Cole

  I glanced to Jake, and found him captivated. Unaware of my gaze, he inched forward, as if to hear better.

  “I’ve been hearing rumors about your father,” Cole said evenly. “Tell me, Carol.” He leaned closer to her. “Are they only rumors?”

  Her bottom lip started to tremble. “I don’t know. Bea is dead, you know. My husband and I, along with our children, don’t speak to my father anymore.”

  “Was that a recent change?”

  “No.” She seemed to wilt under his gaze. “We haven’t spoken to my father for years, since my eldest was born, in fact.” As she mentioned Liam, she looked at me before turning back to Cole. “As I mentioned before, I’ve grown quite tired. We’ll wish you all a good evening.”

  Hank hurried off, with Carol right behind him. Their exit seemed eerily similar to an escape.

  I looked at Cole. Who was he to Liam’s parents? Who was he at all? The need to find out now burned in me. If I didn’t find out…I couldn’t finish. I didn’t know what I’d do. I didn’t want to think about it because then all rational thought might actually shut down. I couldn’t go there.

  Jake’s hand came back to my elbow. “I think the Sailers had the right idea. I think we’ll be going as well—”

  Jake was going to say more, but Mahler burst out, “You can’t come around here and threaten my clients. I won’t have it!”

  Reed and Cole moved as one to close ranks around Mahler. It was startling to watch; they were so fast. Reed reached for Mahler, but Cole beat him to it. He turned his back to us, and Reed adjusted his back toward the rest of the room. They’d closed everyone out.

  I surged forward, shoving into Jake. I wanted to see what was going on. I got a glimpse of Cole reaching forward. I couldn’t see the rest, but Mahler suddenly stopped talking. His eyes bulged, and his cheeks rounded. Either he couldn’t get oxygen, or he was keeping himself from crying out. And Cole spoke softly to him.

  Mahler scrunched up his face and jerked his head up and down repeatedly. “Okay. Okay!”

  Reed touched Cole’s arm. “That’s enough.”

  Cole stepped back. Nothing else was said. Mahler clutched his arm, swung around, and barreled through a group of people. Cole peered at me a moment before he and Carter Reed continued ahead. The crowd parted for them, and a moment later, they were beyond sight.

  A shiver went down my spine. They were known, and while I saw lust in the women’s gazes, I couldn’t look away from what I saw in the men’s eyes. Fear.

  “Jake?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Who was that?”

  “I’m pretty sure he’s our landlord. That’s Cole Mauricio.”

  “I know, but who is Cole Mauricio?”

  “He’s the head of the Mauricio family.”

  My mouth dried up. “What does that mean?”

  Then I heard Jake’s response, and my world was pulled out from under my feet.

  “Mafia. He’s not in the mafia, Addison. He is the mafia.”

  Jake went off to find Sia.

  His plan was to let her know he was riding home with me, then coming right back for her. It was ridiculous that he was insisting on taking me home, but he was.

  Once Jake pushed through the crowd, I went to flag a cab. Then I texted him. I’m already in a taxi. Stay with Sia. Have fun. We can talk later. I lifted my arm for a cab, and one pulled forward. A valet from the hotel opened the back door, but someone called my name from behind me.

  “Mrs. Sailer?”

  A black SUV was parked in front of the building with a man standing beside its open door.

  “I’m supposed to give you a ride home, ma’am,” he added.

  “A ride home?” Why was he using my married name? How did he even know that name? Who was this guy? This was a private service. The man was big and muscular—and I recognized him. “I saw you at Gianni’s one night.”

  “I don’t remember, but you saw me at The Mauricio, too.”

  Cole. The back elevator. He’d been holding up his friend. “You were hurt.” This was the guy who’d been bleeding.

  He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Mr. Dorian patched me up.”

  “You’re one of Cole’s men.” Because he had men. They weren’t his friends. They weren’t his co-workers, although maybe they were. My stomach began twisting and churning. “Cole told you to wait for me?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m to give you a ride wherever you want—” He stopped himself. His hands came around and joined in front of him. “Can I give you a ride home?”

  I took a step closer, folding my arms over my chest. The night wind had picked up. I hadn’t chosen the right coat. I went with stylish and lightweight—the one that looked nice over a formal dress. I shivered now, wishing I’d gone for something heavier.

  “What else?” I demanded. “Why did you just use my married name?”

  “Ma’am?” His eyes widened, and his mouth formed a small o, like he’d been caught at something. It was there, then gone in the next instant. “What do you mean, ma’am?”

  “I’m Addison Bowman. Not Sailer. Who told you my last name was Sailer?”

  “It was a mistake. My apologies, Ms. Bowman.” Then his mouth closed, and I knew he wasn’t going to say anything more.

  “I won’t get in there until you tell me.”

  He frowned. “I’m supposed to keep you safe. That’s all I was going to say.”

  This was Cole’s man, here on Cole’s order, and where was Cole? Back in that party, standing next to another man just as deadly. Jake’s voice sounded in my head again, “Addison, he is the mafia.”

  The mob. Cole. I couldn’t digest that, not yet anyway, but it made so much sense. I thought? Does it make sense? I shook my head. One thing at a time, and right now, I let loose the fury that’d been waiting on the bottom of my stomach. This guy wasn’t being honest, and I was officially fed up with it.

  I glared at him, letting all the anger I’d reserved for Cole blast him. I shook my head. “No way.”

  He looked unsure. “Ma’am? Addison?”

  I gave him a fake smile, sweetening my tone. “I’m sorry. I misspoke. I meant no fucking way. I’ll find my own ride home. Thank you.”

  I hurried into the open cab and gave my address to the driver.

  We pulled out, but a second later the driver told me, “We’re being followed, Miss. That car is right behind us.”

  My head fell back against the seat. Of course he was.

  “Should I call the police?”

  What would happen if he did? If the police came and questioned Cole’s man, what then? He was following because his boss told him to give me a ride. They’d laugh at me. There was no danger—or maybe they’d recognize him? Maybe they’d search his name and find he had a record. The cops would find out he was mob, and what then? He’d get arrested, just for doing his job? Would Cole come bail him out? Or would he send someone else?

  I wasn’t aware I was laughing until the driver asked, “Miss? Are you okay?”

  I cringed. There was a faint note of hysteria there. I let it go and gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. Sorry. Just tired is all.”

  He didn’t look away from the rearview mirror right away. But he had to watch where he was driving. I quieted and tried to relax the rest of the way. The Haldorf wasn’t too far from The Mauricio, but tonight, it felt like an hour’s drive. When he pulled up in front, the SUV stopped behind us.

  I stayed on the sidewalk as the cab drove away.

  Cole’s man got out, but he didn’t walk around to me. He held up a hand. “Sorry, ma’am. I have orders. I couldn’t stay behind. I’ll be out here if you need a ride somewhere else.”

  “For the rest of the night?”

  “No.” He lowered his hand to rest on the SUV’s doorframe. “I’ll be out here indefinitely. Myself or another driver.”

  Indefinitely? “What?” I must’ve heard that wrong.

  The door to The Mauricio opened behind me, and I heard Ken’s voic
e. “He’ll be in the basement parking lot, Miss Addison.”

  Ken was in full doorman uniform tonight, his coat buttoned all the way to his neck with a dark scarf tucked inside. He even had on his hat, pulled low to protect his forehead. His hands were folded in front of him inside white gloves.

  “I gotta go down there?”

  Ken nodded at the driver. “No parking on the streets tonight, Carl.”

  I laughed bitterly. Carl. Ken knew him by name. And Carl obviously knew Ken well enough. His voice changed once Ken came out, relaxing, moving to a familiar tone. He wasn’t strained or guarded like he’d been with me. Even his shoulders seemed relaxed as he swung back into the SUV.

  “He’s just going around the block. He’ll pull into the basement.” Ken hesitated. “If you need him for a ride somewhere else tonight.”

  This was another world. “He’ll always be down there?”

  “Him or another fella, Jim. The two will switch off, but yes. They’re your personal drivers.”

  “Because Cole gave that order?” I watched him intently. I wanted to see his reaction.

  There was none. He didn’t even blink, just offered a nice, friendly smile. “Yes, Miss Addison, he did. He does that for people he cares about.”

  I couldn’t believe any of this. “Cole owns this building?” It wasn’t really a question. I wanted confirmation. No, I needed confirmation. I needed to be told something concrete. There’d been too many questions raised this evening. Were Dorian and Cole only friends? Who was Carter Reed? And how on Earth did Liam’s family factor in here?

  Who was Cole, whose job was a secret, whose job was dangerous, whose life took him away for an entire month at a time, and who took a private jet to bury a friend? I’d been okay with the mystery before, but not now. Not anymore.

  Ken gave me a curt, silent nod.

  I ground my teeth together. “Is he coming tonight?”

  He nodded.

  I brushed past. “Good.” I’d get all the damn answers I wanted tonight. If I didn’t, I’d find them myself, regardless of the consequences.

  Once I got up to my apartment, Sia called to make sure I was okay. Judging by her slurred speech, Jake hadn’t filled her in on our evening’s excitement, so I didn’t either. I wanted to hear from Cole first. I reassured Sia and then tried to wait for Cole. Reading. TV. Even drinking wine—it was all pointless. Nothing could distract my anger.

  Okay. A bottle of wine could maybe help.

  But what had Jake said? Cole wasn’t just in the mafia. He was the mafia. I supposed people like that were important. They had to have meetings, do whatever it was Cole and that other guy had been doing tonight. Maybe chat so they could decide who to kill and who to beat up? I snorted, reaching for the glass in front of me.

  I mean, fuck. Who was even in the mob? A whole host of old movies came to mind. And that other guy, Carter Reed—who was he to Cole? Who was he at all? And he and Cole knew Liam’s parents. Bea Bertal, Cole has said. That was Liam’s grandmother. She and Liam met for lunches every now and then. I remembered when she died. I’d thought Liam would be upset, but he wasn’t, at least not the way I’d expected.

  Liam came in from the study, pausing before entering the kitchen. I waited. Listening. He said nothing. I was stirring soup and still heard nothing, so I glanced over my shoulder. Something was wrong.

  His phone was in his hand, and he just stared at it.

  “Liam? What is it?”

  He lifted his eyes. Bleak, so bleak.

  “Liam?”

  “My grandmother is dead.”

  I waited, remaining by the kitchen, but again, there was only silence. He frowned, and his eyes—they looked so lost.

  My heart ached. “I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head and scanned the room. His hand lifted to rake through his hair. The phone dropped to the floor with a dull thud.

  “I…” He blinked. Once. Twice. “I…”

  “Liam?”

  “I have no idea what to say.”

  “Are you—” I frowned. “—upset? You guys were close.”

  “She never met you.” He said that quietly, like he regretted it. “She wanted to meet you, but I was scared. Then you’d know. ” He shook his head. “I don’t know what this means for the family.”

  He’d been sad, but more scared. That never made sense to me. It did now. I would’ve known…about what? The Bertal name? I still didn’t know anything about it, except that Liam’s parents were scared of Cole. I knew that much.

  And fuck this.

  If Cole wasn’t coming to give me answers, I’d get my own.

  I booted up my computer.

  An hour later…

  I wasn’t prepared. There was no way I could’ve been.

  The elevator buzzed.

  I didn’t move.

  It buzzed a second time.

  I couldn’t even look away from the computer screen. Carter Reed’s picture was smack in the middle of it, and Cole’s name was everywhere. As I continued reading, the elevator starting moving, but I couldn’t focus on it. The need to know had faded in me, but now I was trapped, unable to stop gathering details. I almost wished I didn’t know.

  The doors opened, and there was Cole, dressed as if he’d been on the running track: black hooded sweatshirt and black athletic pants. And like that first time I saw him, he looked damn good in them. He was one of the best-looking men I had ever seen, but tonight, his appearance stuck a dagger into me. I felt like a toy being played with.

  “Of course you have the codes for my floor,” I said calmly. “You’re the owner. Right?”

  He stopped just inside my place, the doors closing behind him. I couldn’t read his face, what he was thinking and feeling, but I was beginning to recognize this look. He’d worn this look so many times, and it was the same unreadable mask he’d worn at the event earlier.

  His shoulders lifted in a silent breath. “You’re mad.”

  “Wouldn’t you be?” My blood was boiling. This guy—damn this guy. “I only had sex with you, and now I found out that you’re in the mob?! I mean, I have no reason to be upset. You’re right, totally right.” A bitter laugh escaped me. “You said you couldn’t tell me, but I never thought mafia. All the mystery about you? I had no clue, and I should’ve. I mean, yeah, you were honest. You said you couldn’t tell me, but give a girl a clue next time? The mob. The mob, Cole! That’s dangerous.” And scary. I held that thought back. I had other questions on the tip of my tongue, but I held those back, too.

  Did he kill people?

  I snorted. Of course he did.

  Did he order people to be killed? A second snort as I raked a hand through my hair. What else? Prostitution? Gambling? What crimes did he commit? Did he beat people up, demand payment from them? Did he demand a cut from store owners? My mind raced through all the mafia movies and stories I’d heard growing up. All those characters had been cloaked in an alluring draw, romanticized, but none of them were saints. None of them.

  I stared at someone I didn’t know. I went to bed with him. I spent time with him. I ran with him. I laughed with him. I felt with him. I became alive with him. And God, staring at him now, all I wanted to do was throw myself in his arms again. Fuck everything else.

  The truth hit me then. “I didn’t want to know the truth.”

  A hollow sound slipped out of me. I didn’t know if it was a laugh or a grunt, but whatever it was, it wasn’t right. I was gutted. I needed to calm down. Two nights. That was it. That was all we’d had. I had to keep reminding myself of that. I needed another goddamn drink. The bottle was empty. I rose to get another,