The Man is a Cacciatore

Episode 7

Cassandra

My lips smacked together as I tried to swallow the dry lump in my throat—to no avail. Rolling over, I grabbed my phone, flipping it over to check the time. I hissed as the too-bright light blinded me through the chaos that was my hair. Pushing it back, I squinted, noting that it was around 2:30 in the morning.

“Fuck me,” I grumbled, tossing off the soft cotton sheets that adorned the almost-too-lavish bed.

My new room was nothing to balk at—definitely way nicer than the shithole I was barely keeping up rent with. Swinging my legs over the side, they dangled, making me feel like a munchkin. I hopped down, the cool wood meeting my toasty feet and agitating me further.

Shuffling through the darkness with my arms stretched out in front of me, it felt like a game of Marco Polo with the furniture. I had only been here three nights, and so far, it was furniture: two, Cassandra: zero. My feet slid along the floor to prevent any more damage to my pinky toes—thanks, dresser.

As my eyes adjusted, my shoulders dropped, feeling hopeful that I’d make it this time without any casualties. When my hand touched the wooden door, I internally did a jig. Hell yeah. Fuck you, furniture.

Touching the smooth brass handle, I gripped it and tugged it open slowly. I was sure everyone slept in separate wings, but I didn’t want to chance another intimate moment with Leo. Just as I was crossing over the threshold confidently, my baby pink silk shorts snagged on the handle, jerking me backward and causing me to bang the side of my head against the edge.

I muttered a slew of cuss words at it before adjusting my pajamas and continuing my mission to the

kitchen for a glass of water, determined to pretend my failed attempt at being smooth never happened.

The hall was just as dark as my room, illuminated only by the electric sconces evenly placed along the wide space. Some of them lit up paintings that seemed fancy, while others highlighted family portraits of Leo and his relatives. From what I’d gathered, he had a classic Italian family—a beautiful younger sister, an adorable mother, and a stern-looking father who no doubt had been the previous Don. A part of me really wanted to know more about them, to learn their names, but then I reminded myself that this was just business.

Trusting Leo’s words about burning down his empire seemed a little extreme for someone like him—unless he was secretly a romantic at heart, which I highly doubted. Once he accomplished his goal and got bored of looking at my face, he’d either kill me or dump me out on my ass in the middle of Chicago.

The shuffling of my bare feet echoed down the silent corridor, and as I rounded the corner to the stairs, I paused. I always admired the beautiful hand-painted family portrait that hung just over the vast dark oak doors. Just in front of it was a gorgeous chandelier with crystals that, when lit, cast sparkly rainbows on the ceiling.

Glancing over the railing of the white marble staircase, I made sure the coast was clear before beginning my descent. The double staircase seemed like overkill for a man who probably never had guests here, but I guess if you have the money, why not be bougie with it?

God, if I had this kind of money, I’d live large too—without a care in the world, on some deserted island. Alone.

Well, maybe with a vibrator or two. A girl’s got needs.

Tiptoeing along the open space, my silk pajamas made a soft swishing sound against my skin. The kitchen was empty in all its immaculate glory. Again, it was overkill—modern cooktops and units, absolutely stunning black marble countertops, and equally dark modern cabinets. Everything I would want in my own deserted island mansion. Maybe instead of killing me, I could convince Leo to send me there to live out my days.

I snorted a laugh and quickly covered my mouth.

The kitchen was predictable, having investigated it yesterday afternoon before my shift at Oblivion, so I knew where everything essential was. Reaching for a glass, I heard rustling. I quickly set the

glass on the marble top and spun around, peering into the dark open space.

Fuck.

Did Declan find out where I was? That I ratted him and his family out?

My hands started to sweat as I kept my gaze locked on the shadows, slowly opening the drawer

where Leo kept all his fancy knives. I gripped the first one I touched, clutching it in my hand without taking my eyes off the potential threat.

“I know you’re there. Come out.” I whisper-shouted.

My other hand guided me along the smooth counter as I circled the bar.

“I have a weapon,” I warned, hoping to sound intimidating. If it was Declan, he would have already laughed. If it was Leo, he wouldn’t be playing games.

A man in a dark jacket with the hood up materialized from the shadows, his frame massive. My stomach twisted—I couldn’t make out his features.

“Who…who are you?” my voice was shaky as I continued moving away, my sweaty hand gripping the knife tighter.

A low chuckle rumbled from him. It sounded familiar—but not enough for me to place a name.

“Answer me!” I whisper-shouted again, more urgently.

“If I did that, it would ruin our game,” the mystery man purred.

What the fuck?

He stepped closer, his footsteps slow and deliberate, like a panther stalking its prey.

“I’m not playing games, motherfucker.” I waved the knife in my hand—now realizing it was a butcher’s cleaver.

Nice, Cassandra. What are we, fucking Leatherface?

I attempted to pretend I knew what I was doing, but then he pulled a shiny silver gun, its metal

catching the faint glow from the under-cabinet lighting.

We circled the bar like some sick game of ring-around-the-rosy.

“I’ll fucking scream,” I narrowed my eyes on his obscured face.

“And you’ll have a bullet in your brain before it even leaves your lips,” he chuckled, shoulders shaking.

Sick fuck thought this was hilarious.

The more he spoke, the more I recognized an Italian accent. The deep timbre of his voice felt oddly familiar. Who the fuck was this? Dimitri? Gio? My mind scrambled as my heart pounded. My hands felt so slick that one wrong move and the meat cleaver would go flying.

Being on the side facing the living room now, I made a split-second decision. I ducked out of sight, ditching the cleaver and crawling quickly toward the couch. It was dark—he wouldn’t find me too

fast, but I needed to move quickly.

Pressing my back against the couch, I held my breath, listening.

Silence.

Peering around the corner of the couch, I noticed mystery man was nowhere to be seen.

Shit.

Jerking back, I was caught off guard by a body slamming into my side, knocking me onto my back.

His massive form pinned me down.

“Too easy,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear.

I went to scratch his face, but he caught my wrists, pinning them above me.

“Naughty, naughty, piccola strega.”

I stiffened.

My eyes locked onto his—grey wolf-like, just like Leo’s.

“Ciro?” my brow furrowing in confusion.

His chest rumbled with amusement.

“You really need to work on your escape and fighting techniques. Not that it would have mattered with me,” he said smugly. His grip tightened as he pressed a knee between my legs. “I’m one of the

best headhunters out there. That’s why I’m Leo’s second.”

His smile was wide—too wide.

A cold shiver slithered down my spine.

“Are you going to kill me?” I growled, annoyed by his smugness.

“Not today.” His voice was smooth, almost like he was picking up a girl at the bar.

Fucking psychopath.

And yet, my traitorous body found it hot as hell.

Shaking off my body’s fucked-up lust, I shot him a glare, hoping it would convey just how much I hated this entire situation.

“Then get the fuck off me,” I snapped, flashing a tight smile to solidify my fuck you.

Laughing, he got to his feet in one swift motion, offering me his strong, tanned hand while pushing back his hood to reveal chestnut brown hair. I smacked his hand away and got to my feet, adjusting my silk spaghetti strap top and shorts.

I didn’t wait for him to say anything. I came down here for water, and that’s exactly what I was going to get. Filling a glass from the fridge’s dispenser, I kept my eyes on Ciro, who leaned casually across from me, arms crossed over his broad chest.

He looked so much like Leo—minus a few differences in hair color and some softer edges that didn’t

quite match his psycho personality.

Feeling uncomfortable under his intense gaze, I finally broke the silence. “So, why are you down here being a creep?” I took another sip of water, my eyes trailing over his body. Even though he wasn’t

Leo, my body responded as if he were.

Jesus, I needed to put my vagina under lock and key. That bitch was confused.

Ciro didn’t answer right away. He just stared, his eyes calculating, as if trying to read my next move.

It was unnerving.

Eventually, he responded. “I just got back from a rendezvous with a friend.”

The way he said friend made me think twice about asking further questions, so I didn’t.

Moving to the sink, I set my glass down and turned—only to find Ciro invading my personal space.

His large, muscular arms caged me in on either side.

Ciro inhaled deeply. “Roses and…” He leaned in, scenting me again. “Vanilla.”

His voice dropped into a low rumble, and I felt the vibrations through my thin top. My nipples

hardened immediately.

Fuck.

Ciro definitely noticed because he smirked. “Piccola strega, you are a troublemaker.”

I quickly crossed my arms over my chest to hide my betrayal and glared up at him. “No, it’s just cold in here.”

He laughed. “Sure, and the sky’s fucking purple.”

I shoved at his chest, but it did little to move him—he was solid muscle. If anything, it only caused

him to step closer. My neck strained as I looked up at him.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Then tell me the truth, principessa.”

The nickname Leo used rolled off his tongue just like Leo would say it.

Only… it felt wrong. It looked wrong coming from him.

“Don’t use that nickname,” I growled.

Ciro’s eyes crinkled in the corners. “Just what I thought. You’ve got it bad for my brother.” His hand gripped my chin—not hard, just in a controlling way. A way that pissed me off even more. “How

unfortunate for me,” he mused, pouting mockingly, though his steel-grey eyes sparkled with mischief.

His head dipped lower, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. Goosebumps erupted along my skin.

“Unless you’d be willing to have both of us.”

Ciro pulled back just enough for our faces to be inches apart, searching my eyes for a reaction.

Christ, this man was unhinged as hell.

And if I didn’t get out of here, my hormone-riddled body would fall prey to Ciro’s fucked-up charms.

Hardening my features, “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

Ciro slowly released me, stepping back to give me space. But his eyes—those sharp, wolf-like eyes—

stayed on me, watching.

I rushed off, his gaze burning into my back as I ascended the staircase two steps at a time.

I didn’t breathe until I was safely tucked inside my room, locking the door for good measure.

My shoulders sagged at the sound of the lock clicking into place.

The pseudo-safety eased some of the tension in my body, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was

destined to be caught in this war—not just between the Italians and the Irish…

But between a few very dangerous, very handsome men.

Leo

My tasty little Topo has been avoiding me since our little rendezvous in my office.

Glancing over at the fireplace, I leaned back in my chair and loosened my tie.

Fuck, I need to see her again.

Running a hand through my dark brown hair, I exhaled sharply. My watch caught the fading light of the sunset streaming in behind me. Cassandra’s moans had taken over my mind—I hadn’t had a restful night’s sleep since. Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was her legs wrapped around me pressed against the wall, her lips parted, her body writhing. And the constant hard-on? Impossible to control.

I adjusted in my seat, already feeling the tightening of my pants.

“Gio,” I called, my voice tight.

He was at my side in a second. “Yeah, Boss?” He adjusted his suit jacket, his freshly buzzed hair neat as ever.

Gio was one of the best finds I’d ever laid eyes on when it came to capos—or bodyguards, depending on the day. His tailored suit fit his large frame perfectly, making him seem even more

untouchable.

“You and Dimitri—go find Cassandra.”

At the mention of his name, Dimitri poked his tattooed face into the door, his expression unreadable.

I nodded at him, and he reciprocated the gesture. He was newer but came highly recommended by

Gio, and I trusted his opinion as much as I trusted Ciro’s.

Both men had once been part of biker gangs, their families pure Italian blood here in Chicago. Guess the biker life bored them, because when I approached them, they jumped at the opportunity to work

beside me.

Loyalty you couldn’t buy.

Not only that, but they were entertaining when I let them relax.

Gio strode out, and I watched as they both exited toward the south wing of the estate.

Not a minute passed before Ciro’s smug grin graced my presence.

“You look like you could use a drink,” he said, his long strides eating up the distance from my

doorway to the small whiskey bar beside my desk.

I released a frustrated breath. “That’s an understatement.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose, my elbow resting on the desk.

Ciro placed a crystal tumbler in front of me, the ice cubes clinking as the amber liquid settled.

Glancing up, I grabbed it quickly—desperate for a distraction from the stress that had been

accumulating over the past week. Between the Irish and Cassandra, I was strung tight.

Ciro slid into the leather chair across from me, his posture relaxed but his eyes calculating.

I knew that look.

It meant he was about to fuck with me.

And I wasn’t in the damn mood.

Growling, “Don’t fucking start with me, Ciro.”

Reaching into my suit pocket, I pulled out my cigarettes. The crystal clinked against the desk as muscle memory took over—stick between my lips, lighter flick, inhale. The first drag settled my

nerves slightly.

“I would never,” he smirked, watching me lean back, my shoulders dropping from my ears for the

first time today.

I shot him a glare. “I call bullshit.”

Ciro pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, fratello.”

Chuckling, he shifted in his seat, crossing one ankle over his knee. The movement exposed his obnoxious cartoon-themed socks.

I gestured to them. “You’re second in command. Why the fuck are you wearing those childish things?”

Lifting my glass, I took a long pull, the ice rattling softly against the crystal.

Ciro’s gaze flicked to his socks before he hiked up his pant leg, exposing more of the abomination.

“You don’t like them?” His smirk widened. “Your sister got these for me.”

“Fucking Alessia,” I muttered, though the slight tug at the corner of my lips betrayed my amusement.

Ciro finished off his drink and reached for the decanter. It was a piece I’d bought in Rome five years ago while on business—Roman soldiers etched into the expensive crystal, classic patterns carved

along the edges, and a soldier’s helmet used as the stopper.

He tugged off the top and poured himself another drink, then offered me a refill. I obliged.

“Piccola strega was fun last night.”

I stiffened.

My steel-grey eyes locked onto his.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

She’s mine. Only mine.

The primal part of me demanded I claim her, make it known to everyone that my little Topo belonged

to the Don of Chicago. I wanted her to smell like me. Her rose-and-vanilla scent returned to the

forefront of my mind as I took a slow drag from my cigarette.

My hard stare remained on Ciro as he chuckled.

“Cassandra,” he clarified. “We played a little game of hide from the killer.”

He fucking laughed. Like it was a joke.

I stubbed out my cigarette and set my glass down hard—purposefully.

“Cassandra’s mine!” My voice rose, matching the anger boiling in my veins.

Ciro didn’t flinch. His eyes held that unhinged glint, his signature grin still in place. That look

unsettled most people, made them back off.

But I was immune to his bullshit.

He set his glass down slowly, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

Fucking casual.

Fucking calculating.

Was he testing me?

“Is she yours, brother?” His tone was amused. “You haven’t fucked her.” He cocked his head slightly.

“Last night, she seemed… intrigued by the idea of us sharing her.”

My teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached. My eye twitched.

My little Topo would never want that.

I knew her. Better than I liked to admit.

She hated men like us—one controlling man was enough to make her rage, let alone two. As

intriguing as it would be to play with her just to see her head spin, now wasn’t the time.

I needed to be the only one.

After all the goddamn work and stalking I’d put into my principessa?

“No.” My voice was flat.

Ciro raised an eyebrow. “No?”

My knuckles turned white as my fists clenched against the desk.

“You heard me. I said no. Cassandra’s mine. And only mine.”

That fucking sparkle in his eye told me he wasn’t done. That he wanted to keep testing me.

Before I could call him out—

She entered.

My eyes shot to hers.

I stood immediately, adjusting my suit and smoothing my hair.

My heart pounded.

Fuck.

Ciro only turned in his chair, giving her a too familiar smirk.

Her wide eyes reminded me of a deer that had just wandered into a predator’s den by mistake.

That look made my cock twitch.

I needed to feel her in my arms.

Rushing to her, I reached for her waist—

Only to be met with a knee to the balls.

Cassandra

Sidestepping Leo’s doubled-over form, I crossed my arms and popped my hip out.

“I didn’t give you permission to touch me,” I stated, my voice void of any feeling.

Ciro laughed loudly, and I shot him a glare. “Same goes for you. Or you’ll end up like Leo here.”

He pretended to be scared, though his smug smile remained firmly in place. That man was both terrifying and extremely unpredictable.

Caught up in glaring at Ciro, I didn’t notice Leo standing—until his large, calloused hand gripped my bicep tightly, jerking me to face him fully.

“How fucking dare you,” Leo growled, his steel-grey eyes blazing with barely contained anger.

I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me falter. I was a dead man anyway.

“How dare I?” I jerked my arm, but his grip was too tight. If anything, it became almost bruising—a

little more worrisome than the daggers he was shooting at me.

“You don’t get to assume that I’m just some property you can touch,” I snapped, nostrils flaring as I

met his fury head-on.

Unlike him, though, my anger had an undercurrent of fear. 

Fear of what would happen if I pushed him too far.

Would he kill me now?

We faced off for what felt like minutes, though realistically, it was only a few seconds. Then, he

released my arm.

Sliding his hands into his slacks, his expression softened.

“Of course, principessa,” he murmured.

My jaw must have been hanging open because Ciro chimed in, “If you keep that mouth open much

longer, it might be considered an invitation.”

He laughed again.

Leo clearly didn’t appreciate the crude joke because his gaze snapped to him, fury returning.

Closing my mouth, I huffed. “What do you want, Leo? You had your goons retrieve me?”

When his attention returned to me, something was… different.

A look I wasn’t used to seeing on his usually sharp features.

What the hell was going on?

Stepping closer but keeping some space between us, he leaned in.

“I…” His eyes searched mine before he cleared his throat.

For a fleeting moment, I saw emotion in his face.

Longing.

The kind of longing I wasn’t sure I wanted to believe was for me.

“Ciro will be escorting you to work tonight,” he finally said, straightening. His face returned to its

usual stoic mask.

I hated to admit it, but seeing the vulnerability disappear so quickly made my heart sink.

Get a grip, Cassandra.

Internally, I rolled my eyes at myself.

Leo’s voice was tight when he added, “And he’ll be on his best behavior.” His gaze cut back to Ciro.

“Won’t you, Ciro?”

The muscle in his jaw ticked.

Something passed between them that I didn’t understand.

My head swung back and forth watching them, nearly giving me whiplash.

“Fine,” I mumbled before settling on Ciro. “Let’s go. I can’t be late.”

I glanced up at Leo, who was still close, our eyes locking again.

“I’ll… see you later.”

He dipped his chin.

I didn’t look back as I exited the room, leaving the two assholes to finish whatever conversation I’d walked in on—one I knew was about me.

Gio and Dimitri followed close behind.

“So, are you two coming along too?” I asked, keeping my focus forward as we descended the immaculate staircase toward the front door.

“Nah, you got Ciro, angel,” Dimitri said smoothly.

I didn’t miss the way he used my stripper name.

Looking over my shoulder, I found his sinful smirk waiting for me.

If I’d had a choice in who to date, I had no doubt I’d have given Dimitri a go. He was every bad boy

wrapped into one package. But with Leo’s possessive ass hovering, that was never going to happen.

Gio grunted his opinion, which I assumed was agreement.

Reluctantly, I tore my gaze away from Dimitri’s beautiful hazel eyes to look at Gio—an equally handsome brute.

He had a military vibe about him. Shaved head, tall and lean, always serious.

Unlike Dimitri, his tattoos stopped at his jawline.

“Man of few words, I see,” I teased.

I’d been trying to get this big guy to laugh.

Maybe I should lower my standards to a small twitch.

He was tough to crack.

Dimitri chuckled, the low rumble doing things to me I’d be too embarrassed to admit.

“Get a couple drinks into this lightweight, and he’ll talk your damn ear off,” he said.

My gaze remained fixed on Gio’s stoic expression.

He opened the massive front door, and I paused in the sunset-lit doorway.

“Is this true? You’re a gabber when you’re drunk?” I smirked up at him.

He shrugged, his eyes meeting mine for the first time.

I caught the twinkle of mischief.

My smirk widened.

I’d consider that a win.

“Good to know.”

We continued to the car parked just beyond the stone steps.

The fountain in the driveway was bathed in pinks and oranges, cascading down a naked Roman

woman.

Leo’s estate was breathtaking, to say the least.

Short manicured hedges lined the cobblestone driveway, leading to a massive reinforced black gate.

Bushes of varying-colored roses decorated the space, surrounding granite statues—each, unsurprisingly, Italian-themed.

Sighing, I mused out loud, “Hey, if you have any sway with the big asshole inside, convince him that

instead of killing me, he should just buy me a home like this on a deserted island.”

Yes, I was sticking with the deserted island theme.

I really wanted to manifest that shit.

Dimitri laughed, and I heard Gio cough.

But it was Ciro’s voice—right in my fucking ear, no less—that nearly scared the piss out of me.

“I’ll be sure to tell the big asshole that,” he whispered.

My heart leapt from my chest, and my hand pressed against it.

“Fucking Christ, Ciro. You need a fucking bell,” I gasped in suprise.

All three of them laughed.

I turned to Gio.

I did it. I made him laugh.

A small smile tugged at my lips.

“Come on, piccola strega. Time to go.”

Ciro took the stone steps two at a time and opened the back passenger door for me, flashing a

cocky grin.

Too handsome.

Too many handsome fucking men in this estate.

Sliding in, I heard the heavy thud of the door closing behind me.

Ciro rushed to the driver’s side, and once he was settled, he roared the engine to life.

Our eyes met in the rearview mirror—his steel-grey gaze crinkling at the corners.

“Ready?”

“Whatever,” I grumbled.

He only smiled wider and drove off, circling the fountain and heading toward the gate.

We left the safety of the Italian Don’s humble abode behind.

***

Ciro parked the black sedan at the back entrance of Oblivion.

As soon as he stepped out to open my door, I noticed my coworkers—Sapphire, Grace, and Emerald—gawking. Their eyes flicked between me and him, checking if I was okay.

I rolled my eyes dramatically in response.

“Do strippers get some sort of telepathy with the job?” Ciro joked, placing a hand on the small of my back to guide me toward the entrance.

The girls quickly scurried inside, avoiding any potential confrontation.

Crossing my arms, “Yeah, and they said you look like a fucking idiot.”

Ciro shook his head, a shit-eating grin plastered on his psycho face.

Leaning down, he murmured, his breath gliding along my cheek and neck. The scent of musk and

pine surrounded me, making my stomach clench.

“Well, be sure to relay that I’m an idiot with money—and a fucking awesome cock,” he purred.

I choked on my own spit, coughing violently as I shoved him away.

“You’re unhinged. You know that?” wiping my mouth of the few spittle droplets that rested on my

lips.

He shrugged casually before gripping the steel door handle and tugging it open.

Inside, the DJ was already doing sound checks in the main room. Down the hall, fluorescent lights illuminated the dressing room doorway, where the familiar chatter and laughter of my Oblivion family filtered out like a beacon.

Pink and purple lights flashed at the end of the dark, black-painted hall. The fresh scent of Pine-Sol

told me the cleaning crew had already come and gone.

As we reached the dressing room, the conversations inside died down.

All eyes turned toward us.

Many of the girls were topless, but none of them cared.

“Ladies, this is Ciro,” I said nonchalantly.

Ciro, ever the charmer, flashed an award-winning smile.

“Hello, ladies. You all look… stunning this evening.”

Christ.

Candy practically tripped over herself, her double-D fake tits bouncing as she reached him.

“Ciro, so great to see you again, babe,” she gushed, fluttering her lashes as she latched onto his

arm like a damn sloth.

He chuckled, soaking up the attention.

Rolling my eyes, I turned and walked to my station, wanting nothing to do with their shenanigans.

Let them have him.

Candy and the others giggled and flirted while I focused on getting ready for my shift.

When Vinnie walked in, announcing that clients were arriving, the girls groaned but quickly

abandoned Ciro—though not before he gave them all a dramatic farewell.

Sitting on the bench where our lockers towered I strapped on my platform heels, I straightened,

adjusting my bra and giving myself a once-over in the full-length mirror on the wall.

Then I noticed him.

Ciro.

Blocking me in between the three stacked tall grey lockers.

Standing tall, arms crossed, watching me through the mirror.

Our gazes met.

And the look in his eyes was dangerous.

Like something straight out of a sexy stalker movie.

The hairs on my arms rose automatically.

He strode toward me, his casual white fitted tee straining against his muscled chest and shoulders, the dark denim jeans showcasing legs that had me weak in the knees.

He didn’t stop until he was right behind me.

He just stood there.

Staring.

Observing.

The tension coiled tight between us, thickening the air.

“Cassandra,” he purred.

I barely had time to react before he spun me, shoving me against the lockers.

A startled gasp left my lips.

One of his hands gripped my hair at the base of my neck, pulling my head back.

His other hand clutched my waist.

His knee wedged between my thighs.

My hands flew up instinctively, gripping his biceps for balance.

My eyes widened.

“What the hell, Ciro?” I breathed.

A tone I did not want to be giving him.

But fuck, my body was a treacherous slut.

A low rumble vibrated from his chest as he leaned in, nuzzling my neck.

He inhaled deeply.

“Vanilla and roses,” he murmured.

His hot breath against my skin sent shivers down my spine.

“A scent I never thought would make my dick so fucking hard.”

My stomach clenched.

Christ on a cracker.

This man was too much.

Unpredictable. Intense.

That was his MO.

I squeezed my eyes shut and inhaled sharply.

“Get off me,” I ground out, trying to sound firm. “You know Leo wouldn’t like this.”

Ciro laughed.

“Fuck Leo,” he bit out.

His grip on my hair tightened, keeping me in place.

His lips brushed back and forth against my pulse point before he bit me.

Hard.

I yelped, slapping his chest.

He growled. His hand on my hip squeezed tighter.

And even though he was being rough—

I wasn’t scared.

No.

I was absolutely fucking loving it.

Leo and Ciro were the two most dominant men I’d ever encountered.

Leo was controlled power.

Ciro was controlled chaos.

Both terrifying in their own way.

But never once had I feared they would actually hurt me.

Kill me one day? Maybe.

Startle me with threats? Sure.

But not the fear I felt with Declan.

That was different. That was the kind of fear that made me paralyzed, speechless, stuck on the

edge of fight or flight.

And I never fought.

Just like my mother.

I just took it.

Too scared to see what fighting back would get me.

Ciro’s tongue flicked out, soothing the bite with a slow, deliberate lick.

Then, he sucked at the tender skin.

The contrast of pain and pleasure made my head swim.

His hips ground against me.

My body responded in kind.

He took that as an invitation, sliding his hand from my hip to my ass, squeezing it roughly.

“Fuck, this tight ass of yours,” he groaned.

He kissed along my jaw, nipping at my earlobe.

Panting, my fingers—traitorous things—slipped under his shirt, exploring hard muscle.

I whimpered when he bit my ear.

His chest rumbled in approval.

“Those sounds, strega,” his voice a low husky sound.

His hand tightened in my hair, forcing me to look up at him.

“If you make another sound like that, I’ll fucking snap,” he warned.

“And unlike Leo—”

His steel-grey eyes darkened.

“I have no self-control.”

His words made my core throb.

My head spun.

How the fuck was I supposed to think straight with this happening?

My nostrils flared as I forced myself to breathe. I needed to regain some control.

Our eyes were locked in a silent battle—who would break first?

His hand on my ass drifted lower. Then up the inside of my thigh.

Like a slow game of sexy chicken.

I refused to react.

I refused.

Ciro smirked, watching me struggle.

His rough fingers slid higher. Under my fishnet dress. When he hooked two fingers into the edge of

my g-string—right above my clit—

He rubbed his knuckles against my bare mound.

My eyes rolled back.

And a moan slipped out before I could stop it.

Fuck.

I lost.

Ciro crushed his mouth to mine.

And, with no dignity or self-control—

I kissed him back.

I was fucked up.

Hooking up with Leo’s fucking lookalike cousin?

We were all tongues and teeth, kissing with abandon. Ciro’s fingers toyed with my soaked entrance,

teasing, spreading, circling my clit—just enough to make me ache, but not enough to satisfy.

I could feel his smirk against my lips.

“You are indeed a naughty girl, strega.” 

His two fingers slid between my slick folds, teasing me mercilessly.

My leg—when the fuck had it wrapped around his hip?—tightened around him, pressing him closer.

“Are you letting me touch you because you want me to…” He nipped at my bottom lip before finishing,

“Or are you letting me touch this sweet pussy because you’re thinking of Leo?”

My eyes snapped open like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over me.

“What?” I gasped.

Ciro’s fingers paused their teasing, his smirk widening.

“You heard me, piccola strega.”

This was a fucking test.

That smug bastard.

Shame and guilt crashed over me like a tidal wave, drowning out the lust fogging my brain.

I shoved him away.

“Fuck you!” I shouted, breathless and furious.

Ciro brought his fingers to his lips—

And licked them.

“Delicious,” he cooed.

His cocky grin burned into my retinas as he patted my cheek.

“Something to think about while you shake that perfect ass on stage for me.”

Blinding rage replaced every ounce of lust in my body.

“You motherfucker!”

“Angel!”

Candy’s voice cut through the air.

“Your turn on stage!”

Ciro pressed a finger to his lips, winking.

If I could have punched him, I would have.

Storming away from the lockers, I nearly collided with Candy as I adjusted my clothes and brushed down my hair. She gave me a once-over, eyes narrowing.

“Were you masturbating?” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “Because if so, you better have not been

doing it near my shit.”

“Shut the fuck up, Candy.”

I shouldered past her and into the dark hallway.

Candy followed, undeterred. “Have you seen Ciro? I really want to give him a lap dance.”

Her annoying voice ground against my already fried nerves.

My fists clenched.

“Go check the fucking dressing room,” I growled, not bothering to look at her.

She gasped, but I didn’t stick around to hear whatever dramatic bullshit she had planned next.

What I did hear was the clack of her heels hurrying back to the dressing room.

Fuck Ciro.

Fuck Leo.

Fuck all these men.

Climbing onto the stage, I took my position, waiting for the DJ to introduce me.

Inhaling deeply, I closed my eyes.

Exhaling slowly.

I had no one to blame but myself.

That reality was a bitter pill I refused to swallow.

These men.

This lifestyle.

Opening my eyes, I scanned the main room.

My regulars were at the front.

And then I saw him in a dark corner.

Ciro.

With Candy draped all over him.

Of course.

He waved at me.

Fucking bastard.

Candy clung tighter, her death glare locked on me—though, in reality, it just made her look

constipated.

Not caring, I flipped him off.

Cash flew onto the stage.

Fucking masochists.

The music boomed through the speakers.

I let the bass sink into my skin, let the rhythm dictate my movements.

Let the dance and music take over my thoughts.

Unfortunately…

The thoughts won.

These cycles I couldn’t break had taken a toll on my life.

The danger I was now in.

The happiness I could have had if I’d never met them.

Leo’s face flashed in my mind.

I stumbled.

Luckily, I recovered smoothly, spinning into the movement like it was intentional.

But fuck.

Leonardo Romano.

Why do I care so much about you?

Gripping the pole, I spun, flaring my legs out before locking my thighs around the cool metal.

Leo had been nothing but kind to me. In his own mafia way. 

He’d never hurt me.

Never forced himself on me.

He was the only one I trusted not to lose control of his temper.

Leo had proven that time and again over these past two months.

No matter how far I pushed him…

He still called me his principessa and treated me as such.

A pang hit my chest.

Not in a regretful way.

Not in a what the fuck have I done way.

But in a longing way.

And somehow…

That felt right.

Leo

Cassandra was always busy on weekends, and my days were usually occupied with business, but when Monday rolled around, I knew this was my opportunity. I needed to see her. Needed her like a damn drug. Just one hit—just a small inhale of her scent—and maybe my mind would stop obsessing over her for five goddamn seconds.

I had her routine memorized. By now, she’d be in the estate gym, running on the treadmill—sweaty,

focused, glistening.

Fuck.

My cock liked that thought.

Consumed by what I was going to say to her, I barely registered my arrival at the gym’s private entrance. The glass walls and doors gave me a preview of what was inside, and I didn’t hesitate.

I spared no expense when I designed this gym—top-of-the-line equipment, free weights, benches, stair climbers, and, of course, the boxing ring where Ciro and I trained. It was immaculate, just like the rest of my estate.

Cassandra always chose the farthest treadmill near the back wall. Probably so she’d have enough time to react if someone tried to attack her. My cautious little Topo.

Too bad she blasted her metal music at full volume, completely oblivious to her surroundings.

She was never going to hear me coming.

Tugging on the cold black steel handle, I slipped inside and moved along the glass wall toward the back corner, my Rolex  giving me a general idea of how long she’d been running.

Today was no different.

Her arms pumped hard, her pace relentless. I could hear her heavy breaths, breaths so similar to the ones she made when she was moaning for me in my office almost a week ago.

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I slid between the stair master and the back wall until I stood directly behind her.

For a moment, I just admired her.

Her body was a vision, clad in black leggings and a dark teal sports bra that hugged her curves in all the right ways. Sweat glistened on her fair skin, her toned muscles flexing with every stride.

Fuck, that ass.

When I finally got my moment, I would worship it. All. Night. Long.

Slowly, I stepped closer, positioning myself just to her side. Then, with a subtle cough—just enough of a warning to see how she’d react—I watched.

As expected, she startled.

Jumpy little Topo.

Smirking, I waited as she scrambled to press the emergency stop button, her feet stumbling as the treadmill powered down.

She gripped the sides for dear life, her chest heaving, her sports bra sticking to her damp skin.

“Fucking Christ, Leo,” she panted, her voice breathless.

Just like she’d sounded when she was begging me to touch her.

My lip twitched. “I didn’t realize I needed to warn you before entering my own gym.”

Her fingers pressed to the pulse at her neck as she checked her watch, irritation flashing across her features.

“You fucked up my heart rate and time,” she grumbled, narrowing her eyes at me. But I could see the softness still. She wasn’t really mad.

If anything, she looked like she wanted to see me.

Wanted to be around me.

Taking my chance, I stepped closer, keeping my hands in my pockets to resist the urge to touch her.

I knew how much she hated that.

“Principessa,” I murmured, my voice softer now. “I needed to see you.”

I didn’t bother hiding the vulnerability. She already knew how badly I wanted her—how deep her hold on me ran.

I would fucking move mountains for this woman.

Cassandra turned fully to face me, leaning against the treadmill’s guardrail.

Her emerald-green eyes gleamed, vibrant and alive, like polished gemstones catching the light.

Dio Mio, I had it bad.

“Well,” she said, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Here I am.”

Then, as if catching herself, she shook her head and sighed.

“I mean, I needed to talk to you too,” she admitted, her voice smoothing out. “So, I’m glad you found me.”

She must not have realized—I never needed to find her. I always knew exactly where she was.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I mirrored her stance, my expression playful.

“Oh yeah? What could you possibly need to talk to me about?”

Her confidence wavered.

She shifted slightly, inhaling deeply as if bracing herself.

Then, locking her gaze onto mine, she said, “On Friday night, Ciro and I kissed and—”

My arms uncrossed instantly.

My fists clenched at my sides.

We kept our eyes locked, tension thickening between us, as I silently wrestled with the anger threatening to explode from my chest.

Cassandra, noticing my reaction, hesitated before stepping forward.

Braver than I expected.

She reached out and touched my arm.

“I’m really sorry, Leo,” she murmured, breaking our eye contact to look at the floor, shame painting

her features.

I hated that she felt that way.

But I knew this wasn’t her doing.

This was Ciro’s fault.

Without another word, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the gym exit.

“Leo! What the hell? Where are you dragging me?”

She pulled at her arm, trying to resist, but I didn’t stop.

My strides were long, determined, fueled by the rage threatening to burst from  my skin. The sconces along the corridor flickered, matching the erratic pace of my heartbeat.

When we burst into Ciro’s room, we found him lounging on his bed, scrolling through his phone like

he didn’t have a care in the goddamn world.

I released Cassandra, placing a steadying hand on her lower back. Her skin was still warm, still

damp from her workout. Or maybe that heat was from fear. I didn’t know.

She glared up at me but said nothing.

“Apologize,” I demanded, my jaw tightening.

Ciro sat up, lazily setting his phone on the nightstand.

“Are we having a threesome?” he asked, smirking.

I clenched my fists so tightly my knuckles ached.

Cassandra moved forward slightly, her mouth parting as if to apologize.

My brow furrowed.

Why the fuck was she apologizing?

I reached out, touching her shoulder gently, stopping her before turning my glare back to Ciro.

His expression remained infuriatingly amused.

A headache began to form.

“I said, apologize,” I barked.

Cassandra jumped slightly at the sharpness of my tone. Instinctively, I brushed my thumb over her

shoulder in a soothing motion.

She whipped around to stare at me in shock.

“For what, Leo?”

Ciro stood now, moving toward us, slow and deliberate.

“For touching Cassandra?” His smirk deepened. “For the kiss?”

He stopped right in front of us, his grey eyes flicking between me and her.

“Or for tasting her sweetness?”

His voice dipped lower, darker, dripping with amusement.

Cassandra stiffened beside me.

Her legs trembled slightly as she took a step back.

Before she could retreat any further, I swung.

My fist connected with his nose.

The sickening crack of bone echoed in the room as blood splattered over Cassandra and me.

She shrieked, stumbling backward.

I didn’t stop.

My second punch landed hard against his ribs, and Ciro just took it.

He fucking let me hit him.

Because he knew.

He knew he crossed the line.

“Leo, please, stop!”

Cassandra’s voice wavered, and something inside me cracked.

My fist paused mid-air, my chest heaving.

Cassandra stood frozen, her arms wrapped around herself, her breath coming in uneven waves. She was shaken.

I turned back to Ciro, who was now sitting on the edge of his bed, head tilted back, fingers pinching

the bridge of his nose. Blood was smeared across his jaw, his shirt stained with it.

And the motherfucker was still smiling.

I took a step forward, fists still clenched at my sides, but Cassandra’s soft voice cut through the thick tension like a knife.

“Leo,” she whispered.

Her voice was steady now, but there was something behind it—a plea.

I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to breathe. My fingers twitched at my sides before I flexed them open and closed.

Then, I turned back to her.

Cassandra hadn’t moved, but she was watching me carefully, searching my face like she was trying to understand what the fuck just happened.

I stepped toward her, closing the space between us.

She didn’t flinch.

Was she trusting me?

I reached out and cupped her cheek, my thumb brushing against her soft, flushed skin. Her eyes widened slightly at the touch, but she didn’t pull away.

“Cassandra, you need to understand something.” My voice was calm, but the edge of my anger still

lingered. “Ciro knew what he was doing. He was testing my fucking word.” My jaw ticked as I said it,

the weight of those words thick in the air between us.

I let my thumb brush over her cheek again, softer this time.

“He took advantage of you. And you deserve an apology.”

Her emerald eyes flickered with something unreadable—something that looked an awful lot like admiration.

Or maybe something more.

“Oh…” she murmured, her gaze flicking briefly to Ciro before meeting mine again. “You’re not mad at me?”

I shook my head instantly.

“No, principessa.” My voice dropped lower, more certain. “You’re mine. You could fuck every single man in this house, and I still wouldn’t be mad at you.”

Her lips parted slightly, eyes widening just a fraction.

“But I’ll warn you now—” My voice deepened as I continued, my grip on her cheek still firm but gentle. “Every single man who touches you will fucking die.”

Her breath hitched.

Ciro let out a low whistle, wiping blood from his nose. 

I ignored him, keeping my focus locked onto her.

Cassandra was staring at me like she didn’t know what to say, her lips slightly parted, her chest rising and falling.

I smirked slightly. “Ciro is getting a warning because he’s family.” My voice dipped into something darker. “But next time?” I leaned in to emphasize the deadly promise in my tone.

“I won’t hesitate to rip his dick off and shove it down his throat until he stops fucking breathing.”

“Christ,” she gasped.

“Seriously, that’s fucked up, Leo,” Ciro muttered, dabbing at his nose with the bottom of his shirt.

I kept my stance firm, my hand still on her cheek, my thumb still stroking the softness there.

Then, without breaking eye contact with me, Cassandra did the most unexpected thing.

She stepped forward—

And hugged me.

For a brief second, I didn’t move.

A grunt escaped my lips, my body tensing at the unfamiliar sensation of having her this close—her warmth seeping into me, her head resting against my chest, her fingers curling lightly into my back.

Ciro stared at me from the bed, shaking his head like he couldn’t fucking believe what he was

seeing. He mouthed, hug her back, idiot.

Swallowing hard, then slowly—so slowly—wrapped my arms around her, pulling her against me.

I squeezed her tight, holding her there, feeling the way her breath hitched as I did.

Her ear was pressed to my chest, right over my heart. I knew she could hear it pounding.

Leaning down slightly, I inhaled—breathing in the rose and vanilla scent that had been haunting me for days.

Then, unable to stop myself, I pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

The hug didn’t last long enough.

Because nothing with Cassandra ever would.

The second she pulled back, I reluctantly let her go, my arms feeling fucking empty without her in them.

Ciro cleared his throat dramatically.

“Now that the love fest is over,” he drawled, a hint of mischief in his swollen face. “Invite her to family dinner, Leo.”

Cassandra blinked. “Family dinner?”

I shot Ciro a glare.

Fucking asshole.

He smirked, wiping more blood from his lip.

Cassandra turned back to me, curiosity lighting her features. “You mean the family in the portrait above your front door?”

She actually sounded excited.

I hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Yes.”

Then, cautiously, I added, “Do you… want to meet them?”

The idea of bringing her home to Mama, Alessia, and my father—the former Don of Chicago—made my stomach tighten in a way I wasn’t sure I liked.

I had never brought anyone home before.

Cassandra tilted her head, considering the question.

Then, to my absolute fucking shock, she smiled.

“Yes,” she said, and her enthusiasm was clear in her voice. “I do.”

My chest tightened.

Ciro laughed, clapping his hands together. “Then it’s settled! You’ll come tonight.”

Cassandra’s lips parted slightly, but before she could say anything, Ciro continued.

“You’ll love Alessia. She’s a firecracker, just like you. And Antonia? She buys the best wine.”

My palms started sweating.

Like a fucking teenage boy.

Cassandra turned back to me, her smile still in place.

“Leo?” she prompted.

Clearing my throat, I nodded stiffly. “Yes. Of course. We’d love for you to come.”

Ciro grinned, clearly entertained by my discomfort.

I shot him another glare before turning back to Cassandra.

“Come,” I murmured, gently placing a hand on her lower back. “Let’s get you back to your room so you can get ready.”

As I led her out of the room, a small, ridiculous smile tugged at my lips.

For the first time in a long time, I felt something close to content.

My principessa was about to meet my fucking family.

And the craziest part?

She actually wanted to.

And so did I.

Cassandra

Ciro and Leo waited by the front door, their sharp eyes tracking my every movement, while Dimitri and Gio stood off to the side in their usual intimidating stance. I’d been around them long enough to see past it, though, and gave the two bodyguards a small smile and wave. Gio dipped his chin in acknowledgment, while Dimitri smirked, hazel eyes gleaming with amusement.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Leo. His posture stiffened slightly before he stepped forward, extending his arm like I was some goddamn princess in a fairytale. Rolling my eyes, I took it, his grip warm as he leaned in close, his breath tickling my ear.

“You look absolutely beautiful in that burgundy sundress, principessa,” he murmured, voice deep and smooth.

A blush crept up my cheeks, the unexpected compliment sending a flutter through my stomach. I almost stumbled in my wedge heels, but Leo’s arms caught me instantly, wrapping around my waist, steady and secure. His hold lingered, his quiet chuckle vibrating against me.

Ciro smirked as he opened the front door. “You two are going to give me a fucking cavity.”

“Shut up, Ciro,” I muttered, trying to step out of Leo’s embrace, but his arm only tightened around my waist.

He needed this.

Even after everything, after what I’d admitted to him about Ciro and me, Leo still held onto me like he was staking a silent claim. But I didn’t deserve it. No matter what he said, I was still a piece of shit—undeserving of his forgiveness.

The warm Chicago air hit me as we stepped outside, the scent of an oncoming storm thick in the air, a much-needed break from the relentless heatwave. The city had been suffocating lately, the kind of heat that scrambled people’s brains, making them do stupid shit.

Gio and Dimitri moved ahead, slipping into the front seats of the sleek black sedan. Leo held the back door open for me, his expression softer than usual, a warm smile replacing the usual hard edges of his face. My heart did a stupid little flip.

Sliding in, I barely had time to situate myself before I saw Ciro open the opposite door. He gave me a wry smile.

Oh, hell no.

I realized what was happening a second too late—trapped, sandwiched between two very large, very dominant men.

Both slid in at the same time, and before I could even adjust, Leo’s strong arms grabbed me, pulling me onto his lap.

I gasped, my gaze snapping to his, but he didn’t budge. His steel-grey eyes darkened immediately, fingers locking around my hips.

“Be a good girl, principessa,” he murmured, his voice thick with something that made my core tighten.

That was all he said before Gio started the car, pulling us forward.

I couldn’t relax, not with Leo’s fucking dick right beneath me—the one I still really wanted to get to know better. Shifting slightly, I tried to get comfortable, but my body betrayed me, hyper-aware of every single inch of him.

Where the fuck was I supposed to look?

At Ciro? At the floor?

Ciro must have noticed my dilemma because he let out a low, amused laugh.

“Relax, strega. Leo won’t bite.” He winked. Most of the swelling from earlier had disappeared except for maybe around his nose. It was taped up in such a weird way, but the guy still looked good. Which

irritated me all to hell.

That earned him a glare.

Oh, he was loving this.

“What?” he asked innocently, tilting his head. “Still pissed at me?”

I kept my arms crossed.

“Fine, fine.” He sighed, feigning defeat. “I’m sorry I was an asshole and got a little handsy the other day. Can we go back to being friends now?”

Why did Ciro have such a punchable face?

But deciding to be the bigger person, I flashed him a smartass smile. “You barely made an impression on me, Ciro. How could I be mad when your touch and kiss were so… forgettable?”

Leo’s laughter rumbled through his chest, vibrating against my side, sending goosebumps across my skin. The rest of the car burst into laughter too, even Ciro chuckled, and just like that, I felt something shift—like I belonged. The tension, the guilt… some of it melted away in the warmth of their laughter.

“You’re cruel, piccola strega,” Ciro muttered, shaking his head before looking out the window.

Leo, however, pulled me even closer, his nose nuzzling against my neck. “You are something else,

Cassandra,” he murmured low enough that only I could hear.

A delicate admission.

I sighed softly, my fingers threading into the back of his hair, petting him gently. Something shifted in that moment, something unspoken but undeniable, and I knew—this was going to change everything between us.

***

As soon as we stepped into his familes mansion, I was hit with the scent of garlic, rosemary, and simmering sauces. Laughter filled the air, warmth wrapping around me like a comforting embrace.

Halfway to the kitchen, my steps faltered.

“What if your family hates me?” My voice cracked slightly.

Leo turned, blocking my path, his large frame shielding me from view. Tilting my chin up with two fingers, he made me meet his gaze.

“They’re going to love you,” he assured me, voice steady. Then, lips curling into a smirk, he added,

“And if they don’t…”

My eyes widened.

“You wouldn’t,” I gasped.

He laughed.

“You think I’d off my own family just for not liking you?” His arm curled around my waist, pulling me closer. “Maybe.”

My lips parted in shock.

Not at the words—but at the fact that he was joking.

“You make jokes?” I asked, dumbfounded.

Leo grinned. “Only when necessary.”

His entire face softened when he laughed, making him even hotter, which seemed unfair. Was he always like this around his family? Because if so, I was in trouble.

I barely had time to register my thoughts before he whispered, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a warning.

He waited—giving me enough time to say no.

I didn’t.

His lips found mine, slow and sweet at first before shifting, his tongue sliding over my bottom lip, seeking permission. When I opened for him, we were gone, completely consumed by each other. My fingers tangled in his hair, my body pressing against him, and fuck—I could have jumped him right

there in the hallway.

A female voice cut through the moment.

“Get a room.”

I froze, breath catching in my throat.

Leo, however, smirked against my lips. “That,” he murmured, “would be my sister, Alessia.”

Shoving at his chest, I stepped back, cheeks burning as I tried to fix my dress and smooth down my hair.

Leo only laughed. “You look great, stop worrying so much.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Peeking around his broad frame, I caught sight of a stunning woman with a wine glass in hand, hazel eyes crinkled in amusement. She smirked.

I immediately ducked back behind Leo.

“Fuck, I’m such an idiot,” I hissed, slapping his chest. “Why did you have to embarrass me like that?”

Leo grinned, then turned to his sister.

“Alessia.”

“Leonardo,” she drawled, her accent thick, before flicking her gaze to me. “So, you’re the girl who’s got my brother’s balls wrapped up tight.”

Oh. My. God.

Leo and I both coughed at Alessia’s blunt statement, completely caught off guard. From another room off to the side, Ciro roared with laughter, another deep chuckle joining his. My face burned, and I mentally cursed myself for thinking I could make it through this dinner without being absolutely

humiliated at least once.

Alessia smirked, unfazed, her hazel eyes flicking between me and Leo like she knew exactly what

she was doing.

Before I could respond, a warm, lilting voice filled the space, speaking in rapid Italian. I turned just in time to see a striking woman appear in the hallway—beautiful in the same way Leo and Alessia were, with steel-grey eyes and an air of quiet authority. But unlike Leo, her smile was warm. Kind.

Leo’s mother.

I immediately liked her.

She spoke again, her tone gentle but firm, and though my Italian was limited, I caught the meaning—she was telling Alessia to behave and leave me alone.

Alessia rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, just winked at me before disappearing through a doorway,

where I could already hear her and Ciro launching into some ridiculous banter.

Leo’s grip on my waist tightened as he guided me forward. “Cassandra,” he said smoothly, “this is my mother, Antonia.” Then, in a tone so full of admiration it made my heart ache, he added, “She’s the world’s best cook and an even better mother.”

Antonia blushed at the praise, playfully swatting at Leo before turning her full attention to me. I swallowed, nerves fluttering in my chest. What the hell was I supposed to do?

After only a second of hesitation, I stuck out my hand, offering a polite smile, but instead of shaking it, Antonia tugged me into a tight hug.

I floundered for a moment, completely caught off guard before I finally relaxed and hugged her back. She murmured something softly in Italian, her voice warm and affectionate, then, sensing my limited grasp of the language, translated—welcoming me into her home.

I giggled, the tension in my shoulders easing. I responded with the little Italian I had learned from my mom,  “Grazie per avermi ospitato, Antonia.” Carefully, I hoped I wasn’t butchering the

pronunciation. Then, in English, I added, “Thank you for having me.”

Antonia gasped, eyes widening in genuine surprise. Then, in true Italian fashion, she pressed her fingers together and bobbed her hand up and down in an exaggerated display of emotion.

“Why didn’t you tell me this beautiful woman could speak Italiano?” she demanded, turning to Leo.

Leo chuckled, shaking his head. “I only just learned this myself. I knew she had some knowledge, but still…” He trailed off, gaze flicking to mine, something dark and unreadable swirling beneath the

surface.

Our eyes locked.

Mine playful.

His?

Hungry.

I swallowed, suddenly feeling very warm.

Quickly, I averted my gaze and blurted, “Antonia, I hear you have the best collection of wine.”

Antonia laughed, looping her arm through mine. “Come, bella, I’ll show you,” she said, guiding me toward the kitchen.

Leo stayed behind.

I felt his gaze on me the entire time, burning into my back like a brand.

And God help me, it wasn’t scary.

It was hot.

***

By the time dinner was ready, I was well-acquainted with Antonia and Alessia.

And very drunk.

Carrying a dish into the dining room, my wedge heels thunked softly against the marble floors as I took in the gorgeous space. The walls were a warm beige, hand-painted with intricate murals of grapevines and sprawling Italian landscapes. A stunning crystal chandelier hung above the table, its tiers refracting the dim lighting in delicate rainbows across the cherub painte ceiling.

I inhaled deeply, immediately regretting it when my gaze landed on the three men already seated at

the table.

Two I already knew.

The third?

I recognized him from the portrait above Leo’s front door.

Leo’s father.

I froze.

The heat drained from my face, my breath catching as my stomach dropped.

Enzo Romano.

The former Don of Chicago.

And he was terrifying.

His sharp hazel eyes were unreadable as he rose from his chair, his long strides eating up the distance between us in mere seconds. His presence was suffocating—controlled, lethal, his tailored black suit only adding to the severity of his features. The deep chestnut of his wavy hair emphasized the sharp angles of his face, and for a split second, I thought I was about to die.

If it weren’t for the scalding-hot dish in my hands forcing me to keep my composure, I would have definitely looked like a deer in headlights. Instead, I carefully set it down on the table before

straightening, preparing myself to officially meet the most feared man in Chicago.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cassandra Bennett,” Enzo said smoothly, his voice deep and velvety, laced with just the right amount of rasp.

I blinked.

He used my full name.

Fucking hell.

Wiping my palm discreetly against my dress, I extended my hand, hoping to God he wouldn’t notice the slight tremor.

“It’s an honor,” I said automatically.

The second the words left my mouth, laughter erupted around the table.

Leo and Ciro both lost it, their deep chuckles mixing together in a ridiculous display of amusement.

Even Enzo—who had been all stoic and intimidating just a second ago—pressed his lips together, trying to suppress a smirk.

I stood there, my extended hand empty, my mouth slightly open as I glared at the two assholes laughing at my expense.

“Both of you shut the hell up,” I snapped. “It’s not every day you meet one of the scariest dudes in Chicago.”

That only made them laugh harder.

Enzo, however, raised a single brow, voice turning dangerously amused.

“Scariest dude, huh? Are you saying my son isn’t doing his job right?”

The room stilled, my empty hand falling to my side.

His smile vanished, replaced with a blank, cold expression that sent chills down my spine.

For a second, I thought he was serious.

Then, just as quickly, he laughed.

“All of you are fucked up,” I muttered, dropping into the seat Leo had pulled out beside him.

“I agree,” Alessia said breezily, setting two bottles of wine on the table.

“Sorry, cara,” Enzo said with a smirk, joining us at the head of the table. “I don’t get to use my intimidation tactics like I used to.”

Ciro nudged my leg under the table, whispering, “Enzo’s a big softie.”

Enzo snorted. “Is that so, Ciro?”

The warning in his tone was subtle but effective.

Ciro held up his hands in mock surrender, grinning.

I exhaled slowly, finally relaxing.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

Maybe, just maybe…

I belonged here.

***

As soon as Antonia entered with a large, immaculate plate of stuffed chicken, potatoes, and carrots, the energy in the room shifted. The teasing faded, replaced by something warmer, something more intimate. This wasn’t just a meal—it was a tradition, a ritual, something built over years of family gatherings.

Antonia set the dish down at the center of the table, her movements practiced and precise, a quiet

pride in the way she placed each element with care. Enzo, still sitting at the head of the table, gave

her a soft, knowing smile.

“Looks wonderful, amore,” he murmured.

Antonia shot him a look—one that clearly said, Of course it does, I made it.

I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

Antonia’s gaze swung to me, and her lips curved into a smile.

“This is normal for you guys, huh?” I asked, glancing around at the effortless way they interacted.

Ciro smirked. “Dinner at the Romanos? Yeah, always a show.”

Enzo took a slow sip of his wine before setting it down, his expression turning more serious. “Before we eat—” His gaze shifted to Leo, something silent passing between them. “Leonardo, will you do the honors?”

Leo straightened slightly, nodding as he looked around the table. The conversation died down, a quiet respect settling over the room.

Even Ciro shut up.

Leo exhaled softly, then clasped his hands together.

“Heavenly Father,” he began, his voice steady and deep, “thank you for this meal, for my beautiful family, and for an even more wonderful woman by my side.”

What?

My eyes flew open, my head snapping toward him.

Leo’s gaze was already locked onto mine, dark and unreadable, something heavy and certain in the way he looked at me.

My breath hitched, my pulse hammering so hard I could hear it in my ears. Heat crept up my neck, spreading fast.

I quickly looked away, staring down at my empty plate as the table echoed a quiet Amen.

Ciro was smirking.

Alessia’s lips twitched like she was dying to say something.

And Enzo?

He just watched me, his expression impossible to read.

Leo Romano was slowly stealing my heart.

And so was his family.

And fuck, I wasn’t ready for this.

***

Conversation flowed effortlessly as plates were passed, dishes were shared, and glasses of wine were refilled over and over again. The laughter never stopped, the teasing was endless, and the warmth in the air was something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Not even with Declan’s family.

His dinners had always felt… tense. Like everyone was tiptoeing around a ticking bomb, careful not

to say or do anything that might set him off.

But here?

Here, it was easy.

Alessia and Ciro spent half the meal bickering, throwing insults at each other in a way that only made them laugh harder. Antonia watched them with soft amusement, occasionally scolding Ciro when his language got too vulgar—which only made him smirk and apologize insincerely.

Enzo was mostly quiet, sipping his wine, observing, his presence felt more than heard.

And Leo?

Leo barely let me out of his sight.

Or his touch.

His hand remained on my thigh beneath the table, his thumb idly tracing slow, deliberate circles

against my skin. His grip was firm, his touch possessive, tightening every time I shifted.

Subtle.

But clear.

You’re mine.

I could barely focus on my food.

“Alright,” Alessia finally announced, leaning back in her chair, her fifth glass of wine in hand. “Since we finally have a new face at the table—” her hazel eyes flicked to me—“Cassandra, tell us how the hell you’ve managed to put up with my brother for so long.”

I choked on my sip of wine.

Leo sighed. “Alessia—”

“No, no, this is a great question,” Ciro interjected, grinning. “Because we all know he’s an asshole.”

Leo shot him a look that should have been enough to shut him up.

It wasn’t.

Antonia sighed dramatically. “Ciro, language.”

“Sorry, Ma, but let’s not pretend Leo isn’t the grumpiest motherfucker in Chicago.”

I laughed.

Leo tensed beside me.

That only made me laugh harder.

Alessia leaned forward, smirking. “So? Answer the question, bella. How do you tolerate him?”

I turned to Leo, finding his steel-grey eyes already locked onto mine.

I could have made a joke.

Could have brushed it off with sarcasm.

But for some reason, in that moment, I didn’t want to.

I wanted to be honest.

I tilted my head slightly. “I guess…” I started, chewing on my lip before continuing, “it’s because he makes me feel safe.”

The table went silent.

Leo stilled.

A tightness formed in my stomach, the weight of my own words settling heavily in my chest.

But it was true.

Leo Romano, the Don of Chicago, the man I once thought I hated, made me feel safe.

Even after everything.

Even when he frustrated me.

Even when I wasn’t sure where we stood.

I trusted him.

Completely.

The realization was jarring.

The weight of those words hung in the air—until Antonia sighed dramatically, sipping her wine before

shaking her head with a knowing smile.

“Dio Mio,” she murmured, “she’s already in love with him.”

I nearly dropped my fork.

Leo smirked.

Ciro coughed to hide his laugh.

Alessia squealed. “Oh my God, Ma, you can’t just say that!”

Antonia shrugged, completely unfazed. “What? I’m right.”

Leo’s fingers tightened on my thigh.

My face was on fire.

I grabbed my wine and took the biggest sip possible, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

Ciro laughed outright. “Aw, piccola strega, you’re blushing.”

“Shut the fuck up, Ciro,” I muttered, glaring at him.

He winked.

I groaned, pressing my fingers to my temples.

This family was going to ruin me.

***

The night lasted longer than I expected, but by the time Leo finally led me outside, my stomach was

full, my cheeks ached from laughing, and my head was pleasantly buzzed from the wine.

The air was still warm, the pavement damp from the earlier storm.

Leo walked beside me, his hand firm at the small of my back as we made our way toward the car.

“Did you have fun?” he asked, his voice softer now.

I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I did.”

Leo stopped walking.

I turned, confused—

And suddenly, I was pinned against the car.

My breath hitched, hands gripping his shirt as he leaned in, steel-grey eyes dark and intense.

“You belong with me, Cassandra,” he murmured, the smell of red wine heavy on his breath and mine.

I swallowed hard.

His lips brushed mine.

“Say it,” he urged.

My heart pounded.

I opened my mouth—

Then, from inside the car, Ciro called out—

“Can you two not fuck against the car? Some of us actually want to go home tonight.”

I groaned.

Leo sighed.

Then, gripping my chin, he kissed me deeply—slow and possessive, making sure I felt every bit of his frustration.

When he pulled back, he smirked.

“You’ll say it soon,” he promised.

And fuck, I knew he was right.

***

The next night, I had a shift at Oblivion. My heart was still soaring from the family bonding the night before, from Leo, from everything that had shifted between us. As I sat at my vanity, I watched myself in the mirror, my fingers brushing over my painted lips.

We had kissed twice yesterday.

We had said a lot of very vulnerable things.

And then there was Antonia, putting words to feelings I hadn’t yet acknowledged—not to myself, not to anyone—outing me to an entire room of people.

I reached for my favorite perfume, spritzing it along my neck and wrists.

“You’re practically glowing.”

Candy’s reflection appeared behind me, her sharp eyes meeting mine in the mirror.

“That noticeable, huh?” I murmured, setting the bottle down.

A rare smile spread across her lips, one that softened her usual hard edges. “Yeah. Very.” She stepped closer, reaching for the brush on my vanity. “Here, let me.”

She began running it through my hair, slow and gentle, the way I imagined an older sister might.

Her smile didn’t fade.

“You love him?” she asked, her voice softer than I expected.

Our eyes locked again.

Do I love him?

I wasn’t sure I even knew what that meant.

“I don’t know,” I whispered contemplatively. “How would you describe being in love?”

Candy’s hand stilled for a moment, her eyes flickering with something distant, something haunted.

Man, if only I knew what this woman had been through. Most days, she was a pain in the ass, but on days like today—when she was like this—I could appreciate her more for what she was. A friend.

“I’d say it’s a feeling you get in your gut,” she finally said, resuming her strokes. “Not like when you’re horny,” she snorted, more to herself, flashing me a smirk.

I rolled my eyes.

“Like butterflies, you know?” she continued, her voice shifting. “They’re all you think about, all you talk about.”

Her exhale was long, heavy, like she was remembering someone from another life.

“I remember loving one man so much that I knew I would have given up my life to save him.”

Her voice became solemn, her eyes glistening slightly.

I reached up, touching the hand she’d unconsciously rested on my shoulder. She gave me a sad smile in return, then shook her head, like she was shaking off something—shoving it down deep, where no one could reach it.

The show smile returned.

“Anyway,” she said, brushing my hair again, nails carding through the strands as she waited. “Is that something you think you feel?”

POP! POP! POP!

The loud noise echoed through the main room.

BANG! BANG!

A retaliating shot fired back.

Screams erupted from the girls, panic breaking out as they ran, ducking their heads and rushing toward the emergency exit at the back of the building.

Candy’s grip on my shoulder tightened.

“What the fuck do you think is going on?” she asked, her voice rising but not screaming.

I knew better than to expose myself in a narrow hall during a shootout.

Grabbing Candy’s hand, I dragged her toward the bathroom inside the dressing room.

“I don’t fucking know,” I whispered harshly, shoving her inside and locking the door behind us. “But stay quiet.”

The cleaning supplies were separated by a curtain, so I pulled us deep into the corner, forcing us into a crouching position.

We held each other, both of us trembling.

Then—

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Dimitri’s rough voice echoed from beyond the door, followed by a deep grunt.

Shit.

Was he in trouble?

Leo and Ciro had business tonight. Gio had a family emergency. That meant Dimitri was the only one here to protect me.

And now, he was in danger.

POP!

BANG!

“Fuck!” an unfamiliar voice yelled. “Fuck you, you fucking WOP!”

Another shot fired—loud, final.

Then—

Silence.

Candy was sobbing quietly, silent tears streaking through her makeup as her perfectly polished hand clamped over her mouth.

I couldn’t cry.

My adrenaline was too high.

But my body was shaking like a damn earthquake.

Then, a voice.

A voice that made my entire body freeze.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are, Cass.”

All the blood in my body drained.

I felt myself pee just a little.

Candy looked at me, her eyes wide. “Is that—?” she mouthed.

I nodded slowly.

“Baby,” Declan continued, voice deranged, “if you come out, I won’t kill the rest of the stupid bitches in the hallway.”

A fresh wave of terror surged through me.

Candy gripped my arm, shaking her head violently, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. No, don’t

go. Please don’t go.

But I had to.

My eyes pleaded with hers.

I have to.

Her fingers tightened around my wrist, desperate.

I carefully pried them away.

Rising, my legs felt numb, fear sinking deep into my bones, into my bloodstream, into everything. I could still feel the dampness on my inner thighs, but there was no time to be humiliated, no space to

acknowledge anything except what needed to be done.

My Oblivion family was in danger.

And I was the only one who could stop it.

I took a single step toward the door—

BOOM!

The door shook under the force of a kick, the handle rattling aggressively.

“Get the fuck out here, Cass! Now!”

His rage was rising. If I didn’t comply now, he would start shooting.

With shaky fingers, I twisted the lock.

The second it clicked, the door was flung open, the force knocking me back. My body hit the ground hard, sliding into the curtain, knocking over the cleaning supplies—

Exposing Candy.

She screamed.

My eyes widened in horror.

Declan smirked.

Our gazes locked as he pointed his gun at her.

Without breaking eye contact, he pulled the trigger.

The shot exploded through the small space, the noise deafening, my ears ringing so hard I thought my skull might split open.

Candy’s body jerked.

Blood splattered.

She crumpled—lifeless.

Her beautiful face, frozen in fear.

Permanently.

Before I could process it, rough, ruthless hands latched onto me.

I hissed as he yanked me to my feet, fingers fisting my hair. My vision wavered, my hearing buzzing in and out. He dragged me out of the dark bathroom and into the blinding lights of our dressing room.

The first thing I saw when my eyes cleared—

Dimitri.

Slumped against the lockers.

Blood oozing from his side, from his mouth, as he wheezed.

His sad eyes met mine.

“Sorry,” he coughed, blood spilling from his lips.

Declan mocked a laugh.

“You fucked him too, you fucking slut?” He yanked my hair again, forcing me to look at him.

I winced, my hands grabbing onto his wrist, trying desperately to relieve the pain at my scalp.

Tears poured down my face.

Fear wracked my body.

My friends were dying.

The people I cared about were dying.

And it was all my fucking fault.

“Come on,” Declan sneered. “I’m taking you home.”

Disgust twisted his features as he dragged me forward. He made sure I witnessed every single body—every single person who had been injured, who was dead, who was dying.

The smell of gasoline filled the air.

The soft, pained whimpers of the girls who had been trapped inside rang in my ears.

Tears streamed down my face.

As we stepped out into the sunset, the city bathed in the most beautiful golden light I had ever seen, a humor only God had. I knew—

I was a dead woman.