“Is that what this is?” he murmured, an undertone of amusement to his tone. “A competition? I thought it was supposed to be fun.”
“Fun?” I scoffed. “Have you seen Rosaria lately? If I happen to be ahead of her hiking up the mountain, she runs up it to make a point.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He shrugged. “Our chemistry can’t be fucking beat. Some time, some place, when our stars collided, something cataclysmic happened in the world. That’s what counts.”
“Does it?” I muttered before I took a sip of water. It fizzled down my throat, effervescent bubbles settling my stomach.
“Are you afraid?” He looked down at me, a taunting grin on his impossibly gorgeous face.
The fireplace roared beside him, throwing his impeccable bone structure in shadow, only increasing the intensity of his dark eyes. In this light, they shimmered like polished onyx.
Handsome as the devilseemed all too fitting.
I narrowed my eyes in response to the challenge and settled more firmly in my chair, using my free hand to shift the bottle around the table.
“Fucking thought so,” he said, then took a drink of his whiskey, the amber coating his lips and making them glisten.
Romeo took the seat next to us, and Juliette sat on his lap.
“Are you ready to get slaughtered?” Juliette laughed.
Perfect way to describe what happened next.
Mitch and Violetkilledit. Even in New York, they would sometimes do a duet together, and either there wasn’t a dry eye in the house, or they received a standing ovation.
It was a bit of both tonight, and I thought it did the crowd good to have them start off the line. They had fun while they sang, too, losing themselves to the music.
Rocco and Rosariaslaughteredit. She scaled her voice down to meet the requirements of the song, and to be honest, I preferred the way she sang it to the way the artist sang it.
A roar of applause met them after they were done.
It didn’t escape me that my sister, the pack animal that she was, sat at Rocco and Rosaria’s table, standing in her seat, clapping above the rest. I thought it was pretty low that Rosaria welcomed her, knowing the relationship we had. But Rosaria knew about it, and I thought that was precisely why she was acting like they were best friends.
Then it was us.
Brando kept his hand firmly in mine, leading me toward the corner where we’d bare our mediocre voices to the crowd, right after they had been gifted with songbirds.
Brando patted Rocco on the shoulder with his free hand as we passed. He was playing this effing cool.
Rosaria smiled at me, her crimson lips glistening against her bright white teeth. “I do not see a stage to twirl on,BallerinaGirl,” she said, pretending the comment was meant to be funny.
It wasn’t. It was eff—fuckingmocking.
Compared to my chill and confident husband, my palms had started to sweat. I had to resist the urge to lift my arms and fan my armpits.
If my graceful ballerina grandmother could see me now…
Once we got started, Brando was right. We had fun. That, more than anything, had revved the crowd up. The song he chose was full of tension, two lovers who both refused to give in because of foolish pride, and at the end, we stood staring at each other, while whistles and chants ofkiss her!penetrated the air.
I licked my lips—yearning for his to touch mine.
For them it was a show, but for us, the lyrics hit really close to home.
His eyes were on fire—the want was unmistakable.
Until finally,finally, he leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on my lips, making the entire bar erupt into cheers.
We sang another, this one more romantic.
