Toxic Love: A Dark Enemies To Lovers Mafia Romance
Toxic Love: EPILOGUE

Two months later:

My heart is racing as I stand and reach across the desk to shake Dean Keller’s hand.

“Thank you so much for seeing me today, ma’am.”

She waves off the formality with a grin. “You know, being that I changed one of your diapers once, I think we can stick with Maureen. What do you think?”

I laugh as my face heats. “I think I’m really excited to start.”

“Good! Because we’re really looking forward to seeing you next semester, Tempest.”

Back when she was changing one of my diapers, Maureen Keller was one of New York City’s top hot-shot attorneys, and good friends with my dad. Now, after leaving private law, she’s the Dean of Admissions for Columbia Law School, where she and my dad were students together.

Where I’ll be following in his footsteps.

Finally.

Life becomes a bit less singleminded when you realize you’re not dying tomorrow. Well, okay, we all might die tomorrow, as macabre of a thought that is. But when you’re literally ticking days off a calendar until your final breath, it’s just one dark tunnel vision.

And then one day, someone shows you a light at the end of that tunnel. Actually, in my case, you get told that there is no tunnel. And suddenly, the world opens up.

I’m doing things again I never thought I would. Like I’ve taken up running for reasons I’m not sure I could even explain, because I actually used to hate running.

I’ve also started learning to cook, to…mixed results, even if Dante puts on an Oscar-worthy performance at whatever I put in front of him, edible or otherwise.

Either way, I’m putting on weight again, which feels fucking great.

But another thing I’m doing now that I actually have a future is going back to school.

When what happened to me happened, and when Nina died, I went into recluse mode. I finished high school remotely, and then went on to do most of my undergrad from the comfort of my bedroom behind a laptop screen. My brothers pushed hard for me to apply to the law program at Columbia, which I sort of begrudgingly did but then tossed aside when my diagnosis came in.

Alistair sent it in for me, and then pulled some strings to get me on a sort of “deferred acceptance” list. I spent months feeling guilty that there was probably some other budding young lawyer out there not getting a chance because a dead girl was taking up their spot.

But now, I’m finally taking that shot myself, starting next semester.

After leaving Dean Keller’s office on the Columbia campus, I shoot downtown for my appointment with Dr. Han. But first, I make a pit-stop into Magnolia Bakery for a red velvet cupcake, which I know he loves.

Dr. Han was horrified when he found out my acidosis was actually arsenic poisoning. Apparently, the man even drafted a letter to the New York Medical Board to ask that his license be revoked for missing it. Mercifully, his wife stopped him before he could jump on the grenade like that.

The misdiagnosis is not his fault. I even threatened Alistair with violence if he didn’t back off from pushing me for a malpractice lawsuit. I mean the symptoms between what they thought I had and what was actually going on are identical, and who the hell would think that they’re being poisoned with freaking arsenic outside of 1900’s London? It’d be like getting diagnosed with “acute stabbing ailment from Jack the Ripper”.

So, the cupcakes every time I go in for a post-transplant checkup are my way of telling him we’re good.

I still have nightmares from time to time. I still occasionally find myself slipping into the dark places. And I’ve had some issues with trusting new people recently, after the whole Pam/Jacqueline ordeal. I mean the woman was never my best friend, but she spent almost a year smiling into my face as she watched me drink poison.

The night of that ill-fated dinner party, when Dante, Charles, and both of my brothers went to the hospital after Jacqueline had given all the wine glasses a rinse of poison, she even covered her tracks by giving herself a small dose and claiming to have drunk some of the wine, too. The message on the cork she scrawled during the chaos when everyone but Maeve and I were falling sick.

So, yeah, that can throw you off when it comes to opening up to new people. But therapy is awesome, and Alessia, my therapist, is fantastic.

The important thing to remember is, no one is ever “fine”. No one has it all together without a single crack, or a darkness lurking in their shadows, or a fear dogging their step.

The important thing is, you wake up each day and you make the most of it. And if you find someone who makes you stronger, you hang on to them tight.

And that someone is my next and final stop after my late check-in with Dr. Han.

Lorenzo raises the partition of the Escalade before I even unzip the garment bag, closing me off in the back.

“You sure you don’t want to head home first to change, Mrs. Sartorre?” He asks through the intercom.

“Nah, I don’t want to be late,” I grunt as I kick off my boots and start shimmying out of my black jeans. “You know how the tyrant gets.”

Lorenzo chuckles from his side of the partition as I shrug off my cardigan.

“And, Lorenzo, for real, when are we gonna switch to just Tempest?”

“Mrs. Sartorre works just fine for me, ma’am.”

I roll my eyes as I peel the rest of my clothes off, blushing at being nude in the back of a moving car, even if the partition is up and the windows are movie-star tinted.

“Ma’am? Fucking seriously?”

I yank open the garment bag and grin as heat teases up my neck.

My husband has fantastic taste in fashion, I have to say. The dress is gold and slinky, with barely a single thread looping around the back of the neck to keep the whole thing from sliding off. Which wouldn’t make that much difference if we’re being honest, given that the whole dress is half-see-through.

Which, I suppose, is why it’s hanging alongside a pair of very racy black lace lingerie meant to be worn under it. The bag also contains a pair of knee-high, lace-up black boots.

He knows me so well.

“How about by summer, Lorenzo? Can we shoot for that for going to a first name basis?”

“Afraid not, Mrs. Sartorre.”

I roll my eyes, sighing as I slip the lingerie on and the slinky gown.

“It would be a great Christmas present.”

There’s a pause from the front seat.

“That’s a maybe!” I crow, howling with laughter.

I lace up both heeled boots and then reach into the depths of the garment bag for the final touch, just as the car stops.

“We’re here…” Lorenzo coughs brusquely. “Miss.”

Hey, it’s a start.

I pull on my gold and black mask and step out of the car.

“Don’t wait up!”

Outside the SUV, I feel my pulse quicken and my core tighten as I look up at the unassuming building with the unassuming dark wood door.

The doorbell is silent out here, along with the rest of the quiet, unassuming side street I’m standing on as a fine mist begins to rain down.

The door opens, and as I step into the dim interior, I shiver as a tall, built man with broad shoulders filling out a shut-up-and-fuck-me tuxedo steps in front of me. His piercing blue eyes eviscerate me, like he’s stripping the lace from my body. His chiseled jaw grinds, like he’s determining my fate here and now.

He reaches for me, and I feel a pulse throb deep inside of me as his powerful hand grabs my hip possessively and pulls me into him, enveloping me in his clean, slightly spicy scent.

“You know my husband would kill a man for touching me like this.”

“Would he?” The man growls, his teeth flashing as he leans in close to me. “Well, I like him already.”

“I’m pretty sweet on him myself.”

Dante grins as he dips his mouth and sears his lips to mine.

“Ready to go inside?”

“Ready.”

“Well then,” he turns, and two guards open the next set of doors into the depths of sin, darkness, and desire. “Welcome to Club Venom.”