SIXTEEN #3
The music changed then from the generic loop to a deep, sensual male voice crooning through the speakers, loud enough to ripple through the air and settle into every bone. The atmosphere shifted, an undercurrent of intimacy weaving through the crowd.
‘Paula!’
The sudden burst of energy in a familiar voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
I turned again to see my cousin Gianna striding towards me, her dark curls bouncing with every step.
She looked as effortlessly glamorous as ever, her golden skin glowing under the lights, her heels clicking against the polished floor in tandem with the music.
Behind her, a group of her friends followed, all impeccably dressed and equally loud, their laughter carrying over the hum of the crowd and the song.
‘Gianna!’ I exclaimed, smiling as she pulled me into a tight hug. Her signature perfume – a warm mix of amber and something floral – drifted around me, familiar and nostalgic. I missed hanging out with her.
‘I knew I’d find you here,’ she said in her thick Italian accent, pulling back just enough to grip my shoulders and drink me in with an appraising look. Her dark eyes glittered with mischief as they darted briefly to Cain and back again, her smile curving like a secret.
I lifted a brow in challenge, amused and wary in equal measure.
‘I thought you were busy packing,’ I said.
‘We leave for Turkey tomorrow,’ she announced, flipping her curls over her shoulder with the effortless poise of someone who had been born centre stage.
‘But I couldn’t miss the chance to see you before we left.
How could I resist something like this?’ She gestured broadly at the mass of people – the noise, the lights, the actors…
and then, at Cain. Her grin was dazzling, the kind that would have been contagious if I didn’t already know what lay beneath it.
I chuckled. ‘You’re not wrong.’ Then I turned. ‘Cain, this is my cousin Gianna.’
She reached out immediately, vibrating with that dangerous mix of fangirl enthusiasm and confidence.
‘Gianna is a big fan of yours,’ I added with a knowing smirk, letting my gaze slide sideways to the neat row of books behind him.
‘I see,’ he said slowly, catching on, voice dipping lower. ‘How about a free copy of Madness, then? Signed?’
He rose with the whole of his sensual composure and effortless dominance – unfolding to his full, striking height. The black shirt gaped open at the collar, revealing a trace of chest hair.
Gianna was gone. Lost, dazed, starstruck – and I almost snapped my fingers in front of her face as Cain reached for one of the books by the stand.
Then she turned to me, wide-eyed and shameless. ‘If you don’t tap that, can I?’ she teased, half-whisper, half-laugh.
‘Oh my God…’ I muttered, rubbing at the pressure building between my brows, and thoroughly ignoring the flutter in my gut that the idea stirred. Her laughter trailed behind.
But Gianna’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, and the humour in her eyes dimmed slightly. She leaned in closer, her voice dripping to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Everything else okay?’ The tone softened, the shift so sudden it felt as though someone had turned down the volume of the world.
I knew exactly what she was hinting at – Travis, the shadow in my life I’d been trying so hard to ignore.
‘Of course!’ I said quickly, too brightly, too fast, mentally slamming the door of a room I hadn’t finished cleaning the blood and memory from. ‘I’ve just been busy with my books, work… You know how it is.’
Gianna studied me for a moment longer, her shrewd gaze cutting through my rehearsed smile, but she didn’t push. Instead, she gave me a small nod, her lips curving into a softer, understanding smile.
‘There you go, darling,’ Cain returned, handing her a book and a golden bookmark in the shape of a paddle.
She squealed – I knew she couldn’t help herself. ‘Thank you so much!’ She grinned up at him.
And I had to kick her ankle inconspicuously so she would stop fucking staring.
‘All right,’ she said, recollecting herself and gesturing to her friends. ‘We’ll leave you then. Call me, okay?’
‘Will do,’ I assured her, pulling her in for another quick hug.
The group drifted off, their laughter fading into the crowd. The scent of her perfume remained, a bittersweet reminder of home and the family I missed more than I cared to admit.
When I turned back, Cain was still watching me, his topaz eyes unwavering as they held mine. They were warm and intense, and the faintest trace of a smirk played on his lips.
‘That was my cousin,’ I explained as I watched his muscles bunch beneath the shirt when he lowered himself back into his chair.
He raised his hands in mock defence.
‘She is.’ I frowned.
But I couldn’t let myself get pulled in. My gaze darted around the room, scanning the masked hosts, the guests, anyone who might be the one I was looking for.
The unease layering itself over the back of my neck, the stutter in my pulse – they didn’t whisper. They screamed.
He was here.
And if he found me with Cain’s gaze already branding my skin, what version of me would answer?
Cain sat like a loaded gun with the safety off.
Each tap of his fingers felt as if it counted down to something neither of us could stop.