Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

It was a reasonable explanation. Plausible.

But Eve’s instincts....instincts she’d learned to trust over seven weeks of living in Dimitri’s world....were screaming that something was very, very wrong.

Marco had moved. Just slightly, but he was closer to the desk now, his eyes locked on Enzo with an intensity that would have made most men nervous.

Enzo didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t care.

”Mr. Valentino....”

”Enzo, please.”

”Enzo.” Eve kept her voice level. ”I appreciate your interest in Phoenix, but I’m not currently looking to bring on new partnerships. My focus is on organic growth and maintaining the culture we’ve built.”

It was a polite dismissal. Professional. Final.

Enzo didn’t move.

”Of course,” he said, but he didn’t stand. ”Though I hope you’ll reconsider. Sometimes the right partnership can offer... protection. Stability in unstable times.”

The way he said protection made every nerve in her body stand at attention.

”I have all the protection I need,” she said, and she couldn’t keep the edge from her voice.

His smile sharpened. ”Do you?”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and dangerous.

Eve was vaguely aware of Marco taking another step closer, his hand now fully inside his jacket.

Enzo’s gaze flicked to Marco for the first time, acknowledgment in his eyes, before returning to Eve. ”You have good instincts, Ms. Thorne. That will serve you well.” He stood, smooth and unhurried, buttoning his suit jacket. ”I won’t take up any more of your time.”

He extended his hand again.

Eve hesitated for a fraction of a second before shaking it, professional courtesy winning over the scream of warning in her head.

His grip was firm, warm, and when he spoke again, his voice dropped just low enough that only she could hear.

”A word of advice, if I may. In the family business, loyalty is everything. But so is knowing which side of the line you’re standing on.” His thumb brushed once across her knuckles....deliberate, testing. ”Choose carefully, Ms. Thorne. Not everyone survives the Devil’s attention.”

He released her hand and stepped back, his professional smile returning as if he’d never said anything unusual at all.

”I’ll see myself out. Do think about my offer.” He nodded once to Marco....a gesture that felt more like a taunt than courtesy. ”Always a pleasure, Marco.”

Marco said nothing, but his eyes promised violence.

Enzo walked to the door, paused with his hand on the handle, and glanced back at Eve. ”Oh, and Ms. Thorne? You should ask him about his mother. About what happens to the women the Valentino men claim to love.”

Then he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Eve stood frozen behind her desk, her heart hammering against her ribs, Enzo’s words echoing in her mind. Not everyone survives the Devil’s attention.

”Marco,” she said quietly, her voice surprisingly steady. ”Who the fuck was that?”

Marco’s expression was carved from stone, but she saw the muscle jumping in his jaw, the way his hands had curled into fists.

”I need to call Dimitri.”

”Marco.” Eve came around the desk, standing between him and the door. ”Tell me who that was.”

For the first time since she’d known him, Marco looked conflicted. Torn between his orders and something else...maybe respect for her, maybe the knowledge that she’d just walked into a minefield without warning.

”That,” he said finally, his voice rough, ”was Enzo Valentino. Dimitri’s half-brother.”

The floor dropped out from under her.

Half-brother.

Enzo.

”He didn’t tell me,” Eve whispered.

Marco’s expression softened infinitesimally. ”He was going to. Tonight.”

Tonight. When it would have been too late to prepare her, to warn her, to give her any defenses against a man who’d just walked into her office and touched her hand and said things designed to burrow into her head and fester.

You should ask him about his mother. About what happens to the women the Valentino men claim to love.

”Call him,” Eve said, her voice harder now. ”Call him right now.”

Marco already had his phone out, the line ringing once before it was answered.

”Marco.” Dimitri’s voice came through, controlled but with an edge that said he was in the middle of something. ”Status?”

”He came to her office.” Marco’s eyes never left Eve’s face. ”Posed as a potential investor. Russo Holdings. She didn’t know who he was.”

The silence on the other end of the line was absolute. Suffocating.

When Dimitri spoke again, his voice was so cold it could have frozen blood.

”Put her on.”

Marco held out the phone.

Eve took it with steady hands, brought it to her ear. ”Dimitri....”

”Are you hurt?” Each word was clipped, precise. Deadly calm.

”No.”

”Did he touch you?”

She thought of the handshake. The brush of his thumb across her knuckles. ”He shook my hand. Nothing more.”

Another silence. She could hear him breathing, could almost see him standing wherever he was, fighting for control.

”Marco stays with you. Inside the same room. Do not leave that office until I get there.” His voice was absolute zero. ”Do you understand me, cara mia?”

”Dimitri, he said....”

”I know what he said. Marco will have told me every word by the time I arrive.” A pause. ”Did he frighten you?”

Eve looked at her hands. They weren’t shaking. She felt cold, yes. Angry, definitely. But frightened?

”No,” she said quietly. ”He pissed me off.”

The briefest exhale on the other end. Almost a laugh. Almost.

”That’s my girl,” Dimitri said, and the warmth in those three words made her chest ache. ”I’m coming to you. Thirty minutes.”

”Dimitri, you promised you’d tell me tonight. Tell me now.”

”Not over the phone, Eve.”

”Then tell me this....” She turned away from Marco, lowering her voice. ”Is what he said about your mother true? About what happens to women you love?”

The silence stretched so long she thought he’d hung up.

”Yes,” Dimitri said finally. ”And that’s why I need you to understand everything before you decide if you still want to stay.”

Her heart clenched. ”I’m not going anywhere.”

”You haven’t heard the story yet.”

”I don’t need to. I know you, Dimitri. Whatever happened to your mother wasn’t your fault. You were eight years old.”

”Eve....”

”Thirty minutes,” she said, cutting him off. ”You will be here.”

She ended the call before he could argue, handing the phone back to Marco.

The bodyguard was watching her with something that might have been respect in his eyes.

”He’s going to destroy him for this,” Marco said quietly. ”For coming here. For touching you.”