Chapters (32)
- Books by Jill
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Social Media & Website
Sofia knew I worked for her dad, so I no longer had to worry about explaining my presence. I had time to fix things between us. There was no deadline or time limit to figure out our shit. At some point, I’d have to decide what to do about telling Enzo, but that could wait. For now, I would do my job.
It was easier walking into Sofia’s home this time. The bittersweet aftertaste of old memories was still present, but I was prepared for the assault this time. The far end of the hallway was dark—Sofia was doubtless getting ready for her graduation party, but a part of me had hoped to see that pale light signaling her nearness. I shook off the childish longing and focused on what Enzo might need to discuss with me as I followed him into his office.
He gave a tight smile and gestured for me to sit opposite him at the desk. “I thought perhaps you and Sofia were well on your way to working out your differences, but whatever happened last night did not go well. She’s hardly spoken today, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say she spent the night crying. I don’t know exactly what happened when you two broke up, but she isn’t going to let it go easily.”
The implication of wrongdoing was clear in Enzo’s words, and I felt a compelling urge to defend myself. “I did what I had to do to protect her, sir. I wasn’t exactly given a choice when I entered this life. Once it was done, I decided not to drag her with me. I did what I believed was best for her.” I was relieved to speak up for myself. I just hoped I wasn’t opening a door that would get me in trouble.
Enzo steepled his hands, resting the tips of his index fingers against his lips. “You were one of Sal’s recruits, if I recall correctly. Am I to understand you didn’t want to become a part of this outfit?” His features were totally impassive, giving me zero clue if I was being asked a simple question or providing evidence at my own trial.
“Sal wanted me on board, so he used what leverage he had to coerce me into working for him—to demand my allegiance and become a made man.”