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“I’ll be here in the morning to help you get ready,” Harper tells me.

“Thanks.”

I really wish they’d stop being nice to me. It would be easier if they hated me and treated me like I was the devil for me to go through with the plan my father wants me to execute.

It’s not possible. I know that. I’ve never gone against my father's orders before in my life, but this time, I’m going to play the long game. I’m going to offer my father an alternative that will keep Harper and everyone on this ranch alive. I need to figure out what the hell I can offer him.

I lean in to Dom as Harper and Ace leave. “You get our luggage; I’ll scope the place for cameras and bugs.”

Trust no one. Certainly not the rival mafia family you’re marrying into.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Colten

I thought taking Blaze for a midnight ride might clear my head; Blaze is one of my more calmer horses. Sometimes it works. It’s something Dad used to make us do when we were kids. Every natural remedy to all of life's problems can be found on this ranch. And stress is resolved by ridin’ a horse until the problem ain’t one anymore.

Except, I’ve come to a stop right outside my problem's house. And I can’t seem to make Blaze move. The lights are on. I know I should go back home, drink a whiskey, and sleep.

I’m getting married tomorrow.

My future wife is thirty feet away from me behind that door.

Fuck it. I wanna see the real Gianna. The one behind the red lipstick and killer heels, smoking a cigarette.

I want to watch the woman who might be plotting my murder right now.

Jumping down off Blaze, I tie him up to the fence post, rubbing his nose. “I’ll be back in a minute, boy.”

Keeping my steps light, I head over to the porch. I know the light doesn’t work anymore. I was meant to fix it last week, but didn’t. And now I’m glad about that.

I stop by the window and peer in, enough to glimpse inside, but not enough for them to notice me.

My body jolts when my eyes land on her. Both tattooed hands cradling a cup of steaming coffee, I think. Both feet up on the couch in black pajamas. Not a scrap of makeup on her face, her jet-black hair pulled into a ponytail.

She gasps at the TV and then hits her brother's arm. “I told you it was him!”

I frown, leaning in closer, and my heart slams.

Of course she’s watching a murder documentary. My gaze diverts right back to her; she leans forward, literally on the edge of her seat, engrossed in the television.

I bite back a grin.

Everything about her is sexy. That’s the problem. The first time I saw her, my cock sprang to life, in a meeting surrounded by my brothers, in a particularly hostile environment. I took one look at her and envisioned a hundred different ways to fuck her by the time she’d introduced herself.

She is, without a doubt, one hell of a woman. Gianna Milano is ruthless. Some would say evil. But she’s clever. She’s fearless. And now I also know she laughs at murder documentaries with little eye patches on. There is something human about her.

I take a step back and retreat down the steps with a smile on my face.

On the plus side, that shows me there are layers to Gianna. Even if it is something as simple as laughing while watching TV. That tells me under that hard exterior, there is something softer.

Which, if I need to, I can exploit to protect my family, to protect this ranch.

On the minus, Gianna Milano is arguably even more gorgeous when she’s relaxed in her pajamas. So, there isn’t a version of her that doesn’t turn me on.

And the fact that we’re enemies? That I’m being forced into this marriage because she demanded it to save my brother's life?

That means she needs to be punished. Gianna might think she’s the most powerful one in the room. And in LA, she may well be.