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It didn’t.
“I am.” He let go of my hand, and a shiver ran down my spine when he hit my lower back instead. The act of possession felt stronger as his fingers held me tighter.
A touch I could get used to by its warmth and claim. The kind I looked forward to as it sparked a neediness in its hold.
“Are you surprised?” he asked.
I stopped and faced him before we walked into the mixed voices in the dining room.
I shook my head, answering his question.
“How’s your wrist?” He peered down.
“Fine.”
He scoffed, and we fell into silence. He glanced past me, and I glanced at his patterned tie that matched his fitted, dark blue blazer and suit pants.
“Why are you stalling?”
“I didn’t think I was,” I mumbled.
I was.
“You’re nervous.”
I felt his eyes and ignored them.
With my shoulders back, I faced the dining room opening.
“Don’t be.”
“I’m not.”
“Then walk in,” he pressed.
I did, and the room quieted.
The first set of eyes I found were hazel, distant and harsh—Arlo’s. He didn’t bother to come our way. Instead, he stayed behind a chair with crossed arms, feet apart, and a blunt sneer pointed at me.
Happy to see you again too, Arlo.
Lucca’s hand pressed deeper before curling onto my side, pulling me closer in warning. Or was it a plea to behave? A quick glance at his stern eyes answered me. He wasn’t one to ask nicely anyway.
“Katia, let me introduce you to Davina and Ilias.”
I removed my gaze from him and found the girl who had started it all. He didn’t need to introduce me; I’d meet them all.
The doe maroon in her irises retained the same hope and love I’d seen the night of the gala as they looked up kindly at me.
I didn’t like it.
Her acceptance of this world was baffling for someone like me. The content they offered in a den of sin. I would never understand her choice to live in this world. To give up freedom and ignorance to the true crime that lived among the righteous.
Davina’s hair was now a few inches shorter as it fell in black curtains to her shoulders. Her petite features brightened with a smile I had trouble returning. The optimism and buoyancy it displayed by seeing me. The one whose blood matched the same man who’d scarred her neck, hunted her, and wished nothing else but her death.
Could she be so pure to forgive, to see me as someone more than a Vitelli?
If so, her soul hadn’t yet been fully taken by the Mafia, but it was only a matter of time before the corruption, lies, and death would unveil the rotten truth of her future.
