Chapter 5

XAIVER

I leaned back in my bespoke leather chair, my gaze sharp as I addressed Victor.

"Victor, our shipment losses are unacceptable. Marono’s intercepting our cargo. I want to know who’s feeding them intel."

Marco’s playing with fire. Since our last encounter, he’s been using our opioid supply to negotiate alliances. He’s distributing across multiple states now, trying to buy loyalty. But he’s a fool. Those people won’t align with someone as dim-witted as he is.

Victor’s expression turned grim. "Yes, sir. Their security’s impressive."

We tried hacking into their system, hoping to crash it, but their encryption is top-tier. Our hackers said they can’t breach it without leaving a trace. One wrong move, and we’re exposed. You know… those computer freaks and their digital jargon.

The Maranos have dirt on a lot of politicians—it's all buried in the Omertà File. I’ll do whatever it takes to get my hands on that file, then destroy it at the source.That file is the last thing keeping a shred of dignity attached to their name. But I want that gone. No respect, no legacy, nothing left for the Marano name to stand on.

If Marco’s father were still alive, I wouldn't have been able to breach their system. But he’s six feet under—and so is any sense of intimidation I once had.

"Impressive?" I echoed, my voice laced with disdain. "Find me the best hacker money can buy. I want Marano’s system breached, and I want the traitor’s name."

Victor nodded, already scribbling. "Understood. But Marono’s encryption is state-of-the-art. We’ll need someone extraordinary."

"Extraordinary isn’t enough," I snapped. "I want unmatched expertise— someone who can ghost through their system, no footprint, no trace. Pay whatever it costs. I want this resolved by the end of the month."

Victor nodded again. "I'll make it happen."

I steepled my fingers. "I also want to know how deep this mole’s influence goes. Have you made any progress reviewing our internal personnel?"

Victor hesitated. "I’ve been combing through files, sir. But it’s like hunting a shadow. I’m trying to identify anyone with suspicious ties or irregular behavior."

"Keep digging," I ordered. "When we find the rat, they’re gone—along with anyone else they’ve tainted."

Victor’s eyes hardened. "I’ll find them."

I leaned forward, eyes locking with his. "Good. And keep it quiet. I don’t want Marano catching wind of anything—not yet."

Victor left. I stared at the door for a moment, calculating.Whoever this mole is, their body will rot wherever Marco’s does. That’s a promise.

My phone buzzed. I picked it up.

"Dem," I answered.

"Boss, Emily’s leaving LA. She’s catching a flight back to New York," he reported.

I leaned back, intrigued. "Good. Keep me updated."

"No problem, boss. I’ll be back at the office tomorrow to give you full details."

"Fine," I said, ending the call without another word.

I set the phone down, my thoughts drifting.

I’d sent Dem to trail Emily—curiosity, fascination, instinct. I knew she’d gone to

L.A., to her family home. That’s where she belongs when she’s not in school.

But now she was coming back to New York—my city, my turf. Easier to keep her within reach.

It’s been a week and three days since that night—our night. Her resolve drew me in, but I see past the surface. There’s something hidden beneath that fire.

And I’ll enjoy peeling it back, layer by layer.

She will be mine. I’ll make sure of it. Emily doesn’t know it yet, but she’s already falling.

With Dem watching, I was always one step ahead.

Time to take the next move.

~~~~

—Later that day, I was at one of my casinos—my usual haunt. I sat in my office reviewing some documents when a knock came.

"Enter," I said.

Susan,my secretary, stepped in. "Sir, someone’s here to see you."

I didn’t look up. "Who?"

"Ms. Willston."

My jaw clenched. Claire Willston. Her father’s business dealings were valuable.

She, on the other hand, was a nuisance.

Before I could respond, she breezed in, Susan retreating behind her.

"Hey, babe!" Claire gushed, arms open as she walked toward me.

She wore a fitted designer gown, diamond earrings catching the light, perfume heavy in the air.

I didn’t return the hug. My irritation flared.

Claire didn’t notice—or didn’t care. "I’ve missed you!" she said brightly.

She finally stepped back, her hands brushing against my arms.

"Why haven’t you answered my calls?" she pouted.

Because I blocked her. She damn near spammed my line to death while she was away.

I ignored the question. "Why are you here, Claire?"Her smile faltered but quickly returned. "Just got back from Paris. Wanted to show you my new designs."

I gave a dismissive nod. "Congratulations."

She’s some kind of artist, owns a gallery in New York. I think the Paris trip was for training. I didn't really care.

Claire kept talking, animated. "The Eiffel Tower was magical. I got so much inspiration for—"

I tuned her out.

"—and I met some amazing people—"

I forced a faint smile.

"Why didn’t you call me while I was gone?" she asked again, now more accusing.

I shrugged. "Busy."

Claire narrowed her eyes. "You blocked me."

So she figured it out.

I kept my expression neutral. "Signal issues."

She gave a brittle laugh. "You're always so busy. But I’m back, and I want us to reconnect."

Reconnect? We were never connected in the first place.Her father's influence was the only reason I tolerated her. But that tolerance was thinning.

"Claire, again—why are you here?"

She sighed, then suddenly sat on my lap, trailing her fingers across my chest.

Trying to seduce me.

Once, I might’ve been amused. Now? Her touch grated.

I pushed her off me, voice hard. "If you don’t have a reason for being here, leave."

She didn’t flinch—she knew my moods.

"Dad said to give you this," she said, pulling an envelope from her bag.

I took it, opened it—business proposals. Typical.

Just as I was about to send her away, she dropped a bomb.

"Let’s get married, Xavier."

I stared at her. "Married? We’re not even in a relationship."

Claire shrugged. "We’ve been sleeping together for years. Marriage is just the next logical step."

I clenched my jaw. "Sex doesn’t equal commitment."

Her smile turned sly. "My dad has high-level connections—politicians, elites. Marry me, and they’re yours."

I scoffed. "You think I need your father’s contacts? I am the top, Claire.""You have wealth," she said. "But my dad has access to presidents."

My voice dropped an octave. "You’re not proposing marriage—you’re trying to make a deal."

"Call it what you want. But together, we’d be unstoppable."

I stood. "Enough. Leave."

She picked up her bag, smiling sweetly. "I’m not giving up."

My glare was ice. "Don’t test me, Claire."

She winked. "Game’s just starting, Xavier."

She left, and I stood motionless, the audacity of her offer still echoing.

“Fucking delusional,” I muttered.

I paced, seething. Claire actually believed her father’s connections gave her leverage. That I needed them.

I’m the one offering protection. William Willston got rich because of me. I don’t owe him a damn thing.

The only use I have for him is slapping his business name on my legitimate deals. That’s it. I run everything else.

Claire thinks marrying her would grant me power? I own power.

She has no idea who she’s dealing with.

She thinks her father holds more power than me.But it’s obvious—she knows nothing of the shadows he crawled through, or the deals that bought his so-called empire.

Just then, my phone buzzed. Dem again. "Boss," he said, "Emily’s flight landed. She’s home."

My mind shifted. Emily. Now there’s someone who isn’t trying to manipulate me. "Keep watching," I told him. "Tell me everything." The line went dead.

And the game truly began. A smirk formed on my lips