“This is like real Godfather-type shit, isn’t it?”

Crey shakes his head. “It changes nothing. I’m still exactly the same man. I’m a product of my experiences. The source of my DNA doesn’t change me. And I’m sure as shit not changing my last name.”

“Why would you change your last name?” I’m totally confused now.

“That was Damon’s price to leave me—to leave us—alone.”

“What an arrogant asshole!”

“Calm down, baby,” Crey says, reaching for my hand.

I shake him off. “Fuck calming down. I’m about to go backwoods on his ass. I like my new last name. I may not be using it onstage, but I’m sure as hell not giving it up now.”

Now Crey’s smile threatens to split his face wide. “You are an amazing woman. If anyone had told me that I’d be smiling this soon after having the foundation of my entire existence rocked, I would’ve told them they were insane. Because I remember, with startling clarity, you telling me that I was under no circumstances to call you Mrs. Creighton Karas again, or I’d be at risk of being immortalized in a song about a nutless wonder.”

“You do listen.” I’m grinning now. “And that was purely a matter of your this is my woman, and I own her like property tone at the time that I took exception to. It had nothing to do with your name.”

Crey grabs me and hauls me against his chest. I swear I can feel the tension leave his body as soon as it connects with mine.

“This is what I needed. You. In my arms. God, now I’m really tempted to consider Cannon’s suggestion about taking a hit out on Damon.”

I crane my neck back and look up at him. “That’s the Mafioso blood in you talking now, baby. I like it.”

“Well, right now I just want to forget this entire morning.”

His lips descend on mine, and our mouths meet and devour each other. My tongue finds his and tangles, tastes, and teases. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull myself off my feet before twining my legs about his waist. Crey cradles my ass in both hands and heads for the bedroom.

We’re two steps from the door before a knock interrupts us.

I pull back, but Crey says, “Ignore it.”

“We can’t ignore it. You know it’s Cannon, and if he left the Investor Day festivities, it’s got to be important.”

“You’re more important.”

I wiggle out of his hold and shimmy down his body, stopping to look down at the tent he’s sporting in his suit pants. “How about I get the door?”

Crey shoves a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he says, scowling. “But tell him he’s an asshole for interrupting.”

“I will.”

He’s shaking his head as I turn away and head to the door. I’m still laughing when I pull it open.

I stop laughing, because it’s not Cannon. I have to stop and smooth my hair because I think I’m about to meet my new sister-in-law.

“Crey! What the hell is going on?” My sister bursts into the penthouse, leaving Holly standing with her hand on the door.

“Greer, meet Holly. Holly, Greer.”

Greer spins, holding out a hand. “I’m so sorry. I’m not usually so rude. But normally my aunt doesn’t call me to tell me you’re my half brother and your dad is a mobster.”

Holly takes Greer’s hand and shakes it. “Don’t worry, we’re still absorbing the news.”

My sister rushes toward me, her suit jacket buttoned wrong and her eyes wild. “Seriously? What the hell is going on?”

“It’s okay, Gree. You probably know just as much as we do at this point.” I’m surprised my aunt called her, though. “You said Aunt Katherine told you? That’s shocking.”

Greer shakes her head. “She was damn near incoherent, and I’m assuming near the bottom of a bottle of something. She rambled about never approving of how he treated you, and that you had no control over what your mother did. Sins of the father; blah, blah, blah. I just needed to make sure you weren’t freaking out and getting ready to kill Uncle Damon or something.”

“I’m still working out a solution,” I say, but the power flashes twice and the entire penthouse goes dark. The overcast sky barely illuminates beyond the windows.

“Well, shit. Now I’m going to have to take the stairs when I leave. Do you have to live on the top floor, Crey?”

“It’ll come back on in a second. The building has a backup generator.” As Holly comes toward me and tucks herself against my side, my tone is wry as I say, “I’m sorry you two had to meet like this. I’d anticipated something a little less . . . dramatic.”

Holly’s soft laugh reaches my ears and calms me further. Even in the midst of craziness, she’s a calm place to land, it seems. “I have a feeling our lives are going to be dramatic for a while.”

“Not mine,” Greer says. “Mine is boring and is going to stay boring. No freaking missed connections gone viral for this girl.”

I raise an eyebrow, although in the dark, Greer can’t see it. Her words make me hope that the boyfriend who I absolutely don’t think is good enough for her won’t last long. If I do have those Mafia ties, maybe we could—

The power flashes back on, and Holly and Greer scream.

“That’s it,” Holly says. “I’m done with New York. People walk through walls here? Hell. No.”

I stiffen and pull Holly closer as my gaze lands on three men standing inside the doorway. They’re all imposing, but the one in the center draws my eye.

The likeness is eerie, but not identical, and yet I feel as if I’m staring into the eyes of a much older version of me. About thirty years older, if I have to guess. He has gray eyes, where mine are dark, and I have my mother’s fairer skin, instead of his deep olive tone. But the facial features are all there. He’s flanked by two men in suits. Bodyguards.

His inspection of me is just as close.

“Creighton.” His voice is deep and gravelly, also very much like mine, but with a hint of an accent.

“You sure know how to make one hell of an entrance,” I say. “I believe I’m at a disadvantage. I know who you are, but not what your name is.”

The man steps forward, and the suits move with him.