Page 65 of Forged

“Missed you too, Lars.”

Lars’family is…a lot.

I’ve been hugged more times than I can count, kissed twice, and had my cheeks pinched by a woman who practically accosted Lars for not inviting her to our wedding. Violette speaks with her hands and her entire body, punctuating every sentence like she’s conducting an orchestra only she can hear.

And yet—even when she says something completely out of left field—I see it.

The love.

It’s there in the way she watches her boys. In the way Enzo’s hand never quite leaves Zara’s body. Wrist, hip or lower back, there’s constant contact, as if he needs the reassurance that she’s close. These people love and care for each other.

I sit at the table, watching them pass plates and argue over who makes better sauce, and I can’t reconcile this image with the word “Syndicate”.

It’s not what I imagined a family rooted in organized crime would look like.

We take our time eating. When everyone is finished, Lars and Iclear the last of the plates, stacking them near the sink. His shoulder brushes mine as we move, and he bumps my hip lightly with his. It’s domestic in a way that shouldn’t be so easy this soon.

When we return to the table, Enzo leans back in his chair.

“Lars, I want to review some files with you before we leave.”

Lars nods. “We’ll use my office.”

Before he goes, he bends and kisses my hair. “We won’t be long, Bella.” He points at Violette. “Vi, behave. Don’t scare her off.”

Zara laughs. “I’ll supervise.”

I watch Lars walk down the hall, then turn back to the two women. They’re both staring at me with bright, curious eyes. It causes me to stir in my chair.

I have risked tens of thousands of dollars at poker tables. I’ve stared down professional players who built their careers on intimidation. None of that prepared me for these two women.

Zara tilts her head slightly. “So, Neomi. You play poker?”

“I do.” I nod. “I travel a lot. It’s lucrative, and I love it.”

Violette places her hand over mine. “Well, at least now you won’t have to live out of a suitcase.”

My brow pinches. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” She smiles gently. “You don’t think Lars is going to let you out of his sight after what happened in Austin, do you? Marchetti men lean possessive on a good day. After someone followed you? I imagine he won’t let you roam very far.”

I’ve always gone where the game takes me. I live out of a suitcase because I choose to. I move around the country because I want to. But now I’m here, married to a man whose world might cage me in.

A flicker of panic rises in my chest and Zara sees it.

“But that doesn’t mean you’ll lose yourself,” she says smoothly. “As a Marchetti wife, you also have influence. If you ever wanted to understand the business—or shape something inside it—you could.”

I let out a small laugh. “Lars hasn’t told me much about the business. I haven’t asked much either.”

“It’s your choice what you know,” Zara replies. “But if you ever decide you want a seat at the table, he’d give you one.”

Violette perks up. “Has he told you about the Monarch?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“It’s a gentleman’s club the Syndicate owns,” she explains. “Enzo runs it. Lars steps in when needed.”

“The family owns a strip club?” I blink.