“See, your mom began taking more and more cases when she made her name by doing the opposite. She never kept a full schedule, because she refused to lose. She made sure she had the time she needed to put in the work, cover every avenue to ensure she was victorious every time she stepped out of that courtroom. As we both know, she was. But then suddenly, she was all over the docket, case after case, and what do you know… still on an unbelievable winning streak.

“I flew down to Florida to find out how, and before I came back, I had a Filano of my own.” He grins, proud. “With a file that held the proof that your mom had added to her resume. She suddenly had an entirely new bankroll coming in and a good chunk went right back out, to a dirty PI. A man with known mafia ties whose job was to find and bury evidence, to make sure she won by—”

“Any means necessary,” I whisper.

Anthony smiles. “Exactly. I watched as her client list flipped from high profile, secretly dirty politicians to suddenly every notorious criminal of the last decade. It’s genius, really, the big money always comes from the ones with the most to lose, and if you can win, you get paid.” He nods. “And we both know your mother always wins.”

That she does.

“So now you see, her entire career will go up in flames if I were to share what I have. Every case she has ever worked on could be reopened and she, as well as your stepfather, would likely spend the rest of their lives in prison, maybe even have their assets frozen should someone decide the money she’s been paid was blood money.”

Anthony chuckles, and I feel sick.

“So, if you’re willing to be the reason for all that, as well as the one thing that keeps Ransom from getting some parts of his life back, then, by all means, continue as you are, but something tells me you’re smarter than that.” He walks over to me and when I try to turn away, he grips my arm, his other hand pinching my chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “A little sacrifice can go a long, long way. We can go back to the way we were before. I’ll be all you wish me to be, and you’ll be in my bed,” he whispers, lowering his head.

I jerk, and he squeezes tighter, pressing his lips to mine.

“My brother can’t do half of what I can, sweetheart,” he rasps. “All you have to do is allow me to prove it.”

This can turn bad fast, so I force my muscles to ease, my pulse to calm, my eyes to soften, and it takes everything in me to lift a palm and place it on his chest.

I pretend to surrender to him.