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The TV sounded from behind the low wall that separated the kitchen from the living room, and I imagined Benito was settled on the couch with his arms resting across the back as he always had them. In the background, my mamma was squealing about how big the shower was.
I tilted my head. “I think we do much better as fratello and sorella, don’t you?”
He licked his lips, running his teeth across the bottom one thoughtfully, but it looked like he was thinking about all the wrong things.
Those butterflies took flight.
“If you say so, Elena.”
“I do, Ace.”
He dried his hands and tossed the hand towel on the counter. Just like a man not to hang it back up.
“You been reading up on me?”
“Maybe.” I lifted a shoulder. “But no one knows why they call you Ace. Can you kill a man with a playing card?”
That amused him. “Why does it have to be about killing? Maybe I’m just damn good at cards.”
I raised a brow. “Are you?”
My heartbeat raced as he walked toward me, because it felt more like a stalk than anything.
“I’m all right.” His expression hinted at dark amusement, like he knew something I didn’t. He stepped within a foot of me, braced a hand on the fridge above my head, and then leaned in until I could see nothing but him.
I held my breath.
His gaze was thoughtful, as though he wondered if he could trust me with his secrets, whether he wanted to.
“You didn’t read much about me,” he guessed.
I shook my head.
He ran a thumb across my chin, right below my bottom lip and down the small indention. “First man I killed, I shoved an ace of spades down his throat.”
I swallowed as he took a step back and walked away from me.
“Name’s been with me ever since.”
“What about her?”
“Bitter and bisexual,” Adriana answered blandly, taking a sip of wine from her seat beside me at the island.
“How can you tell she’s bisexual?” I asked.
“She’s checked out Gianna’s boobs and Benito.”
I paused. “Well, her boobs are kind of distracting.”
My sister tilted her head, regarding Gianna’s breasts. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
The penthouse was full of about twenty Russos I hardly knew. The women stood in a corner, talking amongst themselves, and the last thing I wanted to do was small talk. Adriana should have been getting to know them better, but she never did anything by the book.
Papà was speaking to Nico, who had just come out of his room freshly showered and dressed in a black suit. Mamma’s smile was fake—she was doing a poor job of feigning interest in Nicolas’s aunt’s conversation. And Adriana and I sat here, playing a game where we judged people by two words, only because Mamma took my sister’s phone—and therefore Angry Birds—and yelled at her to get off the floor.
So far, Adriana thought everyone looked bitter and had some kind of secret sexuality. I didn’t think she was giving this game her all.
She still hadn’t shared with me why she’d been so upset last night, and that could mean two things: she’d given it some thought and decided it wasn’t as bad as she initially believed; or, the one I was concerned about—she’d decided not to listen to his demands. How would Nicolas deal with that? My stomach tightened.
