Page 45 of Devil's Iris
The first page is filled with basic information I already know—Leni’s age, her academic qualifications, where she lives, etc. The next is her medical report, which I find… interesting.Why is she on birth control if she’s a virgin?
The next page covers her mother—a young housewife who spiraled after her husband went missing and was declared dead. The section on her brother is shorter than the rest. There isn’t much to know about him yet, and what there is, I already know.
Then I reach the last page, and my heart jerks.
John Barlowe.
Somehow, that name sounds familiar. And as I read through his profile, I realize why.
When my brothers and I just started taking over the city and I began making Brooklyn mine, there was a small gang already established here. The Verona Outfit. They didn’t like my presence—they could see their future extinction because of me and tried to stop me by sending someone to infiltrate us.John Barlowe.
I liked the older man almost as soon as he joined my ranks. He was smart, quick on his feet, and his history working in the police department gave us a huge advantage over the cops—at least until I started making connections with the corrupt eggs in the department myself.
But he was a mole. A spy for Mikkel Verona and his crime ring.
It took me longer than I care to admit to figure it out—he was that good at playing both sides. He fed us information about the Veronas that he claimed to have gotten during his time on the force, while simultaneously feeding them everything he learned about our operations.
He had to be punished for that betrayal. So I sent Sandro to deliver the usual punishment we reserve for traitors.Death.
He was Leni’s father?
Fuck.
For a brief, insane moment, I consider calling the whole thing off. I could let go of the debt I’ve repaid on her behalf and just set her free. But I’m in deeper than I realized, because the thought barely forms before I crush it.
What Leni doesn’t know can’t hurt her.
I don’t bother examining why the thought of letting her go makes my chest tighten with something that feels dangerously close to panic.
17
LENI
I roll to my side the moment I wake up, stretching my hand across the bed. It’s cold. Empty.He never came in here to sleep. Or if he did, he left early. But I know the former is the truth.
This is his bedroom. Where did he sleep if not here? A guest bedroom?
I flop onto my back with a frustrated sigh, staring up at the white ceiling. I shouldn’t have snapped at him last night when he dodged my question. It’s not like I don’t know by now that getting personal details out of him is like squeezing water from a stone.
If I really want to know my brand-new fiancé, I either need to hire a PI to do a background check on him—just like I know he did with me—or be strategic about how I word my questions.
You don’t bulldoze a wounded cat—you coax it out slowly.
The thought makes me chuckle. Romero as a wounded cat? Please. Maybe a wounded lion. He might have his sweet moments, but he’s prickly as hell, as evidenced by his cutting words last night.
You should know by now that life isn’t fair, uccellino.
Trust me, I know it all too well…
But I’m not going to be mad at him anymore. The decision settles into my bones as I climb out of bed.
He got Ethan into NYU!
The excitement from last night comes rushing back as I reach for my phone from the nightstand to text my brother. But there’s already a message waiting for me.
ETHAN
When can I meet your fiancé, Leni? I need to make sure he’s right for you.
