Page 27 of Between Dusk and Dawn

I crossed my legs, unbuttoning my suit as I leaned back in the seat, dazing off toward my father’s bookshelf. As a kid, I’d go in there and read his old poetry books to get a glimpse of the life he left behind.

It always baffled me. Why on earth would anyone reject the opportunity to lead a powerful family and reign over the entire underworld? How could you not revel in the adrenaline rush of knowing that everyone bowed to your command at the snap of your fingers? Those humans were weaker than me. They would falter and flee in the face of adversity, but me? I was different. I begged for the darkness to come and ran toward it.

Oh, but my old man decided to chuck his dreams for love. He fell head over heels for my mother, ditched the poet aspirations, and figured marrying her was the best thing ever. After tying the knot, they dreamed of ditching the Mafia and running off into the sunset so my dad could be a poet—a plan so absurd and downright strange.

Why give up the chance to lead? Born for greatness, at least on my mother’s side, why throw it all away for love? Not that I bought into the whole lovey-dovey fairy tale, mind you. In my father's grand life plan, my mother ended up in bed with our family's former mortal enemy, the Cartel, sparking a decade-long feud. It took Ember to find a way for our families to coexist peacefully.

I wasn’t heartless most of the time, and I loved certain people. My sister, for instance—I adored her, even though keeping her lover's secret caused a colossal rift between us. I respected my father for the opportunities he'd provided and the way he urged me to be a better person.

I’ve never had a girlfriend I loved or came close to loving. Since college, I'd preferred casual encounters—letting women have their moment, then leaving them at their hotels. My sister claimed it was because I was mourning my ex, scared of committing and losing someone again. I didn't love Cagen.

One person consumed my thoughts with an unrelenting obsession. She etched herself into the fabric of my mind, a persistent presence even in the throes of carnal pursuits. Her image haunted my every waking moment, an insatiable fixation that transcended mere infatuation. Yet it wasn't love. For three years, I had monitored her, making sure she was being a good girl in Isles.

I couldn't simply let her go, but kept my stalking to a minimum, not making it anyone else’s business but my own. In the clandestine underbelly of secrecy, I orchestrated a web of surveillance so tight, even the shadows had to strain to keep up. My family was blissfully ignorant of the intricate obsession that consumed my every waking moment. Enzo, my covert puppet master, was tracking my muse in Isles, keeping a vigilant watch on her every step, unbeknownst to anyone else.

Daily dispatches flowed in like a symphony of control, detailing the nuances of her life in Isles. The places she dared to tread, the faces that graced her presence—Enzo documented it all. It wasn't about maintaining an iron grip; it was an insatiable hunger to unravel every layer of her being. My obsession demanded nothing short of absolute knowledge.

He’d installed surveillance in her guesthouse which allowed me to keep an eye on her while never interrupting. I loved seeing my little muse with other men. While stroking my needy cock, I stared at her red hair flowing down her back. She screamed a little, but there was a shake in her voice. I knew when she was faking it, as the mask she wore cracked when she did. This wouldbring me over the edge, knowing after all these years she was still waiting for me.

She was still mine.

I was hers.

In the end, it would always be me and her. She was the queen to the kingdom I was building. She would never fall in love with me. No, she’d hate me when she found out my plan for her. When I dragged her back to Dansport to keep her as mine forever, she’d cry.

But I needed to have her. She was the only person I’d ever met who was as cold as I was and the only one I’d ever make mine again. Yet she danced through the chaotic rhythm of her boring life, oblivious to the unseen maestro orchestrating her fate. I reveled in the omnipotent thrill of wielding such control. The anticipation coursed through my veins, a heady cocktail of possession and arrogant curiosity that fueled me.

"Stay here." My father’s voice pulled me back into reality.

"Me?" I asked, pointing to myself and straightening in my seat. Donning a blacked-out suit, I crossed my leg over my thigh, letting my ankles show a little. I was only twenty-five, so I needed to have some semblance of youth in my appearance.

"Yes, son." I nodded as Romeo stood, giving me a firm handshake and my father a wave before he exited, locking the door behind him.

"What’s up?" I asked, sensing something with my dad was off. He was shifting too much in his seat and his eyes kept darting around the room.

Ever since my grandfather's passing, word that our family was fractured and being run by a non-blood relative had been passing through the families. It was making for some anxious times. Rumor had it, our enemies, the Irish mob, were strengthening their forces to get back at us.

"It’s time," my father stated. I racked my brain trying to think of what he could be talking about, but I was coming up with a blank.

"Time for what?"

"I need to get you married, son." Uncrossing my legs, I leaned forward so my elbows were resting on my thighs, contemplating reaching across the small wooden desk and slapping my father for joking like that. Instead, I cocked my head and narrowed my gaze on him.

"Why?" Inside, I was fuming. I knew the answer. Every marriage in the Mafia was a business transaction.

"Because I was talking to Carlo and Romeo before our meeting?—"

"Without me?" A bitter lilt to my tone shone through my otherwise cool exterior.

"It was amongst the elders." He glared at me.

"Well, go on. Get at it, Father."

"You need to get married to help repair the family. I know I ask you to sacrifice a lot, but I need you to do this for us."

Not that I was opposed to marrying someone for business, it was common in our world to use marriage to ease political tension between families, but I wasn’t expecting it right now.

"Who am I to marry?" I asked, leaning back in the chair and taking a deep breath in.

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