Four

Arnold’s POV

Family. Our family wasn’t built on blood. It was built on trust, loyalty, and hard work.

Everyone was family. Anyone could be an enemy.

As the boss, I look out for everyone. I own everyone — including their families. I knew Cole was trying to protect her from our world. That’s why he kept her hidden. But that’s impossible now.

She’s one of us. She’s family. And I own her to the last drop of her blood.

“To my office, Marco.”

I walked up the stairs with Marco behind me.

Marco Santiago was my second-in-command. My closest.

Cole wasn’t any less. It was the three of us long before I took over from my grandfather, Edward Wolfe. It was the three of us after.

“This is the video from last night,” Marco said, placing a tablet on my desk. “Do you think Cole leaked information to the Graysons?”

I didn’t answer. I watched the video. And there he was — a Grayson in my club last night. Not a coincidence.

“I have our men watching him,” Marco said.

That wasn’t what made me frown.

I almost forgot she was in the club last night. Angelina. In a dress that was too short for a girl who’d been locked inside for ten years.

“Or you prefer I stick to the plan?” Marco asked. He always loved the easy way. I don’t. That’s the difference between us. I prefer the long method.

“Not yet,” I replied, pulling a cigarette from the pack on my desk. My gaze stayed on the tablet.

“Did you find anything about her?” I exhaled smoke.

“Yes. She could indeed be Cole’s biological sister,” Marco said.

I looked up.

Why did Cole keep her hidden? Why never mention her?

“I found his parents had two children before they died. It was believed the youngest burned with them the night of the fire.” He placed a death certificate on my desk.

Angelina Davis. Declared dead at age 8. Fire.

So who is the girl sleeping upstairs claiming to be Cole’s sister?

“So what makes you think they’re related?” I asked.

“She has the same name as Cole’s sister, and the date of birth aligns.” He placed another file on the table — a passport, an ID. Angelina Davis.

Fuck.

What was Cole planning?

“We found something else. Cole’s death might not have anything to do with Cosa Nostra.” He placed a brown envelope on my desk. Inside were pictures.

A kids’ park. In the background: Cole. And Charles Grayson.

The first picture: Cole alone. Second: Charles approaching him. Third: Cole pointing a gun at Charles Grayson.

“I have our men on the photographer. He says Cole was threatened.”

“What did Charles use to threaten him?” Marco asked.

I stared at the last photo. Cole’s face — pure rage. The face he made when someone touched what was his.

“Angelina Davis,” I whispered. My eyes turned cold.

Was he protecting her or hiding her from me? They’re not blood-related if her death certificate is real. So what was she to him? Sister? Or something else?

Cole wouldn’t dare ask me to look after his woman, would he?

“What do you think their relationship is?” I asked.

“If she’s not his sister, she’s probably his girlfriend. She doesn’t have a ring on,” Marco pointed out.

She doesn’t have a ring on? I hadn’t noticed that.

“No need to look further,” I said, standing. I stubbed the cigarette out and adjusted my suit. “I’ll talk to her.”

We haven’t found out how much the Graysons know, but it’s obvious Cole gave them something. Or refused to. Just like what happened this morning, there will be more if we don’t get to the root.

She should be able to answer the few questions I have.

I pushed her door open. The sound of running water. The footage from earlier replayed in my head — slim waist, beautiful figure, fucking innocent eyes.

She seemed innocent. I hoped she wasn’t pretending.

I sat on the couch in the corner, crossed my legs, lit a cigarette.

The water stopped. The bathroom door clicked.

“What are you doing here?” she said, clutching a towel to her chest, eyes wide with panic.

I exhaled smoke. Through it, I saw her — frown, fear, hand to her chest.

“This is my house,” I said, standing. My eyes ran over her. If she was Cole’s woman, I would know by how she looked at me.

“What do you want?” she asked. My presence was clearly inconveniencing her.

My eyes turned cold. I couldn’t read her like I do others. She was too plain to be true. Too innocent.

So I blurted it out:

“What is your relationship with Cole?”