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The seconds his lips are pressed against mine are eons long. Heat flows from him into me. Fire licks up my body. I shouldn’t allow this to happen. Before I can put my hand against his chest and push him away, he breaks the kiss. His mouth leaves mine, but I can still feel it.
His eyebrows rise, teasing me. “Pretty girls need a birthday kiss.”
“Fiore!” Dad barks.
But Salvatore doesn’t move. He stays right where he is, his face inches from mine, his goading expression daring me to call for help. I close my lips and turn my face away, my insides churning.
What the hell is going on?
Salvatore stays where he is a few seconds longer, proving to Dad that he follows no one’s orders, I suppose, and then steps aside.
I stay where I am as Dad greets the men, standing between them and me. For a moment, I wonder if he’s outraged on my behalf that one of his guests kissed me within seconds of meeting me. He only looks mollified when they all greet him respectfully as Mayor Romano and shake his hand.
It’s his reputation he’s worried about, not mine.
The men are formally introduced to Mom and me in turn. Only Vinicius smiles at me. Salvatore looks amused, but not in a friendly way. Cassius and Lorenzo both regard me with glacial silence, the former as if I’m massively disappointing him and he’s itching to correct me, and the latter like he’s wondering whether to sever my limbs above the joint or below. Instead of dousing the heat inside me, their attention makes it burn harder. Every sensibility is telling me to fear these men, and on many levels, I do. Something deeper inside me, something more primal, wants to draw closer.
Dad calls them all businessmen. Important friends and colleagues. I might not know much about people and the world, but I can read. I hear what people say. “I think there’s been some mistake.”
Dad slips his hands into his trouser pockets, and his hooded gaze flashes with warning. “There’s no mistake. They’re your dinner guests. Be nice to your guests, Chiara.”
“But they’re all criminals!” I burst out.
Dad’s jaw tightens. He exchanges glances with each of the four men, and then he smiles.
Hesmiles.
They smile too. Four treacherous smiles, all teeth and threat.
“And so?” Dad asks.
“And…we’re not.” My voice goes up at the end. We’re not? Are we? People whisper about the Romano family, that Dad’s got irons in many fires and fingers in many pies. Vague things. Nothing that makes the news. Not like these men who seem to be evading a new accusation every week.
There’s a dark chuckle from Salvatore. “She’s more innocent than I thought.” His eyes travel over my lips, my breasts, my hips, as if he’s dismantling my chiffon dress with his gaze. My lips are still burning from that kiss.
“Chiara, these are my dearest friends. Show some respect.”
Dearest friends? These men? I’ve heard the accusations about my father, that he’s got links to the underworld and friends in low places. Of course, I’ve had my suspicions…but Dad’s always denied the rumors and called them ridiculous. He’s my father, and I believe him. He’s not the loving, affectionate man that some fathers are, and he expects a lot of Mom and me, but I’ve always believed he’s an honest person. If you can’t trust your own father, who can you trust?
Across the room, four men in suits watch me like hungry wolves.
“Sit.” It’s an order for Mom and me. Mom has her eyes on the floor as she walks quickly toward her chair. I know what she’d tell me if she could find her voice.
Just obey, Chiara. You know it’s easier to do what he wants. It will all be over soon.
But I don’t dare take my seat. If I sit down, then I’m going to hear terrible things. I know I am. There can be no innocent reason that these four men—these four notorious, dangerous men—are in our house tonight. I look desperately at my father. Dad, what have you done?
What did you promise them?
What do these menwant?
Mom and Dad are at either end of the oval dining table. The four men stand along one side, and my solitary setting is opposite. They wait behind their chairs for the birthday girl to take her seat.
“Eleonora,” Dad says lazily, not even looking at his wife. Mom hurries over to me and tries to push me into my chair, but I resist.
“Sit,” she breathes in my ear. “Please, darling. Just get through this night. You’re not of age, and nothing can happen to you.” Her final unspoken word hangs between us as our terrified gazes meet.
Yet.
