Page 59 of Of Desire And Deception

“Agent Black?”

“I asked you to identify yourself,” I insisted, clutching my keys between my fingers as a makeshift weapon.

“I’m Agent Thomas,” he supplied. “Just doing a final walk-through before signing off on the clean-up.”

“The clean-up,” I repeated, though I’d heard him just fine.

“The operation is over, so the Bureau is vacating the building,” he said slowly, like I was stupid. “Is there something you left behind?”

“No.” I shook my head and left him standing there, taking one last long look at the building I’d called home for three months. It was a bittersweet farewell because I couldn’t say I’d miss the shitty heat and the shower that ran hot and cold. But I’d never forget Cosimo moving on top of me in that bed, how he’d changed everything with that one night together.

I waited for the next bus and stopped by the store nearest my apartment for a cheap bottle of wine—the only one I could afford with the cash in my purse—before heading across town. When I fished the spare key out of the hall light and entered my old place, it didn’t feel like home. Everything was exactly as I’d left it, and it smelled of chemicals like it had been cleaned recently. Only, it was the wrong cleaner. It didn’t smell like Cosimo.

My bottle opener was still in its spot in the drawer, and I popped the cork on the wine, taking a long swig straight from the bottle. The bitter taste made my nose wrinkle, and I coughed, wiping my lips. It didn’t take long to do a once-through of my apartment, finally standing in my bathroom. The reflection staring back at me in the mirror was different than the Remi I’d been when I first begged for the assignment.

Three months had changed more than I realized. I should have been pissed that I would never get the opportunity to put Cosimo Neretti behind bars. Instead, there was a hollow feeling in my chest at the thought of never seeing him again. That emptiness grew until I finished the wine and fell into bed, my covers cool, crisp, and clean but lacking the familiar smell of leather.

I pressed my hand to my chest, wondering how something that wasn’t there could be so painful. The tears fell then, hot and bitter.

I’d fallen in love with the mafia enforcer.

Chapter Nineteen

“Get your ass to the house, now,” Dante growled down the line when I answered his call. “They found her.”

He hung up without waiting for a reply, and I ripped the thick rubber gloves from my hands and put my cleaning supplies away. I looked down at my grey joggers and sweat-dampened t-shirt, knowing I needed to change before seeing my brother. While he didn’t require me to wear suits as often as our father had, he still expected me to look put together in public.

I chose my comfort outfit of all black and shoved my feet into my boots, then grabbed my jacket and practically ran out the door. I didn’t waste any time getting over to the home I’d grown up in. My tires squealed as I came to an abrupt stop in the circular drive, slamming the car into park and cutting the engine. A few deep breaths helped me center myself as one of Dante’s men greeted me and held the door open. He followed me to the office at the back of the house, where Dante stood staring out the window.

He turned when I entered. “Sit.”

I did as he commanded and managed to do it without rolling my eyes at his high-handedness. Stefano and Filippo appeared on either side of me, and I glanced at their tense stature. My eyes darted back to my brother. “What’s going on? You said you found Wynn.”

“Wynn Barret.” Dante spat the name with vitriol, his lips twisting as he reached for a plain manilla folder on his desk, sliding it across to me. I picked it up and flipped it open, seeing a photo of Wynn in a suit. Only her hair was dark, not blonde. “Or, as she’s known at the fucking FBI, Remington Black.”

“No,” I breathed, unable to process the truth printed in black and white on the paper in front of me.

“A fucking fed, Cosimo!” Dante’s voice boomed the terrible truth, and my fingers crumpled the report. “What the hell did you get yourself into?”

“There was no indication,” I said weakly, feeling like that scared little boy in the cellar all over again. “She was a bartender. I saw her place. Knew her past.”

“She was an undercover agent,” my brother continued, eyes filled with something between anger and concern. “And pretty damn talented if she pulled one over on you.”

I held his gaze, knowing it was necessary. “I swear, I didn’t know.”

“Of course, you didn’t fucking know,” he mumbled, the low tone belying his rage. “If you’d known, you would have eliminated the threat.”

“I don’t kill women.”

“And I’m not asking you to start now.” He leaned forward, fists pressed against his desk. “Our intel says the bureau scrapped the operation. You dodged a bullet and consecutive life sentences for murder. Your most recent guest? An agent on her team.”

“Shit.” It dawned on me then that when the agent had laughed and told me I was oblivious, he’d been referring to Wynn. Remington. “I didn’t tell her anything that would put the family at risk.”

“You were going to marry her,” Dante spat, running frantic hands through his hair. “She would have been in the family. Privy to everything going on. Fuck, Cosimo. This could have been bad.”

The ring I still carried in my pocket felt like a hot coal where it pressed against my thigh. I lowered my head, finding a small scuff on my black boot and resisting the urge to rub it away. “I’m sorry. I fucked up, Dante.”

“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “But you’re a part of this family. And we’ll stand by you. It could have been a lot worse.”

---