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Crossing her arms over her tits, she shrugs. “It just is, okay? We aren’t friends, I don’t need to give you my life story.”
Cocking my head to the side, I study her tiny form, the way her plump bottom lip quivers and she refuses to look me in the eye. Fear? Shame? I can’t quite tell what emotion it is keeping her demure, but it’s a flint, sparking a fire deep in my belly that I’m afraid only she can extinguish.
A plan pops in my head, and I push Boyd completely out of the way, gripping her chin in between my index finger and thumb. I yank her face toward mine, admiring how her creamy skin glitters under the night sky, and bend so only she can hear me.
Distantly, I can hear my parents approach, can hear Elia Montalto asking where the fuck his sister-in-law went, can feel Boyd move away from us. But I don’t care.
Our gazes connect, green and blue stars mixing with one another; they burn bright yellow, and I breathe out a soft gasp, trying to ignore how my body hums at our close proximity.
There’s a mixture of emotions flashing in her irises; her eyebrows draw inward, and she tries to retreat, but I pinch tighter, keeping her in place. “What would you do to get this locket back?”
Her lips part, eyes drifting to mine as the words fall from my mouth. “W—what?”
“What would youdo?” I ask.
My mother’s voice reaches my ears, inquiring about the girl in front of me, but I don’t respond. I’m lost at sea, drowning in her, and I don’t think I want to be rescued.
“Anything,” she breathes, her pink tongue darting out to taste the corner of her mouth, and the muscles in my shoulders relax, tension I wasn’t even aware of dissipating at her answer.
For some reason, I believe her. Believe that this locket means more to her than her own life, that she’d do whatever it takes to get it back. I just don’t understandwhy—what event or person got in her head and devalued her?
Who hurt you?
The question flares inside my brain, unwarranted, but it doesn’t stop me from wondering how I might do the same.
“Oh, kitten.” Releasing her chin, I shake my head, feeling my darkness spread through my body like poison ivy, coating every nerve ending. “You’re gonna regret that.”
* * *
Juliet
Elia’s burning holes into my head as I make my way back over to him and Caroline, my dress swishing pleasantly against my legs with each step I take. The threat in Kieran’s words should give me pause, should make me uncomfortable, but I can’t stop thinking about the way he stared into my eyes, held me captive, a slave to the muted desire swirling in those striking emeralds.
Like there was something he saw worth looking at.
“What the hell was that about?” My brother-in-law snaps, jaw set in a hard line. “Why were you talking to Kieran Ivers?”
“Obviously I was asking when he’d be free to murder me.” I lift a shoulder, plastering on my most saccharine smile and loving the twitch that thumps beneath Elia’s left eye. “Jeez, it was just a conversation. We ran into each other in the bathroom, is all.”
“Gesù Cristo. You’ve been alone with him twice tonight?”
Again, I shrug, casting a sideways glance at my sister. She swallows, fidgeting beside him, and I’m starting to wonder what the fuck they know that I don’t. “What? Am I supposed to ignore the only person here to give me the time of day tonight?”
Even if it was only to taunt and terrify me.
Not like I can’t handle that.
“Yes!Especially when that man is a fucking murderer.”
Something cold seizes my veins, like ice exploding inside me; I know, of course, the rumors about Kieran. Hell, I even kind of believe them, but hearing it come from someone in his world makes it real. And it’s extremely hard to reconcile the deal I just made with the Devil.
Still, it’s not like thecapoof the Montalto crime outfit has any room to talk. “Takes one to know one, right?”
Caroline wraps a hand around his bicep, tugging him toward the limo Leo, another of Elia’s men, pulls up in. “Elia, we can talk about this tomorrow. Not here—too many eavesdroppers.”
“What’s there to talk about?”
He shakes his head, his features softening a fraction as he considers me. “You like that he looks at you, Juliet? That he makes your insides all warm and fuzzy? Tequila has the same effect, and it won’t leave you dead in a ditch somewhere.”
