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Kenji piped up. Honestly, I was surprised he’d stayed quiet for the whole exchange.

“Well, Scar, welcome to the family. You survived your first anger blowup,” he said, plopping a mozzarella ball into his mouth. “We’re taking over New York. Gonna kill our daddies and your famiglia too. Sorry about it.”

“Kenji,” I hissed, my hands curling into fists.

“What? You heard the lady. She wants to skip over the part where your brooding ass locks her up and doesn’t tell her shit. Which I’m all for.” His playful tone turned serious. “Besides, we don’t have time to fuck around, Caleb. Not now that we know Dominick’s gunning for us.”

Niko grunted in agreement from where he was cooking.

“Hold on.” Scar had her hand up in the air like we were in fucking class. “You’re overtaking the four families?”

A deep sigh left my lips. As much as the beauty pissed me off, my brothers were right. We didn’t have time to waste.

“That’s the plan. We’ll cripple them and ensure they realize who they now serve.”

CHAPTER 16

SCAR

I’LL CUT YOUR DICK OFF

We didn’t discuss their plans after Caleb’s tantrum. He let me eat my pasta in peace as I mulled over everything that’d transpired in the last twenty-four hours. Fuck, more like the last eight hours.

Now I was trying, and failing, to ignore how Kenji’s slacks hugged his ass as I trailed behind him to my new jail cell. The guest room—thank God I wasn’t sharing a bed with Caleb—was located down the hall from the open living and kitchen area.

It better have nice sheets and a robe.

The guys lived in a beautiful modern-industrial apartment above what I figured was their club. I’d done some digging on the three after my little run-in with Caleb. They owned club Hush Money. When they’d let me out of the storage room, we passed what looked like alcohol backstock, and there was music coming from behind a door. But they’d dragged me into the elevator too quickly for me to investigate.

I’d nearly choked on my spit when I walked into their penthouse. There was a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows showing off the city night. Polished concrete floors had cooled my feet as I padded across their living room, taking in the massive charcoal sectional that looked large enough to seat an entire football team. There were exposed brick walls and metal I beams all over. Honestly, whoever their designer was had done an amazing job.

Then there was the kitchen.

I didn’t cook, but damn if it didn’t make me want to learn. Black soapstone countertops lined the space, and the island was the size of a king-size bed with at least eight stools surrounding it. The commercial-size fridge was so large that Niko looked normal size next to it, which was a feat.

A twinge of affection ran through my gut at the memory of the massive man shoving a bowl of homemade pasta in my hands. It surprised me that he didn’t insist on spoon-feeding me. The way his fingers had twitched, I got the impression he was tempted to. Niko might be the scariest one to look at out of the bunch, but damn, he was secretly the sweetest.

“This one’s yours,” Kenji said, pushing a set of double doors open.

“Holy shit.”

The room was moody. Bedside lamps bathed the room in low, warm light, enhancing the deep green walls so dark they bordered on black. A massive bed faced the room’s own set of floor-to-ceiling windows. The city lights shone like a sea of stars on the other side of the glass. I ran the back of my hand along the velvet duvet on my way into the en suite. The black marbled shower, with multiple showerheads, was the space’s main attraction.

“I take it you like it, then?” Kenji asked, amusement in his tone.

“I’ve stayed in worse hostage accommodations.”

I winced at the admission. I didn’t want to answer questions about the other times I’d found myself at the mercy of men.

If Kenji thought anything about my statement, he didn’t point it out. “Let me know if you need anything, and I do mean anything,” Kenji commented suggestively from behind.

“Actually.” I turned, taking in his beautiful face and the way he watched my every move. “I need help getting out of my dress.”

He moved slowly, like I was a caged animal who might bolt, stopping when we were a hairsbreadth away. “You want me to help you out of your dress, Scar?” he asked, hitching a brow. “You sure about that?” Raw lust dripped from his questions.

God, men were arrogant. What did he assume? That I wouldn’t be able to keep myself from hopping onto his dick because those deft fingers trailed down my back as he unzipped me?

My pulse ticked faster at the thought. Actually…it was probably a good thing he’d put a shirt back on because I might’ve done just that.