Chapter Twelve AURORA
The mansion was enormous. Which should have made avoiding one man easy. It didn't. Not when that man owned the mansion. Not when every hallway seemed to lead back to him somehow. Not when I couldn't stop thinking about him no matter how hard I tried.
I skipped breakfast. Skipped lunch. Skipped dinner. By sunset I was starving, angry, and beginning to suspect Santino had somehow infected my brain.
The execution kept replaying. The gunshot.
The body falling. The mask. The Devil. Then, somehow, my stupid brain would remember the rooftop.
The birthday cake. The whiskey. The way he'd smiled talking about Angelo.
Nothing fit together. Nothing made sense.
I hated it. Most of all, I hated that I missed him.
The realization alone nearly made me throw myself off the balcony. So instead of doing something dramatic, I wandered.
The mansion was quiet at night. Almost beautiful. Soft golden lights glowed along hallways lined with dark wood and expensive artwork. Moonlight spilled through enormous windows overlooking the city. Everybody seemed to have disappeared. Good. That was exactly what I wanted.
Eventually I found myself standing outside a pair of double doors. I frowned. I'd never noticed them before. Curiosity would ruin my life. Again.
I pushed them open. And froze. A ballroom. An actual ballroom. My mouth fell open. The room stretched endlessly beneath crystal chandeliers. Marble floors reflected golden light. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Manhattan, turning the entire city into a glittering sea of diamonds.
The place looked untouched. Forgotten. Beautiful. I stepped inside slowly. The door clicked shut behind me. Silence. Perfect silence. For the first time all day, my chest loosened.
No memories. No execution. No Devil. Just me.
I kicked off my shoes. Walked barefoot across cool marble. The sea waves crashed beyond the glass. For a few precious minutes, I managed not to think about anything.
"Running out of places to hide."
My heart nearly exited my body. I spun around. Santino stood in the doorway. Of course he did. Because apparently the universe hated me.
Black dress shirt. Dark trousers. Sleeves rolled to his forearms. No mask. No gun. No Devil. Just Santino. Which somehow felt worse. I glared. He looked annoyingly pleased about it.
"Do you enjoy shortening my lifespan?"
"Immensely."
I sighed. Naturally. "Go away."
"No."
I hated him. Deeply. Passionately. Possibly criminally. The bastard had the audacity to smile. Then he pushed away from the doorway and walked into the room. Slowly. Like he had all the time in the world. Like I wasn't contemplating murder.
I backed toward the windows. Pure instinct. Because every time he got close lately, my brain stopped functioning properly. Not ideal. Especially considering the circumstances. The execution still sat between us. Unspoken. Heavy. Present.
Santino stopped a few feet away. Neither of us spoke. The city sparkled behind me, across the water. The chandeliers glowed above us. Somewhere in the room, music crackled to life.
I frowned. Santino looked up. An old speaker sat tucked high in one corner. The sound quality was terrible. The song itself wasn't. Soft. Slow. Melancholy. The kind of music designed specifically to ruin emotional stability.
"Well," I said. "That's creepy."
Santino's mouth twitched. "It used to do that. The speaker."
I blinked. "Randomly?"
"Angelo wired it." Of course he did. The mention of his brother softened something in his expression. Only for a second. Then it disappeared. I looked away first. Because the room felt too intimate. Too quiet. Too dangerous.
"Dance with me."
I stared. I laughed. Actually laughed. A genuine laugh. Because the suggestion was absurd. Absolutely ridiculous. "No."
"Why not?"
"Because you've lost your mind over smaller things,” I insisted.
Santino tilted his head. Studied me. Then smiled. Slowly. Dangerously. "Afraid?"
I wanted to hit him. The smug bastard knew exactly what he was doing. "Nope. Still sane, though."
"Then dance with me."
"No."
His smile widened. I hated that smile. I hated the confidence behind it. Most of all, I hated that he knew me. Because he knew exactly what would happen next.
"Definitely afraid," he repeated.
"Oh, shut up." I stormed across the room. Straight toward him. His smile became victorious. I hated him even more. "One dance."
His hand appeared. Waiting. I stared at it. Then at him. Then at the hand again. This was a mistake. A terrible mistake. An absolutely catastrophic mistake. I put my hand in his anyway.
Warm fingers closed around mine. My pulse betrayed me. Santino pulled me closer. One hand settling against my waist. The other holding mine. My breath caught. Just slightly. Not enough for him to notice. Hopefully.
The music drifted softly through the ballroom. We started moving. Slowly. The room glittered around us. For several moments neither of us spoke. Which somehow felt more dangerous than arguing.
His hand remained steady against my waist. Warm. Heavy. Present. Every nerve in my body seemed painfully aware of it. I hated that too. Eventually I looked up. Big mistake. His eyes were already on me. Watching.
"Stop that."
His eyebrow lifted. "Stop what?"
"Looking at me."
The dance continued. One slow step after another. My heartbeat grew steadily more ridiculous. The room felt smaller. Warmer. The air thicker somehow. Then the words escaped before I could stop them.
"I saw what you are."
Silence. The music played softly around us. Santino's expression didn't change. Not right away. Then something flickered behind his eyes. Gone almost instantly.
"I know."
The honesty surprised me. Again. Everything about him surprised me. "I can't stop thinking about it."
His jaw tightened. Slightly. Only slightly. "I know that too."
The city lights blurred beyond the windows. I swallowed. Hard. The memory of the gunshot flashed through my mind. The mask. The blood. The fear. My chest tightened. Santino looked down at me. Quiet. Patient.
"I have barely touched you since the club."
My breath caught. The words hit harder than they should have. Because he was right. No teasing touches. No stolen contact. No fingers brushing mine. Nothing. Ever since the night of my bachelorette party and that last kiss on the cliffs I gave him willingly.
Nothing. I hadn't realized how much I'd noticed. Or how much I'd missed it. The realization horrified me. Santino's gaze remained fixed on mine. Steady. Unwavering. Dangerous.
"I noticed,” I said.
The admission came out softer than intended.
His hand tightened slightly against my waist. Not enough to trap.
Just enough to feel. And neither of us was thinking about the dance anymore.
Or the ballroom. Or the city. Or even the execution.
Just each other. Which was probably the most dangerous thing that had happened all week.
The knock echoed through the ballroom. Once. Twice. Then a third time. Urgent. Desperate. Santino's jaw tightened. I stepped back so quickly I nearly tripped over my own feet.
Wonderful. Perfect timing. My heart was currently trying to escape through my ribs and somebody had apparently decided to save me from my terrible decisions.
The knock came again. Louder. "Santino."
A male voice. Young. Familiar. My stomach dropped.
No. Absolutely not.
The doors burst open before either of us could answer. Matteo stumbled inside. My brother looked exhausted. Dark circles beneath his eyes. Hair disheveled. Clothes wrinkled. Like he hadn't slept properly in days.
"Aurora." His relief was immediate. Then he saw Santino. His entire expression hardened. Determined. Resolved. Something about it made my stomach twist.
"Matteo, what are you doing here?" I demanded.
He ignored me. Completely. Which was annoying because he usually listened to me. Eventually. Sometimes. His eyes remained fixed on Santino. The ballroom felt very quiet. Santino studied him for a long moment. Then folded his arms.
"What do you want?"
Simple question. Dangerous answer. I could feel it. Matteo swallowed. Then walked forward. One step. Two. Three. Until he stood directly in front of Santino. My little brother didn't even look at me.
I stared. Offended. Deeply offended. The audacity. Then Matteo did something that made my blood run cold. He dropped to one knee. The sound echoed sharply across the marble floor. Silence followed. Complete silence.
Even Santino looked surprised. I knew enough about our world to understand exactly what I was looking at. This wasn't a child kneeling. This wasn't respect.
This was allegiance.
My heart started pounding. "No."
Matteo ignored me. Again. I was developing a list. A very long list. In Italian, his voice rang clear through the ballroom. Formal. Traditional. The words felt older than the city itself. Older than all of us. Santino's expression disappeared entirely. Every trace of amusement vanished.
The room changed. The air changed. Even the music seemed far away.
My stomach dropped. "You are not doing this."
Nobody listened. Typical.
"I place my loyalty before you."
The Italian sounded beautiful. And terrifying. Because everybody in the room understood what it meant. Matteo lifted his head. Looked directly at Santino. Not afraid. Not hesitant. Certain. My pulse roared in my ears.
"Matteo, don’t."
Nothing.
"I ask for your protection." His voice hardened. "I ask for your name."
Silence. Dead silence. Even the city beyond the windows seemed to disappear. Santino stared down at him. Motionless. Expressionless. Dangerously unreadable.
"Get up."
Matteo didn't move. "I won't."
Jesus Christ. The Ventura stubbornness was becoming a public health crisis. Santino's eyebrow lifted. Slightly. Most grown men wouldn't have dared answer him like that. My sixteen-year-old brother apparently had a death wish.
"Matteo." My voice cracked like a whip. "Get. Up."
"No."