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The penthouse is silent and engulfed in shadows. Giovanni’s old living space where he’d come each night to rest his head. Standing in the dark silence, I absorb the traces he’s left behind—his spirit that still exists, even if it can’t be seen.

Giovanni’s dead, but I can be the better version of him. If anyone can be, it’s me.

I wander across the spacious living area and slide open the doors leading into the bedroom. The curtains are drawn over the tall, wide windows, swallowing the room in the same pitch-black shadows.

Despite this, the king-sized bed stands out. I creep closer, a long and broad figure in the dark. My gaze sets on the bed, defining every small detail I can despite the lack of light. The comforter’s pulled back. The luxury sheets are twisted up.

And laying curled in a ball is who I’ve been looking for.

I don’t know it until I see her, peaceful and lost to sleep.

Falynn.

Giovanni’s woman. His possession, just like everything else belonging to my brother. I tilt my head sideways as I watch her sleep.

It’s too dark to see much of her face, but I don’t need to, to know she’sexquisite.

Two weeks, and she hasn’t stopped crying over him. Louis has been tasked with watching her, and he’s mentioned she won’t even eat.

Nobody’s ever cried for me the way Falynn’s cried for Giovanni. The concept intrigues me even as the emptiness of being sober returns.

If I died tomorrow, Fiona would shed fake tears at the funeral, and then move onto a different guy in the lifestyle. There’s no human feeling between us. Just a hollow sham of an engagement in a desperate attempt for Pa’s approval; it’s a recreation of his relationship with Ma. A woman who was willing to have his children.

But Giovanni and Falynn—whatever it is they had is different than that.

Even in her sleep, she reaches for the space next to her, whereGiowould be.

There’s a dull pang inside me as a familiar urge makes itself known.

All my life, I’ve stood in my brother’s shadow. I’ve wished for even half the attention Pa gives him. I’ve worked hard, performed my best attempts at being normal, and have always failed.

Until now.

Giovanni’s dead…and everything that was his is mine.

His city. His crown. His crew. His fucking casino.

And now his woman.

I reach out, my heart pounding, and run a hand along the curve of her shoulder and then lower, across the swell of her breast.

She doesn’t know it yet, but she will soon. She belongs to me.

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