Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
STEPHEN
Alex, the damn Romero raises his glass in my direction from the bar. The smug bastard, like this is all just a game to him. We’ll see how much he likes to play when I knock his turkey teeth down his thick throat.
That look — the deliberate confidence, the way he angles his body, cocky and self-assured as if he’s untouchable. I know what he’s doing. He’s taunting me that he’s working with Dallen while knowing she’s mine.
And I don’t share.
I take a deep breath and glance at the woman at his side. I haven’t seen her before, but that doesn’t mean anything. Is she Alex’s girl? If so, maybe a threat toward her will keep the Romeros in line if they decide to step over the one I’ve drawn.
I glance at Lucien and Anthony, who are more than aware of who’s in this bar with us. My attention snags on Anthony.
He goes rigid like he’s seen a ghost.
Anthony doesn’t get rattled. He doesn’t freeze. He doesn’t lose control. He’s been in rooms with men who would skin him alive without blinking and walked out calm as a priest after confession.
But this?
This has knocked the breath out of him, and that scares me far more than Alex Romero ever could.
“Didn’t think Alex Romero could pull any woman. Seems I’m wrong?” Lucien mutters.
I don’t answer because I’m too busy watching Anthony’s face as recognition flickers there — sharp, unmistakable — followed by something else entirely.
Regret.
Shit.
Alex’s voice carries easily over the many people occupying the bar. “Gentlemen. Didn’t expect to see you here.” Of course you did, you lying fuck. He steps nearer, as if we want to have a conversation with him. We don’t.
“This is my sister,” he adds smoothly. “Isabella.” He pauses. “Thought you’d be out with Miss Byrne this evening, Stephen. You should keep an eye on that one. She’s special.”
Special?
The word lands wrong. Too rehearsed. Too convenient.
“Your sister,” I say, returning fire, letting the dick know such information is also useful.
” Not that I knew the goon has a sister, Matteo certainly never showcased the female cousin.
Not once. Not in years of underworld dealings, surveillance, whispers.
In our types of families, you don’t just forget to mention a sibling or cousin unless you’ve kept them hidden for a reason.
That she’s being showcased is…odd.
Anthony pushes back from the table so abruptly that his chair flips onto the floor. “I need air,” he mutters, already turning away.
I watch him go, unease crawling up my spine. That reaction isn’t just surprise, that’s history.
Lucien leans in. “You clock that?”
“Yes,” I say quietly. “And I don’t like it.” Not one fucking bit. Is there a history here between Anthony and this Isabella we aren’t aware of? We may not know now, but we damn well will soon enough.
Alex catches my eye and smiles wider, like he knows he’s just thrown two grenades into the middle of our table. He knows exactly what he’s done, and my ire doubles. I’m going to enjoy making the motherfucker into pulp.
“He’s taunting me,” I murmur. “Letting me know they’re watching, aware of our movements and Dallen’s. I don’t like it.”
Lucien nods slowly. “They’re certainly sending a message.”
My grip tightens around my glass. “They know Dallen matters to me.” And that’s a problem. I’ve spent my entire adult life making sure no one can ever use something I love against me. Properties can burn. Deals can collapse. Even family understands the cost of the life we were born into.
But Dallen?
She didn’t choose this. She didn’t grow up learning how to read danger in a man’s eyes or measure exits the second she walks into a room. She trusts contracts. Rules. Systems. The law, first and foremost. And those things don’t mean a damn thing to men like the Romeros.
To men like me…
“He thinks she makes me vulnerable,” I say. And perhaps in a small way, she does. To care for someone means to be exposed, something I’ve never allowed myself before. But maybe it’s more than that—more than I even want to admit myself.
Lucien studies me. “Does she?”
I don’t answer right away, because the profound truth scares the hell out of me. Yes, she does. She makes me hesitate. Makes me think before acting. Makes me imagine consequences beyond survival, dominance, and winning. She makes me want something clean in a world that’s never been clean.
She makes me want to be a better man. The type of man I’ve been fighting to become ever since our father died.
“She makes me careful,” I say finally, not wanting to admit to everything coiling about me inside.
Lucien exhales. “Then she’s in danger.”
I fist my hands, fighting not to remove that danger, the one in front of me now, no matter who was around. “I know…”
Anthony returns, face tight, eyes darker than before. “Another round, boys,” he says flatly. We look at him, and he knows we want to ask about this Isabella he’s reacted so badly to, but now isn’t the time.
“Sure, sounds good,” I agree.
My mind races, connections forming whether I want them to or not. The Romeros are hiring Dallen. Alex is being bold with her at the gala. Showing up here with a sister no one knew existed.
They’re circling and playing games.
I think of Dallen at the charity event, sitting stiff beside her parents, trying to pretend her life isn’t suddenly intersecting with mine in ways she can’t fully understand.
Think of the way she bristles when I question her work, how fiercely she guards her independence, how she’ll hate that I need her to listen to me, to reason, and drop the Romeros as clients.
Stay with me no matter the risk.
“How do I make her see sense?” I say to both Lucien and Anthony, the words rougher than I intend. “Without scaring her off?” If I haven’t scared her off already. I was forceful the last time we were together, trying to control her, make her do what I want through sex.
I grind my teeth, hating that I reverted to such underhanded coercion while knowing full well that I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
Lucien’s gaze softens just a fraction. “You stop lying and tell her everything. Every dirty, dark secret our family has, and why she must know to keep her safe.”
That lands hard.
“You tell her enough truth that she can then protect herself and choose what she wants to do,” he continues. “And you accept the risk that she might walk.”
The idea makes my chest constrict, because I already know how that will go. Dallen will choose her world, the law over lawlessness. If she walks away from me, it won’t be because she doesn’t want me, but because she’s afraid of what loving me could cost.
Not an outcome I’ll allow. I can’t let her go. I won’t.
“She’s a keeper, and if after seeing you at the charity event is any indication, you want to keep her too,” Anthony says quietly. “Which means she needs to know who she’s standing near.”
Lucien nods. “She should know who we are and what our family is capable of…while she may not need to know recent events, the past certainly should be discussed.”
Enough to keep her alive.
Enough to keep her away from the Romeros.
Enough that she can choose me with open eyes — or not at all.
No. Not an option.
Alex laughs across the bar, loud and easy. Some random guy sits his hand possessively against Isabella’s back. Anthony stills at my side, and I note his attention is on the small group as well—one of them in particular.
My jaw locks. There is definitely history there, and it's not something we need. The further we can get from that family, the better.
I hear Alex mention Dallen to the man who’s joined them, his words clear to hear across the space. Deliberate provocation. Do these Romeros never learn when to fuck the hell off?
If he wants my attention, I’ll give it to him.
I push back from the table slowly, the scrape of my chair sharp against the floor. The sound of the bar dims around me, the smell of beer and food thick in the air. My focus narrows to a single point of order.
Alex Romero.
“Stephen, sit down,” my brother says. I ignore him.
Alex is standing now, drink in hand, eyes bright with challenge as he watches me move toward him. His sister lingers just behind, watching with too much interest, like she knows exactly how this ends and wants a front-row seat.
“Careful, Moretti,” Alex says smoothly as I approach. “You look tense. Wouldn’t want you doing something you regret.”
I stop close enough to smell the whiskey on his breath. “You already crossed that line when you mentioned Dallen in your conversation. You don’t get to speak her name. Ever.”
His smile sharpens. “Did I? Or are you just upset I have a front-row seat to your pretty girl? And boy, is she a pretty one. Very soft-looking skin. I’d hate for anything to happen to such a perfect complexion.”
My fists curl at my sides. I think of Dallen. Her laugh. The way she stiffens when she thinks she’s losing control of a situation. The way she trusts systems that put men like Alex, like me, away forever. She can’t be involved, and yet I’m too much of a selfish prick to let her go.
Only I can keep her safe. No one will touch her if I’m around.
“You go anywhere near her again,” I say quietly, “and I’ll bury you so deep not even cadaver dogs will be able to sniff out your rotting body.” The thought of Dallen maimed, broken, and a shell of who she used to be at the hands of the Romeros spurs a fury in me that I see nothing but red.
Alex chuckles. “Touchy.” He leans closer, voice dropping.
“She’s a smart little lawyer, too. Not shrewd enough to keep away from you or work for people who might get her hurt.
But then, Romeros and Morettis are no strangers to danger.
If she is going to be part of your world, maybe she should learn early what to expect. ”
That’s it.
I don’t think. I don’t plan.
I move.
My fist connects with his jaw in a clean, brutal arc. The crack is loud enough to cut through the music. Alex staggers back into a table, bottles crashing to the floor as patrons shout and scatter.
Someone yells.
Someone else laughs nervously.
I’m on him before he can recover, grabbing his jacket and slamming him into the bar. Wood splinters under the impact. He swings wildly, catching my shoulder, but it barely registers.
All I see is red.
All I feel is the cold certainty that he meant every word.
I drive my knee into his gut. He grunts, folding, and I use the opening to smash his head back against the bar top. Glass shatters—blood spills.
The bouncer starts toward us, but Lucien steps in front of him, calm as sin. Anthony’s already moving too, keeping the sister back, murmuring something sharp in her ear.
Alex claws at me, desperation creeping into his eyes now. “You think you’ve won?” he spits, blood on his teeth. “You think this ends anything?”
I lean in close, my voice low and lethal. “This ends your testing me.”
I hit him once more for good measure and let him drop.
The bar is chaos now. Chairs overturned. Drinks spilled. The music stutters, then cuts entirely, leaving only the hum of voices and the sharp ring in my ears.
Alex scrambles to his feet, fury replacing shock. He points at me, wild-eyed. “This isn’t over, Moretti.” His gaze flicks past me — toward where he knows Dallen exists in my world. “You and your whore girlfriend are going to regret this.”
The word snaps something in me.
Lucien steps forward, a dangerous smile in place. “Careful,” he warns. “You’re already leaving with your pride in pieces. Don’t make it worse.”
Alex laughs again, but it’s hollow. He backs away, his sister pulling him toward the door. “Tell your girl to watch her back,” he calls. “She’s playing in waters she doesn’t understand.”
Then he’s gone.
The door slams behind them, the echo loud in the sudden quiet.
I stand there for a moment, chest heaving, knuckles throbbing, blood not all mine streaking my hand.
Dallen’s face flashes in my mind again. Fear claws at my gut this time — sharp and unwelcome. They’ve said her name out loud now, which means this isn’t just business anymore. It’s personal.
And I’ll burn the world down before I let them touch her and burn them in it.