Good morning,

If you’ve read Emanuel’s Heat by now you’ve been introduced to some members of the Genovese Family. Locked Doors, will be the first book in this series about this special family. And this will be my FIRST website exclusive series. Locked Doors will be coming VERY soon. As usual, I will be sending out the first chapter of the book the day before it releases via my newsletter. To sign up, click here. For now, here is a short excerpt from the book. Enjoy!

****Unedited. Subject to Change****

Emilio

“We have a problem.” It’s Matteo. He is the one who has been sent to inform me of whatever the issue at hand is.

Slowly, I pivot my attention from the stage to my left, glaring at Matteo. “What kind of a problem?”

“A witness problem.”

I grit my teeth. The stress that had just begun to seep out of my body returns in full force.

“I can handle it—”

My hand slices through the air. “If you could’ve handled it you wouldn’t be here right now.” I cut my eyes away from Matteo and return my gaze to the stage, pausing for a moment. A half a minute later, I am up on my feet, following Matteo to where this problem is now located.

He makes his way down the long hall I just walked up not more than fifteen minutes prior, passing through the first set of double doors, and holding the second set open for me to walk through. Across the room I peer over at his twin brother, Lorenzo, holding the exit door open.

Without a word I pick up my stride, meeting Lorenzo before stepping outside into the night air. There are two town cars parked in this back alleyway. Doing a quick appraisal of the situation, I see my normal driver. I move toward the back of the first town car and can see clearly thanks to the lights of the vehicles.

It’s her.

The woman from the coffee shop.

Leo is holding her from behind, his large hand covering her mouth. Her eyes are filled with terror.

“So this is the problem?”

“We don’t know how she got in here. I could snap her neck right now,” Leo says in Italian.

I move closer, glowering down at the woman.

“Move your hand,” I order in my mother tongue.

His hand lowers.

The woman looks around before licking her lips. My eyes follow the motion of her pink tongue as it moves across her bottom lip.

“Pl-please, I-I didn’t see anything. I won’t tell anyone. I-I’m supposed to b-be leaving Palermo tomorrow,” she pleads.

Something in me stirs. I hate begging and yet I want to hear more of her voice.

I let my eyes graze the entirety of her body from head to toe before returning to her face. The long, black dress doesn’t obscure the fullness of her frame. She’s tall in the heels she’s wearing—only falling two inches shorter than my six-foot-three height. Her skin is a tawny brown color, and the nervous way she keeps biting her lip with fear still in her hazel eyes, pulls at something deep inside my gut.

“D-Do you speak English?” she questions. “I c-couldn’t even communicate with the p-police. I w-won’t tell.”

She has just sealed her fate and she doesn’t even realize it. Americans. They talk too much.

“What is your name?” I question in English.

Her eyelids rise and she shakes her head.

“What. Is. Your. Name?” I demand more forcefully.

“L-Lydia.”

The tremble in her voice calls to me. I run my hand over the stubble along my lower jaw.

“Lydia,” I repeat, savoring every syllable of her name.

I nod, and without another word look over her shoulder to Leo. “Gag her and place her in the backseat. We’re going to the compound.”

Removing a handkerchief from his pocket, Leo stuffs it into her mouth. She squirms and tries to scream but it is useless. I turn and head to the second town car while Leo, the woman, and Lorenzo pile into the first one. Matteo gets in on the reverse side, and a minute later we are pulling off, out of the alley, away from the theater, for the fifteen minute drive back to the compound.

Coming Soon!