A flush crawls up my neck, and I mentally kick myself for walking right into that one.
“I give up. I have no idea what goes on in your head.”
“That’s too bad.” His eyes spark with mischief. “I bet it would make you blush harder than you are right now.”
I try to pretend like I’m not that interested, but this version of Romeo is completely throwing me off balance. Either I’m losing my mind, or it feels like he’s being sort of nice to me again. It’s really freaking me out.
“Okay.” Nonna changes up the music. “Slow, slow.”
She moves around the room, gesturing to each couple. When she gets to me and Romeo, she practically shoves us together.
A familiar song drifts from the speaker, and I can’t miss the irony that Nonna chose it for me to practice with Riccardo. Yet here I am, dancing with the first man I ever loved to Kina Grannis’s cover of "Can’t Help Falling in Love."
It's an emotional and romantic song, and a quick glance around the room confirms I’m not the only one who feels out of sorts. Chantel and Cristian won’t even make eye contact, and Mariella and Rafe have decided to sit this one out. Naturally, Abella and Angelo are looking at each other like they’re more in love than ever.
Sensing my discomfort, Romeo takes it upon himself to extort it.
“One more game.” He drags me closer, his palm sliding down to my lower back while his other hand engulfs mine. “First one to overthink loses.”
I’m not sure what he means exactly, but soon, we’re playing the staring game again. Except this time, it’s a different kind of staring game. I feel like prey caught in the crosshairs of those wolfish amber eyes.
We’re so much closer now, I can feel the warmth of his body pressed against mine. His hand is like a branding iron on my back, and my knees have gone wobbly.
His gaze drops to my lips, and I think I must be dreaming. That has to be what’s happening. Because there’s no way Romeo Vitale is looking at me like this right now—not unless he’s intentionally trying to screw with me. Is that what he meant by overthink? Because he already knew I’d lose that game.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?”
I startle at the sound of Riccardo’s voice, and my first instinct is to jump back and put some distance between me and Romeo. But he tightens his grip on me and doesn’t let go.
“Riccardo,” I blurt, feeling the need to smooth things over. “Hi.”
His gaze moves between us, narrowing suspiciously.
“Jesus, you look like shit, Ricky.” Rafe chuckles. “Did you pull an all-nighter?”
Riccardo bristles, and I notice he does look pretty rough today—with shadowed eyes, rumpled hair, and a wrinkled shirt. There’s a small bandage just below his eye, and weirdly, he’s wearing a pair of tan leather gloves. It makes me wonder if he got into a fight or something.
“I had a thing with my investors,” he mumbles. “It ran late.”
“Ahh.” Michele smirks. “We’ll get you a little hair of the dog, and you’ll be right as rain in no time.”
“Yeah, sure,” Riccardo grunts.
“You get into a little scrap?” Rafe asks. “What’s with the bandage and the gloves?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Riccardo shifts, looking visibly annoyed as he returns his attention to me. “That was charitable of you to take Bolt for a spin around the dance floor, Gabi. He doesn’t get out much.”
I’m not sure which of us halts first, but we do, and I can’t stop myself from leveling a glare at Riccardo.
“Why would you say something like that?”
“It’s a joke.” Riccardo shrugs it off. “Bolt doesn’t mind. Do you, cuz?”
“Fucking hilarious.” Romeo laughs, but he doesn’t sound at all amused.
When he falls silent, the air in the room shifts, and everyone else notices it too. They’ve all stopped dancing as the Vitale siblings exchange worried glances.
“It’s not funny,” I tell Riccardo. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
