The Don's Rotted Flower.

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?"