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I rushed right back up the stairs when I locked eyes with Rocco, going into the bathroom and closing the door. Martina Russo was at the mirror, holding a vial of cocaine and looking at me with wide eyes.
“Allegra? What’s wrong? You want a bump?” she asked, and I shook my head. I had never gotten into drugs and I didn’t plan to. Martina was a friend of mine, although not close, and she so far hadn’t shown signs of real addiction, but I was still concerned. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said, pouting. “It’s a party.”
“It’s a meeting,” I corrected her.
She rolled her eyes. “For our fathers, it’s a meeting. For us, it’s a party,” she insisted.
I bit my tongue to keep from telling her that it was a meeting for me, too. No one knew I was going to be my father’s real heir; most of my male cousins thought they’d get the job, so I had to keep it under wraps. I was supposed to be sticking close to the Gallos, but one look at Rocco and I’d gone running. I took a deep breath. “You’re right,” I mumbled. “Why don’t we get out of here?”
I usually wasn’t this irresponsible, and I knew my father needed me to learn who was messing with our laundromat, but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t see Rocco, couldn’t speak to him. My heart had leaped into my throat the second I’d seen his green eyes. He lookedgood, too, had gained weight, broader across the chest, wearing a tailored suit that showed off his muscular stature. He’d always been attractive to me, but with a few lines on his face and his body filled out…my body had gotten hot the moment he looked at me. But I couldn’t get wrapped back in with Rocco Moretti. It would kill me.
Martina grinned. “Hell, yeah. Let’s go!” She took my elbow and we headed outside.
I texted Alberto and he met me at the door, frowning. He pointed back inside and I shrugged. “I’m taking the night off, Alberto,” I said, and surprisingly, Alberto cracked a smile, nodding and going to get the car for me.
“Where are we going?” Martina asked, and I laughed, wishing I’d grabbed more than one glass of champagne. God knew I needed a drink.
“Anywhere with booze,” I mumbled.
Martina cheered, climbing into the backseat of the car when Alberto showed up. “I love it when you let your hair down,” she said, and I smiled and did just that, taking out the knot from the top of my head and letting my white-blonde hair fall down my back. I’d needed a change after Rocco left, and I’d been bleaching my hair ever since. I thought it suited my olive complexion and made my brown eyes pop, so I decided to keep it.
“There’s a new strip club open downtown,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eye.
I looked at her warily. “Only if you’re not going to get up on the pole like last time,” I joked.
She snorted out a laugh, her blue eyes bright from the coke and the excitement. “No promises.”
When we arrived at the strip club, there was a huge crowd outside waiting to get in. Martina didn’t miss a beat, though, just heading to the bouncer and slipping a couple of hundreds into his hand. And I thought my father spoiled me. Vincenzo Russo gave his daughter Martina anything she wanted and more. I raised an eyebrow at her but followed her into the club.
Smoke hung in the air, and the room smelled like liquor and cheap perfume, but at least the music was good. Martina went to the stage while I headed directly to the bar, ordering a double dirty martini. I sucked it down and ordered another, but I wasn’t nearly drunk enough.
Alberto walked up behind me, and I turned to look at him. He just shrugged, sitting next to me, looking out at the girls, and I smiled. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. “You might have to carry me home,” I warned him, and he grinned at me, shrugging again, as if that was all right with him.
I sipped my second double, not wanting to black out too soon, but I was still thinking about Rocco, his intense green eyes, the way he’d instantly went out on the terrace when he saw me. He clearly didn’t want a reunion either, and that was fine with me. Martina sat at the stage, throwing money onto the dancers and laughing, and I looked at her fondly. She was certainly the kind of friend you wanted to be with at a place like this, and I was grateful she was around. Otherwise I would’ve probably just gone home, overthinking and overanalyzing that one gaze from Rocco for the rest of the night. At least now I could try not to think about it, push it out of my mind.
After the second drink, my head was buzzing and I had the beginnings of a headache, so I walked outside for some fresh air. There were people milling all about, but no one appeared to be paying any attention to me, so I braced myself against the brick wall and took in a breath, trying to calm myself. My heart was still beating way too hard, just remembering that one moment with Rocco.
“Allegra,” a slurred voice sounded in front of me, and my eyes popped open. Ricardo Gallo stood there, looking skinny and strung out and like he could barely stand up. “Look at you in that little dress. Did you come out looking for some fun?”
“I’m with a friend,” I mumbled, turning to go back into the club, but he grabbed my upper arm, too hard. I glared at him. “I didn’t say you get to touch me,” I snapped.
Ricardo’s eyes were glassy but he frowned, understanding that I was rejecting him. “Fuck you,” he muttered, and then he stumbled back into the club. I let out a breath I was holding. I wasn’t exactly afraid of Ricardo Gallo, but I knew he could do pretty much whatever he wanted and get away with it, since Enzo was his father. I could have been in real trouble. I needed to stay closer to Alberto. I started to go back inside.
“What were you doing talking to him?” a rough voice said behind me, and I paused, putting my hand on the doorjamb, closing my eyes briefly. It couldn’t be. God wasn’t that cruel. I turned around to see Rocco Moretti standing there, one shoulder leaned against the brick, staring at me with intense green eyes.
“Nice to see you again, too, Rocco,” I said dryly.
He grunted in response. “Ricardo is trouble,” he said as if in warning.
I scoffed. “That why you keep hanging around him?”
Rocco didn’t drop his gaze, and my heart was skipping beats the longer he stared at me. I couldn’t look away, though, couldn’t show him I was nervous. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
I finally broke his gaze and stalked back into the club to find Martina getting a lap dance from a brunette. “Let’s get out of here,” I suggested, all but yelling into her ear after plopping down next to her, ignoring the dancer on her lap. “Let’s try that new club on the corner of Fifth and Sixth.”
Martina frowned. “Just another hour,” she pleaded, and I sighed, sucking down the rest of my drink. I wasn’t going to get out of here unless I went home alone, and I didn’t like to leave my friends, especially since we’d been drinking. I went back to the bar, sitting next to Alberto who had been watching us closely. “Rocco Moretti is here,” I mumbled, and Alberto looked at me, listening. He was a good sounding board, at least. “He’s a jerk.” Alberto nodded sympathetically. He was handsome enough, with a strong jawline, a trimmed beard, and bright blue eyes, but he was around my father’s age. I wasn’t interested; but then again, I hadn’t really been interested in any man since Rocco left.
“Ricardo Gallo is here, too, and he’s even more of a jerk,” I continued, and Alberto jerked his head toward the exit. I shook my head. “Nah, gotta stay with Martina for a bit.” I looked back at her and saw that she was taking a body shot off one of the dancers. I chuckled, part of me wishing I could be that free. Martina was younger than me and had a lot less responsibility. That was what happened when you had a child out of wedlock. I missed Matteo almost viscerally all of a sudden, thinking of his slow smile, the dimples he’d inherited from his father. His father, who was somewhere in this club, probably getting a private dance from one of the girls. Jealousy flooded through me just thinking about it, and I ordered myself a beer, not wanting to keep drinking so much liquor. I nursed it at the bar, talking idly to Alberto and laughing at his facial expressions.
