“Are you promised?” The word shot out of me faster than any bullet out of my semi-automatic.
Greta’s brows dipped like she couldn’t quite understand the question. Neither could I. “No,” she said it as if the answer was obvious. And maybe it was. Considering her crazy twin and the rest of the crazy Falcone bunch, you needed balls the size of Nevada to ask for Greta’s hand.
“I’ve never met someone who interested me like that.” She looked thoughtful for a moment before she peered up at my face again. “What about you? Are you promised?”
“No,” I said without thinking about it. Why was I lying? News about my engagement had certainly made the rounds in Vegas as well, and if I wasn’t mistaken the whole Falcone clan was invited to the wedding. On the other hand, she seemed like a girl who lived in a world of her own. She’d never been to one of the festivities in recent years. I wasn’t even sure if I had seen her before today.
Maybe she really didn’t know about me and Cressida. I wished I could keep it that way for reasons I didn’t have the patience to explore.
I had absolutely no clue how long we’d been locked in this cell. It felt like a blink and eternity at the same time, and I knew I never wanted it to end. Talking to Greta just felt right.
Her eyes settled on my face. “I never thought about kissing someone. But I think with you I could imagine having my first kiss one day.”
My body became taut, my heart thundering in my chest. I stared at her. She wasn’t flirting, her body language not inviting me to kiss her now, but her words had set off an avalanche in my body I had trouble holding back.
What the hell?
A click sounded and the keypad glowed red then green. The door swung open and Nino followed by a tall boy with honey-blond hair and piercing blue eyes, wearing a black muscle shirt that revealed the fucking Camorra tattoo and several other tattoos, came in. As if they’d practiced a choreography one of their eyebrows climbed their foreheads and the look in their eyes was like being plunged into ice water.
Here we go…
Alessio and Nino entered the cell. My face broadened with a grateful smile. I’d really enjoyed my time with Amo but my worry for Momo had gotten worse with every passing moment. Last time he’d run off, it had taken me more than a day to find him curled up behind a shelf in the basement.
Alessio pulled his Damascus steel tri dagger from the leather holster at his waist. Amo put down my feet and rose to his full height. My eyes were drawn to him without thinking, following his long, muscled legs, to the fine dusting of dark hair to his belly button, his chiseled abs and then higher to his strong chin, and pronounced face. He was beautiful in a way I’d never noticed in a man before.
“I assume you have a reasonable explanation for this,” Nino drawled. I turned to him, though I knew he wasn’t talking to me. He would never use that tone on me.
Seeing his expression, I could tell that Amo was in trouble. Never taking his eyes off Amo, Alessio strode toward me and held out his free hand, the other with his knife still pointing at Amo. I let him pull me to my feet and for once he didn’t immediately release me, instead he tugged me away from Amo. The shirt slipped off my shoulders, fluttering to the floor, and I mourned its warmth and comforting scent.
Alessio’s blue eyes pierced into mine. “Did he do something?”
My brows pinched. “He gave me his shirt.”
“You’re not injured?” Nino inquired, his eyes still on Amo, though neither of them had pulled a knife or gun yet.
I tugged at Alessio’s hand and he finally let go. “I’m cold.”
Alessio scanned my arms and throat, then my clothes. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for. “No marks or rips.”
Amo let out a sigh and crossed his arms in front of his broad chest, which made his biceps flex in a very pleasing way. “I didn’t do anything. I’m a Vitiello, I don’t hurt women. I ran across Greta in the garden when I was getting some fresh air and she asked me to help her catch Momo. The dog had run into the basement and so that’s where we went. Then the alarm went off and locked us in, and I tried to keep Greta warm with my shirt. End of story.”
I slanted a look at Amo. His face was hard and absolutely convincing, though he hadn’t told the entire truth. I guess with lying it was crucial that you hid the lie behind a part truth. He did it well.
I didn’t lie to my family. Ever.
Nino came toward me, blocking my view of Amo, forcing me to bring my gaze up to his. Alessio too was watching me as if this was the Spanish Inquisition, a fascinating part of history I didn’t have the stomach to read after what I’d seen. Nino wrapped his fingers around my wrist. “Was that what happened?”