Chapter One
Tommaso
I adjust the tie tightly knotted at my throat. It’s like a damn noose, choking me a little bit more every time the scathing words of my brother Vince’s warning echo through my mind. “Stay the hell away from her, Tommy. You have one chance left and if you fail…if you lose focus for a single second…losing Gemma will be the least of your problems. I warned you to stay away. The blood that surrounds her and her family will drown us all. Just remember that, and do your fucking job!”
I finally loosen the silk knot enough to suck in some air and grab a glass of soda from the bar. No booze for me tonight. I need to stay sharp.
Aware of everything.
And everyone.
A long gulp helps cool my body. I hate wearing suits. My arms feel stiff and the fabric makes me sweat since I always run so hot.
But tonight, there’s something else making my body overheat, and it sure as hell ain’t heavy black cotton.
I turn around with my drink, lounging against the white wood, and taking in the elaborate scene. Everything in the nightclub is black and white. I smirk, raising the glass to my mouth, the bubbly liquid fizzing against my lips.
It’s kind of ironic because the décor theme is so close to real life for the Casarella family.
You’re with us or you’re against us.
And if you’re against us, you’re dead.
Very black and white.
Not a single dot of gray.
According to Federico Casarella, seeds of doubt grow like deadly weeds, morphing into suspicions that will squeeze the life out of those who carry them.
And once they crop up, they need to be eliminated immediately, if not sooner.
Fitting for a young Italian woman’s Sweet Eighteen party theme.
A thinly veiled threat to all in attendance.
Myself included.
Pretty slick, Freddie.
Dance music vibrates the black-lacquered floor as party guests twist and shake to the electronic beats spun by one most famous deejays in Italy. It’s easy to get big names when you have an even bigger one.
My nose twitches and the urge to sneeze overpowers me. I didn’t think I was allergic to flowers, but then again I’ve never been immersed in a field of black and white calla lilies, either. I think Freddie must have bought every last one in Italy for his only daughter’s birthday celebration.
Calla lilies are her favorite flower.
I take another sip of my drink once the urge to sneeze passes, staring through the tall glass vases in the center of the buffet table, my eyes searching for the guest of honor.
Gemma Marie Cassarella.
The girl I’ve loved for as long as I can remember.
And the girl I’ve been warned to stay away from for just as long.
She finally appears on the arms of both parents after a photo shoot that could probably rival the best of Vogue Italia, her favorite fashion magazine. My breath hitches as she steps out onto the dance floor and for a second, I have to tell myself to get a goddamn grip.
I already lost control once today.
It can’t happen again.
Her long dark hair spills over her bare shoulders, wound in soft, thick curls that bounce as her high heels click against the floor. Her teeth are bright and white, her laughter floating into the air, making the tiny hairs on the back of my neck prickle. The beads on her dress catch the glittering overhead lights, sparkling like tiny diamonds.
Just like her violet-colored eyes at this moment as they scan the room and land on me.
Her red lips curl upward into a smile as she takes a few steps in my direction. But it isn’t the sweet, polite one she reserves for strangers. It’s not a thank you for coming to my party and celebrating with me smile.
It’s seductive.
Sexy.
And dangerous, if I’m being honest.
Dangerous for both of us.
It’s a smile that tells me in no uncertain terms that she’s an adult.
A woman, one who knows exactly what she wants, and what I’d been refusing to give her ever since she realized her feelings for me matched the ones I have for her.
Until today, when I finally gave in to the pent-up lust that’s been building inside of me for the past twelve months.
Big oversight on my part.
I said things and did things…the wrong things…things that can get me killed.
It never should have happened.
Because I have a job to do.
And I’m not talking about the one I do for her father.
I’m talking about the real reason why I fell in with the Cassarella family, the one Freddie knows nothing about.
Freddie trusted me pretty quickly, or so it seemed. All it took was me saving his son Gio’s ass when he’d been pummeled by some guys he owed some pretty big gambling debts to.
Freddie knew how much trouble Gio could cause for him and his organization since he was a fucking addict of the worst kind — drugs, gambling, pussy, you name it and he was all over it. But he didn’t hire me to be Gio’s babysitter.
Not at first, anyway.
He lured me in with Gemma, and that was the beginning of the end for me. Freddie asked me to hang around the Cassarella house just to make sure Gemma was safe since the girl has no fear of anything and isn’t exactly the most cautious, even though her father is one of the most powerful and feared men in Italian organized crime. It was bullshit, though. I know I was picked because of my family’s connections. Freddie knew we were suffering after the death of my father, that we were struggling to keep whatever influence we could, and he wanted to use our connections to his advantage. And even though Freddie had his iron fist submerged in just about any illicit business you could think of, there’s no such thing as too much power and money.
And while most people are with him, there are a lot who aren’t…a lot who want to take him down a few pegs. Well, all pegs, really. You don’t cross Federico. You walk behind him. And if he turns around and catches you with a gun in your hand, you’d better take the shot and not miss your mark.
Because if you do, he’ll not only kill you, he’ll go after everything and everyone you love and dump it all six feet under right next to you.
So don’t cross him.
He always has security surrounding him and his family, but it’ll never be enough.
One near-assassination attempt proved that.
That’s when he hired me to be his own personal bodyguard.
Privately, as in nobody but the two of us would know about our arrangement.
That was my condition.
I told him it would be safer that way, for everyone.
And just like that, I was in his inner circle.
I pose as Gio’s best friend, which is probably more dangerous than protecting Freddie. Good Christ, I deserve triple what I’m being paid for trying to keep Gio in check. He’s like a stray bullet, ricocheting off walls. You never know which way he’ll rage. But you sure as hell know he’ll explode at one point. Sometimes I feel more like a fucking nanny than an enforcer. I have trackers on him at all times since he does a damn good job of making enemies, and it’s my job to keep tabs on all of them.
Gio is a huge liability and a threat to his father, one I’ve been tempted to erase more than once. But I keep him alive because he’s no use to us dead.
Yet.
Same thing goes for Freddie.
I need them both.