’t know—I think I’m fine.” Bastien pats me down, looking stricken. When he’s satisfied I don’t have a gaping hole in my body, he holds me against his chest. So tight I can’t breathe.

He shakes. “I would’ve lost my shit if anything happened to you.”

Fuck. Dani. “She’s hurt.”

“What?”

A man rushes to Dani’s side and grasps her pale arm. He smoothes the hair from her brow and whispers something in her ear. I recognize him as Louis.

He faces me. “I’ll take her to the hospital.” Then he hoists her in his arms and carries a shell-shocked Dani out of the dining room.

Bastien tries to pull me away and fear kicks into my heart like a hoof to the chest. “Stop! There might be more!” And I can’t leave yet—I need to find Madison. Where the hell is she?

Chaos litters the ground. I expect a limp arm. Bright pools of blood. I see nothing but shattered china, bits of plaster, and food dumped on the floor.

He yanks me to a crouching position. “Eva, let’s get out of here!”

“No!”

I stumble upright, practically climbing into his shirt as he guides me through cracked glass and broken tiles to my father, bent at the waist and wheezing.

One word slips from his lips. “Go.”

I twist in his arms, but Bastien’s motivated by a rage I’ve never seen before. His eyes blaze like two furnaces. “I’ll have to leave you with Louis. You’ll be safe at the hospital.”

“You’re not fucking leaving me.” I clutch his shirt, digging my nails into his flesh. “What the fuck just happened?”

He pries my fists from his clothes. “We’re at war. Goddamn it, I knew something like this would happen.”

“Bastien, you will not be a part of this. You’re fucking not.” My insides shatter at the determined look on his face. “No, please, no.”

“I have to help. There’s no way out of this.”

“You will be a father! How dare you leave me!” No, he’s going to run after those gangsters and get himself killed just like Marc. “Please. Bastien, I’m begging you.”

Midway between dragging me to the car waiting at the curb, he stops. “Took you long enough to warm up to me.”

“Stop it! I don’t want you dead!”

“If I get myself shot, will that give me more points?”

“Don’t fucking joke,” I sputter between sobs. “You’ll get hurt, and you’re not even one of—”

He cuts my scream with a bruising kiss and catches my wrists battering his chest. I don’t want him to go. God, I can’t stand it if he’s hurt.

He breaks from my lips. A choked sob echoes from my throat. “Bastien, please. Don’t run out on me.” My heart’s splitting open with images of him in a black suit, eyes closed, hands held over his heart. “I can’t take it!”

He holds me tight. “I love you. I know you don’t feel the same, but I thought you should know.”

Warmth flows through those words. I feel it expanding my chest like hot air.

I don’t love him. Right?

Louis lays on the horn, and Bastien waves at him. He gives me a smile, probably the last one I’ll ever see. “I’ll come back—I promise.”