Passing His Guard

He wasn’t used to being on this side of the coin. Usually he was the one doing the avoiding. Fuck, he’d become the clinger. Exhaling a frustrated sigh, he tossed back the covers and planted his feet on the floor. Well, not anymore, he didn’t have time for relationship drama bullshit. He had a day chock-full of unpleasantness as it was. He certainly didn’t need to add to his shit list of things to do. He pla

Aiden stood before the full-length mirror and tugged the slipknot of his tie into place, thinking he might possibly puke. Leave it to Madeline to choose a restaurant he’d have to wear a suit to get in. He snagged the Armani charcoal gray pinstripe coat off the foot of the bed and shrugged it on over his shoulders. At one time, the suit had fit him like a glove—like the thing had been tailored especially for him. Oh, wait, it had been. But just like life here, it didn’t fit anymore. It was too tight—too confining. His movement was restricted, and the silk cloth around his neck was choking the hell out of him.

Muttering a curse, he reached up and yanked at the collar, gaining another inch of breathing room. Fuck, this sucked. Fastening the jacket button, Aiden stepped back and surveyed the results. His ink might be covered, but he refused to remove his piercings. It might sound crazy, but he felt as if the metal somehow anchored him to his new life when his old one was threatening to drag him back under. His ink and piercings signified who he was and what he’d become. It was bad enough he was back in a monkey suit, but after spending the last fourteen months breaking free of his parents’ control, he refused to let his actions be dictated by their approval again.

Dragging his hand through his hair, he let the short, dark strands poke out wildly and took one last look in the mirror. He rubbed his thumb over the red mark on the side of his neck, riding just above the collar of his shirt, courtesy of Rya

It pissed him off how much he was dreading this meeting. For crissake, he was a grown man—a middleweight MMA fighter who didn’t fear anyone. And here he was, looking at his reflection in the mirror and seeing that ten-year-old little boy all over again, who wanted nothing more than his father’s approval and to hear his mother tell him, just once, that she loved him. This was so fucked up. Exhaling a snort of disgust, Aiden turned away from his reflection and told the little boy to quit being such a pussy.

The drive to Pret should have taken less than a half hour, but by the time he navigated traffic, parked, and got inside, he was fashionably late. Before he could tell the waitress his name and which party he was looking for, the woman told him to follow her and led him toward the back of the restaurant. His mother was sitting at a small table for two, her security guards flanking her from behind. She was on the phone as he walked over, her gaze darting up and locking on his. She would be a beautiful woman were it not for that perpetually perturbed expression on her face. His mother didn’t crack so much as a smile as he approached. Without removing the cell from her ear, she lifted her wrist and made a point of checking the time before arching her brow at him.

Aiden thanked the waitress and seated himself across from his mother. The woman looked as impeccable as ever. Hair twisted in a tight coif, not a strand out of place. She wore a form-fitting white business suit with silver buttons and matching silver jewelry. As she sat on the phone, eyes that looked like his made a sweeping perusal of his face and a flicker of surprise registered in those dark amber depths before narrowing in disapproval.

“He’s here right now. At least I think it’s him.”

He rolled his eyes at her jab. Really? The waitress appeared out of nowhere and set a glass of lemon water in front of him. She offered him a menu but he waved it away. If he ate right now, he was pretty sure he’d puke. Besides, he wouldn’t be here that long.

“I will tell him.” Madeline disco

“Of course it is.” Was that bitterness souring his voice? Huh . . . he’d thought he was past this pettiness, past the stinging disappointment in having a father who cared more about his career than his son.

“I have good news for you, Aiden,” she continued, ignoring his bristling comment. “The wedding is off.”

“You say that as if you actually believed it was on. But pray tell, why is it now suddenly ‘off’?”

“Cynthia Moralli disappeared three days ago and has yet to return. Apparently, the willful chit wasn’t any more excited about the idea of an arranged marriage than you were. Seems she fancied herself in love and eloped. Of course Vincent is furious.”

“I’m sure he is. Do you honestly think he’s just going to walk away from a ten-million-dollar campaign contribution?”

“He won’t have a choice. The dowry is nonrefundable. His daughter breached the contract. Not you.”

Aiden didn’t bother pointing out that in approximately seventy-two hours he would have done just that. Madeline leaned a little closer and dropped her voice to a hushed whisper. “Rumor has it she was secretly seeing someone from the Lion’s Den. Not only is his daughter gone, but he’s lost his best fighter. He has a lot more than ten million dollars at stake. He’s so furious, he’s got his people looking for them everywhere.”

Un-fucking-believable . . . But the sad thing was, you just couldn’t make this shit up. It was like he’d walked into a scene from The Untouchables. The Moralli name had roots in this city as far back as the Sicilian immigration in the late nineteenth century. Men like Vincent believed they were above the law, because people like Aiden and his father made them that way. They tied the hands of the legal system, making it damn near impossible for the courts to get a conviction on any charge, and that was assuming they could find a judge not on Moralli’s payroll to try their case.

“How do you know all this?”

“Your father has a man working for Moralli who keeps him apprised of certain business. Just because Be

“Father shouldn’t be working with him at all. The man’s a criminal.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, Aiden, don’t be daft. You ca

“Is that the defense you plan to use in court, Mom? Listen to me. Vincent Moralli is doing things you don’t even know about. There is such a thing as guilt by association, and if Moralli ever goes down, do not think for one second he isn’t going to take Dad with him. Moralli may like to think so, but he isn’t invincible. All it would take is for him to fuck with the wrong person who knows just enough to ruin him.”