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“Please, a guy in my dorm had a support snake. They would allow a dog, Zio—especially if you asked.”

He shook his head, unwilling to have this conversation again. “The reason I called is to update you on my search.”

Her breath hitched. “Does this mean . . . Have you found him?”

“No, but I have grainy photos. They might jog your memory.”

“That fucking asshole. I hope I do remember and we can ID him. Wait, am I in the photos? Oh, god. Was I—?” Her voice trembled and Nico’s heart twisted. He rushed to reassure her as best he could.

“You did nothing wrong, bella. This is on him—and he will pay for it. Te lo prometto.” I promise you.

“I know, I know. It all just sucks so much, but it also could’ve been worse. Anyway, thanks, Zio. I appreciate all you’re doing for me.”

“You don’t need to thank me. You gave me permission to handle it and I will.”

“Make him suffer, Zio,” were Sofia’s words when Nico told her he would find the man responsible and do what he did to anyone who wronged the family—get revenge. All she asked was that he keep her updated, which he promised to do.

“Ti voglio bene,” she said softly, and he repeated the heartfelt phrase back to her.

When they disconnected, Nico rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. He would kill the man who drugged her slowly, creatively. Excruciatingly. Nico would enjoy exacting as much agony from him as possible.

A text notification sounded. He checked and it was Verreault’s number from Sergei. Nico quickly saved it in his contacts—as Captain, of course—then sent a text. Do not avoid me tomorrow night. If you do, you won’t like the consequences.

Verreault sent back a middle finger emoji. Nico tried not to smile. Tried and failed.

CHAPTER 4

Panic set in around eleven o’clock. Bennett’s adrenaline was pumping, his body sweating and jittery, and it took everything he had not to lock the door and turn off all the lights. If he thought it would keep Marzano out, he might try it. But locks and high-security buildings clearly meant nothing to Marzano. If he wanted to get into Bennett’s penthouse, he would. So, fuck it.

At the bar in his living room, Bennett poured an 81-year-old Macallan into a heavy crystal tumbler. Less than 300 bottles were produced, and he’d purchased the very expensive single-malt scotch after his first Stanley Cup win. Now he only broke it out for special occasions. Tonight didn’t qualify as “special,” unless you considered that this might be Bennett’s last day on earth if Marzano got pissed enough, and it would be a shame to let all this good scotch go to waste.

Fuck, that was grim. Accurate, but grim.

Do not avoid me tomorrow night. If you do, you won’t like the consequences.

Bennett believed it. After Marzano’s first visit, Bennett did some digging into the Marzano family. There wasn’t a lot of information available, but there were ties to construction, banking, real estate—all very “mafia-friendly” businesses. There wasn’t anything about Nico online. However, his cousin Filippo Marzano appeared in a handful of photographs from charity events or groundbreakings, which only left Bennett with more questions than answers.

He swallowed more of the scotch, the smooth burn sliding down to his stomach, warming him from the inside out. He savored the sensation. As a young boy, fatherless and watching his mother work herself to the bone so they could afford hockey, he’d dreamed of being able to buy expensive things. Owning a four-hundred-thousand-dollar bottle of alcohol would’ve blown a ten-year-old Bennett’s mind.

Yet the bottle was a trade-off to the adult Bennett. He now had more money than he had ever dreamed of, but he was alone. Stuck in the closet because the profession he’d chosen, the sport he loved, would never accept a gay man. This meant living a life that seemed perfect from the outside, but waiting for the day he could retire and date whoever he wanted, openly and without repercussions. The day he’d finally feel free.

So, yeah. Hard to enjoy such expensive scotch when it tasted like resentment and loneliness.

Stop complaining. You are incredibly lucky and you knew the deal when you started playing professional hockey.

Still, that didn’t stop him from sometimes wishing some things could be different. That the league could be more tolerant and the players more accepting. That he didn’t have to hide parts of himself from everyone he knew. Everyone except Nico Marzano, apparently.

Only a few men in the city of Toronto knew Bennett’s secret—and one happened to be a smoke show of an Italian mobster with soul-deep eyes and a jaw that could cut glass. Marzano had probably killed and tortured people, and yet something buzzed under Bennett’s skin whenever they were in the same room. Thinking about it was a terrible idea, though. Acting on it? Pure lunacy.

Bennett finished his drink and debated another. Being drunk around Marzano didn’t seem like a great idea, but Bennett’s deepest secret was already out, so there was no reason to be careful about what he said or did tonight. Might as well enjoy the scotch.

The knock came as Bennett was pouring a refill. He straightened and blew out a long breath. He needed to get this over with and send Marzano on his way. Then Bennett could do what he did almost every night—watch porn and jerk off before falling asleep.

Yanking open the front door, he found Nico Marzano there. Instantly, the sight of the other man caused a minor riot inside Bennett’s scotch-soaked brain. Fear, anger, confusion, and maybe a hint of relief all fought for first place in his head during what was probably seconds but felt like minutes. He knew he needed to move, but his feet were rooted to the floor.

Marzano edged past Bennett on his way inside, the hint of an elegant citrusy cologne trailing after him. Damn, he looked fucking good. No suit tonight, which surprised Bennett, but instead dark jeans paired with a soft gray sweater that hugged his shoulders. There were also perfectly polished black boots and a heavy metal watch on his left wrist. He screamed classy European man with money, and that sight appealed to Bennett far more than it should.

Then he noticed that Marzano carried a manila envelope. What was this?