AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He won’t meet my eyes, which makes me wonder even more. “It’s just dinner,” he says slowly. “Sandro thinks it would be a good opportunity for you to get to know him better.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Why the hell would I want to get to know him at all?”
For the first time, Julian looks me in the face. “It’s always a good idea to understand your enemy, Leo. Don’t you think?”
He’s got me there. I hate all that Art of War shit my father likes to quote—fuck, just kill the other guy, isn’t that the point?—but getting to understand Sandro Castellani better is probably the smart move.
“It’s important, Leo,” Julian says softly. “To me.”
I don’t know why the hell that should make a difference to me.
But it does.
“Fine,” I grunt. “Who are these guests?”
“Miller Beaumont—Jack’s boyfriend. And Teddy MacCallum is Sandro’s lover.”
I look down at my clothes. “I hope jeans will be fine.”
“Oh, I already called our tailor,” Julian tells me. “In fact, he’ll be here in an hour. So let’s get you fed in the meantime.”
Great. I’ll be dressed up and paraded around this circus, while still recovering from a head injury. But it doesn’t occur to me until I’m getting my inseam measured by the tailor, and asked inappropriate questions about which side my dick hangs, that Julian hasn’t once mentioned the fact that I moved back into the guest room yesterday.
I had to. It felt too much like surrender to stay there in his bed.
* * *
I don’t see Julian, or Roxy for that matter, for the rest of the day. I spend most of it kicking back, watching TV in the guest bedroom, except for the one time I go outside for a walk to clear my head. I’m not thrilled about all these Castellani guards staring at me—one loose tongue will be enough to sink us all—but Julian assured me this morning that the guards here have been handpicked by Max Pedretti, and I have enough respect for Pedretti to assume he wouldn’t let rats on his team.
My brand new dinner clothes arrive at 5 p.m. on the dot and fit like a glove, along with new shoes and new underwear. When Julian comes into my room he whistles.
“You look good,” he says, his eyes lingering on me.
I shrug, feeling suddenly awkward.
He steps closer to me and I’m acutely aware once more of how damn gorgeousheis, all dressed up. He’s wearing a soft white shirt and black dinner pants cut a lot tighter than mine. He reaches out, running his hands down my arms before taking my fingers in his. “You look amazing,” he tells me. “And listen—whatever happens tonight, I’ve got your back.”
Before I can get it together to ask what the hellthatmeans, he pulls me out the door.
* * *
We get driven to what Julian tells me is Sandro’s home. It’s a penthouse in an exclusive high rise with a 24-hour doorman and a private elevator. We have to wait a minute as Sandro presses something on his end to make it go.
“He won’t give me personal access,” Julian confides on the way up. “I think that’s probably for the best.”
I don’t know what that means and I’m not about to ask. I don’t want to be here at all, and I’m not looking forward to the night. I don’t like meeting new people and Icertainlydon’t like meeting new Castellanis.
But when we get up to the penthouse, I relax a little. I already know Julian and Sandro, and I’m particularly well acquainted with Jacopo’s gun. He nods at me from across the room as Julian pulls me by the hand further into the living area.
Jacopo’s standing next to some brooding, tousle-haired guy that I recognize after a second as Miller Beaumont. He was famous a minute ago, but I don’t remember much he’s been in recently. Both he and Jacopo are dressed up just like Julian and me, and I’m grateful Julian wouldn’t take no for an answer about the new clothes.
I don’t care what I wear, but I get the feeling appearances are important in a Family like the Castellanis.
Sandro is talking in an intimate undertone to a blond guy on the other side of the room, the kind of guy whose face makes you go quiet when you see it. And that guy is the only one who smiles, genuinely smiles, when he sees Julian and me. He grabs Sandro by the hand and walks him over to us.
“Leo Bernardi, this is Teddy MacCallum.” Sandro’s invitation is cool, even stiff, but his boyfriend is anything but. His eyes go round as he takes me in.
“You’re the Bernardi Lion,” he breathes.
