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“I’m sorry.” My glass clattered on the table as I set it down. Nerves made my hands shake. The last person I’d considered a friend betrayed me. “I don’t know what to say. It’s been a long few days. And I’m not good at this.”
Emma smiled as she stirred her iced tea. “Neither am I. I moved here a little while ago to help my sister, but instead…”
“You got caught up with one of the most ruthless mafia men.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know if he’s the most ruthless. He’d like to think so, but it’s hard for me to believe that when I see him holding a baby doll in our parenting classes.”
I threw my head back and laughed at the image. It was easier to picture Matteo breaking my father’s hand with a bat than holding a pretend baby. Or a real one.
“But you know how it is.” Her eyes softened as she tilted her head. “They’re killers. And they’re controlling. But it’s the reason we love them. They’d do anything to protect us even if we don’t understand it. Even if we hate it.”
My throat burned, and tears threatened to fall, but I refused to let them. It’s what I’d always thought of Adam. That he’d always be there for me. It had hurt to know I was wrong. Hurt even more to realize we’d been fed lies to keep us apart.
I wanted to give us this second chance. Wanted to believe I’d been right about him. But I was scared. I wouldn’t survive another heartache. I’d barely been living since it happened.
I didn’t even know how to make friends anymore. How to talk to someone. I’d isolated myself. My work made it so I never had to leave the house. Never had to put myself out there.
“Enough about the men.” She waved her hand in the air. “What do you do?”
“I’m an artist.” I felt the tension in my chest release. This I could talk about. Even if it was a little nerve-racking to tell people, they were always judging. Wondering if I was good enough. How I could possibly make a living.
But that was just my father’s voice in my head. His words telling me drawing was useless. That my entire existence was a waste because I had no skills. Because I didn’t have a penis.
“Oh! What kind?” Emma perked up, genuine interest on her face.
“I draw. I work freelance designing logos and book covers. Sometimes images for merchandising like stickers or postcards.”
“I love that! We have a lot in common. I’m a boudoir photographer.”
I had a hard time picturing the sweet, very pregnant woman in front of me photographing naked people. But there was something about her that made you feel comfortable. It probably put her clients at ease.
“That’s so cool.” As I smiled, I felt something click into place. It was like I was where I was supposed to be. For the first time in years, I was happy.
“I should take your picture!”
“What?” Immediately, nerves replaced that hopeful feeling inside.
“Yes.” Emma stood, grabbing my hands. “Adam is going to love this.”
“I don’t think—“
But she kept talking as she led me up the stairs. “I’ve already taken Mila and Alessandra’s pictures.”
“Wait? Alessandra Vancini?” A lot had changed since I’d been gone, but I couldn’t imagine a world where the Vancinis and the Gallos got along.
“Kent. She married Cole.” So that was how Mitchell Kent found his family’s way back to the top of the crime syndicates again. It left me wondering why his brothers were at Zara’s matchmaking party. If they had an alliance with the Vancinis, why were they interested in her?
“When I took Mila’s picture, I did a whole dark theme with black curtains and blood-red roses. Leif went crazy when he saw them.”
“Hold on.” I jerked my arms from hers. “You’re telling me Mila Gallo, mafia princess and sworn enemy to the Vancinis, married Leif Vancini.”
“Very Romeo and Juliet, right?” She laughed as we walked into a spare bedroom that was being used as a photography studio.
“More like Sid and Nancy,” I mumbled as I looked around. There was a computer on a desk that was full of photos. Camera equipment was tucked safely away in foam travel cases.
One wall was decorated with white curtains and lights. A green sofa was positioned in front of it. There was also lingerie everywhere. Enough to make a stripper blush.
“You should see them. They might hate everyone else, but they love each other.”
