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“You really want to be here? You’re ready for this?” I asked while parking.
“Put on a smile and act like the world’s not on fire? Sure, I took a theater class in college. Totally sucked at it, but you know ... here’s my chance for a do-over.”
“Theater, huh?”
“Yeah, don’t ask. Like I said, I suckity-sucked at it.”
How did she have me wanting to smile right now?
“And wow. I mean, wow.” She sat taller when setting her eyes upon the home. While unbuckling, her purse fell to the floor. “This place looks like the midcentury had a baby with the contemporary.” She was talking with her hands, and when her gaze caught mine for a moment, I loved the way her eyes lit up.
“You have an eye for architectural design.”
“I suck at graphic design. And I can’t draw, you know that. Give me a ruler, and I’ll draw you a crooked line.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate art,” I reminded her.
Also, why hadn’t we ever had that conversation before? We’d spent almost every day together this past year. Of course, we’d mostly been at work, because I usually did my best to avoid being alone in her apartment with her; otherwise, I’d have slipped my hand down her panties long ago. Clearly, my control around her was as flimsy as a piece of notebook paper floating in the wind. It’d be gone-gone-fucking-gone.
“True,” she finally answered as her smile met her eyes. “When I see a good thing in front of me, it’s hard not to notice.”
“Yeah, I can relate.” My gaze fell to her thighs, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was without her panties. What is wrong with me?
When her legs pinned together, it felt like she was blinking a yellow caution light. A reminder to behave and focus, and apparently I needed that. She truly was a distraction.
I scratched my chin, my facial hair in that irritating not-yet-a-beard stage.
“How, um, big is this place?” Her nerves stretched her words out, somehow making every innocent thing she said sexy.
“I think it’s about fifteen thousand square feet. Only seven bedrooms, though. Either you’ll bunk with Izzy, or Mom will let her stay with her boyfriend and you’ll have your own room.” But knowing my mom, she’d never let Izzy share a bed while unmarried. “Mom won’t let anyone stay in Bianca’s old room.”
Maria visibly shivered, her gaze going back to the driveway full of cars. “Looks like a luxury car dealership,” she said, clearly opting for a subject change, and I didn’t blame her. “The Lamborghini is Alessandro’s, right?” I didn’t follow her eyes and instead, slung my forearm over the wheel and studied her. A shy sweep of red climbed up her throat, nearly hiding the slight bruises I’d given her from kissing her a bit too roughly. “And the Maserati is classy and sophisticated. Constantine’s?” Without waiting for my answer, she went on. “The Tesla has to be Izzy’s. She probably cares about the environment.” She frowned and tugged at the long sleeves of her red dress. “Not saying the rest of you don’t, but Izzy—”
“Izzy is Izzy,” I finished with a smile. “Yeah.”
“But the truck? That’s a curveball. I mean, it’s a nice one. But doesn’t feel like something a Costa would drive.”
A Costa, huh? I looked over at the truck on the other side of the curved brick driveway, which had one of Italy’s iconic pine trees at the center. Bianca had said that tree always reminded her of something from a Dr.Seuss book, tall and skinny with a thick canopy of needles high up.
And there went my heart. Hammering. Hard. Heavy. Fast.
“That’s Hudson’s. Constantine must’ve invited him to dinner,” I shared, knowing she was about to ask some follow-up questions to that.
“Why does that name sound familiar?”
I arched a brow. “Our first kiss was in his office.”
Her mouth rounded in surprise. “The bar. Right.” She looked back to the house when asking, “And why would Constantine ask him to come when you need to tell your parents about Bianca?”
“Because Hudson was with us the day we murdered her killer.” I closed my eyes. “Well, who we thought was her killer.”
EIGHTEEN
Enzo
“Really? I mean, I knew you were friends, but I didn’t realize you were that close.”
She looked slightly panicky. Frantic even. Because deep down, she was pure and innocent. And as much as she wanted to be here, she would never be the type to light the match for me if I needed to burn down someone’s world. Not that I wanted that to change about her. No, she was the type who saved spiders and let them outside. She didn’t revenge kill or seek payback against her enemies. Not that she had any, thank God. She was the light that I desperately wished I could stay in, but as much as I tried, the darkness always seemed to find me.
