Page 5 of Tower of Temptations

Vincenzo scratched at his stubbled chin, compact frame hiding how quick he could be with a blade. "Been watching their routine for weeks. Guards change at two. That's our window."

"Pattern changed last night," Nico cut in. "Or weren't you watching?"

I caught Vincenzo's hand moving before he did. These men were powder kegs waiting for a spark, but that's exactly what I needed tomorrow.

Luca sat back, watching it all with that unnerving calm of his. Tall and lean, dark hair pulled back neat despite the heavy stubble on his jaw. The kind of quiet that made people nervous. Our fire starter.

Then there was Enzo, immaculate in his designer suit and perfectly trimmed beard, checking his phone like he was reading drink orders instead of infiltration plans. The club owner who'd built his empire right under Salvatore's nose. His helicopter connection might save our asses if things went sideways, but it was those calculating gray eyes that made him worth the risk.

A pounding at the door shattered our focus. Some kid burst in, babbling about police activity next door. His eyes went wide when he realized what room he'd walked into.

I grabbed his collar. "Get out," I growled, shoving him toward the door. "And if you ever interrupt again, you'll wish the police found you first."

I turned back to my men, ice settling in my veins where fire had been. The weight of tomorrow pressed against my chest like a blade.

One shot at this. One chance to prove myself more than just a second son.

"We're done here. Tomorrow, Pearl Salvatore becomes our guest, and her stepfather learns what crossing a Barbieri means."

As my men filed out, I lingered, heat coursing through my veins as thoughts of Pearl consumed me. All that golden hair and bedroom eyes, with lips made for sin and a body that could bring men to their knees. But it was the defiance in her gaze that truly set my blood on fire. The kind of fire I intended to either tame or fuel, depending on how she played her cards.

The approaching sirens barely registered as I slid into my car, mind racing with possibilities. Some might call it an obsession. But in our world, obsession was just another word for ambition.

I caressed my father's ring, feeling its weight. By this time tomorrow, Pearl Salvatore would be mine. Her stepfather's empire would crumble, and my father would finally see me as worthy of the Barbieri name.

In this life, there are those who take what they want and those who watch from the shadows. I've spent enough time in my father's shadow.

Tomorrow, I step into the light. And I'm taking Pearl Salvatore with me.

3

ANGELO

Watching Pearl Salvatore through my scope felt like a sin.

The spearmint gum in my mouth had lost its taste hours ago, but I kept working it between my teeth as I tracked her movements through the penthouse windows. Her waist-length blonde hair caught the sunlight as she paced, making her look almost ethereal—like something too pure to touch.

"If you stare any harder, you might burn a hole through her," Rocco muttered from his position beside me. My twin kept his position by the window, thermal scope giving him a clear view of the lobby below. From our spot in the empty office suite across the street, we had eyes on every entry point.

"Just doing my job," I replied, watching Pearl pause at her window. She pressed her hand against the glass, and something in that gesture—so lonely, so trapped—made my chest tight.

"Right." Rocco shifted, the massive snake tattoo on his bicep rippling under his shirt. "And I'm Mother Teresa."

I bit back a retort, focusing instead on Pearl's movements. She had the kind of grace you couldn't fake—all long legs and subtle curves that made my mouth go dry. But it was the sadness in her eyes that really got to me. I recognized that look. I'd seen it in the mirror every day since Dad died.

"The maid's on schedule," I said, desperate to change the subject. "Security rotation in fifteen."

"About fucking time." Rocco checked his watch. "Getting tired of watching you pretend not to drool over Salvatore's stepdaughter."

I stuck my old gum under the windowsill with more force than necessary. "This isn't about her. It's about making her stepfather pay."

"Keep telling yourself that, brother." Rocco's voice held an edge I knew too well—the same edge it got whenever we talked about Dad's murder. "Just remember why we're here."

As if I could forget. The weight of Dad's death had been crushing me for years, along with the knowledge that I should have been there that night. Instead, I'd let myself get distracted, and Salvatore's men had taken advantage of my absence.

Costa's cousin had the flight path cleared and the chopper on standby. One more piece falling into place. Everything was proceeding according to Giuliano's plan, but something felt off.

"Time," Rocco announced, checking his suppressed Sig. I took one last look through the scope, catching Pearl in an unguarded moment. She was hugging herself, head bowed, looking nothing like the polished doll her stepfather paraded around in photographs.

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