Page 42 of The Contract

I’m a Mullvain, so fat fucking chance of that.

The truth burns straight through me, rising like bile until the tears I’ve fought to hold back spill over, messy and unstoppable.

“You married him,” I choke out, voice shaking with disbelief.

Kennedy blinks, bewildered, and quickly steps toward me, her gentle hands gripping my arms. “Yes, Riley. I married him. You were there.” Her eyes narrow slightly, worry threading into confusion. “Shouldn’t you be in Ita?—”

“He killed Da!”

The words tear free like ragged shards of glass, a silent grenade shattering everything between us.

Kennedy’s knees nearly buckle. All the color drains from her face. It’s at that point I realize it.

She didn’t know.

She staggers backward, breath hitching sharply. “Who did?”

His name barely makes it past my lips. “Enzo.”

“Yes.” The lethal, familiar voice splits the moment like a paper cut—so soft, the pain takes a heartbeat to register.

We both whip our heads toward him.

Enzo strides closer, a dark storm wrapped in Brioni and tight, unrelenting control. Two golden eyes pin me in place, his voice unnervingly calm. “What’s wrong?”

Just the sight of him sends tremors ripping through my body until I—I can barely breathe.

Kennedy’s hand slips from mine, and raw fear claws its way up, gripping every nerve.

Fight or flight, Riley?

Fight! my Scottish blood snarls back.

But if I confront him—attack him—what happens to Kennedy?

His wife.

If a worthless scumbag like our stepfather could make life fucking unbearable without consequences, what fresh hell can Enzo dish out? He’s rich. Powerful. Untouchable.

My heart tears down the middle. One side demanding justice. The other strangling on pure fear.

No, I can’t lash out. Not while my sister’s wings are crushed beneath a D’Angelo thumb.

I swallow hard, forcing the knot of fury down just enough to shove past him and bolt for the door.

Behind me, Enzo’s voice rings out, cold, unbothered. “Let her go. My men will catch up to her.”

The hell they will.

I barely make it ten feet before strong fingers clamp around my arm, stopping me cold.

Dante.

“What’s going on?” he demands.

“Fuck off!” I jerk my arm, desperate to break free of the man’s grizzly bear grip. “Let go or I’ll scream.”

“Be my guest. Half a dozen D’Angelo guards will swarm in and you’ll still be locked in my hold.”

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