My sister Lily had always been tougher than me.
Two years younger.
Five inches shorter.
Approximately ten times more willing to punch someone.
When I called her and told her Mason was outside her house, her response was immediate.
“I have a baseball bat.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“Tell her not to confront him.”
I covered the phone.
“She has a baseball bat.”
“I heard.”
“She was captain of her softball team.”
“That doesn’t make this better.”
“It might.”
Dominic took the phone.
I stared at him.
“Lily,” he said calmly, “my name is Dominic Costantini.”
There was silence.
Then Lily screamed so loudly I heard her without the speaker.
“THE DOMINIC COSTANTINI?”
Dominic looked at me.
I shrugged.
“Apparently.”
He continued.
“You need to lock your doors, stay away from windows, and wait for the police.”
Lily lowered her voice.
“Emma is dating you?”
“No,” I shouted.
Dominic said, “Temporarily.”
I hit his arm.
He almost smiled.
Then Antonio interrupted.
“Mason left.”
My relief lasted half a second.
“Where did he go?”
“We don’t know.”
I spoke to Lily until police arrived.
Mason had apparently parked across the street for twenty minutes, taken photographs, and left.
He hadn’t approached.
That almost made it worse.
It was intentional.
A message.
I know where your family lives.
Dominic arranged additional security near Lily’s home without asking me.
Normally I would have argued.
This time I thanked him.
By midnight, I couldn’t sleep.
I wandered downstairs.
The house was mostly dark.
I found Dominic in his office.
Sleeves rolled to his elbows.
Tie gone.
Laptop open.
A glass of untouched bourbon beside him.
He looked up.
“You should be asleep.”
“So should you.”
“I don’t sleep much.”
“That’s unhealthy.”
“So is wandering into mafia offices after midnight.”
I leaned against the doorway.
“Are you really in the mafia?”
Dominic sighed.
“You’re persistent.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“My family has a complicated history.”
“That is the most Italian-American crime-drama answer imaginable.”
He leaned back.
“My grandfather came to this country with twelve dollars.”
“See? Now we’ve reached the immigrant-story portion.”
Dominic’s mouth twitched.
“He built restaurants.”
“Legal?”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“My father expanded.”
“Less legal?”
“Much less.”
I entered slowly.
“And you?”
He looked toward the window.
“I inherited problems.”
“That still isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
I sat opposite him.
“What happened to your parents?”
His expression changed.
“My mother died when I was twelve.”
“Rosa mentioned that.”
“Cancer.”
The word connected us instantly.
“My mom too.”
“I know.”
“Right.”
I looked at his desk.
There was a photograph in a silver frame.
A beautiful dark-haired woman with two boys.
One boy was clearly Dominic.
“Your brother?”
“Matteo.”
“Where is he?”
A long silence.
“Dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
Dominic nodded.
“He was twenty-three.”
“What happened?”
Another pause.
Then he answered.
“My father’s enemies used him to hurt us.”
The sentence explained everything.
The security.
The control.
The way Dominic watched doors before entering rooms.
The way he became rigid when anyone I loved was threatened.
“You blame yourself.”
His eyes snapped to mine.
I recognized the reaction because I had worn it myself.
“You were supposed to protect him.”
“I was older.”
“By how much?”
“Three years.”
“You were twenty-six.”
“Yes.”
“And you think that means you could control everything?”
His jaw tightened.
“This isn’t about me.”
“Now you know how annoying that sentence is.”
He stared at me.
Then looked away.
For once, I had won.
I smiled.
He noticed.
“Don’t enjoy this.”
“Too late.”
Silence settled.
Not uncomfortable.
Different.
Outside the windows, Las Vegas lights glowed in the distance.
“Dominic?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you help me?”
“You grabbed me.”
“You could have walked away.”
He looked down at his hands.
“I saw the bruise.”
“That’s all?”
“No.”
“What else?”
He lifted his gaze.
“You looked at Mason like you were expecting him to hurt you even though a hundred people were standing around.”
My throat tightened.
Dominic continued.
“I knew that look.”
“From who?”
“My mother.”
I froze.
“My father loved her.”
His voice became distant.
“At least that’s what he called it.”
Something cold moved through me.
“He hurt her?”
“Never where anyone could see.”
My eyes filled.
Dominic looked away.
“When you grabbed my sleeve, I remembered being fourteen and hearing her tell a friend she had walked into a door.”
I understood now.
Why he noticed the concealer.
Why his anger had become personal.
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
We sat quietly.
Then I whispered, “Mason used to apologize after.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“He would bring flowers. He’d cry. Once he sat on the kitchen floor for three hours and told me he hated himself.”
I wiped my cheek.
“And somehow I ended up comforting him.”
Dominic stood.
He walked around the desk.
Then stopped several feet away.
Rule two.
No unexpected touching.
He waited.
I looked at him.
For the first time since meeting him, I understood how much effort his restraint required.
Not because he wanted control.
Because he had spent his whole life surrounded by men who confused control with strength, and he was terrified of becoming one of them.
I held out my hand.
Dominic took it.
Nothing romantic.
Nothing fake.
Just fingers closing around mine.
Warm.
Steady.
“I’m scared,” I admitted.
“I know.”
“I hate being scared.”
“Fear isn’t weakness.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“No.”
His eyes met mine.
“It isn’t.”
His thumb moved once across my knuckles.
Then his phone rang.
Antonio.
Dominic answered.
“Yes.”
His face changed.
“When?”
He released my hand.
“Lock the property down.”
My heart jumped.
“What happened?”
He hung up.
“There was a vehicle near the north gate.”
“Mason?”
“Unknown.”
A distant crack shattered the quiet.
I jumped.
Dominic grabbed me.
Not gently.
Not carefully.
Instinctively.
He pulled me down behind the heavy desk as glass exploded from the far window.
A second crack.
Gunfire.
My ears rang.
Dominic covered me with his body.
“Stay down.”
“What—”
“Stay down!”
Footsteps thundered outside.
Alarms sounded.
Another shot struck the wall.
Dominic drew a handgun from beneath his jacket.
I stared at it.
He noticed.
“I’m not leaving you.”
The office door opened.
Dominic aimed immediately.
“Boss!”
Antonio.
“Shooter’s outside the perimeter. Security is moving.”
Dominic looked at me.
“Are you hurt?”
“I don’t know.”
He checked my arms.
My face.
Blood appeared on my cheek.
His expression changed completely.
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s glass.”
He touched near the cut but stopped before making contact.
I nodded permission.
His fingers brushed my skin.
Just a scratch.
But Dominic looked as if someone had shot me.
“Antonio.”
“I know.”
His voice went cold.
“Find them.”
Antonio disappeared.
I caught Dominic’s sleeve.
“No.”
He looked down.
“You don’t do something stupid because I got scratched.”
His eyes were nearly black.
“They fired into my home.”
“And you’re angry.”
“Yes.”
“That’s when people make mistakes.”
His gaze sharpened.
“You’re giving me advice now?”
“Yes.”
Despite everything, he almost laughed.
Security moved us to an interior room.
For two hours, Dominic made calls while I sat wrapped in a blanket Rosa forced around my shoulders.
At three in the morning, Antonio returned.
“Vehicle found abandoned.”
“Shooter?”
“Gone.”
“Plate?”
“Stolen.”
Dominic asked, “Connection to Salerno?”
“Likely.”
I spoke.
“Or Mason.”
Antonio looked at me.
“Mason isn’t a professional shooter.”
“No.”
I thought carefully.
“But he knows how to make dangerous people angry.”
Dominic turned toward me.
“What are you thinking?”
“Mason wants Salerno to believe I’m important to you.”
“Yes.”
“What if he wants you to attack Salerno?”
Antonio’s expression changed.
Dominic went quiet.
I continued.
“If you two destroy each other, who benefits?”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“Mason’s debt disappears in the chaos.”
“Exactly.”
Antonio cursed.
Dominic stared at me.
“You may be right.”
“Please sound more surprised.”
“I am deeply offended.”
Antonio gave him a look.
Dominic ignored it.
“What do we know about the notebook?” I asked.
“Still missing.”
“What if Mason took it?”
Antonio shook his head.
“He was at the casino when your apartment was searched.”
“He could have sent someone.”
Dominic nodded slowly.
“And if that notebook proves something about Salerno…”
“Then Mason has leverage.”
The pieces suddenly fit.
Mason wasn’t simply desperate.
He was playing both sides.
Dominic against Salerno.
Salerno against Dominic.
And me against everyone.
Dominic turned to Antonio.
“Find out whether Reed contacted anyone connected to Salerno before tonight.”
Antonio left.
Dominic looked at me.
“You should rest.”
“After someone shot through your window?”
“I have guest rooms farther inside.”
“Dominic.”
“Yes?”
“Was that because of me?”
His silence answered.
My chest tightened.
“I brought danger into your home.”
He stepped closer.
“No.”
“They were shooting because I’m here.”
“They were shooting because someone made a choice.”
“I should leave.”
“No.”
“If I go somewhere else—”
“They follow.”
“Then I keep running.”
His expression hardened.
“You’ve done enough running.”
I stopped.
He stood in front of me.
“You ran from Mason. You moved homes. You changed shifts. You hid bruises. You apologized for surviving him.”
My eyes burned.
Dominic lowered his voice.
“You are not running tonight.”
“Then what do I do?”
His face softened.
“Stand.”
“With you?”
“If you want.”
Rule five echoed in my mind.
No pretending when we were alone.
No fake touching.
No romance.
I realized his hand was inches from mine.
Waiting.
I took it.
“Yes.”
Dominic’s fingers closed around mine.
And that night, in the safest room of the most dangerous man’s house, the first kiss almost happened.
Almost.
He looked at my mouth.
I looked at his.
Then he stepped back.
“Rule five.”
My heart pounded.
“Right.”
He turned away.
But not before I saw that his hands were shaking too.
The next morning, Antonio found the first real break in the case.
Mason had contacted Salerno repeatedly.
But he had also contacted federal investigators.
He was offering information to both sides.
And according to the latest message, Mason planned to meet someone that evening.
He was bringing the missing notebook.
Dominic looked at me.
“This ends tonight.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“What?”
“You said no lying.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You’re planning to go there.”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m going too.”
“Absolutely not.”
I smiled.
“You really hate it when I use your words against you.”
“Emma.”
“The notebook has my name in it. My identity. My money.”
“It could be dangerous.”
“I know.”
He stepped closer.
“No.”
I looked straight into his eyes.
“You told me to stop running.”
Silence.
Dominic knew he had lost.
He muttered something in Italian.
I smiled.
“What did that mean?”
“Nothing polite.”
Three hours later, wearing a wire beneath my blouse and sitting in the back of an armored SUV, I realized winning an argument with a mafia boss might have been the stupidest victory of my life.
Because Mason’s meeting was taking place in an abandoned hotel.
And according to Antonio’s newest information, Mason wasn’t bringing the notebook to sell.
He was bringing me as the final piece of his deal.
Whether I agreed or not.