“Dante Grasso,” she says with a playful, sultry lilt to her voice. “It’s been a while.”
Finally, my mind provides a name. “Rina?”
Then, a memory. Fifteen years old and watching the daughter of an affluent Conte dancing at a club none of us should have been in. My peers immediately rallying for her attention. The eyes that fell onme.The rumors that followed.
My mother clears her throat. “SignoraMarinaRoma,” Evelina introduces her formally.
She greets me with a kiss on both cheeks, smelling of something rich and expensive andhusband ensnaring.
Suddenly, the attraction dims quite a bit.
“It seems the last decade has been kind to you, Dante,” she purrs as she pulls away.
“I’d return the compliment, but I’m sure you’ve always been this beautiful.” I smile back.
Dickhead.
“Marina was just telling me about her studies abroad,” Mother interjects with a little too much eagerness. “She’s just returned from America herself.”
Rina flushes modestly. “I was in London for a year, but my degree took me to UCLA.”
And the attraction dims again.
Because Carmen went toPrincetonand it’s not a competition but…
But the darkness of Rina’s sultry eyes doesn’t stir me like caramel glares do.
I hastily find myself another drink.
“That’s really interesting,” I hear myself saying as I pluck a flute of champagne from a wandering tray.
“Dante has been in New York…”
“Brooklyn,” I correct on reflex.
Evelina scowls right back. “Dante has been in business with some of our…distant relativesin preparation for taking up the family mantle.”
The euphemism feels unnecessary, considering we’re all aware of exactly the kind of business I’ve been engaging in.
“Not to mention that glorious castle of yours,” Rina adds to my mother’s polite amusement.
I can almost picture the way Carmen would laugh. The small crease in the corner of her eye and the valiant attempt she’d make not to show her amusement, but it would be right there on the quiver of her lips, bubbling right to the surface, her eyes shining with mirth?—
“Would you care to join me?”
I blink to find both Rina and my mother looking at me expectantly.
Shit. I wasn’t paying attention. Rina was talking, and I just zoned out because,of course,my mother's bachelorettes would only be interested inCastello di Ferro. Carmen said it herself?—
“Yeah, all right,” I say instead of allowing that thought to blossom into something more distracting.
To my complete horror, Rina reaches for my hand and begins to drag me away. She smiles as we weave through the crowds of preening heirs and heiresses toward a staircase I hadn’t noticed before.
I try desperately to politely acknowledge the faces that turn to us. The Ferraros and the De Lucas—important names that I’m still struggling to remember. Those who would consider it a slight if I ignored them.
I’m mentally exhausted by the time we ascend the staircase, and I find myself grateful that the rooftop here is far quieter, equipped only with a small bar and a stunning view of Modena below.
Thankfully, whatever Rina has planned requires alcohol, and a few moments later finds us leaning over the railing, glasses in hand.
