Shattered Dynasty

The phone rings again.

Payton’s eyes dip down to it. She licks her lips, her voice coming out husky. “You should probably answer that.”

“Probably,” I say, but I don’t move.

If I’m going to be that man for Payton, I need her to be well. I need to know that I’m not confusing my emotions with guilt. And the truth is, she needs to know that, too.

But later. She’s right. I need to answer the phone.

I do, and all it takes is a few seconds for the grin to consume my face.

Looks like the crew is back.

It needs to be said that Tobias is an asshole. Even when the dickwad is technically the source of my problems, we end up catering to his schedule. To his needs.

Apparently, he had other pressing matters.

So, here I am, driving to Connecticut in my car.

Despite the fact that Matteo lives closer.

That Jaxson lives closer.

This long-ass drive? Totally unnecessary.

We could’ve stayed in the city.

I sound like a whiny bitch again.

The truth is, leaving Payton with a nurse, even if only temporarily, doesn’t sit well with me. I’d be much happier if it were me there, watching over her, making sure she’s comfortable and safe.

I slow my car, driving the speed limit for once. I need the time to think about what I’m going to do with her. Also, the idea of causing a crash like Payton’s, even if I’m one hundred percent confident behind the wheel, sickens me.

Great.

I’m one step closer to being a normal, boring, law-abiding citizen. Society can thank Payton Hart for that. Now that I’m no longer lying to myself, I can admit that I’m attracted to her. I can also admit that I like her, too.

I want to build her up instead of crushing her life and pissing on the rubble. Which is a welcome first. I’m going to use this time to get to know her.

I sound like a love-sick puppy.

Next thing I know, I’ll be braiding her hair and singing her lullabies to sleep.

Spending some time with Lorenzo and Tobias should help me put my brain back in order. Matteo and Cyrus, on the other hand, are useless. They’re pussy-whipped.

Maybe I’m no exception, except for the fact I am not actually fucking her.

Traffic is on my side. Before I know it, I’m in Connecticut, making the approach up Cyrus’s long, elegant, and very private driveway. I park my car in the circular roundabout, get out, and head to the large mahogany doors.

I don’t even have to knock. Gerald, Cyrus’s butler, opens the door for me as if he’s been waiting for my arrival.

No one needs to announce me or tell me where to go.

I have spent more nights and weekends here than I can even count over the past four years. I head straight into the parlor, where we normally play poker.

I’m not the first one here.

Tobias sits at the table that’s now empty of chips.

I nod to him. “I see you’re the first.”

“That I am.” He lifts his glass to me. “I had other business to discuss with Cyrus. I got here yesterday and stayed the night.”

“Anything I can help with?” I ask.

“Not yet, but I’m sure Cyrus will contact you when he needs you to do something with my money.”

“Looking forward to that phone call,” I say, the sarcasm eliciting a snort from Tobias.

No matter how much we tell Cyrus to retire, he hasn’t. Sure, he’s taken a major step back and only works for certain clients now, Tobias being one. But Cyrus is ruthless with his money. Always seeking ways to grow it.

Not a bad thing, but also not exactly a call I look forward to receiving. I like Cyrus best when business is not involved, and we just drink cognac and play cards.

Cyrus doesn’t gamble when there’s money on the table. He might run a card game with a six-figure buy-in, but he will only play with friends.

The sound of footsteps draws my attention. Lorenzo, Matteo, and Cyrus enter the room and take their respective seats around the poker table. Cyrus, naturally, sits at the dealer’s end.

Matteo breaks the silence. “So, what did you need to discuss with us?”

I run a palm along my jaw, considering how to approach this. “I’m not sure how much you all know about Payton . . .”

“The girl you have living with you.” Lorenzo smirks as he speaks.

“Yes.”

“Are you banging her?”

“Not your business, Lorenzo.”

“That’s not a no.” His smile broadens like a pig in shit.

“What I do with Payton is none of your business,” I snap.

The bastard tilts his head, and I know he won’t let up.

I’m right.

“Since you aren’t, maybe I could,” he drawls. “Dating as the head of the mafia is difficult these days.”

“The fuck you will.” I jab my finger in his direction. “Don’t even step foot near her.”