Chapter 1

1.

Everyone thought I was the perfect good girl.

But no one knew what happened after dark.

Every night, right under the nose of New York's most ruthless mafia don, I was tangled up with his heir.

My stepbrother.

For five years, we hid it. Five years of stolen touches and desperate, silent promises.

Until the night I walked past the private office on the casino's top floor. The door was cracked open. I heard Julian talking to his right-hand man, Carlo.

"Boss, you took your stepsister's virginity at eighteen. You've had her for five years now. You gonna make an honest woman of her, or what?"

My heart seized. I held my breath, waiting for Julian's answer. Needing it.

Julian toyed with his custom Zippo. His laugh was careless. Cruel.

"You said it yourself. A dirty little secret. How do you shine a light on that?"

"I only touched her to destroy her mother. That whore wrecked my family. Did you really think it was for anything else?"

"I already proposed to Vivienne. A Moretti daughter is the only one fit to be a Falcone wife."

I didn't break down. I didn't burst in and scream at him.

I just turned around and walked into the dark. Like I'd heard nothing at all.

On the day of Julian and Vivienne's wedding, he ordered his men to watch every entrance. He was terrified I'd show up and make a scene.

He had no idea I was already in a first-class seat, thirty thousand feet in the air, gone for good.

***

Julian's birthday party was on the VIP floor of the family casino. He dragged me into a private room next door.

The kiss was a brutal assault of bourbon and heat.

Outside the door, I could hear the dealers and the bosses. Their low talk. Their laughter.

My face burned. I shoved against his chest, trying to get him off me.

He pinned my wrists with one hand. Lifted them above my head and pressed them against the wall. Effortless. Total control.

"Alia. Don't push me away. Not tonight."

His voice. That low, gravelly command. It shattered every rational thought in my head. My hands, still pinned, stopped fighting. I reached up and looped my arms around his neck.

I didn't come back to myself until I felt his palm slide up my thigh, slipping under the slit of my gown. A shiver ripped through me.

I grabbed his wrist. Gasping.

"Stop. Not here."

Julian's voice was wrecked.

"The men outside know the rules. No one's coming in."

I turned my face away. Couldn't look him in the eye. If I did, I knew I'd give in.

"I can't. My mother's downstairs waiting for me."

Julian went rigid. A flash of irritation cut through the desire in his eyes. But he pulled back. Fixed my dress strap with the same careful precision he used for everything.

"I've got a few more families to deal with. Gonna be late. I'll have the driver take you back to the Long Island estate. Message me when you get home."

I hated disappointing him. I bit my lip. My voice was a whisper.

"I'll... I'll wait up for you tonight. I left your birthday gift in the bedroom. We left in such a rush this morning."

Julian paused. A dark, dangerous glint lit his eyes.

"Let me guess what my little Alia got me. Is it... you?"

Five years together. He could still make me blush like a schoolgirl with a single sentence.

I straightened my dress, muttered, "You'll find out when you get home," and ran.

His low laugh chased me down the hall.

The early spring air outside the casino cut like a knife. The cold wind slapped some sense into me. My frantic heartbeat finally started to slow. I thought about the gift, and a warm, sweet ache bloomed in my chest. I couldn't wait to see his face.

I was settling into the armored SUV when I reached for my phone. It wasn't there. I'd left it on the sofa in the private room.

I had to go back.

I reached the corridor. The heavy oak doors at the end were still ajar. Warm light spilled out. Julian and Carlo stood with their backs to the door, cigars in hand. Neither of them heard me.

"Julian. You took your stepsister's virginity at eighteen. You've had her for five years now. You gonna make an honest woman of her? It's not like the Falcone family is short on cash."

My hand froze in mid-air. My heart lurched. I couldn't breathe.

Five years I'd been his secret. Five years I'd been dreaming of the day we'd walk down a Manhattan street, hand in hand. Out in the open.

Julian snorted. The click of his lighter. The glow of the cigar lit up his face. Cold. Chiseled. Merciless.

"You said it yourself. A dirty little secret. My wife has to bring something to the table. Power. Alliances."

"I already proposed to Vivienne Moretti. She's the only woman fit to stand beside a Falcone."

"Her mother was a mistress who drove my mother to the grave. I bet that bitch never imagined her precious daughter would end up begging for scraps in my bed."

Ice flooded my veins. The heart that had been hammering with hope just stopped. Dead.

Carlo chuckled. Low and knowing. "Even a cold bastard like you isn't immune to a grudge. Five years in her bed, though. You really feel nothing?"

Julian blew out a thick plume of smoke. His voice was flat. Final. Like he was closing a deal he'd already won.

"You think I could stomach touching her for any other reason? Revenge is the only thing that made it worth the nausea."

"I can't wait to see the look on that hypocrite's face when she finds out her daughter has been my whore on the side. It's going to be beautiful."

The man whispering sweet words to me minutes ago was a stranger. A monster wreathed in smoke.

There was no love in his eyes. Only a cold, endless void. And a savage anticipation for a revenge he'd already almost completed.

My nails bit into my palms. I turned and ran. Fled that suffocating hell.