Page 111 of Vicious Addictions

Even if only to show me that losing what we had wasn’t in vain.

My cousins are the first to step off the aircraft, moving with the ease of men who don’t carry the weight of the past on their shoulders like I do.

I take a moment for myself before following them.

When I reach the door, my heart stops.

Three men stand on the tarmac—Jude is front and center.

I keep rooted to the spot, just to take him in at a safe distance.

He looks so different from the boy I once knew, and yet the same.

He looks bigger to me, somehow.

More hardened.

Sadder.

He runs his fingers through his cropped short hair, his body taut with tension, but it’s the way his hazel eyes burn into mine that is so achingly familiar to me. As if they’ve always had the power to see straight through me, uncovering everything I’ve tried to hide or keep buried.

For a brief moment, nothing else exists.

Not the city. Not my cousins. Not my engagement.

Not even the job I was sent here to do.

Just the pull—that all-consuming, relentless pull that always drew us together. The all-too-recognizable bond that still pulses between us. One that I thought time, distance, and betrayal had severed.

But it’s still here.

Throbbing.

Pulsing.

Desperate.

I hold my head up high for him to see that he didn’t break me.

That his lies and empty promises never made a dent in my heart.

My gaze only wavers when the man standing at his side takes a step forward, the realization that Jude isn’t in command hitting me like a freight train.

My cousins wait for me at the bottom of the stairs, their previous playfulness replaced with the hardened stillness ofmade men.Once I take the last step, I move toward the welcoming committee, my cousins falling into step behind me.

“Miss Crane,” the man says with an air of authority, extending his hand to me. “Welcome to Chicago. Giovanni DeLuca, at your service. I wish we could’ve met under different circumstances, but I’m glad to finally put a face to the name. Your father speaks very highly of you.”

“Mr. DeLuca.” I take his hand, shaking it firmly. “I’ve heard great things about you too,consigliere.”

I force myself not to look at Jude, though his presence burns at my periphery.

“I’m glad to hear that.” He offers me an easy-going smile. “May I introduce Dominic Mancini, the Outfit’s head enforcer,” Giovanni continues, motioning toward a broad-shouldered man who gives me a curt nod.

“Mr. Mancini.” I return the nod.

“And, of course, you’ve already met Jude.”

He doesn’t need to say more to get my heart racing.

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