35
Liv
Alessio seemed pissed but didn’t say much.
He dropped me off about thirty minutes ago and took off.
No clue where he went, it’s not like he’d tell me.
He’s probably off to shoot something or someone, so it’s hard to say with him.
I kick off my heels, letting them clatter to the floor.
My fingers toy with the hem of my dress, ready to peel it off, but my mind’s spinning too fast.
Ezra.
I can’t get his face out of my head.
His black hair and brown eyes look so familiar, in a way that makes my stomach knot.
Fifteen years of seeing no one from my family, and then, bam, there he is.
My grandparents on Dad’s side died when I was a baby.
Mom’s parents passed after I went to live with Clover, but he said it wasn’t safe for me to go to their funeral.
No brothers.
No sisters.
Mom was an only child.
Dad’s only brother, Tito, is rotting in prison and wants nothing to do with me.
Clover is my only person.
No one else wanted me or missed me when I was gone.
But then Ezra said, “Leah Johnson,” and something clicked.
Clover called Mom that name the night we ran.
My bare feet hit the cool floor as I pace, my heart thudding against my ribs.
Memories claw at the back of my mind, but I can’t latch onto anything.
Ezra knows something, he has to.
Most of Alessio’s security is posted at the casino tonight, which is perfect for me.
He probably thinks I’m upstairs binge-watching Netflix, sipping wine like some obedient fiancée.
Yeah, sure.
I grab my heels and head for the hallway, creeping like a teenager sneaking out after curfew.
Every step feels louder than it should.
The whole house feels like it’s watching me, and I’m waiting for someone to yell, “Caught you.”
The garage door creaks as I push it open.
I freeze, holding my breath.
Damn, could that be any louder!
I stare at the lineup of temptations like I just walked into a luxury dealership.
Ferraris, Lambos.
.
.
I scan the options.
My eyes land on the Maybach.
It’s sleek and has windows dark enough to hide me.
If I’m lucky, the guards will let me roll right out.
I don’t have a backup plan if they don’t.
Maybe if I drive like an asshole, the guards will assume I’m Alessio and wave me through.
Here’s to hoping.
I walk over to the key box by the door, pop it open, and grab the keys.
Sliding into the driver’s seat feels like sinking into a leather cloud.
I hit the ignition, and the engine purrs, sounding way too sexy for something with four wheels.
I fumble with the GPS, punching in Satana’s, because, like the glorified prisoner I am, I barely know my way around.
The garage door starts crawling upward, the metal screeching like it’s trying to call attention to me.
Shit, I’m going to get caught before I even leave.
I grip the wheel tighter.
Go now or never.
As soon as it opens, I slam my foot on the gas.
The Maybach flies forward, and the tires screech against the driveway, leaving tire marks on the pavement.
I swerve a little, just enough to make it look intentional.
Channel your inner Alessio.
Be an asshole.
Own it.
I press harder on the gas, coming closer to the gate, but it’s still closed.
Come on.
Open.
Please open.
My foot hovers over the brake.
Brake or you’re rearranging your face, Liv.
At the last second, the gate swings open, and I shoot through it like a missile .
My heart is racing so fast, but I can’t stop the breathless laugh that bubbles out.
Fast and the Furious , eat your heart out.
I need to find Ezra.
And I’m not stopping until I do.
I pull up to the front of Satana’s and slide out of the car, tossing the keys at some random valet.
That was kind of rude.
I should turn back and apologize but fuck it.
He’s a big boy.
He’ll survive.
I must’ve channeled my inner Alessio a little too well.
My palms are sweaty, and I can’t tell if it’s nerves or the adrenaline pumping through me, probably both.
I’ve been a VIP inmate for months now, and while I’m not exactly complaining, it feels good to be out on my own.
Freedom tastes like risk and bad decisions, and I’m here for it.
I walk through the front door, and damn, this place got busier since I left.
Crowds swarm the entrance, people dressed to impress, flashing jewelry, and fake smiles.
I make my way through the crowd, my eyes scanning every face.
I’m here for Ezra, but I’m also keeping an eye out for the big bad wolf, just in case Alessio decided to double back.
It’s his grand opening, after all.
This place feels like a maze, and I swear I’ve circled the same section twice.
I’m starting to feel like I’m chasing my own tail.
It’s only been an hour or so since Alessio and I left, Ezra still has to be here.
When I’m about to say screw it and head out, I spot a baggy jacket and black hair.
He’s heading toward a door with a small sign near the door that reads Grotto .
I lift my chin, channel every ounce of fake confidence, and walk up like I own the place.
“Good evening, Mrs. Gualtiero,” the security guy says, opening the door.
Well, damn.
That was easier than I expected.
I guess Alessio didn’t tell all of his security that he took me home.
“Olivia.”
My name snaps me back to reality.
I turn around so fast I nearly trip over my own feet.
Ezra.
Right there.
His eyes are on me, and he looks both surprised and like he’s trying to figure out if he should be worried.
“Hi,” I say, instantly awkward.
“I... um... was looking for you.”
“You were?” His gaze shifts around like he’s checking for someone, probably Alessio.
“Didn’t seem like your husband wanted you talking to me.”
“Fiancé,” I correct, but it still sounds weird calling Alessio my fiancé.
“And it wasn’t like that. It just caught me off guard. I haven’t seen any family in so long.”
“It’s just me and Mom now, so I get it.” Ezra glances at the cage in the center of the room, where two guys are going at it like it’s a fight to the death, which, honestly, it might be.
The crowd’s losing their minds, and the noise is so loud I can barely hear myself think.
“Look,” Ezra says, pulling out his phone.
“I’m up soon, and I need to change. Take my number. We’ll catch up now that I’m back in town.”
My brain is still scrambling, but I nod and exchange numbers like I’m on autopilot.
He’s about to walk away when I blurt out, “Wait. Do you know what happened to my mom?”
He pauses.
My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might jump out of my chest.
Please just tell me something.
Ezra glances at the cage again, then back at me.
His face goes blank.
“No,” he says.
“I was just a kid myself. I heard you and your mom got taken... then nothing. No one heard from you again.”
The knot in my stomach tightens.
He’s lying.
Or maybe just holding back, I can feel it.
It’s how he keeps looking over his shoulder like someone’s watching.
But this isn’t the time to push.
Not here, and not with a crowd packed in like sardines .
“We should catch up,” I offer, trying to sound casual even though my brain is screaming, “ Don’t let him walk away. ”
“Yeah.” He nods.
“Call me.” He backs away like he can’t escape this conversation fast enough.
The fight in the cage ends with a brutal knockout, the poor guy getting dragged out like yesterday’s trash while someone else mops up the blood.
I mean.
.
.
yikes .
This place is like Fight Club and Casino Royale had a baby and decided violence was its love language.
Morbid curiosity kicks in, and since I’ve come this far, I might as well hang out for a bit and see what Ezra’s got.
The energy in the room is electric.
People shout over each other, waving fists and cash to make bets, and phones are out to record the carnage.
I sneak around to the side, wedging myself between two tables for a better view, ignoring the guy to my left who smells like he bathed in whiskey and regret.
Two fighters step out from opposite doors.
The crowd is going nuts .
I scan for Ezra, my eyes darting between both men.
I don’t know the man to the left.
But to the right…
I freeze.
No way .
Ice-blue eyes.
Lock.
On.
Me
Alessio steps into the cage.
His shirt’s gone, and his inked muscles are on full display.
His fight shorts cling to his hips, slits up the sides showing off legs that should not look that good.
I mean, I’ve seen him naked, more times than I can count, but damn .
There’s something about seeing him like this.
Alessio’s a goddamn gladiator, ready to conquer or kill.
I can’t breathe, and I can’t tear my eyes away.
Heat rushes up my face.
His eyes don’t just land on me; they burn into me .
Like I’m the only person in this packed, screaming room.
And suddenly, people start to notice.
Conversations get lower, and people start to look at me, then back at him, like we’re the main event.
Ohh, this is fantastic .
Nothing like having a spotlight on you when you’re about to get murdered by your Mafia Don fiancé, for sneaking out.
At least I have witnesses, I’ll need them.
The bell rings.
Alessio doesn’t wait a second; he charges at his opponent.
The poor dude looks like he’s about to crap himself in his compression shorts.
One punch…
just one, he lands with a sickening crunch that I feel in my bones.
The guy collapses like a game of Jenga, and the fight’s over before it even starts.
Half a second, tops .
The crowd loses it, cheering and clapping, but all I can focus on are those very thick, angry legs storming out of the cage and coming right at me.
Oh crap.
Oh crap.
Oh crap!
“Liv,” he growls.
I swallow hard.
“Hey! Fancy seeing you here.”
His jaw tightens, and his ice-blue eyes are burning with rage.
It’s too hot for my current panic level.
“You got some explaining to do, Stalker.”