CODE NAME: DANTE 

Preorder Kindle | Releasing May 13, 2025

He spent years as an undercover agent bringing down his own family.
She was raised to hate everything his name represented. 
Together they'll uncover long-buried secrets that connect their families in ways neither expected.

DANTE
I dedicated my life to bringing down my brother’s criminal empire, sacrificing everything to expose the corruption that ran through my family name. The last thing I expected was to fall for Lark Gregory—the granddaughter of a woman whose family mine had destroyed generations ago. But from the moment I saw her at that coffee shop, I knew she was different. Now, as threats close in from all sides and long-buried secrets surface, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her. Even if it means facing my own brother and uncovering truths that could destroy us all.

LARK

I was raised on stories of how the Castellanos destroyed my family’s legacy. The last person I should trust is Alessandro Castellano—no matter how much he claims to be different from his criminal family. But as danger circles closer and my grandmother’s closely-guarded secrets begin to unravel, I find myself turning to the one man I was taught to hate. Now, with both our mothers’ disappearances somehow connected and old vendettas threatening to tear us apart, I have to decide if love really can overcome generations of hatred.

Chapter One
Dante

I watched the blonde, whose hair was almost snow-white, from across the room where Admiral and Alice’s wedding reception was taking place. Not the bride—her friend, the barista. I’d caught her throwing suspicious glances my way throughout the ceremony, though she quickly averted her gaze each time I looked in her direction.

The main room of Kane Mountain Great Camp was transformed for the reception. Strings of soft, white lights were draped along the exposed wooden beams, and Alice’s crystals caught the light, throwing rainbow patterns across the stone walls. The smell of the white sage she’d used to cleanse the space earlier today grew faint as the wildflowers that had adorned the dock where the lakeside ceremony took place were carried in and arranged around the room.

Their sweet scent, mixed with pine from the surrounding forest, wafted through the open French doors that led to a deck overlooking Canada Lake.

Now, as she meticulously placed each arrangement carried into the main room of the camp, I had the chance to study her more closely. Her movements were graceful and efficient, much like when she worked behind the counter at Method Tea and Coffee. I’d been watching her there too, though she didn’t know it. I hadn’t known who she was then, only that the first time I saw her, my heart clenched.

My cover had necessitated I keep my distance, and when I did go inside, I wore a ball cap and dark glasses. Something that seemed to annoy her as much as me intentionally looking down at my phone when I placed my order.

She didn’t work there anymore. Now, she lived in a small town south of where we were today. Where she’d grown up. It was called Gloversville, and between the turn of the previous century and through the fifties, business had boomed in the town known for—as one might guess—glove manufacturing. Some two hundred plants had churned out millions of gloves that were shipped around the world in those days. But what came with industry? Unions and union bosses. Who controlled them? Organized crime. And my family—the Castellanos—was the most powerful in all of New York State at the time.

I shifted my weight, trying to ease the familiar ache in my left knee—a souvenir from a “business meeting” gone wrong five years ago. The pain served as a constant reminder of the life I’d lived and the cover I’d maintained. Every scar, every old injury, marked the time spent pretending to be something I wasn’t.

“You’re staring,” Grit said, coming to stand beside me. There’d been a time I suspected he was dirty, but then the former FBI agent had proved himself when it mattered most—saving Alice’s life.

I forced myself to look away from Lark Gregory. “That obvious?”

“Only to someone trained to notice.” Grit took a sip from his glass of whiskey. The ice clinked against the crystal as he lowered it. “She’s not going to be an easy win.”

“I don’t want an easy win.”

“Good thing.” Grit chuckled. “Because that woman thinks you’re still the same Alessandro Castellano who terrorized New York as Vincent’s enforcer.”

My jaw clenched. My years of maintaining that cover—of being the ruthless brother who could strike fear with just a look—had been necessary. The DOJ needed someone on the inside to bring down not just the Castellano crime family but the corrupt officials they controlled, including men in both Grit’s and Admiral’s chain of command at the FBI. I’d sacrificed everything for that mission. My reputation. Relationships. Any chance at a normal life.

But watching Lark laugh at something Alice said, the sound carrying across the room like music, made me wonder if normal wasn’t overrated anyway.

Seeing her here, in this idyllic setting so far removed from the gritty streets of Manhattan where I’d spent years playing my part, stirred something I thought I’d buried long ago. Hope. Not just for redemption, but for the kind of life I’d convinced myself I didn’t deserve.

“Does she know I’ll be partnering with Admiral and Alice in the new K19 Sentinel Cyber?” I asked.

“She does now.” Grit motioned with his chin to Lark’s fading smile, replaced by a frown as she glanced our way again. “Alice just told her.”

Sadly, she didn’t appear impressed. It shouldn’t surprise me, given the fragments of conversation I’d caught earlier—something about her grandmother’s hatred of organized crime. The older woman’s opinion wasn’t unfounded. The Castellanos had left deep scars in Gloversville, wounds that decades hadn’t healed. Given my family name and reputation, I couldn’t blame either woman for their prejudice.

“You could try talking to her,” Grit suggested.

“She’d probably throw one of those vases of flowers at my head.” Given they appeared to be made of oil-rubbed bronze, it would likely hurt like hell too.

“You’re right.” Grit chuckled. “But at least then you’d know where you stand, meaning exactly how hard it will be to get her to give you the time of day.”

I straightened my tie and smoothed down my tailored suit jacket. The formal attire felt foreign after years of deliberately dressing down to maintain my cover. The fabric felt like armor, another kind of costume to hide behind. But Admiral had insisted this was a suit-and-tie affair. He wanted everything to be perfect for Alice, a woman I respected almost more than any other. Without her, it might have taken years longer to expose the corruption my evidence had only hinted at and to put Vincent behind bars, where he deserved to be.

“Your brother’s trial starts next week,” Grit said quietly, reading my thoughts. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” It was originally scheduled to begin last month but had been delayed like these things so often were. “At least something good came from all of it. The corruption exposed, the guilty facing justice.” I watched Lark adjust another arrangement.

“And maybe something else good too?” Grit nodded toward her. “Serendipitous that you wound up here, only twenty minutes from where she lives. It’s almost as if you planned it that way.”

“I didn’t,” I snapped.

Grit laughed. “Settle down, Dante. You won’t get any extra points with her, wearing the scowl that’s on your face.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” I said to him. “I believe I’m about to get a vase thrown at my head.”

Lark tensed as I approached, her fingers tightening around the delicate flowers she held. The late-afternoon sun streaming through the windows caught her white-blonde hair, making her look like an angel. The soft elegance of her sage-green velvet dress suited her far better than the crisp black uniform I’d seen her wear at the coffee shop her grandmother owned and she now ran. Though no matter what she wore, she was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

“Miss Gregory.” I kept my voice soft, deliberately gentle—the opposite of the tone I’d used as Vincent’s enforcer. “The flowers are beautiful.”

“Alice chose them.” Her voice was clipped. Nowhere near as friendly as it had always been at the coffee shop in Manhattan’s Midtown. “I’m just helping arrange them.”

The lilt of her voice, even sharp with distrust, brought back memories of the mornings watching her make tea and eavesdropping on quiet conversations across the counter. Back when she hadn’t known who—what—I was.

“Still, you have an artist’s eye for composition.”

She set the vase down with perhaps more force than necessary. “Is there something you need, Mr. Castellano?”

My name—like it was something bitter on her tongue—made me wince internally. But I maintained my calm exterior. “Alessandro, please. Or Dante. It’s what my friends call me, and I’d like to think we could be friends.”

“I prefer Mr. Castellano.”

“As you wish.” I breathed in deeply. “I was hoping we might start fresh. Now that—”

“Now that you’re working with Admiral and Alice?” She finally met my eyes directly. They were deep blue like the lake water when the sun’s rays hit it just right. Their fierce intelligence reminded me of the reason I’d been drawn to her even before I knew her name. “A convenient career change.”

“There’s nothing convenient about any of this, Miss Gregory.”

Something flickered in her expression—uncertainty maybe, or curiosity. But it was quickly replaced by that professional mask again. The one I’d seen her use with difficult customers, hoping she’d never have occasion to use it on me, like she just had.

“Please excuse me,” she said. “Alice needs help with the rest of the arrangements.”

I watched her walk away, the velvet of her dress swishing around her ankles. As she walked past a window, light danced in her hair, making her seem almost ethereal. But there was nothing delicate about Lark Gregory. Everything from her squared shoulders to her lifted chin spoke of strength and determination.

“That went well,” Grit said, rejoining me.

I didn’t respond. I was too busy watching Lark deliberately position herself on the opposite side of the room, as far from me as possible. She threw herself into a conversation with Bryar, Diesel’s wife, but I caught her glancing my way when she thought I wasn’t looking.

“You know,” Grit continued. “I’ve seen you in surveillance footage, negotiate with crime bosses and corrupt politicians, but I’ve never seen you this rattled by anyone. Most men would take that as a clear rejection and move on.”

“Most men aren’t me.”

“No,” he agreed. “Most men didn’t spend years pretending to be something they’re not while secretly working to bring down one of the most powerful crime families in New York.”

He was right. And most men didn’t have to watch their own brother become everything they fought against. Or face sitting on a witness stand, spending hours upon hours testifying against him. When I closed my eyes at night, the first thing I saw was the hatred he’d leveled at me when we first came face-to-face after he learned the full extent of what he saw as my betrayal. It reminded me of our father, the man he’d become alike. A man who ruled everything with an iron fist, including his wife and sons.

“Dante?”

“Yeah, so what’s your point?”

“My point is that you’re patient. You know how to play the long game.” Grit finished his whiskey. “Just don’t take too long. That woman’s building walls against you brick by brick.”

I smiled for the first time that day. “Then, I guess I’ll have to find a way through them.”

“The Castellano charm?” Grit teased.

“No.” I shook my head. “She deserves better than charm or games. She deserves the truth.”

“The whole truth?” He raised an eyebrow.

I watched as Alice pulled Lark into an embrace, both women laughing about something. “She needs to know who I really am—who I’ve always been, under the cover of stories and lies.”

Across the room, Lark looked up and our eyes met briefly before she quickly turned away. But at that moment, I’d seen something that gave me hope, like maybe her walls weren’t as solid as she wanted them to be.

Yes, I thought, watching her pretend to be absorbed in adjusting flowers that were already perfectly arranged. I would find a way through those walls. No matter how long it took.

When the jazz quartet began to play something slow and romantic, Admiral led Alice onto the makeshift dance floor, holding her like she was the most precious thing in his world. Other couples joined them—Diesel and Bryar, Tank and his date. Even Grit found a partner.

But I stayed where I was, watching the woman who’d haunted my thoughts since the first time I saw her smile. A smile I hoped to earn back one day.

After all, I had nothing but time now. And Lark Gregory was worth every second of it.

I just had to prove to her I wasn’t who she thought I was.