My mafia husband brought his mistress to my birthday party, so I handed her my wedding ring and walked right into his worst enemy's car.

Morning arrived wrapped in grey fog rolling off the lake, but inside the penthouse, the cold couldn't penetrate.

I woke tangled in silk sheets, the heavy weight of Dante’s arm draped possessively over my waist. For the first time in four years, I hadn't woken up with an ache in my chest or the dread of Roman’s unpredictable moods.

Dante stirred, his dark eyes blinking open. When he saw me looking at him, a lazy, dangerous smile touched his lips, pulling me closer until my back was pressed against his warm chest.

“Morning, partner,” he murmured against my shoulder.

“Morning,” I replied, smiling despite myself.

The moment of peace was shattered by the harsh buzz of Dante’s encrypted satellite phone on the nightstand.

Dante answered it immediately, his voice instantly snapping from warm lover to lethal syndicate boss. “Speak.”

He listened for thirty seconds, his brow furrowing into deep, ominous ridges. His grip on my hip tightened reflexively.

“Where?” Dante demanded. “Keep the perimeter locked down. I’m on my way.”

He hung up and sat up in bed, sweeping the blankets aside.

“What happened?” I asked, sitting up, my stomach dropping.

“Roman snapped,” Dante said, throwing on his shirt with practiced speed. “He realized the shipping injunction was ironclad. Two hours ago, he raided your family’s old estate in Oak Brook.”

Cold panic flooded my veins. “My brother… Leo is still staying in the guest cottage!”

Leo was barely nineteen, an art student who had deliberately distanced himself from the family business after our parents died. Roman had promised he would be left alone, funded by a trust stipend.

“Roman took him,” Dante said, fastening his holster beneath his jacket. “He left a message with the estate caretaker. You come alone to the abandoned railway depot on 47th Street by noon, or Leo gets put on a barge to the bottom of Lake Michigan.”

“He’s using my brother as bait,” I gasped, throwing on a pair of dark jeans and a leather jacket. My hands were shaking again, but not from fear—from pure, unadulterated venom. “He knows I would die before letting anything happen to Leo.”

“You’re not going alone,” Dante said, turning to face me and grabbing my shoulders firmly. “Listen to me, Evelyn. That depot is a kill box. Roman wants to lure you in, eliminate you, and forge a transfer of the Moretti assets before the courts find out. If you go alone, you die, and Leo dies anyway.”

“Then what do we do?” I demanded, tears of rage burning behind my eyes.