The Man is a Cacciatore

Episode 4

Cassandra

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Vinnie!” I shouted, crossing my arms tightly over my chest like it might shield me from the nightmare unraveling in front of me.

Vinnie shifted uncomfortably in his worn-out leather chair, his hands clasped together on the scarred wooden desk in front of him. Papers and empty coffee cups cluttered the surface. “Angel, baby…”

“Don’t call me baby!” I snapped, my voice sharp and raw as my chest heaved. I could feel myself spiraling, anger bubbling up with nowhere to go.

Vinnie threw up his hands in surrender, the motion as pitiful as his posture.

“Sorry, I always forget.” He sighed, long and slow, his head bowing like the weight of the world had finally broken him. “I didn’t have a choice.” When he looked back up at me, his tired eyes locked onto mine. “They had a gun to the back of my head, Angel. A goddamn gun.”

I saw it then—the haunted flicker of memory darkening his face, and for a split second, I felt bad for him. Sort of. “Ugh! Fuck! Then I quit!” I barked, shoving aside whatever sympathy had almost surfaced.

Vinnie shot up so fast his chair toppled over, crashing to the floor with a clatter. He didn’t even glance at it before rounding the desk toward me. His sweaty palms clamped onto my shoulders, trembling with desperation as he sank to his knees. “Angel, please, you can’t quit.” His voice cracked, his breath hot and frantic. “If you leave, he’ll kill me. I swear to God, he’ll kill me. Leo will get bored soon. He always does. Just hang in there.” His hands came together in front of him like he was praying, his knees digging into the faded carpet. “I’m begging you.”

I rolled my eyes and stepped back, out of reach, my stomach churning as the sour smell of his sweat hit me full force. Yellow stains spread under his collar and armpits, impossible to miss. “For fuck’s sake, stand up!” My tone was dripping with disdain. “Christ, Vinnie, grow some goddamn balls.”

He bobbed his head like one of those cheap cereal-box toys we used to get as kids. His trembling hands gripped the edge of the desk, and he hauled himself up with so much effort I half-expected him to fart in the process. Honestly, it wouldn’t have surprised me.

“So… you’ll stay?” he asked, panting like he’d just run a marathon. “You’ll help me out?”

I glared at him, arms tightening across my chest. “Fine. But you’re paying me extra for this.” My words were clipped, practically spat through gritted teeth.

“It’s already been arranged. Leo’s compensating you,” Vinnie said, wiping his face with his sleeve like that would fix the mess he was.

I froze, the weight of his words crashing down. “What?”

Vinnie lifted his seat, sighed, then lowered himself back into it, which hissed under his bulk. “Yeah, Gio and Dimitri told me Leo’s doubling your pay for nights you, uh… entertain him.” His gaze darted from my face to the door, like he expected the devil himself to walk in at any moment.

“Double?” I whispered, mostly to myself. The word hung in the air as I processed it. Double would carry me a long way—enough to catch up on rent, maybe even buy fresh vegetables instead of living off frozen junk. The thought made my chest tighten with something close to relief, but I quickly shook it off. No way was I letting Vinnie see me care about the money. “Alright,” I grumbled, forcing a bored tone. “I’ll do it.”

“Thanks, Angel. You’re a lifesaver. Literally.” He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Leonardo will be in tonight.” Vinnie glanced at his fake Rolex, the gold finish long since chipped away. “Actually… he should be here right about—”

The door burst open before Vinnie could finish, and the air in the room seemed to shift. Leonardo Romano walked in like he owned the place—hell, he probably did. Shoulders squared, his tailored suit clung to him like it was made from sin itself. Confidence radiated off him, the kind that made you feel like prey before he’d even said a word.

“If you stare any longer, Cassandra,” Leo purred, his voice smooth and low, “people will think you like me.” He stopped in front of me, close enough to drown me in his cologne—something dark and expensive that made my stomach tighten. His hand reached out, fingers gripping my chin—not enough to hurt, but firm, like he wanted to remind me who held the power. “I’m assuming Vinnie told you about our arrangement?” His words slid through the air like melted butter.

Shit. Get it together, Cassandra.

I pinched my arm, hard enough to ground myself, and hardened my features into something unreadable. No way was I letting him see what he did to me.

“Ah, there she is,” Leo murmured, tilting my chin from side to side like I was some kind of artwork he was appraising. “My feisty little principessa.”

I jerked my head away and took a step back, breaking the contact. “Yeah, he told me,” I said coldly.

“Then why aren’t you dressed and ready to work?” Leo asked, his eyes dragging slowly over my casual outfit—baggy, ripped high-waisted jeans and a fitted navy blue T-shirt. The way his gaze lingered made my skin prickle, and I hated the heat rising under his scrutiny.

Am I ovulating? That had to be it. Why else would I be standing here imagining his strong, tanned hands curling around my neck as he pinned me to the wall?

“Cassandra,” Leo growled, snapping me out of my ridiculous daydream. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and I saw something raw in them, something that matched the chaos brewing in me. “Get the fuck out of here. Now.” His tone was sharp, commanding, but there was a thread of restraint under it, like he was holding something back. His jaw ticked as he waited for me to move.

I glared at him, fighting the urge to shiver under his stare. Before I opened the door, I glanced back at him one last time, locking eyes. “Just so we’re clear, I’m leaving because I want to—not because you told me to.”

That predatory smirk of his spread slowly, and I felt it crawl under my skin in the worst—and best—way. I slammed the door behind me, my pulse racing.

Yep. Definitely ovulating.

Leo

As the door slammed shut behind her, I muttered under my breath, “Dio aiutami.” My gaze flicked sharply to Vinnie, who was sweating through his shirt like a pig under the butcher’s blade. “Don’t keep me waiting, Vinnie,” I warned, my voice a low growl that left no room for debate. Without another glance, I turned on my heel and strode out of the wretched office, the stench of stale desperation clinging to the air behind me.

Gio and Dimitri followed silently, their hulking shadows moving in sync with mine as we ascended the stairs to the VIP booth. The room vibrated with music and lust, the dim lights casting a golden glow over the sea of blonde civettas circling the club like vultures. They watched me with hungry, desperate stares, licking their lips and arching their backs like it might earn them a flicker of my attention. I ignored them. They were beneath me, and tonight, I had only one purpose—to claim Cassandra.

I would break her, shatter that fiery defiance until she begged me to take her.

Sinking into my usual black leather chair, I leaned back, my eyes fixed on the small private stage in front of me. My body thrummed with anticipation, the memory of her earlier defiance burning through my veins like a drug. The way her dark eyes met mine tonight—wild, lustful, and rebellious—had been enough to leave me aching. She wanted me. I saw it in her flushed cheeks, the way her breath hitched when I was close.

And then there was the way she glared at me, full of venom and pride. The contradiction was maddening, intoxicating. Adjusting myself in my pants, I let out a frustrated groan, shaking my head at my lack of control. She had no idea the power she wielded over me, and that alone made me harder.

Running a rough hand through my hair, I barked, “Gio!”

“Yes, boss?” Gio appeared at my side, ever dutiful.

“Get a bartender to bring up their best scotch. Two glasses.” I smirked as the beginnings of a plan formed in my head, one as sharp and calculated as a blade.

“You got it.” He strode off, leaving me to my thoughts and the growing impatience coiled in my chest.

The sharp clicking of heels echoed over the low hum of the music, and my ears perked up. I stayed still, my expression cold and unreadable as the sound grew closer. Let her come to me. Let her walk into the trap.

When the heels stopped just short of me, I glanced up. The blonde bartender trembled, clutching the bottle of scotch like it might shield her from the storm brewing in my chest. My eyes hardened, making her flinch. “Set it over there,” I snapped, gesturing impatiently toward the table. She scurried to obey, practically stumbling over herself.

I glanced at my watch, my jaw ticking with irritation. Where the fuck was she? How long was my little Topo going to make me wait?

“You better be careful, Leo,” a familiar voice purred, dripping with amused defiance. “People might start to think you like me.”

Her words hit me like a slap and a caress all at once, startling me with how deeply they affected me. For a brief moment, my heart stuttered in my chest—a feeling I hadn’t experienced in years.

I stood, turning slowly to face her, and the sight was enough to knock the breath out of me. Cassandra sauntered into the room, her dark hair swept up in a high ponytail, its base glittering with diamonds. Her usual black fishnets had been replaced with ones made of sparkling gems, catching the dim light like a thousand tiny stars. The matching lingerie hugged her curves in ways that made my blood run hot. She was breathtaking, a goddess wrapped in danger and desire.

I found my voice, forcing a smirk to my lips. “Unlike you, I don’t consider that a bad thing.” My eyes followed her every step, like a predator tracking its prey. Her earlier frazzled demeanor was gone, replaced with a cool indifference that only made me want her more.

She brushed past me, her perfume leaving a tantalizing trail in her wake, and approached the blonde who still lingered awkwardly by the scotch. Cassandra’s long fingers curled around the neck of the bottle, the sight immediately sending my mind spiraling into places I shouldn’t have let it go.

“Drink?” she asked, her voice a low hum that wrapped around me like a silk ribbon. With a small wave of her hand, she dismissed the blonde, who bolted for the door without hesitation.

I pulled my cigarettes from my pocket, needing to focus on something other than the way Cassandra’s hips swayed as she poured a glass. “If you’re offering, la mia bellezza,” I said, flashing her a wolfish grin.

Lighting the cigarette, I inhaled deeply, the flame briefly illuminating my face before the lighter clicked shut. The scent of smoke curled around me as I watched her move, my body tense with restraint.

She poured a glass of scotch with practiced ease, her dress clinking softly as the diamonds caught the light with each hypnotic sway of her body. When she finally turned and approached, the glass in hand, I reached for it. Our fingers brushed, soft and deliberate, the contact sending fire blazing through my veins.

“So,” she began, her voice steady and calm, though her eyes betrayed the storm behind them. “What do you want me to do, now that you have me trapped?”

The scotch burned as I downed it in one go, slamming the glass onto the table with a loud clink. I leaned against the arm of the chair, letting the silence stretch between us. Finally, I said, “Some music would be nice… Angel.” Her stage name rolled off my tongue, heavy with mockery and desire.

Her eyes narrowed, and I couldn’t help but smirk. God, she was easy to provoke, and I enjoyed every second of it.

She turned on her heel, heading for the small bar where the remote rested. I followed, my steps slow and deliberate. When she grabbed the remote, I pressed in close, my chest brushing against her back. She froze, her body stiffening as I leaned in, close enough to inhale the warm, floral scent of her perfume.

“Principessa,” I murmured, my lips close to her ear. My hands gripped the counter on either side of her, caging her in. “Tell me.” My voice was low and rough, dripping with unspoken promises. “What were you thinking about back in Vinnie’s office? What had you looking so… out of sorts?” I shifted to her other ear, my breath hot against her skin. “Hmm?”

She shivered, and I knew I had her. The way her pulse quickened at her throat, the way goosebumps rose on her arms—it was enough to drive me mad.

“You really want to know?” she whispered, tilting her head to the side and exposing the smooth line of her neck.

I growled softly, my grip on the counter tightening until my knuckles turned white.

And then it was gone.

Obscene, jarring metal music blasted through the speakers, shattering the moment. I stepped back, grinding my teeth as I forced myself to reorient. When I looked back at her, she was laughing, the sound light and victorious.

Cassandra

That was close—too close. My heart was still racing, pounding like a drum in my chest, and I couldn’t ignore the embarrassing wet heat pooling between my thighs.

“Cassandra.”

His sharp, dangerous tone sliced cleanly through the pounding music, freezing me in place. I turned just as Leo prowled forward, his presence a dark, overwhelming force that made the air around us feel suffocating. Without a word, he snatched the remote from my hand and cut off the music, the silence that followed like a thunderclap.

“What the fuck?” he hissed, his cold, unrelenting gaze locking onto mine. That look—the one that reminded me exactly who he was and what he was capable of—made my stomach drop. The confidence I’d clung to moments ago evaporated. My face fell.

He didn’t say anything else, just stared at me, his silence heavier than any insult or threat. But his anger wasn’t silent—it blazed in his eyes, dark and scorching, and I found myself taking an involuntary step back. My hip bumped against the edge of the bar, rattling the glasses, and I felt the tremor of fear creep into my chest.

And then, as if he could sense my unease, his expression shifted. The tension in his jaw loosened, his eyes softened, and he stepped back, putting space between us. His hands clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening, but he stayed still, controlled.

The silence stretched until it became unbearable, so I broke it first. “Sorry,” I whispered, dropping my gaze to the floor. The word came out small and pathetic, dredging up old, familiar feelings I thought I’d buried long ago. If I apologized, if I stayed small enough, invisible enough, maybe he wouldn’t hurt me.

The gentleness of his hands startled me. His fingers were firm but careful as they cupped my face, tilting it upward so I had no choice but to meet his eyes.

“Principessa, who broke you?” His voice was quiet, almost compassionate, and it made my chest tighten with something raw and uncomfortable.

“Nobody,” I blurted, my walls snapping back into place like a reflex. The vulnerable moment vanished as I forced myself to lock everything away, fortifying the fragile parts of me behind cold, unfeeling steel.

He studied me, his gaze scanning every flicker of my expression as if trying to read the parts of me I wouldn’t let him see. “Partecipo al tuo dolore,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing lightly over my cheekbones. His touch was soothing, but his words—I share your pain—were almost unbearable.

I felt the cracks forming in my defenses, and I couldn’t let it happen. Couldn’t let him in. With a sharp breath, I smacked his hands away and straightened my shoulders. “Dock my pay. I’m going home early tonight,” I said flatly, my voice clipped and distant.

Before he could respond, I was already moving, my heels clicking down the stairs as I fled. If I stayed a second longer, I knew I’d break. I knew I’d let him see the parts of me no one had a right to.

When I finally reached my building and climbed the stairs to my door, I noticed something sitting on the landing. A bouquet of burgundy anemones—my favorite flowers.

My heart lurched in my chest. Only one man knew these were my favorite.

The vase felt cool against my hands as I picked it up, plucking the small card nestled between the blooms. My breath caught as I read the words scrawled across it in neat, familiar handwriting:

Grá go Deo,

Love forever —D

I rotated the bouquet in my hands, admiring the deep crimson petals before unlocking my door and stepping inside. Placing the vase on the bar in the kitchen, I propped the card against the glass and stared at it for a long moment.

“Declan,” I murmured softly, brushing my fingers over one of the velvety petals. “You really need to let go.”

Even as I said the words, my chest tightened. My heart raced at the thought of him still thinking about me, still caring after everything.

Before I realized what I was doing, I was digging through my purse for my phone. My fingers moved on their own, dialing his number, and the line barely rang once before he picked up.

“Cass,” he said, his voice warm and familiar, a smile audible in the way he spoke my name.

“Hey, Dec,” I replied softly, the sound of his voice wrapping around me like a blanket. A sense of comfort settled over me, soothing my frayed nerves. “Thank you for the anemones. They’re beautiful.”

He chuckled, the low, familiar sound tugging at my heart. “Just like you.” There was a faint rustle in the background, followed by the soft click of a door closing. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Oh yeah? I couldn’t tell,” I teased, a laugh slipping past my lips. Talking to him was easy, like slipping into an old, worn-in sweater.

“Yeah, well, call me a hopeless romantic,” he said, his tone light but edged with sincerity.

The sudden rush of emotion caught me off guard. Tears prickled at my eyes, and I walked to the couch, flopping down with a sigh. “I miss you, Dec. So much,” I admitted, my voice thick with everything I’d been holding back.

“Are you okay, Cass?” His tone sharpened, a protective edge cutting through his warmth. “Nobody’s hurt you, have they?”

He didn’t need to say his name. We both knew who he meant.

“No, nobody’s hurt me,” I said quietly, but the way my voice trembled betrayed me.

“Then why are you crying?” he asked, his voice softening, though I caught the faintest hint of irritation beneath it.

I straightened, brushing at my cheeks to erase the evidence of my tears. “It’s nothing,” I said, forcing a lightness I didn’t feel. “I just wanted to thank you for the flowers.”

The pause on the other end of the line stretched too long, the weight of his growing frustration clear. Finally, he exhaled, the sound heavy with resignation. “Yeah, well… like I said, I’ve been thinking about you.” His voice softened again as he added, “I love you, Cass.”

I bit my lip, fighting to keep the tears at bay. “Love you too.”

I hung up quickly, the weight of his words pressing on my chest. Just as I let the tears threaten to fall again, a loud, insistent knock rattled my door. My head snapped toward the sound, my heart racing as I wiped my face and stood.

Leo

The old, paint-chipped door swung open, and there she was—Cassandra. Standing in front of me, in her apartment. The apartment I’d watched her retreat to countless times, always from a distance. I didn’t know why I came here after the way she left the club. Maybe it was the look on her face—the hurt, the vulnerability she’d tried so hard to hide—but something told me she needed someone.

“Leo, what are you doing here?” she asked, her wide, puffy eyes betraying her surprise.

I tucked my hands into the pockets of my slacks, trying to look more composed than I felt. “You just seemed… I don’t know. You looked like you needed to talk.” The words felt foreign coming out of my mouth, awkward and unfamiliar. Leonardo Romano didn’t comfort anyone. Ever. Yet here I was, standing on Cassandra’s doorstep, offering her something I didn’t even know how to give.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly seeing the discomfort written all over my face. With a sigh, she stepped aside and gestured for me to come in. “I’m not even going to bother giving you a third warning,” she muttered, her sarcasm cutting as always. But now, I understood it for what it was—a defense mechanism. She used her sharp words like armor, and it only made me more determined to peel back every layer.

Her apartment was small, cozy. The faint scent of vanilla lingered in the air, and trinkets and framed photos cluttered the shelves. As I strolled through the space, I studied her carefully chosen belongings. They told me more about her than she’d ever admit. “You’re too merciful, principessa,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at her. She stood by the door, watching me like a hawk, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. I smirked. “You’re also too trusting. You should know better than to open your door to a wolf.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Says the man who could barely string a sentence together to explain why he’s here playing my therapist.”

I stopped inspecting her shelves long enough to laugh—loud and genuine. It felt strange, but good, like stretching a muscle I hadn’t used in years. “Christ, no one’s made me laugh that hard in a long time.” I swiped at the corner of my eye as if there were an actual tear.

When I turned to look at her again, she was staring at me with a furrowed brow, like I’d glitched her system and she couldn’t figure out how to respond. I smirked and returned to my silent exploration, eventually making my way to her kitchen. A bouquet of burgundy flowers sat on the counter, their rich color catching my eye. My gaze zeroed in on the small card propped up against the vase. I picked it up, my jaw tightening as I scanned the Gaelic writing.

Declan.

I set the card down carefully, resisting the urge to crush it in my hand. The thought of him—the Irish prince—lurking in her life made my blood boil.

Before I could dwell on it, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I glanced at the screen. Ciro.

“What is it?” I barked, my tone cold and clipped, slipping back into the role I knew best.

“We’ve got a problem down at the warehouse,” Ciro said, his voice grim. A huge problem, then.

I gripped the phone tighter, my knuckles whitening. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” I hung up and slipped the phone back into my pocket, my thoughts snapping from Cassandra to business.

But not before I strode back to where she still stood, rooted to her spot by the door. Her eyes followed my every movement, wary and guarded. Without a word, I reached for the back of her neck, my fingers curling around it firmly but gently. Her breath hitched as I pulled her closer, my eyes locking onto hers—red-rimmed emeralds that still managed to burn.

“If I find out that Irish prince of yours was the one who broke you…” My voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, “he’s dead.”

I let her go and stepped back, my hand already gripping the door handle. Every instinct in me wanted to rip the door off its hinges just to release the frustration burning inside, but I held back. I wouldn’t do anything to cause her more distress. “Cassandra,” I said, my voice softer now, “if you ever need help, I’ll come for you. Always.”

With that, I opened the door and closed it quietly behind me, leaving her alone.

The car ride to the warehouse was tense, my mind torn between thoughts of Cassandra and whatever disaster awaited me at the docks. My teeth ground together, the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “Gio,” I snapped, my voice cutting through the silence. “Brief me.”

Gio turned in the passenger seat, his face serious. “Ciro says the latest shipment was tampered with. He caught two of the men involved. They’re waiting for interrogation now.”

I nodded, my jaw tightening. This was going to be an ugly night, but part of me welcomed the violence. I needed an outlet for the storm raging inside me, and those men had just volunteered to be my punching bags.

The car pulled up to the warehouse, the stench of fish and mildew hanging thick in the air. My Armani shoes crunched against the gravel as I strode toward the entrance, Gio and Dimitri flanking me. Inside, Ciro was waiting, a twisted excitement shining in his eyes. The sick bastard loved this part of the job.

“Took you long enough, cousin,” he said, clapping my hand before pulling me into a quick hug.

I smirked. “Calm down, boy. You’ll get your fix.”

He led me to where the two men were bound to chairs, burlap sacks over their heads. My eyes swept over them, and I gave a sharp nod to the guards. They yanked the bags off, revealing two terrified faces—one blonde and scruffy, the other dark-haired and already bleeding from Ciro’s handiwork.

Grabbing a fistful of the blonde’s greasy hair, I yanked his head back, forcing him to look at me. His bloodshot blue eyes darted around the room, frantic.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” I drawled, my voice dripping with menace. “Or should I say, ratti.”

The blonde grimaced as I pulled his head back further, pressing the cold barrel of my gun under his chin. “Now, you’re going to tell me exactly what I want to know, or I’ll make this as slow and painful as possible.”

Ciro stepped forward, his fist cocking back before smashing into the dark-haired man’s nose with a sickening crack. Blood sprayed everywhere as the man howled in pain, his head lolling forward as he tried to recover.

I smiled coldly. “See? I’m a fair man. You get one chance to talk. Just one.”

The blonde hesitated, his wide eyes darting to his partner. I shook my head. “Wrong answer.”

In perfect sync, Ciro and I both fired, the gunshots ringing out as we shot each man in the foot. Their screams filled the air, echoing through the warehouse as they squirmed in agony.

“Start talking,” I growled.

It didn’t take long. A few more threats and they were squealing, spilling every detail about the job.

Ciro and I cleaned up out front of the building, the muggy night air of Chicago replacing the blood. “The little vixen still giving you a hard time?” Ciro asked, his tone light and teasing, though his smirk was razor-sharp.

I shot him a glare, the kind that would’ve sent most men running. “Don’t start with me.” The edge in my voice softened as I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, the gritty sweat and grime from the warehouse clinging to my skin. “But yes, Cassandra is weighing on me.”

Ciro’s smirk widened as he nudged my arm with his elbow. “You need a wingman?” He winked, his words deliberately provocative. “Or are you just scared I’ll steal your girl away?”

I didn’t hesitate. Whirling on him, I grabbed the front of his jacket, yanking him close until our faces were inches apart. My grip was iron-tight, my voice low and deadly. “That’s not something to joke about, Ciro.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin faltering but never fully fading. “Christ, alright. I won’t be your wingman.” His tone was placating, but the humor still glinted in his eyes.

I released him with a rough shove, my fingers smoothing out the lapels of my own jacket as I straightened it. “Besides, that Irish bastard is already in my way. And I think he’s the one who wounded la mia bellezza.”

Ciro’s smirk returned, sharper this time, his eyes alight with wicked anticipation. “You know I’m always up for a hunt.”

I let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling from deep in my chest. “Yeah, I know you are. That’s why you’re my consigliere.” I pounded my fist lightly against his chest, a playful gesture, though the bond between us ran deeper than words. Ciro returned it with a wide grin, the easy camaraderie between us evident in the exchange.

He wasn’t just my cousin. He was my brother in everything that mattered. Since the deaths of his parents, he’d been my shadow, and we’d been inseparable. People often mistook us for actual siblings—our similar builds, grey eyes, and sharp features lending themselves to the illusion. He was the only person I trusted, the only real friend I had.

“Gio!” I barked.

His footsteps crunched against the gravel as he came to an abrupt halt in front of me. “Boss?”

I didn’t waste a second. “Find out if Cassandra’s precious prince ever laid a hand on her.” My jaw clenched as the words left my mouth, my hands already curling into fists at the mere thought.

Gio nodded, his expression stoic. “You got it.”

As he turned to carry out my orders, my knuckles flexed, aching for something—or someone—to break. If Declan had hurt her, it would be the last thing he ever did.

Cassandra

Last night was a whirlwind. Between ovulation-induced insanity, Declan’s flowers and call, and Leo showing up at my apartment to offer his warning—and his protection—I was emotionally drained. Completely overwhelmed.

I didn’t know how much more I could take of this endless, testosterone-fueled tug-of-war between the two of them.

My thoughts played an exhausting game of mental tennis while I washed the last of my dinner plate. Declan. Leo. Leo. Declan. My grip tightened on the plate, and I barely registered the sound of the door opening until it was too late.

The plate slipped from my soapy hands, shattering as it hit the sink. Instinctively, I snatched the knife from the drying rack and spun around, holding it up defensively. My breath hitched, my heart pounding.

When Declan’s face appeared in the doorway, I exhaled a shaky breath, lowering the knife. My shoulders sagged, but my pulse remained erratic.

Declan noticed my fighting stance and smirked, stepping inside as though he owned the place. “Oh yeah, Cass? You bringing a knife to a gunfight?”

“Shut up, Dec.” My words came out sharp as I set the knife back down and reached for a towel, drying the soap and water from my hands. “I told you to knock or at least give me a heads-up before you show up at my apartment.”

“I know,” he said with a lazy shrug, stepping closer. “But this is an emergency.” His eyes flicked to the bouquet of flowers on the counter, and a smug grin spread across his face. The dimple in his cheek deepened as he closed the distance between us.

Before I could respond, his hand slid around my waist, pulling me against him, while the other tangled in my hair. His touch was so familiar, so warm, that it made my annoyance falter. He tilted his head, brushing his nose lightly against mine. The featherlight touch melted my defenses, and suddenly, I couldn’t remember why I was upset.

“Hi,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“Hey.” His voice was low, a sultry purr that sent a shiver down my spine. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

He pressed closer, the evidence of his desire hard against me. My hands slid around his neck on their own, my fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “Oh really? I couldn’t tell.” My laugh was breathy, almost shy.

Declan didn’t waste another second. His lips crashed against mine, hard and messy, and I didn’t stop him. My heart had been missing him, my body craving the familiarity of his touch. He walked me backward until the counter pressed into my lower back, his hands sliding down to grip the backs of my thighs. Without effort, he lifted me onto the counter, and I let out a soft gasp.

A low, primal growl rumbled in his chest. “Fuck, Cass. I’ve been craving you.”

“And you should feel how wet I am for you,” I whispered, my voice dripping with desire. Pulling him closer, I pressed kisses along his jaw, trailing up to nibble on his earlobe.

“You have no idea what you do to me, baby,” he growled, his lips brushing against my neck. His hands slid under my thighs, pulling me closer to the edge of the counter. My legs dangled as he ground his hardness against me, making me whimper shamelessly.

His smirk brushed against my lips as his calloused hands glided up my thighs, his thumbs pressing firmly against the sensitive skin of my inner legs. “Tell me how wet you are, Cass. I need to know how badly you want this.”

“Dec,” I coaxed, my voice husky, “if you just move your thumb a little closer, you’ll feel for yourself.”

His thumb slid up, brushing over my clothed slit with deliberate pressure. The friction sent a moan tumbling from my lips, and he grinned against my mouth, nipping at my lower lip.

“Such a needy little thing,” he rasped, teasing the seam of my panties with his thumb. “So desperate for me.”

“Bedroom,” I murmured, my voice a breathy demand. “Now.”

Without hesitation, Declan lifted me into his arms, carrying me through the apartment with hurried, purposeful steps. He pushed the door to the bedroom open with his foot and threw me down onto the bed, my body bouncing slightly against the mattress.

We didn’t waste any time. Clothes were stripped away in a rush, his shirt first, then mine. My shorts were next, and I shimmied out of them as I scooted backward until my head hit the pillows. I spread my legs wide, showing him exactly how much I needed him.

Declan’s eyes darkened as his gaze devoured me. He unbuckled his belt and shoved his pants down with an urgency that sent heat pooling low in my belly. When his boxers came off, I couldn’t help the way my tongue flicked over my bottom lip, my eyes fixed on him.

“Fuck, Cass,” he growled, his voice strained with desire. “I missed the way you look at my cock.”

He climbed over me, his lips crashing against mine as he pressed the head of his cock against my entrance through my soaked panties. My hips bucked instinctively, chasing the friction.

“Dec, I missed this,” I murmured, my hand reaching between us to wrap around him. His velvety hardness was hot and familiar against my palm, and I stroked him slowly, savoring the way he shuddered under my touch.

“Baby, you’re going to drive me insane,” he groaned, biting my lip hard enough to make me gasp. The sharp sting sent sparks of pleasure racing through me.

But then, just as quickly as the heat built between us, it shifted. Declan’s movements slowed, his grip on my thigh tightening. His eyes darkened, but not with lust—with something colder. Harder.

His hand wrapped around my throat, firm but not yet threatening, and he leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear. “Especially with this Leonardo Romano shit,” he whispered, the name dripping with venom.

My eyes snapped open wide, but before I could process his words, his grip tightened.

“Declan, stop—” I managed to rasp, clawing at his wrist as my breath caught in my throat.

“You think I wouldn’t find out?” His voice was low and dangerous, a menacing hiss. “That fucking WOP came to your house last night, didn’t he?” His ice-blue eyes burned with fury as he tightened his grip further.

My legs thrashed under him, panic rising as my vision began to blur.

“You’re mine, Cassandra. Do you understand?” he snarled, his other hand slapping me hard across the face. The sting exploded across my cheek, and tears blurred my vision as I choked on my words.

“Nothing happened, Declan,” I gasped, my voice weak and rasping. “I swear.”

Another slap. Stars danced in my vision as my head snapped to the side, my teeth clacking together painfully.

“I said, do you understand?” His voice was quiet now, eerily calm, as his hollow gaze pinned me in place.

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I nodded slowly, the fight leaving my body. “Yes, I understand,” I whispered hoarsely.

A wicked smile spread across his face, his tone softening as if we were sharing a tender moment. “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

He released me, rolling off me with casual ease. My body stayed frozen in place, my mind struggling to process what had just happened.

Declan planted a gentle kiss on my forehead, his words soft and sickly sweet. “I’m sorry about the slap, but I need you to understand that you’re mine. I love you, Cass. You know that, right?”

I stared at the ceiling, numb. “Of course I know that,” I said, my voice shaky.

“Good,” he said, standing and dressing quickly, as if nothing had happened. “You’re absolutely beautiful.”

He planted another kiss on my forehead, then turned and strode out of the room.

And just like that, he was gone, leaving me alone in the silence of my bedroom.

What the fuck just happened?

My trembling fingers brushed over my cheek, the sting still sharp. It was already starting to swell. I needed to get this under control—or I wouldn’t be able to go to work tomorrow.

Or worse… Leo was going to kill Declan.

Leo

Walking into my family home usually made my troubles melt away. The smell of Italian cooking, the echo of laughter, the warmth of familiarity—it was always enough to lift my spirits. But not today. Not when one issue clung to me like a tumor, refusing to be ignored. Cassandra Bennett.

Even the intoxicating aroma of simmering sauce and garlic couldn’t shake the weight pressing down on me.

“Leo, let’s get you a drink. It’ll help get your mind off her,” Ciro said, clapping me on the back. His tone was light, but his smirk told me he wasn’t done stirring the pot.

I let him steer me toward the kitchen, where the rest of the family waited. My jaw clenched, and I tucked my hands deep into my pockets to hide the tension from my mother. The last thing I wanted was for her to pick up on my mood.

When we entered, the room erupted into affectionate chaos. My mother and sister cooed loudly, rushing over to pull me and Ciro into tight hugs. I did my best to return their enthusiasm, careful to mask just how distracted I really was.

My father was next, his usual stoic expression softening just enough as he clasped my hand and pulled me in for a firm hug. His voice lowered as he whispered in my ear, “You need to do a better job of hiding your discomfort around your mother.”

He pulled back, giving me a pointed look before a tight smile softened his words. “Missed you, son.”

“Missed you too.” I nodded and stepped back, giving him and Ciro space for their usual greeting. It was the perfect excuse to pour myself a drink—and one for Ciro while I was at it.

“So, you failed at fooling your father,” Ciro said, the teasing lilt in his voice impossible to miss.

He accepted the glass I handed him, swirling the wine before inhaling its aroma like some self-proclaimed sommelier. Turning toward my mother, he raised his voice just enough to get her attention. “This is a good year, Antonia. Brava.”

She turned to him with a smile so wide her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Thank you, caro!”

I muttered into my glass, “Kiss ass.”

Ciro chuckled, taking a sip of the wine. “Someone has to make up for your sourpuss attitude today.”

“Don’t expect a thank you,” I shot back, the corner of my mouth twitching despite myself.

“What’s new, boys?” Alessia asked as she grabbed an empty glass and poured herself a generous serving of wine.

Ciro smirked, leaning casually against the counter. “Oh, you know. Same ol’, same ol’. Taxes, working…” His grin widened. “Leo getting flustered over a girl.”

Alessia nearly choked on her wine, sputtering into her glass. Meanwhile, I coughed so hard I felt like the wine might kill me on the spot.

Ciro clapped me on the back, laughing deviously. “Easy now, no need to get all worked up.”

“Fuck you, Ciro,” I muttered between gasps, glaring at him.

“A girl?” Alessia leaned in closer, her dark eyes glittering with interest. “What’s she like? Gloomy and boring, just like him?” She gestured toward me with her glass, her smirk as cutting as ever.

I placed a hand over my chest, feigning mock offense. “You really know how to wound a guy, sorella.”

Ciro barked out a laugh, clearly delighted by the banter. “I haven’t met her yet,” he said, leaning conspiratorially toward Alessia. “But any woman who can ruffle tall, dark, and gloomy’s feathers is alright in my book.”

“Alright, you two,” my mother’s voice cut through the laughter like a knife, her tone equal parts stern and affectionate. “Leave mio caro figlio alone.”

I strode over to her, slipping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Thanks, Mama,” I murmured softly.

She reached up, cupping my cheek with her warm hand. “Any woman would be lucky to have you as her amante,” she said, her voice full of maternal pride. She patted my cheek gently. “I love you, caro.”

“I love you too, Mama.” I released her, leaning against the counter beside the stove as she returned to stirring the sauce. The kitchen had cleared out, leaving the two of us alone.

“Mama, can I ask you something?”

She looked up from the bubbling pot, her soft gray eyes meeting mine. “Of course, caro. Anything.”

Her beauty struck me in that moment, as it always did. Her dark brown hair, now streaked with silver, was pulled back by a white headband. Her olive skin was radiant, and her graceful presence filled the room.

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of my question settle in my chest. When the lump in my throat refused to budge, I took another sip of wine for courage. “When you and Dad met… did you two instantly fall for each other?”

She paused, setting the wooden spoon down with care before turning to face me fully.

“Absolutely not.” Her hands settled on her hips, her Italian accent thickening with her conviction. “I despised your father. He was a… how do you say it in English?” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Ah, yes. An asshole.” She spat the word with a flourish.

From the other room, my father’s voice rang out, full of amusement. “She wasn’t a ray of sunshine either!”

The sound of muffled laughter—from both Ciro and Alessia—followed, making me roll my eyes. My family’s nosiness knew no bounds.

My mother turned toward the sound, raising her arm to make a crude Italian gesture even though my father couldn’t see it.

“I love you too!” he shouted, his laughter echoing through the house.

She huffed, muttering under her breath, and turned back to me. “Anyway,” she continued, waving her hand dismissively, “it took him a year to convince me to go out on a first date. And even then, I didn’t like the bastard.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “So, what made you fall for him?”

Her expression softened, her eyes growing distant with the memory. “Eventually, I started to see the man he truly was,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Behind all his bravado, there was a gentle and loving man.” She stepped closer, placing a hand over my heart. I covered her hand with mine, the gesture full of unspoken affection. “Just like you, amore.”

A warm smile spread across my face, but it didn’t last long.

“She’s lying to you, Leo!” Ciro shouted from the other room, his voice dripping with mischief. “She’s just trying to make you feel better about your caveman-like tendencies!”

Alessia’s cackling followed, and my mother stormed out of the kitchen, cursing at them in rapid-fire Italian.

I laughed, shaking my head at the chaos. Whether it took a month, a year, or a lifetime, I’d find a way to break through Cassandra’s walls.

She would be mine.