Page 12 of Not Mine to Keep

“Why?”

I squeezed my eyes closed, memories from a past operation rushing to mind, and my stomach turned. “Because this might be our first shot to get the man we’ve wanted to take down for four years.”

I let that sink in. Gave Hudson the gift of time to process it all.

“The savage who ...” He cleared his throat, emotion cutting him up, and I felt it through the phone. “The man who tortured Constantine ... is the man Armani wants to marry his daughter?”

“Yes,” I hissed, my blood boiling at the very thought of Rocco Barone ever setting a hand on Calliope. The same man who’d nearly killed my brother had Gabriel not saved his life; hence the favor now. But this favor offered me a chance at revenge, so in a sense, I might owe him yet again.

“Rocco has been off the grid and is heavily protected. Plus, there’s that truce your father made with his dad ... But if this is our chance to finally take him out, count me the fuck in. I’ll play the long game right along with you if I must. Just tell me what you need,” Hudson said with conviction, “and you’ve got it.”

“We protect Calliope from these assholes and get justice for what Rocco did to Constantine, one way or another.” I opened my eyes. “But before we let everyone else know about this, let me first—”

“Convince Calliope to either go into hiding or agree to marry you. But if she chooses to run, that eliminates our shot at getting Rocco, right?”

Yeah.But I couldn’t choose revenge over her life, even with how desperate I was to take out that animal, and Hudson knew that.

I thought back to the beautiful woman I’d met tonight, sensing the fire in her belly, right along with her stubbornness. She wasn’t going toplay ball so easily, and I’d have to find a way to make her see the light somehow. She wasn’t from my world, and she was never meant to be. But now that she was being dragged into it because of the blood that ran through her veins, it was up to me to save her from the darkness before it swallowed her whole, like it had me.

“And you’re right, Constantine can’t know about this right away. He won’t let you do this for him. And he’d never be able to share a room with Rocco, if it came down to that, without snapping,” Hudson added when I’d yet to speak, because I was still trying to wrap my head around the possible idea of marriage, even if temporary. My mother would kill me for getting a divorce, but ... “You sure you want to marry her, though? This is you we’re talking about. What if you wind up falling in love with your wife?”

“Me? Fall in love?” I fake-laughed, but honestly, there were only three women I’d ever loved in my life: Izzy, Bianca (now from the beyond), and my mother. I had no plans to fall for Calliope, and I sure as hell wasn’t giving Armani an heir. “I just have a feeling Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey is going to be a major pain in my ass, regardless of what choice she makes.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Calliope

“Stupid garage door.” I needed to figure out how to get some extra money to fix the darn thing. I attempted to punch in the code one more time since the opener in my Jeep didn’t do the trick and sighed when it refused to budge. I was tired, hungry, and desperate to get free of my heels, but I almost laughed at the absurdity of my situation. With my luck, I’d also wake up my next-door neighbor, and Lord knew I didn’t need a midnight lecture on getting home late or noise ordinances.

Giving up on the garage, I rounded my townhouse and went for the front door, doing my best not to catch my heels in the cracks of the sidewalk.

I waved my hand in front of the door, waiting for the motion lights to kick on so I could see. Of course they didn’t work.Another thing to be fixed.Cursing, I finally managed to get the key in the lock.

Once inside, I kicked off my heels, knowing I had a good fifteen seconds to type in the security code before it went off and Mr. Crabby would be awakened by the blaring sound.

“Oof. Thank God.” I moaned in relief, then searched for the lit-up keypad by the door. I was about to punch in the code when I realized ... shit, it wasn’t on. Did I forget to set the alarm before I left?That’s not like me.A shiver rolled over my skin and spread into my arms at the realization that—

“Don’t panic.” A deep, gravelly voice had me tensing, and my fingers curled inward on instinct. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

That voice ...The lights flicked on, and I turned to see Alessandro Costa sitting in the armchair across the room, retracting his hand from the lamp at his side. He had one ankle casually crossed over his knee, and he was steadily eyeing me likeIwas the threat.

I looked to the left, calculating how long it’d take me to get to my handgun safe. He was taller. Probably faster. He’d get to me before I had a chance, but I had to try.

“Don’t bother,” he said, his tone so smooth it somehow rolled over my skin, heating me in places that it shouldn’t have, because like hell was I allowed to have any type of positive reaction to an intruder in my home. “Your gun isn’t there. Or the one up in your bedroom.”

You went through my house?My back went to the wall by the door, my hands remaining in tight fists, wound and ready to go. “You couldn’t possibly have opened the lockboxes.”

“I didn’t need to. Just moved them.” He lowered his other foot to the floor, then gripped the chair’s arms. “I also removed the bat by the door in your garage. Assuming that’s a weapon since I didn’t spot a baseball in there.” He tipped his head a touch, gray eyes sharp on me. “And I hid all the knives in your kitchen. I don’t want you accidentally hurting yourself if you attempt to try and hurt me.”

Attempt, huh?I looked around the living room again, trying to figure out the best plan. Scream? Let one of my father’s shadows come to my rescue? But also, why wasn’t my heart thundering in my chest? My pulse in my ears? Goose bumps on my skin? Why wasn’t I deathly afraid of this man inside my home?What’s wrong with me?

“I honestly wasn’t expecting you to have firearms. Your concealed carry permit was issued back when you used to need one here, which means you bought your Glocks before you learned you’re the daughter of Armani DiMaggio. Why?”

Now that name set me off. Fire through my veins. Anger. Not fear. “Why are you here?” I bit out, not giving him the satisfaction of being terrified of him, if that was what he wanted.

“I told you we needed to talk,” he shared, his tone almost businesslike.

“So thatmandid send you?” But it made no sense. “Based on what I know about you, you don’t seem like the typical candidate he’d pick out, aside from being rich and Sicilian.”

---