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He did
n’t say a word, but his neutral expression confirmed it as his stare traveled back up from my heels.
“And I’m guessing you don’t want to be one right now?” I realized I shouldn’t have said it as I was saying it.
His heavy gaze reached mine, burning me.
He gave his head a slow shake.
Okay.
I’d stood my ground long enough, much longer than the Sweet Abelli ever would. But now, I just needed to get the heck out of here.
“Okay, well . . . I’ll see you around.”
I couldn’t think of a less idiotic response, so I only took a step to go around him—but, before I could, something grabbed my wrist. He grabbed my wrist. His grip felt like a band of fire; rough, calloused fire. A cool breath of fear mixed with something boiling hot leaked into my bloodstream.
He stood a couple feet from me, his grip the only thing connecting us. “Write up a list of your sister’s hobbies. Likes and dislikes, shoe size, dress size, and anything else you think will be useful. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I breathed. How many men had he killed with the hand wrapped around my wrist? It wasn’t a hard grip, but it was heavy, firm, immovable. It made me aware of how much smaller I was, how unnerved and out of place I felt. How I couldn’t leave unless he chose to release me.
He watched me with an inquisitive gaze. My heart felt close to stopping and my skin was burning up. It was inappropriate for him to touch me, future brother-in-law or not. My papà could come out of his office any moment, but this man didn’t seem to care. I did, though, especially after the scene earlier.
“I’ll give the list to you on Friday at the engagement party,” I managed to say and tried to pull my wrist away.
He didn’t let me go. My pulse fluttered when his thumb brushed my knuckles. “I was under the impression the Abellis could afford more than a fifty-cent ring.”
I glanced at the ring on my middle finger. It came from one of those vending machines and had a purple round-cut jewel in the center. The thought of it sobered me.
“Sometimes the cheapest things are the most valuable.”
His gaze came back to my face, and we looked at each other for a moment. His grip slipped down my wrist, palm, fingers. The rough pads of his fingertips brushed my softer ones, and made my heart skip a beat.
“I’ll see you at lunch, Elena.”
He left, disappearing into my papà’s office.
Cazzo . . .
Leaning against the wall, the ring was a heavy weight on my finger. I could take it off, put it somewhere it couldn’t haunt me, but I knew I never would. Not yet.
His grip still burned like a brand on my wrist as I left the hallway.
Once again, he’d said my name in the most inappropriate way.
“Murders came with smiles, shooting people was no big deal for us Goodfellas.”
—Henry Hill
BILLIE HOLIDAY PLAYED SOFTLY FROM the old pool radio. Condensation dripped down crystal glasses, and silverware glinted in the bright sunlight. It was a hot July afternoon, but the steady breeze was the perfect interlude.
Lights wound around the wooden slats of the patio cover, and my mamma’s rose bushes were flourishing. The chairs were soft and the food was good, but it could only be so comfortable having lunch with a bunch of strangers. However, the seventies ad sitting across from me didn’t seem to share the same opinion.
“Anyway, the cop let me go and he didn’t even take my coke—”
“Gianna.” The word was a low warning from Nicolas’s spot at the table.
She rolled her eyes and took a deep drink of wine, but she spoke no more.
