“I…I can’t breathe.” I had to tell Sloane I loved her before I died. Otherwise, I would haunt her for the rest of my days from purgatory, or maybe even hell.


    “Is your left arm feeling numb?”


    In my chaotic thoughts and reactions, I concluded Lucy was only making me feel worse.


    “I’m calling Sloane!” she said.


    “No!” I was already running for the front door. I needed to see her. Waiting be damned. And since I could barely breathe, running to her was out of the question. I climbed into the SUV, gunned the engine, and sped the short distance to her beach house. That short time seemed to be forever. The stabbing in my chest eased, but I sounded like I had asthma and I knew what that sounded like because Lucy had it when she was a child.


    Why was I thinking of Lucy when she had asthma? Was I shing back to my childhood because I was dying?


    No. No. No. Sloane had to see me. I gripped the steering wheel, speeding up because my gaze zeroed in on her van. In the back of my mind, I knew I should be slowing down. That fucking van was a death trap. How many times had I watched her try to start that thing and check under its hood? But she wouldn’t ept help when I came over and asked if she needed a ride. She would return to the house and m the door in my face.


    Well, she was bing unreasonable, and I could be vindictive—to her vehicle. I floored the gas and catapulted off the road, straight into the back of her van, and braced.


    My body shot forward, the seat belt bit my shoulder, and the thundering sound of metal shing with metal should have woken her up. Otherwise, I’d have to barge in there.


    Her door swung open, and she came running out with a phone to her ear.


    “Are you having a heart attack?”


    I unclipped the seat belt and shoved open the door. “Maybe. You’re the nurse.” I was still in a semi-daze with what I had done. What progress I had made giving Sloane space hade screeching to a halt, literally.


    “You shouldn’t have gotten behind the wheel!” she yelled and grabbed my arm to lead me into the house.


    “Do I have to be dying for you to talk to me?”


    She spun around, eyes narrowing. “Is this all an act?” She gave me a withering head-to-toe appraisal. “You don’t look like someone having a heart attack.”


    My head dropped, and I assessed her mood under hooded eyes. Shit. She was going to kick me out. “I think I was having a panic attack, but Lucy made it worse by suggesting I was having a coronary.”


    Sloane heaved a heavy sigh and raised her arm toward the kitchen table. “The power of suggestion works wonders. Sit. I’ll check you out.”


    She didn’t look pleased, but there was no question about the terror in her eyes when she ran out of her house. Sloane still cared for me. She didn’t even get mad about her van. I was sure that wouldeter.


    I let my eyes wander around her beach house. Nothing much had changed. After I informed her of Kolya’s arrest, she mentioned a move to Oregon or San Diego. She’d asked the Rossis for help to escape to either Canada or Mexico. But Sandro calmed her down and told her they had the pulse on the Russians’ movements. I’d also given instructions to Sonny and Matteo. Now if only I could convince her to return to Manhattan. The tracker was out of her. We could leave it here, while I hid her in the penthouse. No way was I delegating her security again.


    Sloane returned and had the stethoscope around her neck and a blood pressure cuff.


    “We seem to find ourselves ying doctor-patient frequently,” I said.


    “That seems to be anguage we understand.”


    “Taking care of each other?” I said innocently.


    Our eyes met, but hers squinted. “Now don’t speak. Breathe normally.”


    She put the listening piece to my chest and listened to my palpitations. Then she stood and put the probe to my back and gave me instructions to hold my breath and release it. I followed her orders automatically, but I was struggling not to react to her nearness. She smelled of coconut and vani. Not her usual scent of citrus and floral—she mentioned it was ng-ng once. But Sloane had her own essence, and its ability to make my blood surge south was absolute. My cock tented my pants.


    Sloane’s body shook. She was trying not tough, but she backed away and stared at my erection.


    “You’re impossible,” she whispered, both in annoyance and mirth.


    I smirked. “What can I say? I feel so much better when you’re around me.”


    “I’m serious, Dom.” She sat on a chair and looked me in the eye. “You shouldn’t have driven. At all.”


    “I needed to get to you quickly, and I wasn’t sure I wasn’t gonna pass out while running.”


    “Well, it would have been worse if you were driving. Lucy called me in a panic.”


    She started putting everything away.


    “Aren’t you supposed to check my blood pressure? Run an EKG?”


    “With your monster cock saying hello? The results would be skewed,” she said dryly.


    “Monster, huh?”


    My eyeszily traveled the length of her body. She was wearing a tank top and shorts. Her arms were thinner, but her tits were as full as I remembered. Fuck, this wasn’t helping my erection go down.


    She stood up.


    “Don’t go.”


    She red at me. “I think you’re the one who should go.”


    “Sloane, please,” I whispered. She must have recognized the desperation in my voice because I saw a trace of pity, so I rushed out the words. “Please listen to me. I know I don’t deserve it, especially with the way I turned you away.”


    Her face hardened, and I realized my mistake when she sneered, “I thought you’re done slumming?”


    I briefly shut my eyes at the memory of those cruel words, but when I opened them, Sloane had already gathered up her stuff and left me to wallow.


    I followed her to the bathroom. “Please listen to me.”


    “I’m beneath your station, remember?”


    The hateful words I said to her wed inside my chest. Did I deserve her at all? No wonder she didn’t trust me.


    “Leave.”


    “I should have taken out Grigori when I had the chance,” I continued. I would never win Sloane back if I didn’te clean. “Sandro asked me if I would consider it.”


    “I didn’t expect you to take care of my problems!” she yelled, going into the kitchen. She grabbed a bottled water and handed it to me. “Drink this. That’s why I didn’t want to get involved with anyone from the mob. Mixing business and pleasure was the worst fucking idea of my life. So yes, it’s on me too.”


    I was in whish with her handing me water, but I guessed my persistence was winning out. I twisted off the cap and took a gulp. I didn’t realize how parched I was. “We both made mistakes, but I had the power to ease your burdens and I didn’t. Selfishly, I thought I could have everything, but having everything was an illusion. The properties that I wanted Grigori to sell to me were for my mother.”


    “Your mother?”


    She walked over to the living room, and I followed eagerly like apdog. I was so gone for this girl and she wasn’t even aware of it. It wasn’t guilt. I simply stopped lying to myself. When I did, my obsession for Sloane red so fucking bright, I was blind to everything else except her.


    “The properties were a Moretti legacy. They owned them for generations. My mother had an arrangement to be married to a high-ranking member of the Russian bratva. Let’s just say, in the underworld, it could have been the match of the century. But they demanded our vis on the Amalfi coast as dowry. All the documents had been signed, but my mother backed outst minute and married Pop instead. The De Lis aren’t small fish by any means, but we didn’t have the pedigree of the Zahkarovs.” I recounted the series of events that led to Ma’s breakdown and depression. How I did my part to take care of the family. And how her promise to a dying Emilio Moretti to get the properties back had been my vow to her.


    “Those are the same properties Lucy was telling me about,” Sloane mused. “Thewyer of the witness…”


    I felt that familiar stabbing in my chest again, and I rubbed the spot.


    “Are you feeling okay?” Sloane asked.


    “That’s the reason for my panic attack,” I confessed. For someone in my position to admit having such vulnerabilities was unspeakable. But this was Sloane. She’d seen me at my weakest and I’d seen her at hers. How could she not see we fit? “I realized that was the night you had strangle marks. The night you broke up with me was also the night I had put security on you.”


    Her eyes widened. “That far back?”


    “Yes.” I drained the bottled water. I was really thirsty and there was more I needed to own up to so we could start with a clean te. “You broke up with me. And I fully intended to follow up on you. But Luca found Natalya, and we had to shut down any leaks of information so Luca could make his move. Then Lucy also asked for my help to hide Elyse Bailey. I was pulled in all directions.”


    “You had me on ice while you took care of others.”


    I hung my head. “I failed you. in and simple.”


    “You told me you had enough to worry about and you didn’t have to worry about me,” she said. “So tell me how is this supposed to work if I give you a second chance? I’ll be your mistress, protected from all the shit that touches you, spend your money, but I can only watch while you escort more suitable women to events. And what happens when you decide to marry? What if I get pregnant again?”


    I remained silent. Because at this point, she wouldn’t believe me if I told her she would be all that. The woman I take to parties. The only woman I intended to propose to. I very much envisioned her to be the mother of my children, and I still grieved the baby we lost.


    I wanted her to be all that, but Sloane, she had every reason to doubt me.


    “We can start small,” I suggested. “See where this goes?”


    “We’ll end up in bed,” she said sarcastically.


    She didn’t see us as a couple outside of sex yet. Months and months of passionate trysts and nothing else had dictated who we were to each other. But in our stolen moments, a connection grew, a yearning. We both reacted to our emerging feelings badly. With a skewed fear ofmitment, we fucked up what could have been a beautiful rtionship. Rtionships I’d seen my cousins have, but never pictured for myself. I never envied them until now.


    “How about I rece the van I destroyed?”


    Her face was a cross between amusement and amazement. “You maniptive son of a bitch.”


    “Call me names, baby. I don’t mind,” I replied evenly. “But I know you’re practical—pragmatic. I destroyed your mode of transportation. I’ll pay for the recement.”


    “I’m not saying no…”


    I chuckled. Delighted. This was the Sloane that I wanted to see. Her fiery personality to match mine.


    “I’m not saying no to a new car,” she said in a calcted tone. There was a glimmer of retribution in her eyes, and I braced myself for her next words. “But I’m not agreeing to hooking up with you.”


    “I don’t want you to be my hookup,” I gritted. “I want more.”


    “Are you sure this is not guilt talking?” she asked. “Because I don’t see this ending well. Your mother?—”


    “I don’t answer to my mother.”


    She raised a brow.


    “It’s different from caring for her well-being,” I exined. “It’s part of taking care of the family.”


    She waved a hand. “I don’t know what exactly you’re proposing. I can’t even see past tomorrow. I’m taking things one day at a time. If that’s too slow for you, the door is right there.”


    I clenched my fists at my sides, partly crumpling the stic bottle in my hand.


    “I have an appointment in the morning. I can call for a ride.”


    “I’ll drive you,” I blurted out.


    “How? You wrecked your SUV.”


    “I think it’s workable.”<fn19bd> Read full story at FindN()vel</fn19bd>


    “You’re lucky the airbag didn’t deploy. It could have been worse, Dom.”


    Ah, this woman. I erased the distance between us, intending to cup her face, but she flinched. She was still skittish.


    Patience.


    I rapped my knuckles on the kitchen ind to give them something to do before I gave in to the urge to kiss her into submission. But while she was on medication and seeing a therapist, I had no business bending her to my will and ruining what progress she’d made. I could be her friend for now and offer her unconditional support. I might lose my damn mind in the process. But better mine than hers. “What time is your appointment?”


    “Eleven.”


    “I’ll pick you up.”


    That was how I ended up being Sloane’s driver. She limited her time on the inte, so I sent her glossy catalogues of cars I thought she might like. She said she wouldn’t need a van anymore and maybe wanted a mid-size sports utility vehicle. I wanted to get her a fully tricked-out one.


    Her van remained in the driveway. Meanwhile, I simply switched out my rental and paid for the damages. I had flown in from Manhattan and fully intended to fly Sloane back. It was almost two weeks since my panic attack and the fourth time I’d driven her into town to visit the therapist. She grocery shopped afterward and forbade me to apany her. We’d look too much like a couple, she said.


    Direct skewer to the heart. She was good at that, and I had no choice but to ept my penance.


    She walked on the beach every day and I made it a point to show up on her walks, trailing her like a love-sick puppy. I’d exasperated her enough that she allowed me to walk beside her as long as I didn’t say a word. Not that I didn’t try. She simply didn’t respond to small talk and the most conversations we had were about what time I would be picking her up for her therapist appointments.


    I waited for her at a coffee shop. It was conveniently located across from her therapist’s building and the supermarket. The other day was the first time she agreed to have coffee with me rather than asking me to immediately drive her home.


    I considered that progress, but not fast enough. Not because I wanted us to go back to the way we’d been. I was more than willing to slog it out for weeks and months to win back her trust. No, my worry was about the brewing trouble in Manhattan that might be beyond what Sonny could handle. The crime family needed me back in the city. I’d been gone for five weeks. People were noticing, especially the Russian bratva.


    My phone vibrated with a text from her.


    Firecat


    I’m done. Can you order me an iced mocha?


    Me


    Sure, baby


    Definitely progress. In my delusional mind, it was our second coffee date. I got up from my seat and went to the barista, ordering an espresso for myself and Sloane’s fancy iced brew with cream on top. While Sloane worked on herself, I also worked on finding a way to give her incentive to stay in New York. Bianca had mentioned Sloane worked in the ER for her graduation project only because the Delphine Assisted Living Home rejected the proposal she submitted for the improvement of resident care. I put Sera on it since she was familiar with charities and their projects. The De Li crime family had helped many of our soldiers ce their aging parents in excellent nursing homes. Italians were family oriented, and many were still leery about sending their senior rtives away.


    The hair on the back of my neck went static and my gaze whipped to the window of the coffee shop. A towering man in a suit exited a ck SUV that screamed organized crime.


    What the fuck?


    What was Kirill doing here?