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Prologue
My feet touch the soil of Cyprus, the smooth soles of my leather shoes too hot and confining. The last time I walked this path, I groused about family responsibilities, about not wanting to waste more time than necessary with my father before flying home.
Now Armand Gallo is dead and I rule in my father’s wake, a responsibility I never wanted. One that doesn’t suit me, but I bear it all the same.
Now, I bury my father a second time.
I’ll sit in his chair. Talk to his capos. Pretend to enjoy sitting in a shadow grown larger than I can possibly encompass.
I am Raphel Gallo, and I am the head of the Gallo empire, one of the largest mafias in the world.
One of the most powerful men.
And I am nothing without her by my side.
Chapter One
Where Ends Meet
Rafe
Bright lights dim behind heavily tinted, bulletproof glass of the Revanzi Vengeance. Usually, I don’t require a driver, and if I do, I ask Dom. But my best friend and right-hand man sits in the leather seat at my side in the rear of the car tonight, my wife squished nicely between us.
We pull up in front of the club, a short drive across Cyprus to the particular venue that caters to my needs tonight—the place where Willow entered my life—though I doubt she knew of the club’s full facilities on her last visit.
And it’s the reason we have a driver. Because when we leave the club, none of us will be in any state to navigate let alone man a steering wheel.
“Is this it?” Willow curls her fingers through mine.
Black-tipped, scarlet nails dig lightly into the back of my hand, and she switches a nervous gaze between us, before dipping her head, letting her glossy black hair form a curtain between us, shielding her from a pair of intent gazes.
But not before I read the reflected desire in her jade-green eyes, or note the pale-pink fingers creep along her cheeks as blood rises in her face, heating her from the inside.
For me, blood flows south.
She’s ten years younger than my gritty twenty-eight, now head of the Gallo empire. Despite how jaded I’ve become, Willow ignites something in me I thought long lost.
I intend to ruin us all tonight, just because of a not-so-innocent fantasy my wife voiced the day we married.
Forcibly. Against both our wills.
And then I added to her pain, treating her worse.
Now, I take the weight of the trauma I caused her and wear it as a mantle to earn my way deeper into her heart, until our souls brush every time we kiss. Touch. Fuck.
“We’re here.” I raise our joined hands to my lips, pressing a tender kiss to her soft skin. “Tell me no, and I’ll take you home, run you a bath, and spoil you stupid.”
She giggles softly. “You already do all that, Rafe.”
“And look where it got you.” On her other side, Dom folds his arms, glaring at me over her silken raven-black hair.
I know tonight will break him on two levels. She isn’t the girl he wants—the one who never gives in to him, anyway—and she’s my wife. But it’s different when permissions are granted in advance. Because tomorrow I won’t be begging forgiveness of anyone.
“Mr. Gallo.” The chauffeur holds the rear door of the armored vehicle for us.
Since my father’s assassination, I’m far more cautious—read borderline paranoid—about our public appearances. Becoming the head of one of the largest mafias in the world at twenty-eight has that effect on a man.
Breathing in Cyprus’s salty air, I flick the button open on my jacket with my free hand, slipping from the car with grace I learned early in life to disguise any lethal intent, drawing Willow to me. I turn away before Dom alights, walking at our backs.
