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“Who the hell are you?” Xander presses.

“Only the woman that’s been supplying your drugs for the past eight years,” she grins. Axel folds his arms over his chest, coming to sit on the desk next to her.

“No the fuck you ain’t,” Jac grouses in disbelief, throwing himself onto the small, black sofa next to a bookcase.

I wish I knew what in the shit was happening right now.

“This whole time?” Xander muses.

“So, imagine my surprise when my men turn up dead on a supply ship with an empty container.”

“Fuck,” Jacques curses.

“The Turkish guys.” Xander directs his statement toward Jac, who nods his head up and down slowly.

Xander rounds the desk, flopping into his chair. He stretches his arm out towards me, and like some kind of obedient dog, I walk over to him and take his hand. He pulls me into his lap as everyone in the room watches. His hand rests on top of my thigh as he leans on his other elbow.

This is a show. He wants this woman to know who’s still in control here.

But, despite myself, I’m willing to act this out with him.

“But who would—” Jac starts, quickly cut off by this woman whose name I still don’t know.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“What do you know about Aidan Burns?” Xander asks.

“Aidan Burns?” Her face scrunches in confusion. “I don’t know an Aidan Burns. Only an Aidan Deller.”

Jacques runs his hand through his hair, throwing his head back and starting to pace around the room. “Motherfucker played us.”

“Who?” I ask.

Her head whips towards me, that smirk playing on her face again. “So she speaks.”

Xander’s hold tightens on me. His jaw clenches and unclenches as if he’s about to say something, but I rest my hand on his thigh, silently asking him to hold it in. She catches sight of it and makes a quick hum inside her throat.

“Aidan. The man that died tied to the pole,” Xander grits out, his face laser-focused on the desk.

My face pales as I look at her.

Who is this woman?

As if reading my thoughts, she speaks. “Nova Bianchi. Italian mafia.”

Jacques recoils. “Antonio Bianchi’s daughter?”

She huffs out a laugh. “Head of the Italian mafia. My father’s been dead for a long, long time.” Her face remains hard as she says it, but I catch the flash of sadness in her eyes.

“Everyone thinks he’s still alive. And no one has seen you for years,” Xander says.

“And let it remain that way.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, the reason I’m here is because there’s someone out there after my people. They’re growing quickly. And if my suspicions are correct, the Dellers have something to do with it. All the runners you had over in Kensington and Chelsea? They were theirs. The Dellers played you well. I’ve been watching you, waiting to see if you’d notice, but you’ve been…”—she throws a quick glance my way—“preoccupied. You could’ve had them dead weeks ago. I was hoping you’d wipe them out. Little bitches are trying to weave their way into my empire.”

Axel takes a spot next to Ezra and Daniel by the wall, who both seem relaxed but vigilant. He sits in the middle of them both, legs spread wide. Nova rolls her eyes and focuses her attention back on Xander and Jacques.

“And let me guess, your lapdog over there reported back to you about Aidan?” Xander narrows his eyes on her.

She smiles. “I have eyes everywhere, Mr Warren.”