Prologue #2
It sounds like a promise.
I help him load the cake into the transport vehicle—a specialized van with secure racks, because the Rossis apparently think of everything. Our fingers brush as we adjust the supports, and each accidental touch sends my pulse racing.
When he drives away, I stand in the driveway longer than I should, watching until the van disappears around the corner.
“Sooo...”
I spin around to find Arianna leaning against the doorframe, a knowing smirk on her face.
“Don’t,” I warn her.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was just going to observe,” she says, pushing off the frame and sauntering toward me, “that the scary mafia security guy couldn’t take his eyes off you. And that you couldn’t take your eyes off him. And that you have powdered sugar in your hair, which is adorable.”
“Ari!”
She laughs, looping her arm through mine. “Come on, little sister. We need to get ready for a wedding. And you need to tell me everything.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
***
The Rossi-Marino wedding reception is being held at an elegant hotel just outside the city, all crystal chandeliers and sweeping staircases.
The ceremony passed in a blur of vows and flowers that mingled with the tight feeling in my chest as I watched Sofia pledge her life to a man she barely knows.
My contribution to the reception now sits on a corner table. Thankfully, the cake made it in one piece. I checked three times.
The reception is in full swing when I slip away to the restroom to collect myself. I've managed to avoid Luca for the past hour, though I've felt his eyes on me more than once across the crowded ballroom.
I pause at the mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back at me.
Arianna insisted on doing my hair and makeup—my long dark blonde waves cascade past my waist instead of being twisted into my usual practical bun, and she's somehow made my blue eyes look wider, more dramatic.
The dusty rose bridesmaid dress skims my petite frame, and the warm lighting softens my olive complexion into something almost luminous.
I look…pretty. Maybe even beautiful.
Is this what he sees when he looks at me?
I press my fingers to my full lips, still feeling the ghost of his thumb brushing sugar from my cheek this morning. The memory sends heat flooding through me all over again.
Stop it, I tell myself firmly. He's mafia. He's dangerous. He's everything you should stay away from.
I smooth down my dress and force myself to rejoin the reception. The first dance is about to begin.
I linger at the edge of the ballroom, watching Sofia share her first dance with her new husband.
When Uncle Giovanni announced the arranged marriage at Sunday dinner—right there in front of all of us—Sofia had looked like she’d been slapped.
She held it together, playing the perfect daughter even as Matteo Rossi sat across from her, but I saw the way her hands trembled when she reached for her wine glass.
Now, as I watch them dance, I can still see the tension between them—the way Sofia keeps her eyes downcast, the flush on her cheeks, the stiffness in her shoulders.
Matteo holds her possessively, his hand firm on her waist, his eyes never leaving her face even as she avoids his gaze.
It's not tenderness I'm seeing. It's something more primal.
Hunger. Possession. The way a predator watches prey.
The way he holds her makes my chest ache with a longing I don't want to examine too closely.
My thoughts drift to my parents, how devoted they were to each other. My father had not always been a good man in business, but he looked at my mother like the sun and moon hung over her. They were holding hands when that monster killed them.
I need some air.
I slip out of the ballroom and walk toward the garden, inhaling deeply at the scent of flowers and night air.
My father was a ruthless businessman. Even at fourteen, I wasn't blind to that, but somehow, it didn't matter much to me because at home, he was a fantastic father and a devoted husband.
He always said that my mother was his first love, and the two would giggle like little kids when he did.
No, the world didn’t care that Alessandro Marino was devoted to his family. To them, he was a ruthless businessman who needed to be punished.
At least that’s what I think happened.
I close my eyes against the memories and wait until they’ve faded before looking around for a place to sit.
I’m about to enter the small hedge maze at the center of the garden when I hear a voice behind me.
I turn around, expecting to see another guest seeking fresh air but am surprised when I see who it is.
“Luca!”
"Excuse me, ma'am, this section of the hotel is closed off to guests," he says in a serious voice that makes my smile drop.
"Oh, sorry, I'll leave," I say, starting back for the hotel when he grabs my wrist and stops me.
“Of course, I can make exceptions,” he drawls, making my heart race. “You did treat me to some of the best cookies I’ve ever had.”
My stomach flutters at his words and in the way those dark eyes watch me. “But you said this area is closed off. I don’t want to break the rules.”
“I made those rules, and I’ve just given you permission to break them.” I flush at his words, heat climbing my neck and face so I look away. “Are you hiding or just hoping to get some fresh air?”
I chew on my bottom lip, my eyes landing on a blooming rose. “Both.”
“Well then, would you like some company? I know this garden like the back of my hand now.”
“Sure,” I smile, sliding my hand into his arm when he offers it.
We walk down the maze in silence, but even I can feel that crazy tension between us.
The moon is bright tonight, and the air is chilly, but I can't focus on that.
Not when Luca is so close to me. Smelling so good, better yet, than the flowers in the garden.
“Your cake was very popular tonight,” Luca says after a while, walking us toward a bench, where we sit close together. “I heard the guests couldn’t get enough of it. It’s a shame I didn’t get to taste it.”
My head whips to his, eyes wide with shock. “What do you mean?”
“We were doing security rounds in the hotel, and it was gone when I came back to the reception,” he says as we sit. “Everyone kept talking about it, and I’ll admit, it made me quite sad that I missed it.”
“I’ll bake you one,” I blurt out, flushing at those impulsive words. “I mean…I…”
“Will you now?” he asks, leaning closer and under the moonlight, his eyes seem to glow with a silvery sheen and such intensity that I feel goosebumps layer every inch of my skin. “Can I hold you to that?”
Christ, is it just me, or is he closer than he was a few seconds ago? So close that I can feel his soft breath against my lips, and his scent…that strong, male, woodsy scent is doing things to me. It makes me ache in places that have never ached before. That I never knew could ache…
“Luca…”
“I love the way you say my name." A shiver runs down my body when he cups my jaw, stroking my cheek.
The touch, simple as it is, sends other parts of my body burning with need.
My nipples pebble beneath my dress, and the spot between my legs floods with moisture.
I know better than to get lost in those silvery eyes, but…
His lips graze mine, making me shudder.
Luca pulls back, his eyes studying mine.
Whatever he sees there makes him groan, and then his mouth crashes down on mine with fierce heat.
The hand on my jaw drops, and suddenly, his hands grip my waist, lifting me onto his lap.
I straddle him, my dress bunching around my thighs, his mouth a fever of need over mine.
I whimper when I feel the hard press of his arousal beneath me. I slide my fingers over his hard shoulders to brace myself.
I don’t know this man, but I can’t think beyond the taste of his lips. His scent clouds all logical thoughts in my mind, and the feel of his body against mine makes me shudder. I rock my hips, chasing friction, and his grip tightens on my hips, guiding my movements.
“Luca,” I sob against his mouth, my fingers digging into his shoulders. I moan loudly as my breasts rub against his rock-hard chest, the movement making my nipples ache even more.
“That’s it,” he rasps. “Take what you need.”
At the back of my mind, I realize I’m acting wantonly with a stranger, but I can’t seem to stop. It doesn’t help matters when he cups my butt and guides me to rock over his erection. The way he nibbles at my neck, his breathing hot and heavy, only seems to fan the flames.
And then his mouth is back on mine, hot and wet. I whimper when he tangles his tongue with mine. I feel my body tighten with every touch, every kiss, and every moan that sparks between us until it’s all too much.
My core clenches hard, and I sob as I find release, my body pulsating with the need for more. A shudder rolls through me, and he holds me close through it, whispering things into my ear that my brain can barely process.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Matilde,” he rasps, slicking his hands up and down my thighs. “I need to be inside of you. Tell me I can.”
“Yes,” I whisper, reaching for his shirt—
Something crackles between us. We both freeze.
His hand moves to the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt, and a voice sounds through the static, “Capo, we need you at the main entrance.”
Capo.
I look at Luca, expecting him to ignore the walkie-talkie so we can carry on with our little rendezvous, but to my ultimate horror, I watch him unclip it and answer.
What he says next doesn’t register in my brain.
I watch his mouth move and words come out, his head nodding before the communication ends.
“Sorry, I need to—Matilde?”
I knew he was part of this world. Security for the Rossis—of course, he's connected. But security is one thing. Capo is something else entirely. Caporegime. A man who doesn't just guard—he enforces. He kills.
I always knew my father was involved with the mafia.
He called them “business partners,” but I wasn’t stupid.
I saw the guns and all those meetings he held in his office.
All those hush-hush phone calls he took in the middle of the night.
The paranoid look in his eyes during the last days of his life. I saw it all.
Four years ago, I hid in a closet, hand over mouth, as I watched a man violently steal my parents from me.
I heard the man tell my father that he was being punished for crossing his partners.
With tears rolling down my cheeks, I witnessed what no fourteen-year-old should, and I swore that day—and many after—to never get close to men like that.
And this man…
“I need to go,” I whisper, tears clogging my throat. Christ, I can’t even look at him. If I do, I’ll wonder and ask questions I don’t want answered..
Those hands that touched me—how many people have they hurt? That mouth that felt so glorious against mine—how many lives has it ordered to be ended? This man who makes my heart race… Christ, I let a capo touch me.
“Matilde—”
“Don’t touch me,” I snap, avoiding his hand when he reaches for me. “Please don’t touch me!”
His stunned face is the last thing I see before I stumble away. I don’t realize I’m running until I make it to the reception hall and run into a pair of familiar arms.
“Tilly?”
I lift my eyes and meet my sister’s, feeling my chest clench with pain.
“Hey, what happened? What’s wrong?”
I open my mouth to say something, but only a sob slips out. Arianna seems to notice that we’re drawing attention because she wraps an arm around my shoulder and whisks me outside.
“Home,” I choke out. “Please take me home.”
“What the hell happened?”
“He’s one of them, Ari,” I choke out as more tears fall. “Not just security. He’s the capo. He’s a killer—just like the man who took Mom and Dan from us.”
“Who? Who are you talking about?”
"Luca," I whisper, lifting my teary eyes to meet my twin’s. "He's the first man I've ever felt attracted to and he's… he’s exactly the kind of man I swore I’d never let myself fall for."
“Oh, Tilly.”
Arianna's arms come around me, and she pulls me into a hug, letting me cry on her shoulder. Unlike me, Arianna doesn't carry this fear. She didn't see what men like that—like Luca—are capable of.
But I did.
Hiding in the closet my mother had shoved me into, I saw what that type of man could do. The image is seared into my mind.
Falling for the likes of Luca Conti is out of the question.
No matter how much my traitorous wishes otherwise.