Demetrio's POV
Moments later, I sit in the driver's seat of my car, staring at her apartment complex. My hands still tremble slightly from the adrenaline, from the release, from the dark satisfaction that courses through me like a drug. The leather steering wheel is warm beneath my palms, and I can still smell her on my fingers. Vanilla and arousal and something uniquely Cellie that I know I'll be chasing in my dreams tonight.
I'm in the middle of an enormous drug deal with the Mexicans, territory negotiations with the Polish, and the Bratva are finding newer, more creative ways to get under my skin. But here I am, chasing after my stepsister like some lovesick fool, like some teenage boy with his first crush. The irony isn't lost on me. The Don of the DeLeon family, reduced to stalking
