“Everyone in the Bratva does. Dedushka used to mention his name among the inner circle. He’s the hitman my grandfather worked with the most. He used to say Ghost kills without leaving a trace behind and is the best at what he does.”

“He is. We are.”

“So you belong to the same organization as him?”

“I do.”

I want to probe him some more, but I could slip with what I already know about his organization. So I remain silent, hoping he will be the one to continue talking.

The way he spoke about his godfather—Ghost—is so different from anything he’s spoken about before. It’s clear that he shares a connection with the man to the point that he calls him family. But he mentioned doing something unforgivable, so maybe that’s the reason he’s barely talked about Ghost before.

This is one of the few times Kyle has opened up about the past without me having to poke and prod. He’s closed off to a fault and always dodged any of my questions with his charming humor. What an irony that he’s talking this freely after he thinks I lost my memories.

He strokes the back of my hand, leisurely, as if we’re an old couple satisfied with being in each other’s company. “After I was separated from Godfather, I had no purpose. I was so used to being his right-hand that I didn’t know what to do with my life after. So I decided to go back to my roots, and that wasn’t that much of a fun idea. But then, something happened.”

“What?” I ask, despite myself.

“You did, Princess.”

“Me?”

“After I met you, I saw one of Godfather’s traits in you.”

“Which traits?”

“You’re special in your own way, but one day, you might end up like him.”

I get the meaning behind his words without him having to spell it out. One day, he will do something unforgivable and then our paths will never cross again.

Once he knows what I’m plotting for him, that’s probably what will happen.

Not releasing my hand, he kicks the car into gear. The entire drive is spent in doomed silence. I bring out my phone and focus on replying to mundane emails. However, my mind keeps skipping back to what Kyle told me. My mind goes into overdrive analyzing the bits about his godfather and the organization he spent his entire childhood in.

He must have suffered when he was younger. He must’ve been robbed of basic human rights. Here I thought my childhood was screwed up, but it doesn’t compare to his. However, does that give him the right to screw other lives over? Mine included?

The car comes to a halt in front of a fancy Italian restaurant, cutting off my train of thought. I step out but ignore his elbow when he offers it to me.

When the hostess asks us if we have a reservation, Kyle offers her his charming smile. “Nicolo’s friends, love. Tell him Kyle sends his regards.”

Her eyes nearly bug out and she appears flustered as she calls for one of the waiters. “Of course, sir. Welcome.”

So this is one of the Italians’ businesses. I’ve never been here before, but I rarely eat out anyway. Ruslan and Katia never join me at the table and remain on guard, and I hate having them alert in public places. I’m not surprised that Kyle is close enough with the Lucianos’ underboss, Nicolo, to the point of using his name for favors. He’s a snake that way, and he has the best connections to the heads of crime organizations through Adrian.

The waiter guides us to a table that’s out of view near the wall. No window is close by, and the other patrons are far away. This is why I don’t like eating out; the entire experience is tarnished by security measures.

I order pasta with seafood and Kyle orders some complicated Italian dish that I’m sure will taste like shit. He then asks the waiter for a 1979 Chateau Grand-Marteau wine.

The waiter brings the bottle back, smiling as he carefully opens it. “Excellent taste, sir.”

After the waiter pours him a glass, Kyle swirls the wine and inhales before nodding. “Thank you.”

The waiter places the bottle on the table with extra care, as if it’s some sort of a national treasure.

While we wait for our food, Kyle pours me a glass.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask.

“There doesn’t need to be an occasion for us to drink good wine.”

“I didn’t know you liked wine.”

His sharp stare pins me in place over the rim of his cup. “Know?”

Shit. This is why spending more time with him is dangerous. I fall into easy conversation with him and forget about my amnesia plan. Thankfully, I recover quickly. “You look like the strong-stuff type.”

“I actually prefer wine, but it doesn’t suit my killer image so I’ve been hiding it.”

I mask a smile behind my napkin. Who knew Kyle was more of the wine type?

“What are you laughing at, Princess?”

“Your love for wine.”

“Those who have not tasted wine—good wine, not the cheap stuff—are missing out.”

“You just don’t look like a wine person.”

“And what type of person do I look like?” He places the glass close to his nose and inhales deeply.

“I don’t know. Maybe Jack Daniels.”

“Well, the last time I bought Jack Daniels, we had so much fun on our wedding night.”

My cheeks feel like they’re on fire. “I don’t remember that.”

“I do, and that’s enough.” He pauses. “For now.”

I take the glass, attempting to drink it all in one go, but Kyle places his hand on the top of mine. His touch is soft, almost like he’s trying to touch not only my hand but also other invisible parts of me.

His eyes gleam as he speaks in a seductive tone. “You have to smell it first.”

“Is that a rule?”

“No, but you’ll enjoy it much better, believe me.”

I’ll be damned if I believe another word out of his mouth, but I do as I’m told anyway and take a sniff of the wine. It does smell good, fermented and a bit old. It’s like I could get drunk on the smell alone.

I take my first sip, closing my eyes to relish the taste that fills my throat.

“How does it feel?”

At Kyle’s voice, I open my eyes, not realizing I closed them for long.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s more than fine. It’s exquisite.” His eyes never leave mine as he speaks and sips from his own glass. Then he licks the wine off his lips as his gaze slowly slides to my breasts.