I took the check, lit it on fire in front of him, and dropped the ashes into a tray.

I knew that out there, in the shadows, Julian Rossi—the Valenti family's arch-nemesis—had been waiting for me for ten years.

Renee's sharp, impatient voice shattered my thoughts.

I ran a clinical eye over the skin on her back.

Beneath a thick layer of concealer, her skin was a mess of angry red patches and a tight cluster of needle marks. In several places, the skin had begun to fester and ooze.

She flinched in pain, but her words were pure poison.

"Be gentle, you useless trash! I could have Tanner tear down this shithole with a single phone call, you know that?"

"Those damn thugs played too rough and left me with this rash! Once I'm the Godmother, I'll have them all chopped up and fed to the dogs!"

I picked up the rubbing alcohol, my face a blank mask. "Renee, your back has a severe soft tissue infection and lesions I can't identify. I can't tattoo over this."

The moment she heard my refusal, she slapped my ink tray, sending it clattering across the floor.

"You won't? How dare you! I am the future Mrs. Valenti, you hear me?"

"I'm wearing a backless wedding dress! If you can't cover this mess, I'll make you disappear from Chicago!"

Venom flashed in her eyes. "Are you jealous? Jealous that Tanner loves me? He listens to everything I say. If I tell him to kill someone, he does it!"

If it weren't for Julian's plan, I wouldn't have laid a finger on her filthy skin.

But my cover was a tattoo artist in neutral territory. I couldn't break the rules.

I wasn't in the mood to waste my breath on her. "No one but me can cover up flesh this rotten. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

At the mention of "rotten flesh," a flicker of panic crossed her face. "What rotten flesh! It's an allergy! Do you know what an allergy is, stupid?"

"Just do the damn tattoo! If you screw up my wedding, I'll have your entire family killed!"

"Standard procedure for a condition like this requires a liability waiver," I said calmly. "Or would you prefer your fiancé sign it?"

My tone was flat as I idly tested the tattoo machine in my hand.

Renee's face twisted in fury. "Shut your mouth! If Tanner hears one word of this, I'll kill you myself!"

I raised an eyebrow.

Idiots who were all talk like her usually didn't survive their first mistake in our world.

I tossed the waiver in front of her. "Sign it. You have a wedding dress to try on…"

My words were cut off by a loud bang.

The studio door burst open.

"Wedding dress? Who gave you permission to speak to my fiancée that way?"

"Wesley, it's only been three months. Have you already forgotten how to talk to your betters?"

Tanner filled the doorway, flanked by four heavily armed bodyguards.

The sheer menace of the man seemed to strain the seams of his black Italian suit, an aura of ruthlessness honed by years at the top.

His gaze swept past me to Renee, and his face instantly darkened.

She was disheveled, her back a swollen, angry red.

A murderous look crossed Tanner's face. "Wesley, what the hell did you do to her?"

"She was fine when she left the estate! You dare torture my woman?!"

Renee seized her moment, reaching out a trembling hand. "Tanner! Save me! She's trying to kill me!"

Her voice was a pathetic whimper. "She used a poisoned needle on me! She said… she said with this needle, I'd rot from the inside out! I begged her to stop, but she just laughed…"

She broke off, coughing violently, her nails digging into the fabric of his sleeve.

"Tanner, she's jealous! Jealous I can give you a son, jealous that I'm going to be the Godmother!"

I peeled off my pus-stained gloves, tossed them in the bin, and met Tanner's gaze. "Don Valenti, if that's sepsis, your fiancée has about half an hour before she needs a crematorium."

Before Tanner could process that, Renee shrieked, "She's lying! Tanner, she's lying!"

"She knows you threw her out for me! She's just trying to get revenge with these dirty tricks."

Renee pointed a shaky finger at the marks on her skin. "Look, she did this! Just now! She even threatened to send pictures of me to your rivals, telling them you were marrying a slut!"

My gaze drifted to Renee.

Those needle marks and raw patches were the tell-tale signs of long-term drug abuse and a life lived on her back.