Chapter 2
ERIC
Istood in the parking lot and watched her taillights disappear into the night.
Ivy.
After all this time, Ivy had stepped back into my life.
The universe had a twisted sense of humor. I'd spent four years convincing myself I'd made the right call, that cutting her loose had been the kindest thing I could do. Clean break, no mess, no dragging her into the nightmare my life had become.
And now here she was, in Ironstone of all places.
My chest felt tight. Wrong. Like something had just slipped through my fingers again, only this time I'd known exactly what I was losing.
I turned back toward the bar, but I didn't go in.
Instead, I pulled out my phone and stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over my contacts.
No one to call. Nothing to say. Just the residual adrenaline from seeing her face again, hearing her voice.
It was still the same, although, when directed at me now, it was sharper, harder around the edges, but still hers.
I deserved the walled-off version of her now. I'd brought this upon myself.
But seeing her, hearing her, it had resurfaced so many memories. She was still the Ivy I'd discovered alone in a bar, dancing and living life wild and free.
Still the woman who'd made me believe, however briefly, that I could be something other than what I was.
Family always comes first.
That's what my father had said when I'd flown back for Daniel's funeral.
My brother, dead at thirty-two from a bullet meant for someone else.
Wrong place, wrong time. And suddenly, I wasn't Eric who worked construction and dated a dancer with red hair and a laugh that could light up a room.
I was Eric Hale, heir to the Hale syndicate, weapon in my father's arsenal.
I'd blocked Ivy's number on the flight home.
Deleted my socials before the casket was even in the ground.
Because if I'd heard her voice, if I'd seen her face, I would've broken.
And I couldn't afford to break. Not when my family needed me.
Not when the only way to keep her safe was to disappear completely.
She deserved better than the world I came from. Better than the blood on my hands and the bodies I'd learned to stack without flinching.
But standing here now, watching the empty space where her car had been, I wondered if I'd been lying to myself all along.
Maybe I'd just been a coward. Afraid of something real, something I couldn't control with a bullet or power. Something special.
I shoved my phone back in my pocket and headed for my own vehicle. Black sedan, nondescript, the kind that blended in anywhere. Perfect for a man who needed to keep a low profile while he scoped out potential allies… or enemies.
Ironstone was a powder keg waiting for a spark.
Two major families ran this city: the Donatis, now in bed with the Savocas, and the Malatestas.
Old blood, old grudges, and an alliance so fragile it might as well have been made of glass.
My father wanted in. Wanted to know if there was room for expansion, whether either family could be leveraged or, if necessary, overthrown.
He'd sent me to be his eyes and ears. To make contact, feel out the situation, report back.
I'd been here three days. Long enough to know the Donatis held the city with an iron fist, that Leo Donati was young but ruthless, and that his father Canzio had built an empire on fear and respect in equal measure.
Long enough to hear whispers about the Malatestas and the cracks forming in the family from inner betrayal and squabbling.
And long enough to run into Ivy Halloway in a downtown bar.
I started the engine, but I didn't pull out.
She'd looked good. Too good. The years had sharpened her edges, turned the softness I remembered into something leaner, fiercer. She'd always been fire, but now she burned hotter. More dangerous.
And the way she'd looked at me, part rage, part… something else, had hit like a fist to the gut.
Did you move on?
I'd had no right to ask that. No right to care. But the question had slipped out anyway, because some part of me needed to know. Needed to hear her say yes, so I could finally let go of the ghost I'd been carrying.
She hadn't said yes.
I pulled out of the parking lot, heading back toward the hotel where I was staying.
The streets were quiet, most of the late-night traffic concentrated in the bar district I'd just left.
Ironstone was smaller than home, but it had the same feel.
The same undercurrent of violence just beneath the surface, waiting for someone to poke it.
My phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen.
Father.
I considered ignoring it, but that wasn't how this worked. I answered, putting it on speaker.
"Eric."
"Sir."
"Have you made contact yet?"
Straight to business. Always straight to business. "Not yet. I'm still gathering intel. The Donatis are the stronger organization, but the Malatestas have connections we could exploit."
"Time is money, son. I need results, not observations."
My jaw tightened. "I'm aware."
"Good. I expect a full report by the end of the week. And Eric?"
"Sir?"
"Don't get distracted."
The line went dead.
I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and focused on the road.
Don't get distracted. Simple enough. Except I could still smell Ivy's perfume, something light and floral that cut through the stale beer and cigarette smoke of the bar.
Could still feel the weight of her eyes on me, the accusation in every syllable.
You left for work, you said. Big opportunity, you said.
I had lied. Not about the opportunity, that much was true. Just not the kind she'd thought.
Six months. That's how long we'd been together before Daniel died.
Just over six months of pretending I was normal, that I could build a life separate from my family's business.
Ivy had been working at some club back then, earning enough to afford a decent rental and still managing to light up every room she walked into.
She'd had walls a mile high when we met, defenses built from a lifetime of disappointment.
But she'd let me in.
Slowly, carefully, like she was testing whether I'd hurt her. She'd told me about her parents, about the drugs and the neglect. About Elena's mother taking her in, giving her a place to belong. About the men who'd used her and the scars they'd left behind.
And I'd held her. Promised her I was different. That I wouldn't leave.
Then I did exactly that.
I pulled into the hotel parking garage, killed the engine, and sat in the silence. My reflection stared back at me from the rearview mirror. Dark eyes, harder than they'd been four years ago. Face a little more lined, body carrying the weight of too many choices I couldn't take back.
Ivy had been right about one thing. I'd made my choice.
I'd chosen family. Duty. The life I'd been born into, whether I wanted it or not.
But seeing her tonight had cracked something open. Some part of me I'd buried deep, convinced it was dead. The part that remembered what it felt like to wake up next to someone who wasn't afraid of me. Who looked at me like I was more than just a weapon.
I'd met Elena too, back then. Ivy's sister in all but blood. Quiet where Ivy was loud, careful where Ivy was reckless. They'd balanced each other, and I'd liked that. Liked watching them together, the way they moved around each other like they shared the same orbit.
What were the odds Elena was here too?
What were the odds Ivy was still in touch with her, still close? Considering what I knew about the pair, I doubted they'd ever part ways.
I climbed out of the car and headed for the elevator. The hotel was nice enough. Clean, anonymous, the kind of place that didn't ask questions. My room was on the fifth floor, a corner suite with a view of downtown.
I poured myself a drink from the minibar and stood at the window, looking out over the city lights.
Ironstone sprawled beneath me, a web of streets and shadows. Somewhere out there, Ivy was driving home. Probably cursing my name. Probably trying to forget she'd seen me.
I should've let her.
I should've stayed silent when Jordan grabbed her, should've let her handle it like she claimed she could.
I honestly hadn't even realized it was her at first. I'd been raised to respect women.
But the second I'd seen his hand on her wrist and registered his intent, something in me had snapped.
No one touched any woman like that. Not while I was breathing.
And then I saw her face, and the need to defend her became even more necessary.
Old instincts. Protective instincts I had no right to anymore.
I downed the whiskey in one swallow, savoring the burn.
Four years. I'd been operational for four years now, fully embedded in the family business.
I'd negotiated deals, eliminated threats, climbed the ranks until my father trusted me with assignments like this one.
I'd learned to compartmentalize, to shut off the parts of myself that hesitated or second-guessed.
But Ivy had always been the exception.
Even when I'd cut her loose, even when I'd convinced myself it was for her own good, I'd thought about her. Wondered where she'd ended up. Whether she was safe. Happy. Whether she'd found someone who could give her the normal life I couldn't.
Did you move on?
The question haunted me now, echoing in the silence of the hotel room.
Because I hadn't. Not really. I'd buried myself in work, in the family, in proving I could be the son my father needed after Daniel died. But late at night, when the adrenaline faded and I was alone, it was Ivy's face I saw. Ivy's laugh I remembered.
Ivy, who'd looked at me tonight like she wanted to either kiss me or kill me.
Maybe both.
I poured another drink.
Tomorrow, I had a meeting set up with one of the Donatis.
Casual, exploratory. Feeling out whether they'd be receptive to an alliance or if my father's ambitions would need to take a more aggressive route.
It was the kind of work I was good at. Reading people, finding weaknesses, turning conversations into opportunities.
But tonight, all I could think about was the way Ivy's voice had cracked when she'd told me to go to hell.
The way she'd gripped her keys like they were a lifeline.
The way she'd driven away without looking back.
I'd let her go once before. Convinced myself it was the right thing, the noble thing. That keeping her away from my world was the only way to protect her.
But what if I'd been wrong?
What if pulling away had hurt her more than the truth ever could have?
I set the glass down and pulled out my phone. Her number was long gone, deleted years ago. But her face was burned into my memory, and now that I knew she was here, in Ironstone, the walls I'd built to keep her out started to feel more like a prison.
I couldn't reach out. Couldn't complicate this assignment with personal entanglements.
But I also couldn't shake the image of her standing in that parking lot, anger and hurt written across every line of her body.
You don't get to do this. You don't get to play the concerned hero when you're the one who blocked me and dropped me four years ago.
She was right. I didn't get to swoop in and pretend I hadn't destroyed whatever we'd had.
But I'd done it anyway.
Because some instincts ran deeper than logic. Deeper than the training my family had beaten into me.
And watching Ivy walk away tonight had reminded me of something I'd tried hard to forget.
I'd fallen for her. Hard. Fast. Completely.
And maybe, just maybe, I'd never really stopped.