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  Stefano’s brows go up. “Giancarlo and his son, GTR? You’ve never heard of them?”

  I shake my head, playing dumb.

  His shocked expression tells me I’m doing a bang-up job. “It’s probably good you haven’t, especially GTR. But if you ever see him coming, you cross the street.”

  I open my mouth, planning to ask follow-up questions, but before I can gather my thoughts, Grice opens the door and four more men file in, led by Dominic Casso himself.

  A whirlpool of unease threatens to sweep me under as I track his movements. Cannon meets his father in the middle of the club and speaks loudly enough for me to overhear from the bar.

  “They’re here.”

  Dom’s bodyguards, the same ones from the sidewalk, stop behind him as he speaks to the son he’s never publicly acknowledged, according to the insight I gleaned from Randi and my own research.

  “Of course they are. You think I’d show up before them?” Dom shoves a hand in his suit pants and jangles some change.

  “I’m surprised they showed at all.”

  “Even Giancarlo Rossetti wouldn’t dare snub me by refusing an invite to meet.”

  But why are they meeting now? I desperately want to know the answer to that question, but of course, Dom doesn’t cover that topic. He’d probably need to be in a room swept for bugs and barricaded with steel doors and an escape route from the Feds before spilling secrets like that.

  Stefano clinks two glasses together as he replaces the spotless one on the rack, and Dom, his bodyguards, and Cannon all look our way.

  A flash of recognition sweeps across Dom’s face as he sees me standing at the bar.

  “Drew.” His tone softens when he says my name, carrying none of the harshness he used when speaking to his son. “What are the odds? You still laughing, pretty girl?”

  Cannon’s attention cuts between me and his father as a wave of fire washes up my face.

  I have to be bright red. Not wanting to disobey Cannon’s orders of don’t speak, I paste a bright smile on my face that is as fake as my name. I just hope nobody else can tell how edgy Dom’s presence makes me.

  Thankfully, Dom doesn’t need an answer from me, and he looks to his son. “You didn’t tell me you hired a new waitress.”

  Cannon’s posture turns rigid. “Unless you have an issue with how I run this club, you don’t need to know the details. We should go. They’re waiting.” He takes a step toward the conclave, but Dom doesn’t move.

  “They can wait. I want to know how Drew is doing.” Dom glances at Cannon. “Did you know she and I met the other day?” The older man’s steel-colored eyebrow rises as he smiles and walks toward me. “I wondered how I’d find you again, and here you are. Just as pretty as ever.”

  My spine couldn’t be any straighter if someone had strapped titanium rods to my back. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, because Dom’s interest is apparent for all to see.

  Now this is awkward as hell. I came with the plan to possibly seduce the son, not get hit on by the father. Even though I know, realistically, getting close to Dominic Casso could get me my answers quicker, I can’t do it.

  My lungs burn, and I realize I’ve forgotten to breathe. I quickly suck in oxygen as unobtrusively as possible and try to think of something to say that isn’t going to piss Cannon off more than the hard lines of his jaw indicate he already is.

  “We haven’t been properly introduced.” He holds out a hand with heavy gold rings on three fingers. “Dominic Casso.”

  My teeth clamp down on the inside of my mouth, and I’m terrified of what’s going to come out of it next if I don’t get my shit together.

  Stay cool. Act cool. Be cool.

  After repeating my mantra and gathering myself, I slide my hand into his. “Drew Carson.”

  “Carson. I don’t know any Carsons . . . anymore.”

  Oh good Lord, does that mean the Carsons he knew are all dead?

  “Well, you do now,” I manage to say in a cool, collected tone.

  “It’s a pleasure.” His gaze sweeps down the front of my uniform shirt and tie. “But you aren’t meant to wear a tie, sweetheart. Dresses. Red ones. That’s what you need.”

  “She’s a waitress. They don’t wear red dresses, sir. Besides, the Rossettis are waiting, and we should go.”

  Cannon speaks from behind Dom. I can practically hear him grinding his teeth through the entire exchange because I’m wasting their time when they should be meeting with their rivals right now.

  But Dom doesn’t seem to care about being late, and he doesn’t spare a glance at his son. No, his complete attention is firmly fixed on me, and so intently that I feel like he’s memorizing every plane and angle of my face as he tilts his head. Through it all, he keeps his unrelenting grip on my hand.

  “When I get done here, Drew, you and I are going to get to know each other a little better.”

  Someone might as well have dumped a bucket of ice water down the back of my shirt, because it takes everything in me not to tremble at his statement.

  Fuck. Me. This. Is. Bad.

  “I need a Pappy Van Winkle and a Macallan neat,” Tanya says, breaking the silent spell holding me captive.

  Thankfully, Dom’s gaze swings over to her and he releases my hand. “Tanya. You’re looking good. You keeping your sister in line?”

  As soon as I’m free, I shrink back two nearly imperceptible steps, and for a reason I will never understand, I glance at Cannon. His darkened gaze drills into me.

  Fuck. Now he looks like he wants to kill me. What was I supposed to do? No one trained me for the situation where I’d have to fend off advances from a mob boss.

  “Drew, take your break in the kitchen. You need to eat.”

  At midnight? He’s trying to feed me again at midnight?

  Dom’s chest bounces and falls with laughter, and I have a feeling it has nothing to do with whatever Tanya is saying right now. He knows his son wants to keep me clear of him, and I’m praying to whoever will listen that it won’t make Dom even more persistent. Because he’s a man, and they always want what they can’t have.

  “Yes, sir.” I slip away from the bar and make a beeline to the kitchen, kicking myself for calling him sir again. Then again, that’s the least of my problems right now as three sets of eyes follow me until I disappear behind the swinging wooden doors.

  Hell. What do I do now?

  11

  Cannon

  I can barely concentrate on the meeting, because I’m fucking seething. I know what it looks like when Dom’s picking out a new mistress, and he’s giving every indication that Drew is the next woman to fill that role.

  Who knows what the fuck happened to Elisha, the last piece of arm candy he paraded around. Actually, nothing has probably happened to her—yet. If Dom thinks he has Drew on the line, he’ll send Elisha packing to Europe with access to a bank account that’ll last her the rest of her life, so long as she never sets foot in New York again.

  But he’s not fucking doing that with Drew. Not a goddamned chance in hell. It doesn’t matter that I’m not ready to dive into the reasons behind my rage over the idea yet either.

  This isn’t the first time Dom has taken an interest in a woman who he shouldn’t even be looking at—namely, my mother. However, I’ve also never successfully stopped him from doing anything he wanted. It would be like delivering an order to Genghis Khan and expecting to walk away with your head still attached to your body. It’s not something anyone is willing to try. Not since he shot Gianni Rossetti in the head at point-blank range twenty-five years ago.

  Regardless, I’m not going to stand aside and watch while he chews up and spits out a woman who can’t even begin to handle him.

  Or maybe she could.

  There’s something about Drew that keeps me staring at her for longer than I should, and it’s not her fantastic, curvy ass or her high, perky tits, or that long blond hair.

  Actually, maybe it is the hair. Blond isn’t her color, no matter how hot as fuck she looks with it curling down her back. She should have dark hair. Brunette or black. She’d be like a sleek black cat, and there’s nothing I’d like to do more than make her purr.

  Jesus. Where the fuck did that come from? I’m as bad as the old man, letting my dick get hard thinking about an employee. And even worse, I’m lying if I say it’s the first time it’s happened.

  “We don’t think you’ll honor a truce,” Giancarlo Tyrol Rossetti Sr. says, and my attention snaps back to the meeting happening in front of me.

  “Don’t you fucking question—” Lorenzo Angelini, Dom’s new fucking idiot second in command says. But when Dom raises a hand, Enzo shuts the hell up like a good little dog as a tense silence hangs over everyone while Dom digests the senior Rossetti’s insult.

  I’m not technically supposed to be in this room. I’m the only member of the Casso clan who has a clean record and doesn’t get jacked with regularly by cops who are willing to test Dom’s temper. But since the meeting is happening at my club, which is a completely legitimate business, I’m listening from a place of honor—at Dom’s side.

  It’s no secret that he wants me to fight for the right to take his position as head of the family someday. He’d like nothing more than to pit me against Enzo, a thug who has no problem smashing knees and enforcing debts, but can also pull off a half-decent impression of being slick and civilized when he wants to.

  But if I’m being honest, Enzo’s a hell of a lot more like Dom than I’ll ever be.

  “You don’t think I’ll honor the truce, Rossetti? You had a hand in fucking up the spa where my goddamned daughter went to work every day. Do you remember that bloodbath? I almost lost my girl over that.”

  Rossetti pales under his ruddy complexion.

  I stay silent and still, shocked that Dom actually claimed Eden as his daughter, my half sister, out loud. Now that she’s married to a tattoo artist in New Orleans and far away from the city, he has to assume she’s safe and out of Rossetti’s reach.

  “We didn’t know. Thought she was just another bitch running numbers for you.”

  Dom shoots to his feet. “She’s my fucking flesh and blood. Do you know what I do to people who touch my flesh and blood? No, you fucking don’t, because they’re never fucking found again.”

  I know who he’s talking about now, Creighton Karas’s uncle. I’ve known Creighton was my half brother since childhood, but he hasn’t known about our connection for nearly as long. Which is why Creighton still won’t speak to me.

  It’s a long story, but suffice it to say that he was my best friend for decades. I ran his businesses, all legit, for years. Until he found out where my loyalty lay—with Dom.

  If I could go back and change it, I’d be hard-pressed to follow Dom’s orders. I didn’t realize how fucking much I’d miss being able to call my best friend and ask for advice. Not that I could ever talk to him about anything like this. He had no clue that I was planted in his boarding school to become his friend and keep tabs on him for our father. None. Until I leaked the wrong piece of information to Dom and there was no other person to take the fall. Then it all came out and I was banished from the Karas kingdom, and I slunk back to the gutter, a failure.

  Dom hasn’t let me live that down yet either. He still thinks that dangling the carrot of leadership of the family will make me do tricks for him, but I don’t even know if I want it.

  One thing is for certain, though—Enzo can’t have it. The streets would run red with the blood of innocents, because he’s a fucking psychopath.

  Giancarlo leans back in his chair, puffing on his three-thousand-dollar cigar that the club won’t be paid for. “You have my sincere apologies for my mistake, Casso. We’ll accept the truce. But if something goes down and your fingerprints are on it, we will burn your family to the ground.”

  Beside him, GTR, his son, smirks. At least, he smirks until Dom rises and presses both palms on the table to stare them both down.

  “Save your threats, Rossetti. If I find out that you’re fucking us over, every last one of you will be dead. We understand each other?”

  Giancarlo presses down on the arms of his chair to rise. He stares Dom down, eye to eye, as GTR shoves his chair back.

  “We understand each other, Casso.”

  “Good. Then we have a deal.” Dom extends his arm and the two men shake hands, sealing the first truce between the families in a quarter of a century.

  Dom speaks to me without breaking eye contact with the man across the table from him. “Cannon, get a box of those cigars Giancarlo likes. As a gesture of goodwill.”

  Goddamned motherfucker. Now I’ll have to take over a $30,000 loss on this month’s balance sheet, all because Rossetti likes Arturo Fuente Opus Xs and Dom wants to be generous.

  I button my suit jacket as I stand. “Of course. I’ll meet you at the door with them.”

  When I slip out of the conclave, Tanya comes toward me.

  “Can I help with anything, Boss? More drinks? Cigars?”

  “No. Meeting’s over.” Which reminds me that I didn’t bring up in the meeting that Donny had recently shown up here. But with the truce . . . it means he can’t step out of line now.

  My gaze zeroes in on Drew where she hovers near the bar, as if clinging to Stefano’s presence like a life preserver. Smart girl. I only have a second to make a decision, and I know what I need to do.

  “Take Drew to the employee break room and show her out through the back entrance. Get her a car home. No one sees her,” I say, never breaking eye contact with Drew.

  My new waitress blinks twice and her brown eyes widen. At ten feet away, she can hear me plain as day. I swear I catch a glimpse of color that’s not brown, but I’m too fucking riled up to know if I’m right or not.

  “What?” Drew asks as Tanya goes rigid.

  “You heard me. Go. Now.”

  Tanya wastes no time rushing over to Drew, grabbing her by the arm, and hurrying her out of the main room just before the conclave door opens. Dom comes out and immediately scans the club, looking for Drew just like I knew he would.

  I stride to the glass-enclosed room where the inventory is kept and unlock the door. As soon as I’ve retrieved the box of cigars, I turn around to leave with them in hand, and Dom meets me at the door.

  “Where is she?”

  “Who?” My question is total bullshit, and we both know it.

  “I want to see you in my office. Tomorrow. Noon. We have things to discuss. Be discreet.” My father shoves his hands in his suit pants pockets and jangles the two coins he always carries. A reminder of how far he has risen since the days when he didn’t have two nickels to rub together.

  “I know the drill,” I tell him from between clenched teeth.

  “Good.” He glances at the box of cigars in my hand. “Bring me a box of those too.”

  Fucking asshole. He doesn’t even like this brand, but he wants to make it harder for me to have the club show a profit. It keeps me under his thumb.

  Welcome to the world of being an illegitimate Casso. It’s a fucking blast.

  12

  Drew

  Tanya’s grip on my upper arm is tight enough to leave bruises as she drags me into the break room and presses a wooden panel that swings in to reveal another hidden door.

  “What’s going on?” I jerk out of her hold and spin around to face her.

  “Grab your purse and don’t ask any more stupid fucking questions.”

  I fumble for the key to my locker, yank out my purse and folded clothes, and follow her through the secret exit. As soon as the panel slides back into place, lights glow just brightly enough for me to see the gray industrial carpet beneath my feet.

  “This bolt-hole leads to Cannon’s private elevator, which is hidden from pretty much everyone.” She flashes a key. “Only trusted employees can access it, and we only use it when he tells us to, or if some really bad shit goes down. Like right now. Come on.”

  She leads me to a set of stainless-steel doors and inserts the key to engage the elevator call button. As soon as the light is on, indicating the car is moving our way, she pulls out her phone and taps in a message. When she’s finished, we slip inside and she punches G, I assume for garage.

  “I don’t know what the fuck you did, but I knew you wouldn’t last long in this job. I just didn’t realize how right I’d be.”

  “I didn’t do anything besides the things you trained me to do,” I tell her, crossing my arms.

  Her blue eyes slice through me. “Bullshit. Because I wouldn’t be hustling you out to a car with an armed driver at one in the morning if everything was fine.”

  I think of what Dominic Casso said. “Is it because . . . because of Dom?”

  If I thought Tanya’s gaze was cold before, now it’s ice. “Don’t talk about him. Don’t even say his name.” Her reaction is so much like Randi’s that chill bumps prickle all over my skin.

  “What am I supposed to do then?”

  “Serve drinks and try to be invisible, if that’s even a possibility now. Cannon’s the only one who can clean up the mess you’ve made, and even then, it’s dicey. Once he sees something he wants, there’s pretty much nothing that can stop him from getting it.”

  She checks her phone again before shaking her head.

  There’s no question he is the one we’re not supposed to talk about.

  “I’m not interested in old men. Isn’t it that easy?” I’m partly being honest and partly playing a role that says I don’t know who Dominic Casso is and how dangerous he can be.

  “You’re a fucking idiot.” Tanya shakes her head, making her light brown hair spill around her shoulders. “I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be this dumb.”

  The elevator stops, and she tenses as the doors open. The garage is empty, but for the scent of exhaust, oil, and rubber.

  “He should be here any minute. Probably got caught at a light,” she says as she glances from side to side.

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