Chapter 22
Luca
THERE WAS LITTLE time to contemplate the forbidden emotions Vivi stirred within my chest. The future rose in a swell of fire and brimstone, and it was my job to make sure we saw the other side of it.
We needed a miracle, considering she was so insistent on leaving the house for fucking friends.
I scoffed at the notion. Then I burned with anger when she pushed against my heart and ran.
“Viviieenne,” I warned through my teeth and turned. My vision stuck on her ass when she stopped to kiss Dante on the cheek.
“Tornate presto a casa,” she called and waved. “Ciao.”
Amusement crinkled Dante’s eyes. I rolled mine, then caught Damian’s glare while I jogged after the pesky runaway. The morning sun streamed through the door as she pushed it open, and I grabbed her arm.
“Stop.”
“I’m going,” she hissed, tugging from my grip and stomping away in sky-high heels.
Good Christ.
I thought of Vivienne often—too much on any given day—but never like this.
The girl I knew lived in shorts and giant sweatshirts that swallowed the swell of her luscious tits.
Now they were on display in a silky slip thing that hugged her curves.
I groaned and rubbed my chest—time enough for her to storm over to the Range Rover I just exited with her brother.
I couldn’t let her go. This was Vivienne, and there was no chance I’d let her die for lunch or God.
But she chose to kill me with a pair of stilettoes that carved her calves into stone.
I swore under my breath and followed her again. I was fairly certain I’d play catch-up with this woman the rest of my life, which might’ve just been shortened from the look she threw me when I caught the door she opened.
Mischief lit up her eyes.
She was definitely playing a game.
One I couldn’t afford to lose.
Francesca already witnessed my reaction to her in this damn dress.
Eddie, Damian, Dante, and probably half the house watched her little show of independence.
They all saw how she looked at me. How she toyed with my emotions when I shouldn’t have any at all.
But what really boiled my blood was that she knew better.
It was one thing when we were alone. When it was the middle of the night and desperation clung to the air, but never with witnesses who would report back to her father.
Or the countless men on his payroll who would covet her and her tits as I did.
“For fuck sake, Vivienne.” I shrugged out of my jacket and threw it over her shoulders. “Cover yourself.”
She smiled, and my pulse stuttered. Her toothy grin lit up the sky, as if I’d given her a ticket out of hell instead of some much-needed fabric. I’d like to wrap her up in a habit and have everyone refer to her as Sister Vivienne. Yet somehow, I thought she’d refuse.
“Such a gentleman,” she whispered, blinking up at me with an expression that said she wasn’t afraid of our audience. Or me. “But I don’t need a babysitter.”
The urge to wrap my hand around her neck surged through my fingers, where I could feel her pulse hammering against my palm. I fisted my hand by my side as a paltry alternative and crowded her against the car.
“We both know that’s not true,” I replied, adjusting my jacket on her shoulder to cover her pointed nipple.
Relief expelled from my lungs, but we were so close that I inhaled a lungful of vanilla and sin.
So close, my vision rose to her lips, plump, pouty, and permanently stained plum.
Like the sacramental wine Father Bernardi offered at mass.
I wiped away the impulse to taste her from my own mouth.
Christ. Everything about Vivienne was unexpected.
Innocent yet seductive. Meek in many ways; bold in others.
She thought of herself as plain when everyone else saw temptation.
I saw stars, and the closer I got to the beauty, the more mesmerizing she was.
Like fire. Vivienne was the flame that would finally burn me to ash, and to prove it, the air held a charge.
One wrong move, and the friction between us would ignite.
My gaze fell to the finger she pointed into my pec, stressing each word she said. “I’ve managed to stay alive all by myself for years.”
“Luck or ignorance?”
Her chin notched up, and her eyes narrowed, sparks melting the ice. “I’m neither lucky nor stupid. I just happen to know about a lot of things.”
“Like what?” I goaded.
“I knew I loved this dress, but I like how you look at me while I’m in it more.”
I grunted but otherwise stayed silent.
“I like pushing you.” She poked at my chest again to prove the statement.
I brushed her hand away and leaned in closer. “Why?”
“Because you always divulge a little secret when I do.”
“Name one.”
“You love it when I get mouthy because you want to shut me up.”
My vision settled on the rioting pulse in her neck, and I didn’t deny the obvious. I was tired of denying myself Vivienne.
“Am I right?” she prodded.
My lip curled, and I couldn’t even wipe the smirk away. “Lucky guess.”
The spark returned to her eyes—mischievous and playful. “Now guess something about me?”
“You’re a pain in the ass.”
“And you’re no fun.” She pouted. “But fine, I’ll tell you. Better yet, I’ll show you.” Her smile flashed, and then the car keys she held in front of my face glinted in the sun. “I’m a pickpocket.”
I patted the now empty front pocket of my pants. She fell back into the driver’s seat and started the Range Rover.
“Viviieenne,” I growled.
“Are you coming, or what, mio salvatore? I’m going to be late.” She pulled the car into gear and shot forward a foot.
“Jesus Christ.” I waved at Damian, signaling for him to follow with a group of guys.
She laughed, the sound tinkling in the air as I jogged over to the passenger side, ignoring Dante, who was bent over with shaking shoulders while I did. As I climbed in, Vivi pressed the gas, and we raced out of the driveway with a squeal before my door slammed shut.
“Who taught you how to drive?” I reached over her hips, also ignoring the long line of her cleavage an inch away from my nose, as I grabbed the seat belt and buckled her in.
“Dante.”
“Dante,” I mocked. “And you passed the driver’s test?”
“What’s that?”
“For fuck sake, Vivienne. The secretary of state. A written and actual driving test in a car with a real instructor who then provides a pass or fail for an authentic New York state plastic card with your picture on it. Also known as a driver’s license. Ever heard of it?”
“Well sure.” She shrugged and smiled, as if that would extinguish the rage boiling through my veins. “But the mafia, remember? We don’t mix well with the government. We’re like oil and water.”
“Oil and water,” I grumbled under my breath.
Vigo’s relationship with Senator Michaels indicated something else altogether, but Vivi was immune to that.
She was too innocent to know the full extent of her father’s depravity and why Simone’s secrets were important enough to kill for.
Too na?ve to understand Vigo wasn’t the only made man who wanted those details.
Or maybe even a politician with limitless power.
That train of thought disappeared when she tapped the brakes too hard around a turn, and we jerked forward.
Vivi’s belt caught. I stopped my head from crashing into the windshield with a hand on the dash, gritting my teeth.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “These things are testy.”
Gravel crunched under the tires for miles while I stared out the window.
The landscape shifted to a concrete jungle where the city hid a thousand threats.
A headache erupted behind my eyes, but I tapped out a plan on my cell for Damian and the men to meet me outside of the church.
The soft rustle of silk filled the SUV as Vivi shifted, and still I couldn’t look at her.
“Don’t be mad,” she whispered. “I had to get out of there. All I can think about is my mother and what my family wants from me now that she’s gone. We’ll only be away for a few hours….”
Her voice trailed off. I ran a hand through my hair and down to my neck, holding in the vibrating anger shaking my fingers. “You have no idea.”
“What?”
I blinked over to her profile. Goddamn, she was beautiful.
The ivory skin. Pert nose. Pink cheeks. Perfect, volatile innocence.
La mia stella. My bright star that someone could snuff out of my sky.
Rage unfurled in my chest, and my voice went cold.
“You have no idea how many people want to hurt you right now.”
Her knuckles blanched over the wheel. “What would you do if they did?”
Red bled into my vision. “Don’t ask me that.”
“Tell me.”
“They would cease to exist.”
She licked her lips, then looked in my direction and back to the road. “You would kill for me?”
“I would do anything for you, Vivienne.”
She reached for my hand, wrapping her fingers through mine.
A bright light against my darkness. She was so tiny.
So soft and breakable. The truth of our situation stung worse than a thousand angry wasps.
With just a few words, I could extinguish her flame and watch her radiance bleed into a dull gray. My blood ran cold.
“Would you—” she started, then licked her lips again. “Would you ever leave? I mean, would you run away with—”
“Don’t ask me that,” I snapped, pulling out of the hold she had on me. I had a job. Vivi was my job. Somehow, over the last two weeks, I’d lost sight of my purpose, and I shook my head free of everything Vivienne.
“Luca?”
The waver in her voice clawed at my heart. I swung a pendulum on her emotions. I was all over the place with her. One minute cool; the next simmering with need, but I always ended with regret.
I sighed, keeping my eyes on the street and the church as we approached. “We’re no different today than we were yesterday or the day before that, Vivienne.”
We came to a stop in front of Our Lady of Solace, and I waited for the sky to split and strike me down.
But no divine intervention saved me from the weight of her stare.
I even sensed the words she hurled at me in silence.
Bastardo. Idiota. I was all those things, but the last one said out loud was the truest of them all.
“Bugiardo.”
Liar.