He came in for a kiss and I bit his lip. We stayed that way for a second before I released him.
He ran the tip of his tongue over the spot I’d bitten and then grinned at me. “You’d stay because you’re the most loyal being I’ve ever met. You’d give yourself over before letting them hurt me. Swear on my life that you’ll do as I say.”
I stared at him, not sure what to do. What if he needed me? What if I could take the shot that would save his life? And he wanted me to swear on his life that I would listen, because he knew I wouldn’t go back on that. I was a firm believer that if I swore on something I loved, and went back on it, something bad would happen.
I blinked at him. I had forgotten that about myself until he’d said it.
“You remember something,” he said.
“I—forgot. That I felt that way—about swearing on someone or something I love and what would happen if I reneged.”
“You’re still you, Rosalia,” he said.
“I’m glad you said that,” I said. “I don’t always feel right in my skin.”
“Why do you think that is?”
I shrugged. “I’m still trying to cope with the loss of those memories. That time…it…maybe it was a crux in my life. A major changing point. And I’m connected to it but can’t remember it.”
“Like a ghost.”
I nodded. “Sometimes it feels that way, like a haunting ghost full ofmymemories.”
This time when he kissed me, I let him. The kiss was tender, that first hit of something magical in the blood that took me away from anything but him, and then it became deeper, harder, and when he broke away, I was breathing heavy and the fire in the depths of his eyes blazed.
“You distract me,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “This is why you have to give me your word, Rosalia. Swear to me.”
“You did that on purpose,” I said. “Kissing me like that to get me to agree.”
“You’re trying to distract me on purpose. Say the words.”
“Okay,” I said, lifting my hands. They were trembling. Not from the uncertainty of the night, but from the certainty of the kiss. “I swear on your life I’ll listen. But what aboutIf you die, I die?That doesn’t work if only one person takes the fall.”
Without answering me, he stepped out of the car. He walked to the other side and opened my door. He held out his hand and I took it, fixing my dress so the gun strapped to my thigh was hidden.
“I don’t plan on dying tonight,” he said. “If you do as I say, we’ll both get out of this alive.”
He set my arm in the crook of his, leading me along a worn-down path. Every so often a flare in the night would make the darkness murky. Gas lamps were placed every few feet and were lit.
I stopped walking and he did too.
“Our masks,” I said. “I forgot them in my bag.”
He studied my eyes for a brief second before he spoke. “We don’t need them,” he said in Italian. “We’ve worn them long enough, Rosalia.”
With that, we headed toward Club Desolation.
* * *
The heat radiatingfrom the thousands of candles inside Club Desolation was the first thing I noticed as we stepped through the doors.
We’d ordered so many of them that electricity was not needed. In addition to the chandeliers on the ceiling dripping with slowly melting wax, hundreds and hundreds of candelabras were placed strategically throughout so that no area was too dark or too bright. Collectively the heat caressed the skin, and the smell—I took a deep breath in—reminded me of the man next to me.
Thousands of burgundy roses decorated the entire club, only adding to the perfume in the air. Classical music played softly throughout the rooms. Men and women who were inspired by the event’s theme wore tuxedos and gowns that only added to the romantic and rich feel.
The entire scene was designed to evoke a certain mood. I could feel we’d captured it, but I was struggling to tame my heart and steady my breathing.
“Aniello?” I whispered as we stepped up to the ballroom door.
