Creeping to the sliding glass door, I tested it.
Locked.
The lights were off inside. Mr. Messina would likely have a gun…if he was home. And I didn’t want to wake Cristiano. Going around to the detached garage, music, light, and life greeted me. A few of the neighborhood boys were working on the hotrod Cristiano had purchased. That meant….
I tried the side door. It swung open with a creak. Casting a careful glance over my shoulder, I slipped inside. The house was warm and smelled clean. Inviting. I hurried through the dark, picking my way carefully along, until I reached the bedroom.
The door opened, I breezed inside, closing it quickly.
Leaning back against the wood, I felt my pulse slow. I made it.
A light flicked on across the room.
Slapping a hand on my mouth, I squeaked in surprise. Black hair tousled in a mess, sleep wrinkling his face, Vincenzo softened from high alert to a satisfied grin.
“There you are,” he rumbled. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, sagging against the door. “Wait! What? You were asleep.”
“I texted.” He shifted to sit up against the headboard. “I called.”
“And I didn’t answer.” Sighing, I debated telling him the whole twisted tale. A selfish part of me wanted to confide in him. To have someone believe me that I was in the right for punching the trust fund asshat, since it happened in a back hall with no witnesses.
But I swallowed the story. If that hot, Italian blood spiked, this beast would stop at nothing to punish the other student. I couldn’t risk anything happening to Vincenzo, even if my date deserved it.
“You should have called,” Vincenzo chided gently. “I would have come to get you.”
I shrugged. “I’m a mobster, remember.”
He sighed and shook his head. “The bus isn’t safe during the day, let alone at night.”
“You’re right,” I admitted.
Damn, he looked good. Sleepy and sexy. He might be turning eighteen later this year, but he was on the border of man and boy. Seeing him like this, he still looked young.
Just like me.
We had our whole lives together, and I didn’t want it any other way.
“What are those?” I frowned and gestured. On the nightstand was a gorgeous bouquet of yellow tulips, still wrapped in brown paper as they sat in a glass mug of water.
“Those are for you,” Vincenzo murmured, noticing me staring. “I was going to bring them over, but you never said where you disappeared to.”
I hated this. Hated that I hadn’t gone to my junior prom with my boyfriend. I had to hide him for his own safety and play a chaotic chess game to keep our relationship secret.
Vincenzo crooked his elbow and lay down on it. Patting the empty space of the mattress, he invited me to join.
I did.
“I’m glad you came.” He kissed my forehead. “Just please let me make sure you’re safe, Mandy.”
“Next time,” I promised. Snuggling closer, I traced the graphics on his tee—some metal band. “How was your first private school prom?”
“I put in an appearance,” he murmured, smoothing a hand through my still damp hair.
“Yes, you did,” I chuckled, remembering how he’d put his tie around his head and capered with the jocks, all of them dancing like pagans in a sweaty, testosterone-filled mosh pit. “You looked like a dork.”
Vincenzo grinned and pressed his lips against my pulse. “I’m your dork.”
