Epilogue
Serena
Plopping down on the couch beside Matteo, I let out a dramatic sigh and take a long pull from my brimming champagne flute. “Drink with me, Matty. If I’m forced to watch their nauseating cuteness for a minute longer, I’m going to vomit.” I clink my glass to my cousin’s empty tumbler and lift my gaze to Isabella and Raffaele slowly swaying on the dancefloor. The Frank Sinatra wannabe is back on stage, and the fun party music has long since died out.
Matty follows my line of sight, and his lips screw into a pout. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Serena.”
I roll my eyes back so hard I’m worried they’ll freeze that way, like my Papà used to warn me as a child. “I’m half-way to a hangover and jetlagged. Be gentle, asshole.”
He barks out a laugh, shards of emerald lighting up across his bejeweled irises.
“And anyway, I am happy for Bella, thrilled, super enthusiastic, over the moon, even. She’s not only my cousin, she’s my best friend. You know that.”
“Oh, I do. I don’t think you begrudge her boyfriend; I think you’re scared of losing your best friend.”
“Psshaw.” I wave a dismissive hand between sips of champagne and ignore the unexpected pang in my chest. “Sure, Raf’s hot as hell, but it’s been Bella and me forever. No dick could ever come between that kind of love.”
Matty’s gaze turns pensive as he watches them on the dancefloor. “I don’t think he’s just any dick, Sere. Have you seen how he looks at her? I saw glimpses of it before they left, but now? That guy is whipped… He’s not ever letting our little Bells go.”
“We’ll see about that. I’ve never met a man who sticks around after the fun stops.”
“Well, I’m happy for them and for what it’s worth, I think he’s a good guy.” He shrugs and sits back on the couch, folding one long leg over the other. “Probably better than most of us.”
Now, it’s my turn to laugh. A cackle bursts free, and I toss my head back, laughing so hard my cheeks burn. When the fit finally passes, I finish off my champagne, cooling my parched throat.
“I just hope he’s good enough for her,” Matty adds.
“I’m sure Uncle Luca will see to that.”
“Without a doubt.” He clinks his glass to mine, and we sip in perfect unison, pinkies held high like we did when we were kids playing tea party. “So are you seeing anyone in Milano?”
“I’m seeing plenty, Matty. I see nothing but gorgeous Italian men everywhere I look.”
He chuckles. “Oh, Sere, you’re going to be responsible for the downfall of the most industrious city in Italy.”
“But the collapse will be ever so worth it.”
My phone vibrates my clutch which is pressed to my leg, distracting me from thoughts of hot Italian men to… hot New Yorkers. I pull out my cell to find a dozen guys who swiped right on my photo. Looks like Bella won’t be the only one getting laid tonight. I must have been smiling because Matty snaps his fingers an inch from my nose, grinning.
“Another night of Tinder?”
“Don’t judge, jet lag makes me horny.”
“Does anything not make you horny, cuz?”
Ignoring him, I flag down a passing waiter in a tux, reaching for two more champagne flutes. I hold onto one and offer the other to my cousin. He’s been oddly quiet tonight. Maybe I’m not the only one a tiny bit uncertain about our future now that our baby cousin has a boyfriend. It’s been the five of us, our cousin crew for as long as I can remember. None of us have ever had a serious relationship, and with us all in our mid-twenties, that says something about how screwed up we all are, in one way or another.
The craziest part is how happy our parents are. Sure, some of them may have had screwed up starts, but there is no question in my mind that my dad would do anything for my mom and that goes both ways. The same is true for all the Valentinos and Rossi couples. I mull over the random thought as I continue to sip on the fizzy bubbles.
“What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”
He shakes his head. “How can I with my two favorite wingwomen out of town?”
“What about Ale and Alessia?”
Matty shrugs before finishing off his champagne. “You know what it’s like going out with the two of them, they’re constantly at each other’s throats?—”
“Like a typical old married couple.”
“Yeah, exactly. It’s even worse when it’s just the three of us. I’ve even tried getting Jackson to come out now that he’s turned twenty-one, but he hates all the crowds.”
“Wow, resorting to your anti-social little brother? Sounds like you’re screwed.” I bump my glass to his with a smirk.
“Here they come…” Matty whispers, jerking my attention to our quickly approaching cousins.
The twins are bickering about something as usual, Alessia twirling long strands of her bleach-blonde hair around her manicured finger. She sinks down beside me with a grumble. “Shouldn’t Bella be paying more attention to us than him? We’re the ones she hasn’t seen for months…”
“ Dio , Alessia, not everything in this world revolves around you,” her brother snaps before folding down onto the couch beside us. He cradles his whiskey and coke in his palm, taking a measured sip which draws my attention to his upper lip.
“Is that a scar?” I scoot forward on the cushion and reach for his mouth, but he bats my hand away.
“He claims the ladies love it,” Matty singsongs.
“Shut the fuck up.” Alessandro scowls into the tumbler.
“How’d you get it?”
“It was from that night at The Velvet Vault all those months ago…” His words fall away, and I don’t blame him. Uncle Marco had been livid and threatened to take the club away from him if he couldn’t handle it himself. The Vault is Ale’s pride and joy and seeing it destroyed like that turned my already moody cousin into a full-on recluse for a few months, according to Alessia.
“So when’s the grand re-opening?” I opt to lighten the mood.
“Soon, I hope.”
“Well, let me know so I can fly back into town for it.”
He nods just as Bella rushes over, teetering on those fabulous heels I’d bought with her at Barney’s in the spring. “What are you guys doing just sitting here?” She flicks her hair over her shoulder, motioning toward the dancefloor.
Alessandro throws her a lazy grin. “Not sure if you’ve noticed Bella, but they’re playing old-timey romantic music and none of us have dates.”
“Since when has that stopped you and Alessia from giving everyone a show?” Matteo smirks at his cousin, a shit-eating grin lighting up his eyes.
“You’re disgusting.” He throws a decorative pillow at Matty who easily deflects the cushiony missile.
Ignoring them, Bella drops down between Alessia and me. “Come on, Sere, we don’t have much time to hang out if you’re heading back to Milano on Monday already.”
“I don’t think your new broody, bodyguard boyfriend is going to appreciate my hands all over you on the dancefloor.” I waggle my brows just to get a laugh out of her.
She’s too easy.
“Oh, stop.” She giggles, that smile lighting up the entire room. It was hard enough being away from her this summer, but now that I’ve decided to stay in Milano indefinitely, I don’t know what I’m going to do without my best friend.
Only my parents know the plan, and I’d hoped to tell everyone else this evening. But Bella just seems so happy, and I hate to put a damper on her night. I’ll have to tell them all tomorrow. Maybe I’ll even throw one last epic party in my loft…
“Come on!” Bella’s already tugging me off the couch before I can reach for my flute. If I’m going to be forced to endure slow dancing with my best friend, her boyfriend and Frank Sinatra, I’m going to need some more alcohol.
“Promise me we’re hanging out tomorrow?” Bella pushes out her bottom lip into a dramatic pout that has me proud. She learned from the best, after all.
“Absolutely, all day.” My gaze flicks up to meet a dark one. “As long as Raf here will let you out of his sight.”
Bella wraps her arm around his waist, and he gently tucks her into his side, and even my jaded ass can see how well she fits there. “Don’t worry.” Raf smirks. “You won’t even notice I’m there.”
“ Amore …” My cousin smacks him playfully on the chest. “I’ll have Andrew?—”
He presses a finger to her lips, and her eyes heat at the touch. “There is nothing I’d enjoy more than spending the day walking across Manhattan and watching your cute little ass swaying to an invisible tune.”
“Oh, Dio , he’s obsessed,” I laugh.
“Told you.” She feigns annoyance, but I know Bella better than anyone and dammit, Matty’s right. This is for real. Figures our little princess would marry the first man she fucked.
My phone buzzes again, drawing my attention to the clutch tucked beneath my arm. Pulling it out, I glance at the new message. Another Tinder match. Maybe I won’t be going home just yet. Before sliding my cell back in the purse, I take a quick peek at the guy. Italian_Stallion69. I barely suppress the wild cackle from bursting free. He’s in a black hoodie, with sunglasses, his face covered in shadows but damn, there’s just something about him, despite the ridiculous name. I swipe right and stuff my phone into my new Prada.
“Booty call?” Bella’s eyes twinkle as she glances up at me.
“Maybe…”
“Well, don’t stay out too late tonight. I want to go to your mom’s yoga class at nine.”
“Deal.” I pull her into a hug, squeezing the shit out of her. “I miss you already, cuz. I don’t know how I’m going to survive with you so far away.”
“We’ll make it work. I’ll come to visit, a lot, I promise.” After the situation with Raf’s family had been resolved, they had come up to Milano twice, but that was when they were only a three-hour train ride away. Now how often would I see her? Once, maybe twice a year if we’re lucky.
“I love you,” I whisper, unexpected emotion suddenly making it hard to get the words out.
“Love you more!” She squeezes me tight before finally releasing me. Raf stands behind her, his protective stance obvious even in this family setting.
“Okay, see you in the morning!” I waggle my fingers and spin around before the tears spill over. Damn it, what’s wrong with me? Who knew I’d start to get all emotional and shit at the ripe old age of twenty-four?
One of the guards closes the penthouse door behind me and I rush to the elevator, jabbing my finger at the button. The doors finally glide open, and I dart inside, exhaling a sigh of relief as I lean against the sleek metal wall.
My phone vibrates again, and I draw in a breath as I fish it out of my purse. New message from Italian_Stallion69. My finger hovers over the View button for an endless minute. I should just go home and get some rest, right? Or I could drown all my anxieties and fears with a hot stranger and just forget for one night…
Fuck it.
I press the button and the message pops up.
Italian_Stallion69: Meet me for a drink ?
This guy doesn’t waste any time. I like that.
Me: Where?
Italian_Stallion69: You pick. I’m not from here.
Oh, a tourist. Even better. Then there’s no chance we’ll meet up awkwardly a few months from now. And luckily, there’s the perfect bar down the block from here.
The elevator doors glide open, and I find my driver parked out front. He opens the door, but I wave him off. “I’m not going home yet, Nicky. I’ll text you when I’m ready.”
“Yes, Miss Valentino.” He dips his head and slides back into the front seat of the Audi SUV.
I don’t know what I’d do if my father was as crazy as Uncle Luca who always forces an entire security team on Bella. I would lose my shit to have someone following me every second of the day.
With a quick wave at Nicky, I continue down Fifth Avenue toward the Pierre Hotel. It’s sophisticated and luxurious, the perfect spot to wow a tourist, plus if things don’t work out with the Italian Stallion, I won’t have to worry about getting harassed by dirtbags.
The grand facade of the elegant building is just ahead, and I pick up the pace, an odd stillness across Fifth Avenue. Most of the stores are closed at this hour, the sidewalks barren. A limo pulls up alongside me, likely going to The Pierre or the St. Regis Hotel nearby. It slows, and the hair on the back of my neck rises.
The black stretch limousine stops just a few yards in front of me, and the back door whips open. I can just make out the distinctive gilded canopy of The Pierre next block. I almost make a run for it, but he’s too fast. A man leaps out of the car, reaching for me. My heart catapults up my throat as an arm curls around me. I wiggle and squirm and kick, but the steel band around my torso only tightens, squeezing the air from my lungs.
“Let go of me!” I scream as I try to slide my purse from under my arm into my hand. Not only do I have my phone in there but also my gun. The asshole wrenches my clutch from my fingertips, and I hiss out a curse.
He tosses me into the backseat of the limo before I can shriek out another string of expletives. Another man sits on the far seat wearing a black hoodie, smoldering velvety eyes locked on me. He’s completely still, jaw locked in a hard line.
“Do you have any idea who I am?” I shout as the guy who just nabbed me dives into the car. “When my father finds out I’m gone he’s going to paint the city in your blood,” I hiss.
The man in the back slides to the edge of the seat and pushes back the dark hood. The overhead light reveals the harsh contours of his savagely handsome face. “Do you have any idea who I am, tesoro ?”
My stomach drops, a tight knot twisting my insides. “Fuck,” I grit out.
Antonio Ferrara.