Hiding His Twins From The Underboss

Addison POV

The ride in the armored limousine was a suffocating exercise in silence.

The plush leather seats reeked of Evelin’s cloying perfume, a scent that seemed to choke the air from my lungs.

Bernard sat across from me, a statue carved from ice.

He hadn't uttered a single syllable since his men had shoved me into the back seat outside the clinic.

We weren't heading to the police station.

We were going to La Perle.

It was a French restaurant downtown—the very place Ben used to admire in the dog-eared magazines I kept at the cabin.

"One day," he had promised, his voice warm with a lie I hadn't known was a lie. "One day, Addie, I will take you there."

Now, he was keeping that promise.

But we were not there to dine.

The car rolled to a smooth halt.

Bernard waited, imperious, for his soldier to open the door.

He didn't offer me a hand.

Inside, the restaurant was a cavern of silence.

He had bought out the entire establishment.

He took a seat at a secluded corner table and gestured sharply for me to join him.

I sat.

My hands were trembling, so I hid them beneath the table, gripping my knees.

"You look well, Addison," he said.

He spoke my name as if it were a slur.

"Where is Ben?" I asked, hating the way my voice cracked.

"Ben is dead," he stated flatly. He lifted a crystal glass of water to his lips. "He died the moment I remembered who I was."

"You are married to me," I whispered, desperate to find a crack in his armor.

Bernard laughed.

It was a dry, humorless sound that scraped against my nerves.

"I am the Underboss of the Logan Family," he declared. "I do not have civilian marriages. I have alliances."

He leaned forward, the candlelight dancing in his cold, dark eyes.

"You are a loose end, Addison. And in my world, we tie up loose ends."

I felt the blood drain from my face, leaving me cold.

"Are you going to kill me?" I asked.

He studied me for a long, agonizing moment.

For a split second, I saw a flash of something flicker in his gaze.

Hesitation?

Regret?

No.

It was pure calculation.

"No," he finally said. "You saved my life. I pay my debts."

He slid a sleek black envelope across the pristine tablecloth.

"There is cash inside," he said. "Enough to buy a new life. Far away from here."

"I don't want your money," I said.

I pushed the envelope back toward him.

His jaw tightened, a muscle feathering in his cheek.

"Then what do you want?" he demanded. "To play house in a shack? To pretend I am a lumberjack named Ben?"

"I want a divorce," I said, my voice gaining strength. "If we are not married, then let me go."

"You are not going anywhere," he countered.

He stood abruptly and stalked around the table.

He stopped directly behind my chair, his presence looming over me.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, sending a shiver of dread down my spine.

"Evelin needs a therapist," he murmured. "You are hired."

"I won't do it," I said instantly.

"You will," he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Because if you don't, I will find that music box you pawned."

My head snapped up.

He knew about the music box.

"I bought it back," he revealed cruelly. "It sits on my mantle. It is a fragile thing, Addison. One squeeze, and it becomes nothing but splinters."

"You wouldn't," I breathed.

"Try to run," he threatened softly. "And watch what happens to the only memory you have left of your father."

He straightened up, adjusting his cuffs.

His phone buzzed against the wood of the table.

He glanced at the screen.

"Evelin is waiting at the Estate," he said. "Come. You have work to do."

I stared at his hand as he checked his watch.

On his wrist, the crisp cuff of his shirt had pulled back.

I saw the tattoo.

A simple, black letter *E*.

When he had gotten it at the cabin, using ink and a needle in the dim light, he told me it stood for *Eternity*.

For us.

I looked up at him, my heart breaking all over again.

"It stands for Evelin, doesn't it?" I asked.

Bernard didn't look at me.

"It always did," he said.