Page 46 of His Ruthless Claim

"I need to tell you something." I set down my fork. "It's about my cousin. Maria."

Her expression shifts, intuitive as always. "The one trapped with the Cappallettis?" I'm sure she heard about what happened with Jazz, after all. I'm not shocked she knows about Maria.

"Yes." My fingers twitch toward my watch, but I catch myself. Instead, I focus on her - the way her black hair falls in waves over her shoulder, how she leans forward with genuine interest. "I'm getting her out. Soon."

"Is that what today's meeting was about?" When I raise an eyebrow, she shrugs. "Mickey mentioned you were busy when I asked why you hadn't come by."

"Yes. I was meeting with the fixer who has been charged with holding her. Enzo." I study her reaction. "He's agreed to help, and it could get messy."

"The Cappalletti fixer?" She whistles low. "That's going to piss some people off."

"That's the point."

"I could help." She sets down her wine glass. "The boutique gets all kinds of visitors. People talk, especially around someone they think is harmless."

"No." The word comes out sharper than intended.

"I'm already there anyway." Her chin lifts in that defiant way that makes me want to kiss her and shake her at the same time. "Might as well make it useful."

I notice my hand hasn't moved toward my watch once during this conversation. Usually discussing operations sets off that need for grounding, for control. But with her...

"You're not harmless," I say finally. "And you're not getting involved."

"Too late." That teasing smile appears, the one that makes my blood heat. "I'm already involved with you, aren't I?"

She's right, of course. She's been involved since the moment I saw her. Since she looked at me without fear and called me on my shit.

"Fine." I lean forward. "But you tell me everything you hear. Immediately."

"Of course." She takes another sip of wine, those amber eyes dancing. "I always do."

It's an odd feeling, to have someone to rely on. And while I don't want her in danger…

I like it.

22

SKYE

Istudy Luca across the breakfast table, noting the rigid set of his broad shoulders beneath his crisp white dress shirt. His jaw tightens as he scrolls through his phone, those ice-blue eyes focused with lethal intensity. The Maria situation weighs on him, though most wouldn't notice the minute tells in his controlled demeanor.

"You'll get her soon." I take a sip of coffee, keeping my voice steady. "I have no doubt that your plan will work flawlessly."

His gaze flicks to mine, empty yet somehow burning. "I know."

The drive to the boutique is quiet, Luca's knuckles white on the steering wheel. His two men trail us in a black SUV, my shadows for the day.

The boutique fills quickly with the usual parade of mafia wives and girlfriends, all dripping in designer labels and whispered secrets. I float between them, carefully casual as I adjust hemlines and suggest accessories.

"You know, I hear that everything has been stirred up since the young Don took over. People are jumpy." Mrs. Catalano askswhile trying on a silk blouse. "Tommy's been in meetings all week about it."

I hum noncommittally, pinning the sleeve. "The cut suits you perfectly. Though perhaps in the navy..."

The conversations flow like wine at Sunday dinner. I catch fragments about warehouse deals, whispers of territory disputes, careful mentions of names and places. Each detail I file away, building a mental map of Chicago's underground pulse. Before, I tried not to listen too much so I wouldn't get in trouble. Now…I'm an informant.

When Luca picks me up that evening, I wait until we're alone in his bedroom to share what I've learned. "The Rossis are moving product through the old meat packing district. There's talk about a new operation starting next week."

His eyes sharpen. In one fluid motion, he crosses the space between us, fingers threading through my hair as he pulls me against him. His kiss is brutal, possessive, tasting of mint and danger. My toes curl against the hardwood floor as heat floods my system.

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