The thing about ghosts is they’re supposed to stay dead. That’s exactly what I am, but I can’t stay away from Magnolia Marie Maison for one more day, let alone another year. We’ve already got 15 of those between us. As it stands, she’ll want to kill me as soon as she lays eyes on me. And knowing her, she’s completely up to the task. But I’m a man on a mission, and I’ve got everything riding on this. So, here I come, Magnolia. This ghost is ready for whatever you got. After all, there’s only one way I want this to end - ’til death do us part.

New Orleans belongs to me. You don't know my name, but I control everything you see - and all the things you don't. My reach knows no bounds, and my demands are always met. I didn't need to loan money to a failing family distillery, but it amuses me to have them in my debt. To have her in my debt. She doesn't know she caught my attention. She should've been more careful. I'm going to own her. Consume her. Maybe even keep her. It's time to collect what I'm owed.

I’ve spent my life putting others first. So when my father runs for New York City mayor—on a promise to take down the city’s most notorious crime family—I do what I always do: push my own dreams aside to help him win. Until I wind up at the wrong party. Trapped in a bedroom with Romolo Ferraro—the dangerous, merciless youngest son of the man my father has sworn to destroy. He terrifies me. He fascinates me. Six foot four and covered in tattoos, he’s everything I should avoid.

Ten years ago, Whitney Gable caught me off guard with her long legs and grab-you-by-the-balls blue eyes. I didn't know or care what her name was. Like any Riscoff worth the family name, I went after what I wanted. We burned like a flash fire until she married another man. She hates me, and she should. I objected on her wedding day. Now she's home, with those same long legs and man-eater stare, but there's no ring on her finger. They say a Riscoff and a Gable can never live happily ever after, but I'm not done with Whitney Gable.

We come from two different worlds. I’m from the streets. She might as well live in an ivory tower. I made my living with my fists. I doubt she could even throw a punch. Our paths never should have crossed. We never should have met. That doesn’t change the facts. I would sell my soul to taste those red lips. Fight the devil himself to hear her laugh. Burn in hell to have a single night. Scarlett Priest shouldn’t even know men like me exist, but sometimes temptation is stronger than will. If this is how I go down, it’ll be worth every second of the fall.