The past seven days had felt like walking a razor’s edge, every moment shadowed by the memory of last week’s reckless night at the Santiago club. Aliyah moved cautiously now, the sting of regret sharper than the cut on her finger. How had she been so careless? The thought gnawed at her as she stood in the kitchen, methodically washing the fruit she'd just sliced, the cool water blurring the crimson bead on her fingertip.

Her mind drifted to Kye’s cryptic comment about something he’d arranged with her father. What in hell could that mean?

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, setting the knife down and pressing the injured finger to her lips, trying to staunch the bleeding before it stained the polished counter.

When she glanced up, her father was already there, on the opposite side of the island, phone in one hand and reaching for the fruit she’d prepared with the other. His presence was suddenly imposing, his expression unreadable as he bit into a slice without looking up.

“Aliyah,” he said flatly.

“Yes, Father.” She kept her voice steady, watching warily as he chewed, eyes flicking between his phone and her face.

“Why were you at the Santiago club last week?” The question was calm but carried an unmistakable edge.

Her heart dropped. Fuck.

“Father, I swear, I wasn’t—” Her protest was cut short as his palm shot out, silencing her.

“No explanations needed,” he said, finally meeting her gaze. “It’s actually good you and Kye are starting to get along.”

Aliyah blinked, confusion twisting her features. “Get along? Why would I need to get to know him?” She snatched a piece of fruit from the counter, her tone sharp.

“Because the Morenos and the Italians are allies now. And you, especially, will have to learn to work with Kye.”

She rolled her eyes, sinking into the bar stool beside him. “He’s insufferable. Crude. A terrible ally.”

“You’ll come around,” her father said, voice steady. “Which is why your mother and I have invited the Santiagos over for dinner tomorrow night.”

Aliyah nearly choked on her strawberry, eyes wide as she turned to him. “What? Why?”

Before he could answer, his phone buzzed, and he stepped away to take the call, leaving her alone with the growing knot of tension in her chest.

She exhaled sharply, jaw clenching as she swallowed the last of the fruit, the sweetness doing little to lift the weight settling on her.

“I can’t believe you told Dad,” Claudia’s voice came from behind, the sharp tap of high heels echoing across the marble floor.

“Yeah, well, now they’re having dinner. Tomorrow.” Aliyah’s voice was flat, frustration simmering beneath every word as she dumped the bowl into the sink.

Claudia spun beside her, eyes sparkling with mischief. “So the hot guy’s coming too?” she teased.

“Claudia, this is mafia politics, not some stupid crush,” Aliyah snapped, pulling her sister’s hand off her arm.

“Oh, come on! You can’t still be hung up on that ‘war’ you two have been waging since forever.”

“It’s not a war, and you don’t understand.”

Claudia rolled her eyes, snagging her green smoothie from the fridge. “You two just need to get over it. Hook up already.”

“Fuck off, and go back to your yoga class,” Aliyah shot back.

“Ooo,” Claudia whispered, waving her phone in the air. “His brothers are pretty cute too.”

Aliyah glanced at the screen — a sunlit photo of three men on a beach, one unmistakably Kye, surrounded by two equally handsome brothers.

“Maybe I’ll go for Alexander or Dominic. They’re all hot,” Claudia sighed dramatically, leaning on the counter.

“Or maybe don’t go for any of them. Dad won’t allow it.” Aliyah shrugged, unimpressed.

“Dad doesn’t have to know.” Claudia’s lips curved with sly defiance as she reapplied her lip gloss.

“Don’t even think about it. Tomorrow’s dinner is strictly business.”

Claudia rolled her eyes again. “Relax. It’ll be fine.” She winked and strolled out of the kitchen, planting a quick kiss on their father’s cheek as he passed.

“The drug shipment fell through,” he announced abruptly.

Aliyah spun to face him, eyes narrowing. “How?”

“The Russians intervened. They’ve never liked the Americans encroaching on their turf.” His sigh was heavy, laden with frustration.

“I’ll handle it,” Aliyah said, a spark lighting behind her eyes.

“You won’t be doing this alone.”

“I can manage myself.” Her voice was sharp, tinged with stubbornness.

“It’s not a choice. You go, or the mission fails.” His temper flared, the usual patience thinning.

Aliyah groaned, her shoulders slumping. “Fine. Who’s with me?”

“Kye.”

The name hung in the air, heavy with all the unresolved tension between them.

“I’ll leave soon. Get ready.”