The cage was huge—easily large enough to serve as a studio apartment back in New York City.

I watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Sullivan buckled the thick leather strap, securing my wrist tightly against the bronze-tinted bars.

I stood completely naked before him, my gaze sweeping across the elaborate dark ink spreading over his broad chest and sculpted torso. Every movement of his arms made his muscle groups flex and shift. On the left side of his abdominal wall, the dark script read Adamo—Adam in English. Seeing it laid out like that made me realize just how deep his bond with his brother ran, deep enough to carry his name...