The Man is a Cacciatore

Episode 6

Cassandra

Fuck. I really don’t have much of a choice right now.

Leo stood in front of me, imposing, unshakable. My gaze flicked over him, running up and down the broad expanse of his frame, heat curling deep in my core. I forced myself to look away, settling on Ciro instead—lounging in his seat like this was just another night, another conversation, another game to be won.

Leo’s calloused thumbs skimmed over my right cheek and bottom lip, each slow stroke sending fire through my veins, scrambling my thoughts like a siren’s song. I’m absolutely fucked. If I rat out Declan’s family, they’ll hate me forever—probably kill me.

Declan’s mother and twin sisters were some of the sweetest women I’d ever met, and his father… Even if what Leo was saying was true, Finnigan had cared for me. Treated me like his own. I could still picture those family dinners—gathered around their old, worn-out dining table, the one that had been shipped all the way from Ireland because it had belonged to Finnigan’s great-grandmother. The smell of bangers and mash filling the air, wrapping me in warmth. Even Declan managed to be on his best behavior at dinner.

“La mia bellezza, answer me.”

Leo’s tone sharpened, insistent. My pulse stuttered, sweat pricking at my hairline. I flicked my gaze up to the stage lights, searching for an excuse, but they were dim, barely an excuse at all. My nails found the holes in my fishnet dress, fingers worrying the fabric as my mind raced. What should I do?

“I…” I hesitated, meeting his steel-gray gaze. There was patience there—thin, strained, but patience nonetheless. I knew he didn’t offer that to just anyone. I also knew that if I gave him the wrong answer, I wouldn’t be walking out of Oblivion.

The low thump of the bass matched the pounding in my ears. Everything felt too close and too far away all at once. My chest rose and fell in quick bursts, and then—Leo was moving.

His arms came around me.

I froze.

Wait—Leo was hugging me?

I tipped my head back, barely getting the chance to look up at him before one of his strong hands guided my face against his chest. My fingers curled instinctively into his jacket, my senses flooded by the scent of dark spice and cigarettes. It should have set me on edge. It should have reminded me of exactly who he was. Instead, I felt safe.

What an odd sensation to have in the arms of a killer. A man asking me to choose a side. A man demanding I help murder people I loved.

But maybe… maybe I could save some of them. If Declan and Finnigan were his only targets, maybe I could keep his mother and sisters out of it.

I swallowed around the lump in my throat, voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s make a deal.”

Leo pulled back instantly, hands gripping my shoulders. “A deal? With the devil? Are you sure, principessa?”

“Deal?” Ciro laughed, the sound sharp with disbelief. “Leo, you’re going to let her make conditions?”

Without missing a beat, Leo and I turned on him at the same time.

“Shut the fuck up, Ciro.”

Ciro only laughed harder. “Dio mio.” I heard the shift of metal on leather, followed by the rustling of fabric. I exhaled slowly, knowing he had just put his gun away. I would never forget that these men were dangerous—but I’d been around dangerous men my whole life.

Leo tilted his head, studying me with a knowing smirk. “When I make deals, I always collect, Cassandra.” His voice was smooth, edged with dark amusement. “So, I’ll ask again. Are you sure you want to sell your soul?”

Electricity crackled between us, the lump in my throat thickening, turning into something dry and suffocating. I squared my shoulders, gathering every ounce of bravado I had left.

“Good luck finding one.” My lips curled into a smirk of my own.

His gaze darkened, something wicked flickering in his steel-gray eyes. “Then let’s make a deal, principessa.” His voice dipped into a deep, gravelly growl, his body unmoving, so close I could feel the heat radiating off of him. My neck ached from looking up at him, but I refused to back down.

Then—after a long, drawn-out moment. And when I say long, I mean eternity—he finally moved.

Carefully, he sank back into his black leather chair, stretching out with a slow, deliberate ease. He propped an ankle on his knee, then reached inside his jacket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. The gleam of steel caught my eye, heat curling through me for an entirely different reason, before I forced myself to step back toward the stage, perching on the edge.

Both men watched me expectantly.

I understood their silence, but I needed a moment to gather my words. I couldn’t afford to falter. Licking my lips, I finally spoke.

“I want Abigail and her twin daughters left alive. In exchange, I’ll give you information about the Irish.”

I needed to be strong. To hold my ground. So I lifted my chin ever so slightly, exuding confidence I wasn’t sure I actually had.

Neither of them reacted right away. Instead, they exchanged a glance—a silent conversation passing between them, unreadable and unnerving. The longer they took to respond, the more anxious I became, but I refused to let it show.

What if they refused my deal?

Would they torture me? Kill me?

Ciro’s gaze met mine again, and I saw it—that dangerous glint, the barely concealed thrill lurking just beneath the surface. Leo, on the other hand, studied me with something darker. Something unreadable. Something that sent heat licking over my skin all over again.

I held my breath, waiting.

Leo

I kept my fucking excitement in check, adjusting slightly in my seat. What I was about to counter-offer was already making all the blood in my body rush south, and the fact that I knew my deal would piss Cassandra off? Even better. My little Topo always looked so damn good when she was angry.

Inhaling deeply, I took a long drag of my cigarette, watching as the ember brightened before fading into the haze of smoke curling through the air. It twisted and mingled with the multicolored lights of the small stripper stage Cassandra was perched on, a contrast that only made her look more untouchable. Steady your heart. I was the fucking Don—I needed to act like it.

Narrowing my eyes, I finally spoke, my voice low and smooth. “Alright. I’ll coordinate that with Ciro and Nico.”

I watched her carefully. The tension in her shoulders eased, her posture softening in a way that sent a rush of something dark and primal through me. Fuck, I can’t wait to see that turn into rage.

Here we go.

“However,” I continued, watching her sagged relief snap back into taut fury, “I want to make you another offer. In exchange for their lives—and this information.”

Her reprieve was short-lived. Cassandra’s hands balled into fists on her lap, her glare cutting through the dim lighting like a blade. “Is this an offer I can refuse?” Her voice was tight, barely restrained, and I wanted—no, needed—her to explode. I wanted that fire, that passion.

Before I could respond, Ciro fucking laughed.

“We’re not a cliché, piccola strega.”

My jaw ticked. The fact that he already had a nickname for her made my blood boil. He was intrigued by her. I saw it. And that was a problem. Because Cassandra? Was mine. Only mine.

“You can refuse,” I growled, shooting daggers at Ciro, “but you won’t like the consequences.”

Cassandra didn’t even flinch. “Or what? I’ll be sleeping with the fishes?”

Ciro let out a howling laugh, and I fought back my own smirk, though the amusement tugged at my lips.

“Always a smartass, mia bellezza.”

Her glare sharpened. “I’m not your beauty. Or your princess. I understand Italian, asshole.”

Holy fuck.

My cock twitched at that. Not just because she was being a brat—though that certainly wasn’t hurting—but because she understood Italiano.

I uncrossed my legs, shifting just enough to spread them wider. “Principessa,” I purred, “if you don’t stop that filthy mouth of yours, I’ll have to make you.”

Her eyes flickered down, exactly where I wanted them to, and I felt the small hitch in her breath.

We’d been playing this game of fuck me eyes for too long. I wasn’t about to lose.

“Christ, Leo.” Ciro chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “That is not how you seduce a woman properly. Mama would wash your mouth out if she heard you.”

I ignored him, keeping my gaze locked onto Cassandra’s, a silent challenge crackling between us.

Her emotions were always so easy to read—wide, expressive emerald eyes, flushed cheeks, the slight tremble in her breath. And right now? I had her.

But then—just as quickly as she let me in, she slammed the door shut.

Disappointment furrowed my brow as she crossed her arms over her chest, no doubt to hide her hard nipples, her jaw tightening in a poor attempt to sell her act.

“Well, I guess I don’t have many choices,” she grumbled, voice dripping with reluctance. Then, after a pause, she exhaled sharply. “Tell me your new offer. Let’s get this over with.”

There she was.

I shook my head, extinguishing my cigarette in the glass ashtray on the small gold table between our chairs. Then I stood, tucking my hands into my pockets to keep myself from touching her again.

Ciro rose beside me, but I had the last word.

“You’ll live at my estate until further notice. That is my new offer.” I tilted my head slightly, watching the way her breath hitched, her pupils dilating. “And as you stated, you don’t have many options to choose from.”

Cassandra went pale.

Slack-jawed. Frozen.

Fucking stunning.

She didn’t say anything—not yet—so I stepped forward, closing the distance between us with deliberate slowness. When I reached her, I dipped down and brushed the lightest kiss against her forehead.

“Finché non incontreremo di nuovo, la bellezza, Until we meet again, beautiful.”

Then I turned and strode out, Ciro following close behind, leaving Cassandra sitting there—processing, catching up, trying to piece together the chaos I had just dropped on her.

I grinned to myself.

She was going to be livid. 

But at least this way I could protect her, while we slaughtered those bastards. Cassandra Bennett was a beautiful frustration that I’ve come to realize I needed more than I ever thought humanly possible.

As we neared the exit, I noticed movement in my peripheral—a bleach blonde with tanned skin and sharp blue-green eyes. I’d seen her around before, a regular at Oblivion, but she had never once tried to get my attention.

Tonight, though? Tonight, she looked determined.

Ciro unabashedly checked her out as she flicked her hair, flashing him a sultry smirk.

“What do you want?” I barked, already annoyed.

She straightened, looking up at me. “I need to ask you a favor.”

Her voice was high-pitched, grating, barely cutting through the thumping music.

My jaw tightened. How fucking dare this puttana ask me for a favor? Me. The fucking Don of the Italian mob.

“No.” I pushed past her, but she stumbled, grabbing my jacket in a desperate attempt to stop me.

She was lucky I didn’t hit women. Because I was half-tempted to backhand her.

“How dare you touch—”

“It’s about Angel.”

Her words cut through my fury like a blade, and she quickly let go of my jacket, stepping back.

I inhaled slowly, smoothing down my lapels. If this was about Cassandra, I’d hear her out.

“Go on.” My voice was clipped, restrained.

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Angel came in last week pretty beat up.” Her eyes flicked over the room, scanning the crowd as if making sure Cassandra wasn’t nearby. “She said it wasn’t you…” She met my gaze again, her expression pleading. “I can tell she means something to you. Could you… maybe take care of whoever did that to her? She’s special, you know?”

Her hands fidgeted in her hair, and before I could say a word, Ciro took advantage—pulling her into his chest, pressing her too-large tits against him as he held her tight.

“Don’t you worry, bella,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “We’ll take care of it.”

Fucking pervert.

“What’s your name?” I asked, concealing the absolute fury clawing at my insides.

Declan Fucking McCalister. He was a dead man walking.

“Candy,” she mumbled against Ciro’s chest.

Ciro winked at me over her shoulder, mouthing, Nice tits.

“Thanks, Candy, for letting me know.” I turned, already picturing the thousand ways I’d make Declan McCalister beg for death. “Come on, Ciro.”

And then I walked out, my legs moving on their own as I fantasized about all the ways I was going to destroy that motherfucker.

Cassandra

“Angel, come here!” Sapphire shouted from across the main room.

At three in the morning, Oblivion was finally empty. The lingering smoke from cigarettes and cigars still swirled and danced in the bright lights we always turned on to encourage stragglers to get the hell out.

My heels clicked on the black tiles as I made my way over, hands clutching two buckets filled with cash. The girls and I had a tradition—if it was a good night, we counted our money and helped ourselves to top-tier liquor.

“Girl, I made three grand tonight!” Sapphire squealed, bouncing in her seat like a little kid on Christmas morning.

Well, I guess for Sapphire, it was Hanukkah, but I’d never actually asked if she got presents. Bringing up our pasts always killed the mood, and I wasn’t about to ruin a great night.

“What’ll it be tonight, Angel?” Grace asked, eyeing the two buckets I placed on the counter next to Sapphire.

I scanned the shelves, taking in the elegantly lit bottles before settling on one of our finest scotches. When I pointed to it, Grace smirked.

“Knew you had expensive taste.”

Turning to Sapphire, I smiled. “Glad you made some doe tonight, Sapph. You worked really hard.” I rubbed her overly glittered shoulder tenderly.

Her golden blonde hair swished as she fanned herself with the cash. “A few of my wealthy regulars were back from a business trip. They told me they’ve been in London closing a deal and were successful.” Her grin widened. “Showed by how much they tipped tonight.” She ended with a wink.

Grace slid the crystal glass of honey-colored liquid toward me. “How was your night tonight, Angel? Saw Romano and a very handsome-as-fuck friend of his sitting in the VIP with you.”

Her pierced brow arched in question—Grace was way too observant.

The cool glass pressed against my lips as I considered my answer, taking a slow sip and letting the scotch burn all the way down.

“He was handsome indeed.”

Candy’s familiar voice cut in.

“He hugged me and everything.” She wiggled her brows. “I’ll take a glass of white wine—the driest you have, Grace.”

I glanced at Candy suspiciously, taking another sip before asking, “When did you speak to Leo and Ciro?”

Candy’s over-injected lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Ciro?” She licked her lips. “Is that his name?”

Then she completely ignored my question, casually counting her cash.

I huffed. “Answer me, Candy.”

I kept my tone controlled, but she fucking loved driving me up a wall. And she knew exactly which buttons to push.

Grace set the frosted glass of white wine in front of Candy, then leaned against the bar, her short dark green hair falling over one eye. The other girls—Fiona, Roxy, Vixen, and Emerald—joined us, taking their seats along the bar top. Grace swiftly took their orders, but I knew she was still eavesdropping.

Candy stacked her bills neatly before finally answering. “After they finished with you.”

She glanced at me just to catch my reaction.

My grip on the crystal tightened, the grooves biting into my hand, probably leaving indentations.

“Why?”

I needed to know. Were they trying to get the other girls involved? Digging for more blackmail?

I knew the girls would never sell me out—we were family here. None of us came from great places, but we’d found a home at Oblivion.

“Candy, why do you always do this to her?” Roxy asked, clearly over our usual back-and-forth.

But it wasn’t me—it was her.

Candy just shrugged. “They didn’t say much. Just thanked me for being so amazing to you.”

Her tone was so smug it made me see red.

“Then that tall, sexy Ciro—fuck, I’d climb that man like a damn tree.” She purred. “Hugged me in gratitude.”

I saw red. Fucking red.

I was about to freak the fuck out when Vixen chimed in.

“Candy, you’re such a needy slut. You know those men aren’t into you.”

“Yeah!” Emerald let out a giggled agreement.

Candy’s smirk slipped into a sneer, her eyes flicking over each of us.

“You didn’t feel how hard he squeezed me. He was practically feeling up my breasts.”

I slammed my empty glass down on the bar. “You know what? I’m happy someone’s finally paying those fake-ass tits some attention. God knows your cheating husband isn’t.”

The room went silent.

Fuck.

All the girls gasped, and I cringed on the inside. Low blow, Cassandra.

“Shit, Candy. I didn’t mean—”

She held up a hand. “Don’t.”

Her face was serious now.

Fiona slid off her stool, wrapping an arm around Candy in a side hug. Her pink-and-blonde hair contrasted sharply with Candy’s bleach blonde. Candy patted Fiona’s arm appreciatively.

The two of them had always been close—I knew more than once, they’d run away from their shitty husbands together.

“Rick and I are… separated. Finally.”

Candy exhaled slowly. Fiona squeezed her tighter.

“The asshole finally fucked up and got caught. He’ll be in prison for ten years. Hopefully.”

Shit.

I was a bitch.

I reached over, squeezing her shoulder lightly. “I’m glad he won’t be giving you any more grief, Candy.”

“Me too!” Emerald exclaimed. “Let’s celebrate!”

We all stared at her—seriously?

Then Candy threw her hands up. “You know what? This is something to celebrate!”

Emerald and Fiona joined in on the excitement.

Vixen, Roxy, and I went back to counting our money, but we joined in for a few shots when Grace slid them across the bar.

I was happy for Candy. Really.

Glad that one of the girls had escaped her abuser, even if she hadn’t done it on her own. I mean, it’s fucking hard. These assholes know exactly what to say to pull you back into their web, sweet-talking you until the moment they turn and beat you senseless. That’s just what narcissistic womanizers do. They wait, they watch, and they strike when you’re at your weakest.

After drinking way too much, I had to call a taxi. The other girls kept celebrating, which had somehow turned into them dancing and giving Candy lap dances for her to judge. It was hilarious—especially since they were so drunk they wouldn’t be able to pass a walk-and-turn test.

I just wasn’t in the mood to join in.

The weight of what I’d committed to with Leo sank deeper and deeper as the night dragged on, and it only made me more annoyed with myself. I caved too quickly.

What was it about that man?

Besides his intimidating status, all he was… was fucking godlike.

Which, honestly, if I were God, I would’ve never made a criminal as hot as Leonardo Romano. That was just poor planning on His part.

Maybe that’s why I caved.

He’d sat there in that chair across from me—legs spread, a large erection on full display like a goddamn all-you-can-eat buffet.

I clenched my thighs together, the thick humidity of Chicago as I waited for my cab did nothing to help the heat now building inside me.

“Miss Bennett.”

A male voice cut through my thoughts.

I snapped out of it instantly, my hand diving into my purse.

Since Declan had decided to use my face as his personal slapbox practice, I kept my pepper spray on me at all times. I pulled it out, aimed—

And froze.

Dimitri.

Lowering the canister, I exhaled, both frustrated and relieved.

“Hey, Dimitri.”

I tossed the black cartridge back into my bag and clutched the strap tightly. My gaze flicked to his side, where I noticed the gun tucked into a holster. Yeah, my pepper spray wouldn’t have done jack shit.

“Why are you here? Is Leo with you?”

I swayed slightly on my feet. Thank fuck I wasn’t wearing my heels anymore.

Dimitri tucked his hands into his pockets, leaning against the black sedan like he had all the time in the world.

“No, the boss isn’t here. But he sent me to come get you. You know, the agreement and all that.”

He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it way too slowly, like he already knew I was going to argue with him. Like he was waiting for it.

That pissed me off.

Was I really that predictable now?

I stormed toward him, stumbling a few times but still managing to get in his face.

Dimitri wasn’t short—average height for a guy, maybe five-nine—but he was built like a fucking tank. Tattoos from his knuckles to his face. Stoic as a gargoyle whenever he was with Leo.

But right now? He had a playful smirk I’d never seen before.

And a dimple.

I squinted.

Yeah. Definitely a dimple. Not a tattoo.

I scowled. “What’s so amusing?”

Dimitri took another drag of his cigarette, exhaling a thick plume of smoke toward the sky before answering.

“Just that Leo said you’d be pissed when you found me here. And he was right.”

His too-white smile only made me want to punch him.

I let out a sharp huff, gripping my purse strap harder.

I wanted to stomp my foot, throw a full-blown two-year-old temper tantrum—but that would just make him laugh harder. And I was sure Leo had already predicted this exact conversation.

So I forced a smile—probably a sloppy one, but a smile nonetheless.

“How sweet. So Leo had an escort come and take me home?”

My voice dripped with mock sweetness, but the way Dimitri’s smirk widened told me he knew I was full of shit.

Tossing the half-finished cigarette onto the concrete, he stomped it out with the heel of his boot. Then, with a cocky glint in his dark brown eyes, he tugged on the back passenger door handle and gestured for me to get in.

“That’s right, sweetheart. So be a good girl and get in the car.”

Grumbling, I reluctantly climbed in, fumbling around in the dark for my seatbelt.

When I couldn’t find it, I gave up, sighing and resting my head against the cool, overly tinted window.

Dimitri started the engine, blasting the A/C as he glanced over his shoulder at me.

“Let me know if you’re gonna blow chunks. Gio will make your life hell if you dirty up his baby.”

I rolled my eyes before closing them.

I’d be home soon enough.

And then, I could sleep off this wild night in the comfort of my tiny apartment and warm bed.

Yawning, I settled in deeper. The leather seats felt extra snuggly and embracing, pulling me in.

Maybe a little nap would help me sober up.

Leo 

Slam!

My head snapped up as the office door flew open, revealing a disheveled, wild-eyed, nostril-flaring, chest-heaving Cassandra.

“You motherfucker!” she seethed, storming inside. “You moved all my shit last night while I was at work? That wasn’t part of the deal!”

Still dressed in the clothes she left Oblivion in—skimpy high-waisted jean shorts and a black crop tank that read I’m nicer than my face looks—she looked like pure sin. Her creamy-toned legs were on full display, her perfect tits hugged by that shirt that couldn’t be more fitting if it tried.

I barely stopped myself from smirking at the contradiction standing before me.

“Good morning, principessa.” I purred, rising from my leather chair and meeting her halfway.

She craned her head back to glare up at me, putting her delicate, flawless throat on display.

Dio mio.

My hand itched to wrap around her neck, to feel her fluttering pulse beneath my thumb as I kissed her senseless. I wanted to consume her, devour her.

But then—“Hello? Earth to Leo?”

Cassandra crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes into pissed-off slits. She looked like an angry little kitten, and fuck, I wanted to pet her so badly.

“Our agreement had no timeline,” I said smoothly, brushing a loose strand of her dark waves behind her ear. I didn’t let go right away. Instead, I played with it, enjoying the silky texture between my fingers. Her fiery emerald gaze locked onto mine, but I only continued, my voice rich with amusement.

“So I took the liberty of having my men do the hard part for you. All your furniture is safely in storage. Clothes should be neatly hung or folded in your room. And all your little trinkets are carefully packed away in boxes in your closet.”

Her nostrils flared, her gaze flicking between my lips and my eyes. I couldn’t resist.

Releasing the strand of hair, I slowly slid my hand around her neck—gentle, patient, controlled. I didn’t want to spook my little Topo. Not when I’d gotten this far.

My thumb rubbed over her rapid pulse. Her pupils blew wide.

Stormy green overtook her irises.

Intoxicating.

An excruciatingly long beat passed before she licked her lips and spoke, her voice softer this time—a mix of honey and smoke.

“You could have at least warned me last night.”

If God doesn’t strike me down right now, I won’t be able to control myself.

Leaning down, I brushed my nose against her onyx hair, inhaling the scent of vanilla and roses. My lips grazed the shell of her ear as I murmured, “And miss the dramatic entrance you just gave me?”

I lingered there, drinking in her heat, her scent, the wild rhythm of her pulse beneath my fingers.

She didn’t move away.

She wanted this.

She wanted me.

But I needed her to beg.

Sure, I’d stolen a few touches—tasted the smoothness of her skin here and there—but that had been to satiate the obsession I’d developed for mia bellezza.

Now, with her this close, my obsession clawed at my insides.

Claim her.

“Leo,” she breathed, her voice a mix of question and longing.

I tightened my grip—just a fraction. “Yes, my little Topo?”

Her stormy green eyes flicked to my mouth again.

“Don’t get the idea that you own me, because you don’t.”

She exhaled slowly, controlled—but still shifted closer.

The motion pressed my hand firmly against her throat.

She liked this.

The danger.

If I had to bet my life, I’d wager that beneath those tiny fucking shorts, she was soaking wet for me.

“I wouldn’t dream of saying that… yet.”

My voice dropped, dark and rough with need. Heat bloomed up her throat, creeping into her cheeks.

“Principessa,” I rasped, “do you like feeling my hand around your delicate little neck?”

Her lips parted. She stared at me—entranced, breathless.

“No…”

I nearly laughed at the blatant fucking lie.

“Do I need to check for myself?”

My free hand slid down her side, tracing the curve of her upper ribs—thumb stroking just beneath her breasts, which I could see right away were bare underneath.

Fuck.

My cock hardened painfully.

She sucked in a sharp breath, her hands pressing against my chest. Her fingers danced deliberately over my flexed muscles.

God, I needed her.

“If you do, you’ll be very disappointed.”

Her voice was a challenge.

And I’ve never backed down from a dare.

Keeping my grip on her throat firm, I let my other hand trail lower, fingertips gliding over every ridge and dip of her perfect body.

We locked eyes.

Neither of us speaking.

Just touching.

Then, slowly—deliberately—she started unbuttoning my shirt.

By the time my hand reached the top hem of her shorts, her stomach muscles fluttered beneath my fingertips.

In one swift move, I unfastened them. The zipper buzzed loudly in the quiet room.

I hesitated.

Waiting.

Daring her to stop me.

But she didn’t.

Not one word.

Just that same defiant, burning look in her eyes.

Tugging her shorts down, I let them pool at her feet, my jaw clenching at the sight before me.

A black lace thong. Nothing else.

Holy fuck.

I fought every primal urge to take her right here, right now.

She hadn’t begged yet. She hadn’t told me to stop.

“Last chance, Cassandra.”

I swallowed hard, my voice thick with need.

“If you don’t tell me to stop…”

I couldn’t finish the sentence. My mouth was dry, my pulse hammering.

I searched her eyes.

She only shook her head.

“Is that a stop… or a don’t stop, my little Topo?”

I flexed my fingers against her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath my touch.

“Use your words.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

“Don’t… stop.”

She stuttered as she undid the last button of my shirt, nails raking over the hard muscles of my chest.

That was all I needed.

I was going to ruin her.

And the best fucking part?

She wanted me to.

Tearing away the fabric shielding her delicious pussy, my fingers immediately sliding between her soaking wet slits, seeking her heat. When I found her core, I groaned.

“Such a liar, principessa.” My voice was a low, feral growl, the most primal part of me taking over.

Her moans were mine, filling the quiet office as I sank two fingers inside her, my thumb finding the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves and strumming it with slow, precise strokes.

“Christ, Leo,” she whined, so softly, so breathlessly it made my cock ache.

I curled my fingers, hitting that perfect spot I knew would make her eyes roll back. And when they did, when she rocked her hips into my hand, her nails biting into my flesh, I knew she was already slipping.

“Devour me, Leo.”

Her voice—a desperate plea, a demand, a fucking prayer.

And I came undone.

I did just as she asked, my mouth crashing against hers, swallowing her whimpers as our tongues warred for dominance.

Still buried deep inside her, I pulled my fingers free just long enough to grip the backs of her thighs, lifting her effortlessly as I strode toward the nearest wall.

Our moans melted into each other, fueled by a hunger that burned hotter than anything I’d ever tasted.

The moment her back hit the wall, my fingers found her again.

Thrusting them inside her, rough and deep, my desire to see her fall apart around me taking over everything else. I needed to watch her shatter—to see her lose control for me.

Her hips writhed, her walls fluttering around my fingers, her hands clutching the back of my neck, bracing herself.

Leaning back just enough to study her face, taking in the way her lips parted, the way her eyelids fluttered, the way my name left her mouth like a whispered sin.

“Fuck, principessa,” I groaned. “Show me. Show me how you come undone.”

She broke beneath me.

Her head fell back, her breath hitched, and my name tore from her lips, breathless and raw.

My fingers didn’t stop.

I pulled every last ounce of her orgasm from her, watching her fall apart in my hands, knowing she was mine now.

She could fight it, she could deny it all she wanted, but it wouldn’t change the truth.

Cassandra was perfection.

And now that I’ve had a taste, she’ll never be able to get away.

I’ll give this woman anything to keep her here with me, forever.

Her trembling breaths filled the space between us, her body slowly coming down from the high I’d given her.

“Leo,” she whispered, her voice still unsteady, “you’re going to be a curse on my soul.”

A lazy smirk curved her lips.

“I haven’t decided if it’s the good or bad kind.”

Still catching her breath, she slowed the roll of her hips against me.

Smirking, I pulled my fingers from her, bringing them to my lips.

The second my tongue met her arousal, my eyes rolled back, groaning at the sweet, addictive taste of her.

A gift from God Himself.

Then, without warning, I shoved my fingers into her mouth.

“Clean yourself off me,” I murmured, voice dark and commanding. “Taste how fucking perfect we are together.”

She moaned, taking them eagerly, her tongue swirling around them before nipping the tips with a smirk.

“Perfect, huh?” she teased, her voice still husky from our intimacy.

Holding her legs tight around me, I pressed my strained cock against her, hard and unyielding, swallowing the whimper that escaped her lips.

“Yes, perfect. And if you want more, you’ll tell me about the Irish, my little Topo.”

I ground against her, feeling her body tense beneath me.

She squirmed, and I grinned.

Cassandra

Am I in an ice bucket challenge? Because what a fucking mood ruiner.

The Irish.

Of course that’s what he wanted. This was just a tactic to lure out information.

“Put me down,” I demanded, done with this.

Leo didn’t move.

I wiggled insistently, trying to break free. “If you wanted the information, we could have withheld the sexual shit.”

I huffed, frustrated with myself, with him, with my own expectations. What the fuck was I thinking? Did I seriously start believing this ruthless man wanted anything more than what he needed to infiltrate the Irish?

“Principessa,” he said gruffly, pulling me closer and burying his face into my neck.

He inhaled deeply.

A shiver ran down my spine.

What the fuck?

“Just tell me what I need to know,” he murmured, voice thick with something I couldn’t place. “While I have you in my arms. Please.”

He pulled back, and I found myself locked in his gaze—his stormy gray eyes dark as a sky before a tornado.

Then he ground against me—my exposed core, his evident arousal pressing into me.

And yet…

He had said please.

My brows furrowed. “Why do you need to hold me?” My voice was quieter this time, more uncertain. “You’re making this more than it needs to be. And using my needs won’t make me tell you more than what I was already going to give you.”

He sighed, reluctantly stilling his hips, though I felt the restraint it took him to do so.

“I know, amore,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You don’t understand how badly I need you. Or how much power you hold over me.”

My back stiffened.

Power? Me?

There was no way I had any power over Leo Romano—the Italian Don of Illinois.

I laughed, the sound disbelieving, bitter. “Stop bullshitting, Leo.”

His lips crashed into mine.

The force of it stole my breath, every ounce of his passion, his hunger, his truth pouring into me like a confession without words.

When he pulled away, I was speechless.

“Cassandra, I don’t bullshit.” His voice was steady. “You, of all people, know I am not a man to lie. You are a woman I need, crave, want—so badly I’d burn everything I’ve built for you.”

My mouth must have been hanging open, because he lifted a finger under my chin, tilting my face up.

I shook my head.

No.

I can’t hear this.

I can’t be trapped in another relationship with a dangerous man.

“Leo, please…”

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

“I’ll tell you what you want. Just put me down.”

I jerked my chin from his grasp, and this time, he let me go.

Slowly.

Setting me down with care.

When I finally stood in front of him—still trapped between his body and the wall—I noticed the way his chest heaved, the way his stormy gaze shifted into something deeper.

Desperation.

No.

God, please. Anyone but him.

I ducked under his arm before he could read too much into my expression, grabbing my shorts and pulling them on quickly. Then I moved.

I sat in one of the leather chairs in front of the empty fireplace, my hands rubbing together in my lap, my leg bouncing restlessly.

I couldn’t look at him.

I felt his stare, felt the weight of its meaning.

And I couldn’t take that on.

Not now.

Not ever.

Leo didn’t argue, didn’t try to force me into anything.

Not like Declan.

Leo wasn’t even angry.

Instead, he simply strode to the other leather chair, sitting down with deliberate ease.

His movements were calculated, controlled as he placed an ankle on his knee, steepling his hands over his stomach.

A stomach still bare to my view.

And I couldn’t help but peek.

One last look.

Perfect abs, a light dusting of hair on his chest—he looked like a Roman god.

Perfect.

I coughed, tearing my gaze away, heat creeping up my cheeks.

Get it together, Cassandra.

“Let’s get started,” I said quickly, chewing on my lower lip, my eyes locked on my lap.

Not only was I still fantasizing about Leo’s stupid, godlike body, but I was about to help murder the people I considered family.

I am so fucked up.

And I deserve to die along with them.

The dark thoughts didn’t stop.

They coiled in my head, sinking deeper with each answer I gave.

Every question Leo asked peeled away another piece of me, another layer of guilt pressing its way into my chest.

By the time it was over, I was already suffocating in my own mind.

I didn’t even realize I had left until I found myself wandering the halls of Leo’s estate.

Lost.

Go figure.

I was as lost as I felt.

I scanned my surroundings, searching for something familiar, but all I found was a long, dark blue hallway, its intricately carved trim stretching toward a set of double doors at the end.

The dim lighting from the sconces cast everything in a moody glow, making the corridor seem endless, almost unreal.

I hesitated.

Then curiosity won.

If I was stuck here, I might as well get familiar with the place.

Or maybe even find out some secrets of my own—in case Leo and Ciro decided I was no longer useful.

I gripped both handles and pulled.

Nothing.

I pushed, cursing under my breath when they finally swung open.

Idiot.

Seriously, they need a sign for that.

Light flooded the room.

Large stained-glass windows towered above me, their intricate designs of angels and saints casting shards of color onto the polished floors.

To my left, rows of bookshelves stretched horizontally across the space.

Matte black.

The contrast made the spines of the books pop, their rich colors vibrant against the dark shelves.

Something about the sight stirred something in me.

I used to love books.

But I hadn’t picked one up since getting my GED at twenty.

I drifted toward them, my fingers grazing the spines as I passed.

This place—this room—felt different from the rest of the estate.

It wasn’t heavy with power like the rest of Leo’s house.

It felt… untouched.

Peaceful.

I paused, pulling out a dark red book with gold-engraved lettering.

I flipped it over, scanning the description.

Romance.

I huffed.

Just what I needed—false ideas of love and devotion.

I shoved it back in its place.

Where’s the horror section?

That seemed more fitting.

Leo

My jaw cracked, a sharp pain radiating to my temples.

I stubbed out another cigarette, barely a second passing before I pulled a fresh one from the pack, placing the dry filter between my lips.

Ciro flicked the light on his Zippo, smirking in that usual smart-ass way of his.

“Leo, if you keep smoking like this, you’ll die at the ripe age of twenty-eight,” he mused. “And if Mama’s favorite figlio dies, she’ll most likely follow close behind you. God forbid.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically.

The leather beneath me groaned as I leaned back, blowing a slow billow of smoke into the air.

“Where’s Nico? He’s late,” I said coldly, my mind shifting between Cassandra, the information she gave me, and the fucking war ahead.

Ciro cracked his neck, rolling it from side to side, but before he could respond, Gio’s head popped in through the door.

“Nico’s here, Boss.” His voice was clipped, stoic.

I dipped my chin, giving him the signal to let him in.

The moment Nico stepped inside, I narrowed my eyes, pressing my unfinished cigarette into the ashtray with slow deliberation.

“You made me fucking wait, Nico.”

My voice came out in a low, measured growl.

“I know, Boss.” He exhaled, already heading for the empty chair Dimitri had dragged into the room earlier, completing our little semi-circle-of-knights-at-the-round-table bullshit.

“My old lady had a lot of bitchin’ to do.”

He flopped down, his posture too relaxed for my liking.

“I don’t give a fuck, Nico.”

I flexed my fingers, the urge to snap his goddamn neck creeping in.

“If you keep me waiting again, your wife will know how it feels to be a widow.”

“Christ, Leo,” Ciro cut in, exasperated. “Tone it down. Sorry, Nico, Leo here is all flustered about his new pet.”

My blood fucking boiled.

I shot to my feet, cocking my gun and aiming it at Ciro’s face.

“Shut your fat fucking mouth, Ciro.”

The pounding in my ears wasn’t just from my growing anger—it was from something deeper, something Ciro thought was funny, but I sure as fuck didn’t.

“Undermine me again and see what happens.”

Ciro’s expression shifted, the dark amusement in his eyes hardening into something challenging.

“Oh really?”

He stood, squaring his shoulders, stepping into the barrel, pressing it right into his forehead.

I didn’t pull back.

I’d never back down.

I wasn’t afraid of making an example out of my own cousin if I had to. I’d miss him, sure, but I couldn’t look weak—and this little pissing contest was testing every fucking nerve in my body.

“Sit the fuck down, Ciro,” I warned.

The tension thickened, stretching into a dangerous standstill.

Nico didn’t say shit—he knew better than to jump in when Ciro and I were like this.

Finally, after a tense fucking minute, Ciro lowered himself back down.

He ran a hand through his light brown hair, his signature smirk returning like I hadn’t just been about to blow his fucking head off.

“Boss, so you got that info from your new broad?” Nico’s thick Italian accent cut through the silence, his eyes flicking between the two of us.

He was watching our body language, making sure the fire was out before moving forward.

I kept my gaze locked on Ciro as I slowly sat back down, tucking my Glock back into its holster.

Then, turning my head deliberately toward Nico, I gritted out, “You mean Cassandra? Show some fucking respect.”

Nico nodded immediately.

“Apologies, sir.”

His knee bounced, his fingers tapping the arm of the chair—anxious.

“Have a drink, Nico.”

Ciro leaned forward, grabbing the neck of the whiskey bottle, pouring a glass, and sliding it across the table.

Nico stopped fidgeting long enough to curl his fingers around the crystal, lifting it in salute before knocking it back.

His face contorted from the burn, letting out a sharp breath before speaking.

“Boss, my father always told me emotions make a man reckless.”

His gaze flicked to me, wary but careful.

He was testing the waters.

I stayed silent, letting him continue.

“Not that those Mick bastards don’t deserve what’s coming to them but…”

He trailed off.

Didn’t need to finish.

I knew what he meant.

Hell, I was worried, too.

Cassandra had burrowed so deep under my skin, and after tasting her earlier, my mind was fucking unpredictable.

“You have nothing to worry about, Nico,” I said smoothly. “Let’s get to business.”

I turned my head toward the doorway.

“Gio, Dimitri—get in here.”

Two ominous shadows peeled away from the hall, stepping inside like silent assassins.

I reached for the bottle, pouring myself another glass, swirling the amber liquid before taking a slow sip.

“Let’s start with how we’re going to execute this plan.”

Ciro was the first to jump in.

“I think a silent infiltration would be fun.”

The glint in his darkened gaze was fucking maniacal.

But he was right.

Less mess. Less public attention. Fewer people to pay off.

“I agree,” Nico said, leaning forward. “My only concern is how well we can trust Cassandra.”

His eyes cut to me, adding quickly, “Ain’t personal, Boss.”

I shrugged, taking another sip of whiskey.

“Mia Bellezza is staying here for a while. If she gave me false information, I’ll kill her myself.”

Silence.

Then Ciro exhaled, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Who do we go after first? Declan or Finnigan?”

His voice was serious now.

The amusement from earlier? Gone.

His dark promise remained.

I didn’t hesitate.

“Finnigan.”

I tipped back the rest of my drink, the glass cracking under my grip.

Then I added, “Declan’s mine.”

I wanted him to suffer.

To pay for every bruise, bloody nose, and broken bone.

“Gio, Dimitri—get our crooked cops in place.”

I slammed the crystal down onto the table.

“Nico—gather our people. Get them ready.”

My gaze locked onto Ciro.

“Get every weapon we have in the infirmary and make sure they end up in the right hands.”

Ciro nodded.

We knew what this was.

All hands on deck.

It was time to show the Irish exactly what it meant to fuck with the Italians.

I pushed to my feet, rolling my shoulders, my skin vibrating with a mix of anger and frustration.

I needed to see my little Topo.

Even if it was just to watch her sleep.