Chapter 19 #3
Beppe follows me down the hall, where music is already playing, and I can hear the sound of laughter as Nonna makes her observations.
“Don’t be so stiff!” she shouts. “Ahhh, yes, loosen the hips.”
When I walk in, I find that she’s already assigned pairs. To no one’s surprise, Angelo and Abella are outshining everyone, gliding across the dance floor like they do this every day. Then again, they’ve had many years of Nonna’s instruction.
Michele is paired with Valentina, and Cristian with Chantel, while Mariella and Rafe take turns dancing Antonella around the room.
For one fleeting moment, I think maybe I’ll get out of dancing entirely, and then Nonna locks her gaze on me, clapping her hands together.
“Oh, good, just in time.” She glances over my head. “You two together.”
I turn around, startling when I see Romeo standing behind me. I didn’t even hear him approach.
Since the shower incident, he’s changed into a black button-up dress shirt, slacks, and his combat boots. This is what I’d refer to as his hitman casual style—slightly more polished than usual, but still rough around the edges.
He’s wearing his signature silver chain around his neck, and two square rings that spell out Vita Mors.
Life and death. There’s so much ink on display with his shirt sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone, it almost feels indecent.
It would be tempting to peel open every last one of those buttons and map each line with my fingers, if I were a complete masochist.
I’m trying to think of an excuse not to dance with him, but when his gaze moves over my face, lingering on my red eyes, I get distracted. He looks tense, and I hope to God that isn’t pity on his face. I think that would be even worse than his anger.
“Sure, I get stuck with half-pint.” A hint of a smile ghosts over his lips, and it catches me off guard. He never smiles at me.
“I’m fine to just stand and watch,” I say awkwardly.
“Oh, come on, Gabi. I can’t be as bad as Riccardo. Besides, you said you didn’t want to fight anymore.” He reaches out and takes my hand in his, sending a shock of heat through me as he whispers in my ear. “So let’s kiss and make up.”
A shiver moves through me, and I know he must have felt it. The way my body betrays me whenever he’s around is inconvenient and annoying.
“What are you doing?” I glare up at him as he smoothly leads me into a waltz, acting like he’s some kind of gentleman.
“This is called a waltz,” he says sardonically. “It’s a basic—”
“I know what a waltz is,” I grumble. “Since when do you participate in group activities?”
He shrugs. “I’m feeling less homicidal today. Might as well socialize.”
“Is this some kind of twisted new game of yours?” I ask. “Is that it?”
“Not everything is a game,” he murmurs. “Unless you want it to be. How about we stare at each other and see who breaks first.”
“I’m not playing a game with you,” I argue. But he ignores me, staring at me like a serial killer until I have no choice but to stare back.
It’s an awkwardly long period of eye contact, and if it were anyone else, I would have definitely looked away by now.
But I really want to win this stupid game.
Except the longer I stare, the more the ridiculousness of it gets to me.
I feel myself cracking, my lip twitching as he arches a brow at me.
And then, before I can stop it, I smile against my will.
“Well, that was easy.” Romeo smirks.
“You only won that one because you’re a robot.”
“Fine. Let’s play another one,” he suggests. “Guess what I’m thinking right now.”
“As if you’d even tell me if I got it right.”
“I’ll be honest…if you get it right. Doubt you will, though.”
He’s goading me, and I don’t know why I’m playing into it, but I guess it’s a good distraction for how close we are right now.
“Okay. You’re thinking of fifty different ways to murder someone.”
“So close, but no.”
“You’re thinking about how you can’t wait for this dance practice to be over.”
“Me? I could do this all night.”
“Okay, then you’re thinking about going back to your room so you can watch cam girls or whatever it is you do in there all the time.”
“Thinking about what I do with my cock, Gabriela?” His voice dips.
A flush crawls up my neck, and I mentally kick myself for walking right into that one.
“I give up. I have no idea what goes on in your head.”
“That’s too bad.” His eyes spark with mischief. “I bet it would make you blush harder than you are right now.”
I try to pretend like I’m not that interested, but this version of Romeo is completely throwing me off balance. Either I’m losing my mind, or it feels like he’s being sort of nice to me again. It’s really freaking me out.
“Okay.” Nonna changes up the music. “Slow, slow.”
She moves around the room, gesturing to each couple. When she gets to me and Romeo, she practically shoves us together.
A familiar song drifts from the speaker, and I can’t miss the irony that Nonna chose it for me to practice with Riccardo. Yet here I am, dancing with the first man I ever loved to Kina Grannis’s cover of "Can’t Help Falling in Love."
It's an emotional and romantic song, and a quick glance around the room confirms I’m not the only one who feels out of sorts.
Chantel and Cristian won’t even make eye contact, and Mariella and Rafe have decided to sit this one out.
Naturally, Abella and Angelo are looking at each other like they’re more in love than ever.
Sensing my discomfort, Romeo takes it upon himself to extort it.
“One more game.” He drags me closer, his palm sliding down to my lower back while his other hand engulfs mine. “First one to overthink loses.”
I’m not sure what he means exactly, but soon, we’re playing the staring game again. Except this time, it’s a different kind of staring game. I feel like prey caught in the crosshairs of those wolfish amber eyes.
We’re so much closer now, I can feel the warmth of his body pressed against mine. His hand is like a branding iron on my back, and my knees have gone wobbly.
His gaze drops to my lips, and I think I must be dreaming. That has to be what’s happening. Because there’s no way Romeo Vitale is looking at me like this right now—not unless he’s intentionally trying to screw with me. Is that what he meant by overthink? Because he already knew I’d lose that game.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?”
I startle at the sound of Riccardo’s voice, and my first instinct is to jump back and put some distance between me and Romeo. But he tightens his grip on me and doesn’t let go.
“Riccardo,” I blurt, feeling the need to smooth things over. “Hi.”
His gaze moves between us, narrowing suspiciously.
“Jesus, you look like shit, Ricky.” Rafe chuckles. “Did you pull an all-nighter?”
Riccardo bristles, and I notice he does look pretty rough today—with shadowed eyes, rumpled hair, and a wrinkled shirt. There’s a small bandage just below his eye, and weirdly, he’s wearing a pair of tan leather gloves. It makes me wonder if he got into a fight or something.
“I had a thing with my investors,” he mumbles. “It ran late.”
“Ahh.” Michele smirks. “We’ll get you a little hair of the dog, and you’ll be right as rain in no time.”
“Yeah, sure,” Riccardo grunts.
“You get into a little scrap?” Rafe asks. “What’s with the bandage and the gloves?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Riccardo shifts, looking visibly annoyed as he returns his attention to me. “That was charitable of you to take Bolt for a spin around the dance floor, Gabi. He doesn’t get out much.”
I’m not sure which of us halts first, but we do, and I can’t stop myself from leveling a glare at Riccardo.
“Why would you say something like that?”
“It’s a joke.” Riccardo shrugs it off. “Bolt doesn’t mind. Do you, cuz?”
“Fucking hilarious.” Romeo laughs, but he doesn’t sound at all amused.
When he falls silent, the air in the room shifts, and everyone else notices it too. They’ve all stopped dancing as the Vitale siblings exchange worried glances.
“It’s not funny,” I tell Riccardo. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
Riccardo scowls at me, and I know I’m treading in dangerous waters here.
He’s not the kind of man who likes a woman using her voice, and usually, I’m the last person to make waves.
But there’s something about him making a joke out of the worst thing that’s ever happened to Romeo that lights a fire of anger in me, and I can’t just let it go.
“Thanks for keeping my girl occupied,” Riccardo grits out, completely ignoring what I said. “But I’ll take it from here.”
Romeo’s grip on me tightens even more, and I can see the tendons in his neck straining as his breath roughens.
His pupils dilate, eyes shifting like a predator in the wild.
I can feel the tension weaving through every muscle in his body as he looks like he’s stepping into another version of himself.
A deeper, darker, more terrifying version.
I’m not the only one who senses it. That charge hums through the air before Angelo’s voice echoes off the walls, clipped and final.
“It’s time for dinner. Everybody out.”
Riccardo doesn’t look at all pleased with the command, but he doesn’t dare voice his opinion to the don. Nobody does. One by one, they filter out of the room, until it’s just four of us. Me, Romeo, Angelo, and Riccardo.
“Go get yourself a drink, Riccardo,” Angelo orders. “I need a quick word with Gabi.”
Riccardo glances between the three of us, clearly annoyed, but eventually, he does as Angelo bids and leaves the room. Angelo shuts the doors behind him, sealing us inside, and then he returns to us.
I’m still locked in Romeo’s grip, unable to move, when Angelo looks directly at me, speaking quietly.
“Stay calm, Gabi.”
I blink at him in confusion. “I am calm.”
“No sudden movements,” he says.
I follow his gaze to Romeo, and that’s when it clicks into place.
“He won’t hurt me.”