Because I never expected her to get in my head.
She’s wormed her way deep inside.
Stirred up feelings from a part of me I thought long dead.
Now I have to find a way to cut her loose before I do something I regret.
Before she destroys me.
Prologue
Massimo
8 years ago…
If I’m caught, her father will kill me.
But I don’t care. I want this too much.
Beneath the light of the moon, I scramble across the terracotta roof tiles of the first floor. My heart hammers in my ears. I don’t know if it’s because I’m worried I’m going to be discovered, or because of what awaits me ahead.
I pause underneath the window I’ve come to know so well from afar, and I knock, ever so softly.
Angela Amato peers her head through the window.
“Massimo!” she whispers in shock. “What are you doing here?”
I gaze at her silhouette in the moonlight. Even in the dim light, she’s beautiful. Her curly hair frames her tanned face, the locks falling in waves, wild and free. Usually, she wears it pinned into a neat little bun, and I’ve never seen it light this—it only makes my breath catch in my throat all the more, and I can’t answer her.
“Massimo!” she presses. “You have to go!”
I swallow, and try to speak the words I’ve been rehearsing in my head all evening, but I can’t remember them. I hate the effect she has on me. I’m used to being in control, with an iron knot wrapped around my will at all times, but somehow she has the ability to unravel me.
“Not until you come on a proper moonlight walk,” I finally tell her.
She shakes her head fervently. “I can’t! We’ll be caught!”
“Have I ever let you down?” I hold out a hand to her. “Come on.”
She hesitates a moment longer beneath the moonlight, then grabs my hand.
When our fingers touch, I can almost feel a charge passing between us. I help her from the window.
She giggles softly when she lands on the terracotta tiles beside me and I smile.
Keeping my hand firmly wrapped around hers I lead her across the roof, then pause at the edge, waiting for a pair of men to pass. They’re armed with machine guns. This is the sort of patrol you’d expect to see on the grounds of a prison, not a private home. But it’s part and parcel of Angela’s world, and mine, to a degree.
When the men have gone, I lower myself onto the rim of the rain barrel below. Then I help Angela do the same. I vault onto the cobblestone below, and she follows.
Keeping an eye out for more patrols, we make our way across the grounds until we reach the tall stone barrier that encloses the villa. We climb an apple tree and slide atop that wall. I pause to look back.
I can see her window on the second floor. I’ve been here, crouched at this vantage point, many times. Though always I was alone. I would gaze longingly at that window, trying to pluck up the courage to do what I’m finally doing tonight. Oh sure, Angela and I have hung out many times during the day. But not at night. Never at night—she has a curfew.
“Massimo?”
Her soft whisper draws me back to the present and I lead her along the stone wall. I pause next to a tall orange tree. It grows from the sidewalk beyond, its overzealous branches reaching toward us. They’ve been trimmed back, so we’ll have to leap to reach them.
“Follow me,” I tell Angela.
