The phone vibrated in the inside pocket of my tux jacket. I tried to concentrate on the words of the former pakhan of the New York Russian bratva, Ivan Zahkarov. Tonight was the formal turnover to his son, Kirill, the cold-as-ice fucker sitting across from me. I bristled at the way he was eyeing Lucy, who was forced to make nice at this event because, after all, it was in trying to help her Inded in the FBI interrogation room.


    “The caviar on that oyster is the best Russia has to offer. It just arrived this morning,” Ivan told me. “It’s Aralina’s favorite.” He gave a pointed look at the beautiful blonde beside me.


    In their eyes, I was considering the arranged marriage. We were in a gathering of fifty guests. Seated around our table were Ivan, his wife, Irina, their son Kirill; and daughter, Aralina; and Kolya. Kolya Petrov took over the reins of brigadier from his cousin Grigori. From my side were Pop and Ma, my sister, Lucy; and my underboss Sonny.


    The good news: Grigori had fallen from power and I didn’t have to deal with him anymore. After Lucy had brought his dealings with the congressman to my attention, the goal to bring that fucker down became the priority and the properties had fallen from favor. I made this clear to my mother. It also served its purpose of freeing Sloane and her brother from Grigori’s dominion.


    The bad news? Nobody knew where he was, and Sloane was already in the middle of this clusterfuck. She chose to work for the feds and screwed me over with those damning photographs. Now the feds’ lead witness went missing, was probably dead, and I was thest person who was seen having an altercation with her, courtesy of Sloane’s photographs. Betrayed was too tame a word when they shoved those photos under my nose. They told me Sloane and her brother had been snitches for the feds for a long time. My mind had a hard time wrapping itself around what they were telling me. The person who interrogated me in that room smirked as if he’d been hanging on to further evidence that could bring me down.


    The bratva was also doing damage control. Grigori made a move behind their backs andnded them in hot water. Through our mediators, we came up with this bullshit united front because ourbined political clout was potent and influential.


    My phone buzzed again, and it was burning a hole in my pocket. “Osetra is indeed the best caviar.” I shot Ivan a tight grin before smiling apologetically to Aralina. “Excuse me.” I stood up. “I’m expecting an important call.”


    Ignoring my mother’s disapproving stare, I slid my chair back and fished out my phone.


    Two texts from Sandro.


    Sandro


    Call me.


    Dom, call me right fucking now! I don’t care if you’re having dinner with the fucking king of ennd!


    If one knew Sandro, he rarely used an exmation point. He was typically concise in his messages because the fucker hated texting. That he used my name sent foreboding rippling through me. You see, when Sloane called the police on the security I hired for her, I couldn’t leave well enough alone. I told myself she was dead to me. One rule after we ended the affair was we weren’t obliged to check on each other. But did I abide by that rule? No. I put security on her and continued to receive reports on her activities because it gave me peace of mind and I could do my job as the head of my family.


    I was pleased she showed up at Venezia Tower and I was assuming the text she sent me was to consider living there. But the timing couldn’t be worse. I had been dealing with Lucy’s witness. And as if that wasn’t fucked enough, Luca’s troubles with the Russian mob in Chicago heated up. In my defense, the entire underworld was riveted by the unfolding drama of my uncle’s life. Amnesiac wife who was a hacker and had stolen millions from Russian organized crime. That kind of shit was made for Hollywood, but how did I ever doubt that Luca’s life wouldn’t be that colorful? Luca kept the “stealing” part on the down-low under threat of death because he didn’t want Natalya to be further targeted.<fn5581> The rightful source is Find~Novel</fn5581>


    I searched for a private corner, nodding briefly to the security standing around guarding the lobby of the event facility.


    I called Sandro. He answered on the first ring and I heard mayhem around him.


    “What the fuck, De Li?” he growled.


    “What’s going on?” I asked carefully. I found a deserted corridor and headed further in.


    “You told me to check on Sloane.” He was having trouble regting his voice like he was jogging. “I was wondering why you would ask me that. Then I find police cruisers and cops crawling all over the ce.”


    “Sloane?”


    “I don’t know. They wouldn’t let anyone in. All I know is one of the residents fell from the fifth floor.”


    A vise screwed my chest tight and I grew lightheaded. “Male or female?”


    Sandro paused. “Was she with someone else? Start talking, De Li. We need someone who has ess to Hoboken PD if we want to get in there. I sure as fuck don’t.”


    We were in a cold war with the Italians running New Jersey, but I knew someone who did. Grigori. I could probably navigate through my associate list for favors, but it wouldn’t get us in there as fast as I wanted to. As in, as soon as it would take me to get to Hoboken. Hell, my underboss would know more than I did. I’d been ying politics at the higher level, so I had lost touch with the street game.


    “I’ll make some calls,” I told him. Though Sandro cemented his ce as the head of the Rossi crime family by defeating his challenger in the Game of Bosses, his people skills needed work. “Find out information, but don’t piss anyone off.”


    He grunted, “I swear to God, if you got Sloane into trouble.”


    “Talkter.” I ended the call.


    Dangerous static clotted the air behind me. I stiffened, and even without turning around, I knew who I would find.


    “Don’t you know it’s impolite to eavesdrop on people’s conversations?” I faced Kirill.


    Indeed, he was leaning indolently against the wall. “I needed a smoke.”


    “You’re not allowed to smoke in here.”


    “As if that would stop you.” He extracted a cigarette and offered me one.


    I shook my head. “I need to make more calls.”


    I started to walk away from him, but he wasn’t done.


    “For someone trying to protect his sister, you seem to have other priorities tonight.”


    Aggravation and fury shot through my veins and clenched my fists. This unity between the Zahkarovs and the De Lis was to show Congressman Tomlin he had nothing to worry from us. In our ndestine meeting, Kirill expressed disdain for the congressman, but the politician was greasing some business for them. Lucy and her deadwyer friend’s digging had triggered a bacsh to one of the Russians’ investment firms, putting it on the radar of the SEC. Not that I didn’t apud Lucy, except the corruption and moral charges against Congressman Tomlin disappeared with our witness and the death of thatwyer.


    To the public, Ivan stepped down as CEO of Zahkarov Holdings. Behind the scenes, he stepped down as the pakhan of the bratva.


    Lucy’s involvement in their troubles had put a bull’s-eye on my sister and Kirill had put a contract out on her while the feds had been interrogating me.


    Dinner was tense as fuck, but it was a temporary Band-Aid hatched up by my mother and the matchmaker Margo Winthrop that enabled this truce.


    Kirill canceled the contract but required my family to appear at this dinner to honor his father as an apology.


    It was a quick fix, and it was hard to swallow. Ma was all for it, Lucy was still defiant, and Pop wanted to put a contract out on Kirill in retaliation.


    Fuck me.


    So this was the initial remedy. Neither of us could break the truce without our scandalous secrets being spilled, and Margo definitely had more than a few.


    I invaded Kirill’s personal space. He was the same height as me. The same build. Same dark hair. But that was where the simrities ended. I doubted if there was an emotional bone in his body. Like he showed emotions because it was required of him. Though he seemed to genuinely care for his mute sister.


    Sonnyughingly suggested that Aralina Zahkarov would make the ideal wife who didn’t talk back. But she was only twenty-one for fuck’s sake.


    “Who do you know in Hoboken?”


    He raised a brow. “Are you asking for a favor, De Li? Who called you?”


    “You’re looking for Grigori, then I might have a lead.”


    He returned the cigarette back into the case. “You’re going to Hoboken right now?”


    Nothing would stop me. I nodded. “Are you going to hurt my sister?”


    He chuckled. “And risk Margo’s wrath?”


    My mouth twitched at this. I didn’t know what dirt she had on either family, but there were enough stories to back up the im that once you entered a covenant with Margo Winthrop, you never broke it.


    What I knew of her was that she had connections in high ces. Old money. And the matchmaker role she currently held was passed down from generations. Marriage Ink, her luxury full-service wedding business, was just a front for a secret society that went back centuries.


    They’d been trying to bring in new money in thest hundred years. Merge old and new families. The Zahkarovs were descendants of Russian nobility. De Lis and Morettis were Sicilians. Our ancestors worked thend. Although I heard Margo was already eyeing Luca’s son, Elias. She might not have arranged the marriage between Natalya and Luca, but it was no secret that Luca’s mother was an Italian contessa.


    “Come on, De Li, I think it would piss off our mothers more if we leave now,” Kirill said. “You’re not escaping this circus without me.”


    Neither Kirill nor I wanted to ride in the other’s car. We ended up going to Hoboken in separate vehicles. Thankfully, Trevor was assigned security during our event and Imandeered his Patrol.


    Kirill came through though. Sandro was able to get into Sloane’s apartment. But the traffic backup grated on my nerves as Sandro gave me a y-by-y of what was going on.


    “The man who was thrown off the fifth floor is Phil Harding. He lives on the ground level. He’s FBI. Did you know Sloane was talking to a fed?”


    “Not until four days ago.”


    “Fuck, man, was that why you were hauled in?”


    Close family knew the FBI picked me up, but I kept the details to myself. Instead of answering him, I asked, “What else?”


    “Signs of a struggle. Broken window. The fire escape gate was unlocked.” He paused. “There’s blood.”


    I gripped the steering wheel. “And…”


    “CSI tech said not enough to bleed out and die.”


    “Where did they take Harding?”


    “New Jersey Medical. He’s in surgery. I have one of my guys circling the hospital. It’s crawling with cops.”


    “Do we know how badly he’s hurt?”


    “No.”


    My phone pinged with a message from Bianca.


    Bianca


    What the fuck, Dom? You and Sloane?


    Ivy


    That exins why she’s been hiding from us.


    Sera


    I was telling Matteo I suspected she had blocked us.


    Bianca


    I was feeling terrible because we had to keep this secret about Luca and Natalya from her and I thought that was why she blocked us. But it was you, my prick of a cousin. So what did you do?


    I growled at Sandro, “You told the women?”


    “Of course. I’m fucked up with guilt, and so is Bianca. But this is Sloane. We knew she understood mob business, so this whole shit was because of you.”


    “You don’t have to bury the guilt any deeper.”


    Sandro scoffed. “Just so you know, I want to bury my fist in your face.”


    “Might I remind you that Sloane is working with a fed? She yed me.”


    “I haven’t mentioned that part to the women yet.”


    I snorted. “So I’m painted as the bad guy.”


    “Well, you’re certainly not a victim here. My hunch? Sloane didn’t have a choice. Especially with her brother who kept screwing up.”


    “And she couldn’t have told us?”


    “Yeah, well, she’s not around to defend herself, is she?”


    Sloane’s betrayal stung deep, but Sandro giving her the benefit of the doubt while I refused to listen to her, while I wanted her to suffer for her betrayal, stung deeper and pierced an ufortable shard of disgust in my chest.


    “I told you Grigori needed to go. I should have acted on my own and not looped you into it,” Sandro said.


    Sloane and I agreed to nothing personal. But I let my pride get in the way. I hid behind my responsibility to family. Sandro considered Sloane a friend. Did my five months with her, fucking her in every position, spending time with her mean nothing? It did. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have put security on her and that was why I was panicking when I lost control over Sloane’s movements.


    “I have no time for this me game,” I warned. “Kirill Zahkarov is with me.”


    “And you’re all about appearances, aren’t you?”


    I ignored his jibe. “Talk to youter.”


    Sandro wasn’t kidding when he said the ce was crawling with cops. He met me and Kirill on the ground floor. He and the Russian exchanged brief nods. I wondered if Sandro had ever taken a contract from them. They had Kolya, but he usually only did things for the bratva and didn’t contract out his services.


    I wasn’t prepared for the feeling that hit me when I entered Sloane’s apartment. The ce looked like an all-out brawl had taken ce. Coffee table smashed, barstools overturned, and the couch where Sloane and I had fucked countless times was at an odd angle. Parallel chaos was roiling my insides.


    Something nagged at me. I was hyper-aware. sses were being dusted off by the tech, and evidence markers nted.


    I walked into the bedroom. The closet door was open, and the mattress was tossed. Did the Russians think Sloane was hiding something, or were they setting this up as a burry?


    I kept nothing here, not even a toothbrush. Once or twice I checked us into a hotel, but Sloane preferred I didn’t spend a dime on us, which irritated the fuck out of me. She started pushing back on groceries. Interestingly enough, she never said no to Ginger’s prissy food…


    Ginger.


    I rushed out of the bedroom and spotted the cat’s empty bowl. “Did you guys see a cat?”


    Everyone narrowed their gazes at me as if I’d lost my damn mind.


    “It’s an orange cat,” I persisted.


    I got a few headshakes, mostly shrugs, and then one of the CSIs said “no” before returning to his task.


    Sandro’s gaze burned a hole through me while I stalked around the overturned furniture and headed to the firedder door.


    “Don’t touch anything!” the CSI tech yelled.


    I grunted, not used to people treating me like I was dumb as a rock when it came to situations like this. Of course I wasn’t going to touch anything unless I wanted to get rid of evidence. I shouldered the ajar door that led to the fire escape. I wondered whether one of the residents had Ginger or she was on the roof.


    I nced up to see if she was peering down and observing the activities like a curious cat would, but I didn’t see her. My eyes traveled down the catwalk and immediately spotted an orange blob beside the dumpster in the alley.


    No.


    Fuck, no.


    I barged back into the apartment, out its door, and raced down the stairs. I would have looked like a fleeing suspect if I hadn’t been wearing a tux.


    Once outside, the brisk air failed to disce the foreboding festering inside my chest. It only expanded and tightened its band around my lungs, making it difficult to breathe.


    I ran into Bianca.


    “Dom, what are?—”


    I ignored her and sprinted round the building into the alley. Conflicting emotions grappled inside me…of wanting the orange blob to be there, and wishing it had disappeared because that would mean Ginger was alive.


    But it was still there. I stopped two feet away from it.


    “Dom…what are you doing?” Bianca asked. Then she must have seen the form I was too chickenshit to approach.


    “Oh, is that Sloane’s cat?”


    A lump lodged itself in my throat and roughened the single word gusting past my mouth. “Yes.”


    I took one step, and then another, until I sank to my knees and, for the first time since I’d met the feisty feline, touched its fur willingly, desperately.


    Ginger moved and tried to raise her head to look at me. Then sheid it down again and ignored me.


    “You’re alive.”


    “She’s hurt?” Bianca’s voice trembled. “You think they threw her from the fifth floor too, like that guy?”


    “Ginger,” I whispered gently. “Can I move you, girl?” I stroked her fur. She was able to move her head and gave me hope she hadn’t broken her back. There were no signs of blood on her coat or around her, and the biggest concern was if she was bleeding internally. “I’ll give you all the tuna you want.”


    The word tuna did it.


    Ginger pushed up on her forelegs, struggling to lift her hindquarters, but she managed it. Her tail didn’t flick in sass, and she appeared to be hunched like an old cat rather than a feisty three-year-old. She also appeared thinner thanst I saw her, and she was shivering.


    Ovee with relief, I shrugged out of my tux jacket and wrapped it around Ginger. She didn’t protest and appeared to wee the warmth of my clothes.


    Cradling the bundle of fur in my arms, Bianca and I walked out of the alley where Sandro met us.


    “That’s the cat?” he asked.


    “Yes,” I said. “The fuckers must have thrown her out the window.”


    “Well, they say a cat has nine lives,” Sandro said.


    I stared at Ginger who seemed to be content and wondered how many of those lives remained.


    “Do we have any leads on Sloane?” Bianca asked.


    “I’m going to ask Trevor to review surveince footage around the area, but I need a favor from you.”


    “Anything,” she said.


    “Take Ginger to the emergency vet and do a full workup.” Sloane would have wanted me to take care of her cat. Then I immediately did a mental headshake. I was talking about Sloane like she was already dead. I refused to believe it. Self-recrimination battled against the logical steps I had to take to make sense of what happened here.


    Eventually, there’d be time to wallow in regrets, to figure out how I fucked things up so badly, but not right now. Sloane was out there and she needed me.