EleniThat night, I stride into Piacere half an hour before Gianna’s shift. I’ve been avoiding her all day because I think she’s the only one with a chance of talking me out of this. Half an hour shouldn’t be long enough, though, and I made sure one of Gianna’s favorite customers was here tonight, to keep her from delaying her shift to talk to me. It’s funny coming back here, though, especially alone. The first time I walked through these doors, I had no idea what they were going to mean to me. I had to beg my way past the bouncer instead of nodding and greeting him by name. I had to look around like a lost duckling instead of marching to the back, where I know the strippers’ dressing room is. I didn’t even know what scotch tasted like.Now, I don’t think I’ll ever drink scotch again.I push into the dressing room. Two of the other dancers, Sabrina and Crystal, sit at the mirrors already in costume.“Hey guys,” I say.“Hi, Eleni,” they chorus.Crystal turns to face me and jiggles he
DanteI slide into a booth at La Dolce Vita, an Italian restaurant I haven’t been to since before Frank Lombardi killed my father and inhale the garlicky air.“Good, right?” Tony sits next to me. “I’ve been all over this place the last two weeks.”I shoot him a look. “I’ve been all over whatever the hell Domino’s wife saw fit to feed me. Do you know what that is, by the way?”“Yeah, I think she prefers a diet of ‘shut up, it saved your life,’ just like in the old country.” Tony picks up a menu. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”As if to prove his point, my chest burns.“Yes,” I say. “And whether I’m ready or not, I have to get back into the game. She’s leaving tonight.”Tony grunts noncommittally, thankfully pulling me away from the attendant ache of that statement.“What? I thought you’d be throwing her a going away party.”He shrugs just as a waitress walks up to the table.“What can I get you guys to drink?” she asks.Tony looks up at her slowly, emphasizing his blue eyes in a
EleniI yank on the stubborn zipper of my suitcase to no avail. It won’t shut. I release with a sigh, and the top flops open to reveal the picture of Dante and Christos I stole from his room. I swallow. I know stealing it is stupid. I don’t really know either man in this picture. But it just feels wrong, leaving this image behind in the shadow of what happened here.I want to remember them like this. Innocent and young, before the Mafia pulled them under. I don’t have any pictures of myself. Mom packed those up and took them with her to Greece. I wonder if I’d even recognize the girl I used to be.My phone vibrates, and I curse. That’s my ten-minute alarm. If I’m not in the car on the way to JFK by the time the last one goes off, I’m going to miss my flight. Gianna convinced me to talk to Dante, but he’s making it a hell of a lot harder by not being here. For lack of anything better to do, I grab a pack of the sticky notes I’ve started going through like water and attempt to write a
EleniI stand behind the chair on the opposite side of Dante’s desk and watch him, shirt thankfully buttoned again, ease himself onto the smooth red leather of the boss’ seat. Part of me wants to run out of the room before he opens his mouth. I made up my mind. I’m leaving. I don’t need to say anything to him other than “goodbye,” no matter what Gianna said. But another part of me just keeps thinking of that first day, when I didn’t know whether he was alive or dead, and I came down here looking for answers. Anything that could explain why he killed Christos.He's offering me those answers now. With Mama on the other side of a plane ride to Greece, I would be stupid not to take them. No matter what else, I couldn’t face her knowing I could have told her what happened to her baby and refused.“Sit,” Dante says. “Or are you more used to the view from this side of the desk now?”His smile is an olive branch. He wants to have the conversation peaceably.I throw myself down in the empty ch
EleniI gape at Dante. Christos asked him not to tell us? Why wouldn’t he want us to know he was dead?“Why should I believe you?” I say, clinging to the last vestiges of the shell I’ve built up.He drops back into his seat. “That’s your question to answer. I’ve told you everything I know. I was just keeping a promise.”My anger burns away my grief. “Keeping a promise? You lied to me, Dante. You let me—sleep with you, and you hid this from me.”“I took his body out with the rest of our men,” he says like I didn’t speak. “Tony and I buried him upstate. I buried him, my friend, with my own fucking hands. I can show you, if you want.”I slam my hands down on his desk. “Are you listening to me? What the hell made you think that would help? I’m leaving in the fucking morning.”“That’s your choice,” he says evenly. “But you should know this isn’t a life people just get to walk away from.”“Is that a threat?”He meets my gaze. “It’s a promise. You have a reputation after these last two weeks
EleniDante surges up to meet my mouth, and within moments, he has to drop back against the pillows to catch his breath again.“I’m sorry, pet.” He runs his hands up my sides. “I don’t quite have my stamina back.”The siren song of old patterns calls, but I’m not the Eleni I was the last time he used that name for me. It still sends a shiver down my spine, but if we’re finding a new balance, maybe we don’t have to let habits dictate what comes next.“That’s okay.” I nip at his earlobe, kiss down to the hollow of his throat. “I have enough stamina for the both of us.”He quirks an eyebrow at me when I lean back. I know what he’s looking for. I stay silent.“Sir?” he prompts.“Sir just wiped out like a cartoon character walking in the front door.” I smile. “So why don’t you let me take the reins tonight?”Indecision flickers across Dante’s face, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s ever had sex where he wasn’t in charge.Then, he says, “Okay.”Part of me didn’t expect that. My breath catc
EleniI roll over, feeling rested for the first time in I don’t even know how long, and reach for Dante. My fingers meet sheets where I know he fell asleep after our third round last night. Cold sheets. My heart leaps into my throat. I open my eyes and sit up.Rumpled blankets. Clothes scattered everywhere. No sign of Dante. I scramble for my phone to see if Gianna or Tony has been trying to reach me with something important. A few notifications await me. One from my email, alerting me I have an unsaved draft. I swipe that away. I tried to write a polite “no, thank you” back to Professor Calhoun yesterday, and it’s the last thing I need to think about right now. A few general check-ins and junk. One from Gianna that I open without reading the message preview.Hello?? Tell me you didn’t literally leave for Greece without texting me goodbye.I blink. Then, my gaze drifts to the time she sent the message. Eleven am. My heart skips another beat, and I check the time now. Nearly noon.“Shi
DanteI pull the car up in front of the abstract red sculpture that marks the front of the Tandon Institute, and Eleni turns to me with a glare.“What the hell are we doing here?”I park. “You know, I think the sculpture looks like a bunch of checkers falling over. What about you?”“Dante.” She crosses her arms. “Answer me.”I smile. I knew she was going to react like this. In truth, I don’t really care. She’s staying. She’s finding a way to get used to the fact that I killed Christos. It’s not over between us, and I don’t have to spend the rest of my life wishing I never told her. Even the ache in my chest can’t bring me down today. I climb out of the car without answering, circle around the hood, and try to open her door.It’s locked. She locked it. She stares through the window at me, arms still crossed.“Answers, or I’m not getting out,” she calls through the bulletproof glass.I exhale heavily. How has she gotten more stubborn? I was only gone for two weeks.“Is ‘you’re going to
Tatiana “You’re killing me, Angelo,” I whisper, my voice breathless as I squirm beneath him, trying to find the perfect angle, the perfect moment. The heat radiating from his body pressed against mine, but it’s not enough. I want more. I need more.Angelo’s lips curl into a grin, a wicked expression that makes my pulse quicken. He’s fully aware of the effect he has on me—always has been. His hands slip under me to grab my legs, shifting me until I’m lying back against the couch, my head sinking into the cushion.“This couch seems a bit small for both of us, don’t you think?” I ask, the playful tone in my voice belying the tension simmering underneath. I struggle with his shirt, trying to peel it off, but my hands are trembling too much.He glances around, his gaze flicking over to the bedroom door behind us. “Come here,” he commands, his voice low, dark.Before I can even process it, he’s standing, lifting me in his arms with an effortless strength that leaves me breathless. I wrap m
Tatiana I stare at the screen, my brow furrowing as I try to make sense of the name. Guskov. It feels familiar, but I can't quite place it. I’m sure I’ve heard it before, maybe from Lev. But there’s something unsettling about the whole situation.“Do you know him?” Angelo’s voice cuts through the quiet, his tone curious but not without a hint of concern.I shake my head slightly, feeling the weight of the unknown pressing down on me. “His name rings a bell. I think Lev mentioned him once or twice, but I don’t really know him. Not personally, at least.”I begin scrolling through the messages, each one more concerned than the last. The words seem to echo with a sense of urgency, a beckoning for contact. ‘Lev, did you arrive?’‘Man, where are you?’‘Fuck… Oleg knows about Tatiana.’‘Tatiana?’‘Are you okay? Please call me when you get this message.’‘Where are you?’Angelo leans forward, eyes scanning the screen over my shoulder. “Looks like he’s been trying to get in touch with you fo
Tatiana I wake before the sun rises, my body still tense from a night of restless sleep. I’d tossed and turned for hours, unable to shake the vivid flashes of the ambush from my mind. Twice, I jolted awake, breathless, and each time Angelo pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly until I drifted off again.It’s frustrating—infuriating, really—to realize how fragile I still am when it comes to facing my trauma. Last night, all I wanted was to toughen up, to stop being so affected by memories I can’t change. But how can I do that when the slightest trigger robs me of sleep and floods me with nightmares?Angelo tells me I’m being too hard on myself, but I can’t pretend it doesn’t eat at me. I was not raised to be weak. When I finally drag myself out of bed and into the shower, he’s still asleep, probably exhausted from being woken up repeatedly. I let the warm water run over me, careful not to soak my bandage. For a few quiet minutes, I let myself relax—though it feels selfish to do
Tatiana Feeling Angelo inside me is everything I need after the night I’ve had—after the fear, the blood, the chaos.It's not just sex. It’s an anchor, a reassurance, a reclamation of power over my own body. The moment he touches me, all the trauma begins to unravel, thread by painful thread. He doesn’t just make me feel alive—he makes me feel wanted, needed, like I’m something precious he refuses to lose.The way he looks at me right now… like I’m the only thing that exists in his world. It makes me ache in places far deeper than the physical. I rock against him, my rhythm desperate, as if the faster I move, the further I can run from the horror of earlier tonight.“You’re driving me insane,” Angelo groans, his fingers digging into my thighs, holding me firmly in place. He’s trying not to lose control, and I can see it in the tension of his jaw, the restraint in his eyes.I smirk, breathless. “Glad to know it’s mutual.”My pace quickens, fueled by the growing fire low in my belly. E
Angelo The ride back to Staten Island is cloaked in silence, thick and suffocating. After scolding Tatiana for what she did, I can’t trust myself to speak again without unloading everything I’m feeling—rage, fear, confusion. My hands grip the steering wheel like a lifeline, my knuckles bone-white under the overhead glow of passing streetlights.Tatiana’s forehead is still streaked with dried blood. Just glancing at it sends a sickening twist through my gut. I don’t know what I would do if I lost Tatiana. I stare hard at the dark stretch of highway ahead, trying to piece it together. Trying to understand how the hell we got ambushed. The Rominas—how did they find her? We hadn’t been followed, I was sure of that. No one knew where she went. She’d been driving alone, off the grid. So why did they show up in the exact spot she chose?Coincidence? No. Too perfect.Were they watching her all along? Waiting for an opening? That’s the only thing that makes any sense. The idea makes my jaw c
TatianaI regret leaving the house the moment I reach the city. The buildings are monstrous, and I’m not used to a place as overwhelmingly chaotic as New York. At first, I was determined to head straight to the apartment Lev had rented—curious, optimistic, convinced that whatever he’d left there might hold answers about Oleg. I had hoped to find something, anything, that could help the Saints in their mission to dismantle the Romina Empire.I type the address Lev sent via email into the GPS, but I start recognizing the street names—familiar turns, shops and signs. Then I see it— the corner deli where Angelo kidnapped me that day. My stomach turns over and the blood in my veins turns to ice. I’m too close to the place where the wedding ceremony took place. Where I ran from. Where it all began.Emotionally, I begin to unravel and as if that’s not enough, I realize the car behind me has been changing lanes immediately after I merge for long enough that I’m being followed. Panic claws
AngeloA sharp beep echoes from the garage downstairs and jerks me out of sleep.For a second, I think it’s part of a dream. I lie still, blinking at the ceiling. But something feels off—too quiet, too empty.I don’t need to look to my side to know she’s gone.I feel it.The air is colder. The silence heavier.I sit up, scanning the room. The door is open. Lights off. Nothing.Then I notice it—my gun, keys, and wallet are missing.“Fuck,” I growl, bolting out of bed. I yank on my pants and shove my arms through my shirt like I’m racing death itself. My chest tightens, adrenaline slamming through my veins like a freight train.She took my car, my weapon, and my goddamn trust.“You can’t do this to me, Tatiana,” I mutter, storming into the hallway. My voice is hoarse, laced with anger and something far worse—fear.“She’s gone!” I shout down the corridor, pounding on Dice’s door without waiting. “Get the fuck up—we’ve got a problem.”Dice swings the door open already halfway dressed, eye
*Tatiana*Angelo and I ended up in bed after our talk on the porch. Not because we reached an understanding—we didn’t. We’re still standing on opposite sides of a line neither of us is willing to cross. But I knew pushing him harder would only cause more damage.So, I hold my tongue.For now, keeping the peace meant swallowing my pride, locking my thoughts away, and playing the role of someone willing to wait.It’s after midnight. Rain pounds against the windows like a warning—fierce, unrelenting. Angelo lies asleep beside me, peaceful, unaware of the storm brewing right here in this bed.I watch him for a long moment, memorizing the shape of him, the warmth of him, just in case this is the last time.Sleep won’t come, so I reach for the tablet on my nightstand. I browse for a while—news, maps, dead ends. Then, on impulse, I check my old email. I haven’t opened it since I left Russia. I expect spam, junk, maybe nothing at all.What I don’t expect is a message from Lev.Dated the night
*Tatiana*I grit my teeth and force myself not to roll my eyes. Throwing a tantrum won’t help—but that doesn’t stop the anger simmering just beneath my skin. I don’t like the way Angelo drew that line between us. Cold. Sharp. Final.It’s not just that he’s shutting me out. It’s how he’s doing it—like I’m still some piece on his chessboard, a liability to manage. A prisoner, technically. But from him? That’s a slap in the face.He’s across the kitchen, body rigid, watching me. I ignore him. If he wants distance, fine. I’ve had worse from men with half his brain and twice his ego.I focus on the window, jaw tight. I will find a way to be useful, whether he lets me or not. I didn’t survive this long just to be benched.“Give me a cigarette,” Angelo mutters, moving toward Sal and snatching the pack from the table.My gaze flicks over in time to see the tension in his shoulders, the anger in his hands.He doesn’t smoke. Hasn’t since I got here.“Sure you wanna do that?” Kian asks, brows ra