2. Ghosts of Heartache #2
I shove past the heavy door, heart still hammering from the confrontation. Each step away from Eve feels like a betrayal, a cruel twist of fate I can’t afford to dwell on.
My mind races like a wild stallion as I navigate through the thrumming crowd of the club, attempting to shake off the heat from her fiery gaze.
Despite the distance each step puts between us, the weight of her presence still lingers. Just knowing she’s in my club reignites the chemistry we shared. But none of that matters considering the irreversible damage I did destroyed any chance we’d have.
Needing a distraction, I find my brother Sebastian leaning against the bar, nursing a whiskey on the rocks, that charming grin plastered across his face.
“Zeke!” He looks up and raises his glass in salute. “Was that Olivia Vitale I saw Eli leading to one of the back rooms?”
My stomach twists at the thought of her name rolling off his tongue like it’s just another casual comment. “Yeah,” I grunt.
Seb raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Didn’t know she was in Columbus.”
“She shouldn’t be here,” I say. “Where Olivia goes, trouble follows.”
Seb waggles his brows. That stupid grin on his face growing.
I glare at my brother, knowing all too well what he’s thinking. “Don’t get any ideas.”
He always had a thing for Olivia, but she was already spoken for. Her father arranged her marriage to another mafia leader before she was old enough to talk.
“Heard Nicolo finally allowed her to ditch Vinny,” he says like that makes his impure thoughts about Olivia okay.
It doesn’t.
“Something feels off about that.” The words come out sharper than intended, slicing through the control I have on my emotions. Eve’s effect on me is digging deeper.
He shrugs, unfazed by my inner turmoil. “C’mon, man. You’ve seen how hot she is. Now that she’s free, maybe it’s time for me to get in there and—”
“Leave her alone.” I pin him with a look meant to remind him we don’t cross those lines—not with women who’ve survived what Olivia has gone through.
She may have divorced Vinny but that doesn’t mean he has let her go.
In his mind, she’s still his property, his mafia princess. That’s how the mafia works.
Seb chuckles again, but this time it has an edge of defiance mixed with amusement. “Oh, come on! She’s single now. What’s wrong with exploring new opportunities?”
“Are you really that stupid?” My patience thins with every passing second. “She had a shitshow marriage to one of the cruelest men we know. If he found out, he’d be out for blood. Besides, just because she’s divorced doesn’t mean she’s looking for someone like you.”
He rolls his eyes, waving me off like I’m being protective over nothing. But I know Sebastian well enough to see he’s intrigued—and that only stirs something dark inside me.
“Maybe I’m exactly what she needs right now,” he replies dismissively, clearly intent on testing my boundaries further. But my resolve hardens. Olivia deserves respect and distance from this lifestyle.
“You don’t know anything about her,” I snap back before waving down a bartender. I need a drink if I’m to have any hope of suppressing this fury coursing through me like liquid fire. I try to shove Eve out of my mind for good—knowing full well it won’t be that easy.
I lean against the bar, feeling the familiar thrum of tension knotting in my stomach. Seb’s relentless rebellion doesn’t help, and I can’t shake the image of Eve’s furious face from my mind.
“Hey, what about that other woman?” Seb nudges me with a grin. “The one who has you all wound up like a spring?”
I shoot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “What are you talking about?”
This only makes him laugh. “Come on, brother. Who is she?”
“Her name is Evelyn Landry. Detective Landry. She’s a cop.” The words tumble out before I can stop them, each syllable heavy with the weight of the truth.
Seb blinks, clearly caught off guard. “A cop? In our club?” His voice rises with incredulity. “What the hell was Olivia thinking? You know what could happen if—”
“I know.” I clench my jaw, cutting him off.
“She never should have brought her here.” My pulse quickens as anger bubbles beneath my skin.
“Olivia swears she didn’t know we were in Columbus or that we owned this club, but I can’t help but think this is all some kind of joke or challenge to her.
Seems too coincidental to bring a detective into my territory. ”
Seb leans closer, curiosity piqued, his playful demeanor slipping away for a moment. “So, you two …?”
“It was nothing,” I lie through gritted teeth. But the truth claws at me. Eve wasn’t nothing. She was everything back then, and she still gets under my skin like no one else can.
“Come on. You two clearly have a history.” He nudges me again, egging me on as if this is some kind of game.
“Our history doesn’t mean shit now.” I slam back the whiskey the bartender slides my way and watch as Seb’s eyes widen at my uncharacteristic mood.
He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. But seriously—a relationship with a cop is dangerous. If Nicolo finds out …”
My breath hitches at the mention of Nicolo’s name. The mere thought sends a chill down my spine. I shake my head as if that will clear away these thoughts more dangerous than any whiskey could drown.
“She can’t be here,” I say firmly, more to myself than to him. “If she gets caught up in any of this …” My voice trails off into silence. I can’t let that happen.
Seb shakes his head, his tone suddenly serious as he studies me. “You care about her.”
“Don’t,” I snap back too quickly, feeling vulnerable under his scrutiny.
But deep down, buried beneath layers of defiance and unresolved feelings for Eve, lies something else—a sense of protectiveness rising like an unquenchable fire threatening to engulf everything in its path.
“We have more important things to discuss,” I say, desperately needing to change the subject. “Where are we at with the Costa family?”
I lean against the bar, the whiskey burning down my throat as I try to ignore the turmoil swirling in my gut. The noise of the club drowns out the havoc in my mind, but it can’t drown out the feeling of Nicolo’s shadow creeping back into my life.
The Columbus mafia families are gaining ground, their presence looming like a storm cloud ready to break.
I take another swig of whiskey and set the glass down with a thud, shaking my head. “We’ve got to do something about this,” I mutter under my breath.
“What’s that?” He glances my way, eyebrows raised in curiosity. He’s still distracted by Olivia.
“Are you listening to anything I say? The Costa family is expanding,” I say, biting back frustration. “And you know what that means.”
Seb shrugs, unfazed. “It means we need to make some strategic moves. They’re trying to fill the power vacuum in this city.”
“Power vacuum?” I scoff. “Marcus Barone already has too much power. This is Nicolo’s doing. He’s still pissed we fled here when we left New York. He’ll never let go of Columbus—not after what happened.”
“We can’t let him gain power here.” Seb leans in closer, his expression turning serious for once. “It makes us vulnerable if we don’t act fast.”
I grind my teeth at his words, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. Nicolo never did well with betrayal—he took it as a personal affront that I’d dared to leave his grasp. The last thing I want is for him to turn this city upside down because of his bruised ego.
“We’ve got connections with some of the smaller families,” Seb continues, his voice steady and deliberate as he plots out our options. “If we can undermine Costa’s operations before they get too powerful … well, we might have a chance.”
I nod slowly, piecing together a plan in my mind while scanning the club for any sign of trouble. Really, I’m looking for her .
Every muscle in me tightens at the thought of getting dragged back into that life—the one filled with shadows and violence. It’s exactly what Nicolo wants.
“What about Giovanni Costa? He’s reckless. We could use that to our advantage,” Seb suggests. “Turn him against his father.”
“Reckless could also bite us in the ass.” My hands clench into fists on the bar top as memories flood back—betrayals and bloodshed interwoven with loyalty and survival.
“So we keep our distance from him but monitor their movements? Keep them guessing?”
“Yes.” I meet his gaze, resolve hardening within me like steel. “We slow their progress however we can. This is our city, and I intend to keep it that way.”
The soft, clinical scent of lavender clashes with the dark thoughts swirling in my mind.
I lean back in the cushioned chair, its upholstery almost too pristine for my taste.
Dr. Stone’s office feels too bright, too open—like a glaring spotlight on everything I’d rather keep buried.
My fingers drum restlessly against the armrest as I fight to compose myself.
“Zeke, how are you feeling today?” Dr. Stone’s voice breaks through the haze of my thoughts, smooth and calm.
I force a nod, swallowing hard. “Fine.”
Her eyebrows lift slightly, and I can almost hear her internal sigh. She’s seen through my facade before, but that doesn’t mean I’ll give her the satisfaction of knowing she still can.
“Let’s talk about what’s been on your mind,” she suggests gently.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and avoiding her gaze. “Just … work stuff.” My words come out clipped, emphasizing the tension brewing just beneath the surface.
Dr. Stone knows about my personal life, my work activities, and how I function on the outskirts of the law. I don’t have to hold back with her, but I still do.
“Work stuff?” she repeats, her tone inviting, yet firm. “Or is it more than that? You’ve been hesitant to dive into your feelings lately.”