“I’ll be in touch,” Fynn says as I shove through the door and back into the Arizona heat.
But I’m shaking like I’m freezing cold.
I nearly said yes. God, the money would’ve been so good—but as soon as he said it would involve me living in their villa, there was no way I could do it.
I know what would happen. Those men are monsters, beasts, brutes. They’ll lure me into their lair and tear me to pieces all for their own selfish gain. The second I walk into their world is the second I lose myself, all of myself, and I won’t do it.
My father broke my mother when he walked away from our family. That asshole ruined us, left us poor and alone, forced my mother to make sacrifices just to give me a halfway decent childhood. My mother never recovered from that, and I haven’t either.
I’ll never forgive my father and I’ll never get involved with men like him, not for any amount of money.
I’m not for sale.
I sit in my car, hands shaking.
I close my eyes and see Fynn’s face: so intense, so serious, so brooding. Pain lingered on the edge of his expression, and I can’t help but wonder what exactly his injuries are.
And how much he’s suffering.
It’s not my problem. I start the engine and back out of my spot. As I drive forward, I look in my rearview mirror—
And spot Fynn standing in the doorway leaning heavily on a large black cane, just staring at me as I drift away.
I release a strange, terrified moan as I drive as fast as I can. I think I’m in the clear when I walk up the steps of my apartment building and wreath myself in the comfort of home.
No gangsters. No mafioso. Just a quiet existence.
I made it through and now everything’s okay.
Except a day later, a knock at my door changes my life completely.
Chapter 2
Fynn
“Just forget about the girl,” Gavino says as he parks the car and kills the engine. It’s a hot day and as soon as the AC is gone, the sun beats down on the black Rover and the temperature begins to climb. I’m sweating in my damn suit already from the short walk down the front steps of Villa Bruno. “She said no and that’s the end of it. What the hell do you care, anyway? Her dad’s a good Capo but that’s all. We can find a dozen other PTs that’ll love to make some bank.”
I stare at the entrance to a rundown apartment building on the edge of Phoenix’s west side. It’s a brick structure with a slanted roof, pathetic little bushes, a couple palm trees, and not much else. It’s ramshackle and decrepit, a relic of older days.
And this is where that girl lives. All the education in the world, and she’s still in a place like this.
It makes my stomach twist protectively. This is a bad neighborhood. A girl like Mirella deserves somewhere better, something more.
Why do I care at all?
“We need someone connected, but on the outside,” I say, staring around the parking lot. There, in a spot toward the back. Her beige Camry. “Someone that understands our family but isn’t a part of our world. Can you think of anyone else with her skills that fits that description so perfectly?”
“No, but I’m sure we can find someone. She already turned you down. But now I’m starting to think this is about more than just getting your legs back.”
I glare at Gavino. Sometimes he’s too funny for his own good. “It’s not about that.”
“And I’ll remind you, one more time, that she rejected this offer already.”
“Then I’ll have to ask again.” I clutch the heavy cane at my feet and look down at it with disgust. “Come on. Let’s get moving, it’s going to take me fucking forever.” I push open the door and Gavino sighs dramatically.
Getting out of the car should be easy. Most people can do it without thinking. That sort of mobility, it’s a blessing, and the majority of humans take it for granted. Six months ago, I would’ve been able to hop down onto the pavement without exerting myself at all. Easy as thought. Now, I have to concentrate as my legs shift and I get my feet set and the cane down. I put my weight on the cane and stumble, leaning on the door, until I’m out and on my own two feet, my fucking knees shaking with the awkward strain, then Gavino’s there, steadying me.
I shrug him off. “I’m fine,” I grunt as I manage to close the door. I’m sweating and breathing hard just from getting out of the car. I used to be athletic and strong, and now I struggle with simple things.
Twenty-nine years old, the prime of my life, and it’s like I’m a fucking old man.