Chapter 5 #2
“How much has he stolen?”
“From me? Conservative estimate, about half a million.”
I whistle low. “That’s—”
“Nothing compared to what he’s stolen from others.
” Enzo clicks something, and a new screen appears.
Names I recognize, other crime families, some bigger than the Valerios.
“He’s been stealing from joint operations.
Taking a cut here, redirecting a shipment there.
Small amounts that no one noticed immediately, but it adds up. ”
“Jesus.” I’m scrolling through the data now, my fingers moving on autopilot. “This is going to start a war.”
“Probably.” Enzo rests his hand on the back of my chair, not touching me but close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. “When the other families find out, they’ll assume I either knew and allowed it, or I’m incompetent for not catching it sooner.”
“Are you?” I glance up at him. “Incompetent?”
His laugh is sharp. “Of course not. Viktor’s been with my family since before I took over. He was my father’s underboss first. I trusted him.” A muscle ticks in his jaw. “That was my mistake.”
“So what do you do when the other families find out?”
“Depends on how it comes out. If I present evidence that I discovered his betrayal and dealt with it decisively, they might accept it. If they find out before I can control the narrative…”
He doesn’t finish, but I can fill in the blanks.
It’ll be a bloody war.
I turn in my chair to look up at him. “And you’re showing me this because?”
“Because you’re good at this.” His hand moves from the chair to my shoulder, and even through my shirt, the contact burns. “One week and you’d mapped my entire security infrastructure. You found vulnerabilities my own people missed. I need that skill set.”
My lungs forget how to work for a second.
“I’m not one of your people.”
“Aren’t you?” His fingers brush the side of my neck, featherlight, and heat floods straight to my cock. “You’re in my home. In my bed. Working my investigation…” His thumb traces the line of my throat. “What else would you call it?”
Trapped, I think. Confused. Wanting things I shouldn’t want.
“Temporary,” I say instead. “It’s just… temporary.”
His smile is knowing in a way that makes me uncomfortable. “We’ll see.”
I don’t respond to that. Can’t, really, when I don’t even know what I want myself.
He returns to whatever he was working on, and I force myself to focus on the files.
Morning bleeds into afternoon. The cook brings lunch—grilled salmon with asparagus and risotto, plated like we’re at a Michelin-star restaurant. Somehow Enzo knows I prefer my fish without the lemon butter sauce and asks the cook to bring it on the side.
We eat at his desk while pulling apart Sokolov’s operation thread by thread.
It’s disturbing how easily we fall into rhythm.
I’ll spot something in the financials, and Enzo will cross-reference it with shipping logs.
He’ll point out a pattern, and I’ll dig deeper to find the source.
We don’t need to explain our thinking. We just…
work. Like we’ve been partners for years instead of days.
“Here.” I tap the screen. “This shipment. It’s listed as delivered to the Brooklyn warehouse, but the inventory never shows up in our—” I stop. Our. When did I start saying our? “—in your system,” I correct, but Enzo’s already noticed. I can tell by the slight curve of his lips.
He leans over my shoulder, his breath warm against my ear. “Date?”
“Three weeks ago.”
He hums. “Right when Viktor started getting nervous. I’d mentioned in passing that I wanted to inspect the goods myself, and the next thing I knew, he went off-grid.” His hand covers mine on the mouse, guiding it to click through screens.
The pieces fall together. Sokolov went dark three weeks ago, around the same time I lost his trail completely. I’d been beating myself up over it, convinced I wasn’t looking hard enough. Turns out Enzo scared him underground before I could find him.
Enzo straightens and moves back to his computer. “He knew I was on to him. That’s why he’s been quiet. Probably planning his exit. Or something worse.”
I watch him work, fingers flying across the keyboard, brow furrowed in concentration. There’s something mesmerizing about the quiet intensity until I catch myself watching like a fucking idiot and look away.
A few minutes go by as we work, and then a thought hits me.
“You’ve been investigating him since before I showed up.”
Enzo’s eyes fly to me. “Yes.”
“Since before Marco died?”
He stops typing and turns to face me fully.
“After. An insider at the county jail told me about your brother’s death and his ties to Viktor.
I heard the rumor that I ordered it—which, as I told you, wasn’t true,” he pauses, something flickering in his expression.
Regret, maybe. Or anger. “But your brother wasn’t the only one.
Viktor had quite a line of victims who happened to die or disappear mysteriously.
Supposedly by my orders. The more I looked into it, the more I found.
He’s been using my name to cover his tracks for years. ”
“So why didn’t you confront him earlier?”
“I was planning to. But I needed a few things tied up first. Then you happened.” His eyes sweep over me. “You walked into Eclipse with forged credentials and murder in your eyes.”
I shift under the intensity of his gaze. “Then why didn’t you say anything? You watched me play the fool.”
“I was intrigued,” he says, as if that answers everything. “And I told you, I get it. You wanted your pound of flesh. I respect that. But it wasn’t Viktor you were after. You came straight for me.”
“You can’t exactly blame me for that.”
“No.” His mouth twists. “But it’s probably a good thing my head wasn’t blown off before you had all the details.”
He’s right. It would have been senseless. I would have killed an innocent man—or at least, an innocent man in this particular crime.
We hold each other’s gaze. Then he gets up and rounds my chair, coming to a crouch in front of me.
His hand finds my face, sending sparks cascading down my spine.
“I told myself I was just amused by your audacity,” he says quietly. “Or rather, by your stupidity in coming for me. That letting you walk in and out of Eclipse was fine because I understood your circumstances.” His thumb traces the line of my jaw. “But that wasn’t the real reason.”
I swallow hard.
“From the moment you walked into my office, I wanted you.”
No.
No, he has to be lying. This is just the post-heat attachment talking. A fluke of pheromones and proximity. Or worse, some lingering alpha obsession after days of fucking me senseless.
But his gaze pins me like a hand around my throat, unrelenting and certain.
And I see it—feel it—in the way he looks at me.
My breath stutters.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
But there’s a truth in his eyes that mirrors something I’ve been trying to smother since the heat broke. Or maybe, if I’m being honest, since that first day I walked into his office, when he looked at me like he could see straight through my mask.
And if I let that truth live—
If I let it bloom—
Then everything I’ve done, everything I’ve sacrificed, becomes meaningless.
Because I can’t want him.
Can’t feel anything real for the man I swore I’d destroy.
These are feelings I can’t afford if I’m going to avenge Marco. Feelings I can’t afford, period.
I close my eyes, throat thick. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Tell you the truth?” His thumb brushes my cheek and I lean into his touch despite myself.
“You think the heat was the first time I wanted to touch you? I’ve wanted you since that first meeting.
The way you held my gaze when other men would have looked away.
The way you didn’t flinch when I tested you.
The way you pushed back instead of cowering.
” His voice drops. “And your scent. Even through the suppressants, I kept catching traces of it. Fresh orange blossoms. It drove me insane.”
“That’s just biology.”
“Maybe it is.” He leans closer, and I feel his warmth envelope me. “Biology and circumstance and two fucked-up people finding each other in the worst possible way. But it doesn’t make it less real.”
I open my eyes and immediately wish I hadn’t. His pupils are blown wide, dark with want, and the intensity of his gaze makes my breath catch.
“I think I still want to kill you.”
A smile creeps on his lips. “You probably should have. But I’m still alive, and you’re still here.”
And that’s the problem, isn’t it? I’m still here. Not because he’s forcing me. Not really.
I’m still here because some part of me wants to be.
The computer chimes, shattering the moment. Enzo’s attention snaps away, and he’s back at his desk in seconds, all business, like he didn’t just casually nuke my emotional stability.
I watch as a deep frown forms on his face.
“What?” I ask, moving to look over his shoulder.
“Viktor. One of my men just spotted him. He’s at a private airfield outside the city.”
“He’s running.”
“Trying to.” His phone is already in his hand, and he’s making calls in rapid-fire Italian. I catch enough to understand: men mobilized, airfield surrounded, no one gets in or out. Something about a warehouse. Something about taking Viktor alive.
When he hangs up, his expression is cold, the face of a man who runs an empire built on blood.
“They’ll have him in an hour. Maybe less.” He looks at me, and there’s something dangerous in his eyes. “I need to handle this personally. You should stay here and wait for my return.”
I’m already on my feet. “The fuck I will.”
“Luca—”
“No.” My voice cuts through the space between us, hard and clear. “There is no scenario where I sit in this house and wait while my brother’s murderer is taken down without me. I’m not watching this from the sidelines like some good little omega.”
His jaw flexes. “It’ll be dangerous.”
“So was coming into your home to kill you,” I snap. “Didn’t stop me then either.”
I step in close, meeting his gaze head-on. “I didn’t come this far to be protected, Enzo. He killed my brother. I have every right to be there.”
Enzo studies me for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nods.
“Get your jacket.”