And I choose me.
I take one last look in the mirror. The woman staring back at me is beautiful in a cold, calculated way. She looks like she belongs on Vincenzo’s arm. Dangerous enough to match him, and polished enough to fool him.
She looks like someone who could destroy a man and walk away without looking back.
If only that were true. But I push the doubt away and check the time.
It’s nearly eight o’clock, and Vincenzo must be waiting.
I descend the stairs slowly, one hand trailing along the banister. My heels click against marble with each step, announcing my approach.
Vincenzo is waiting in the entrance hall, standing beneath my father’s portrait like he owns the place. I was expecting an assassin, just like my previous encounters with him. Combat ready. Dozens of pockets. A thick jacket that protects against the cold.
Instead, he’s dressed in a sharp suit, midnight black, perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders and lean frame. A crisp black shirt, the top button undone just enough to show the hollow of his throat where his tattoos disappear beneath the fabric. His blond hair is swept back, still slightly damp like he just stepped out of the shower. He’s clean-shaven, polished, and impossibly handsome in a way that makes my stomach flip.
Our eyes meet across the entrance hall, and something flickers in his expression. Surprise? Appreciation? Then his face hardens into that familiar cold mask. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t offer his arm. Just turns and walks toward the door, expecting me to follow. I do, because what choice do I have?
As we walk to his car, he says in a sly voice, “Black suits you, doe.”
I turn to him in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“The dress. The look.” His words are admiring, but his tone is hard and cruel. “Sexy. Dangerous.” His eyes rake over me with deliberate slowness. “You’re dressed like a Vici.”
Shit. He means I look like a killer. I’m supposed to slip him poison, but have I already blown it and made him suspicious?
“You seem to like this look best,” I say, keeping my voice steady despite the flutter in my stomach.
He leans down to open the car door, and his face is suddenly very close to mine. Too close. I can smell his cold, clean cologne and feel the heat radiating from his body.
“I don’t know. You looked pretty sexy covered in blood and pinned beneath me.” He smiles, showing me his teeth, and for a moment I can’t breathe.
It takes me far too long to realize that he’s opened the car door, and he’s waiting for me to get in. I do, red in the face and feeling completely off-balance.
The restaurant is called Obscuro, and I’ve never been here before. Sleek and expensive, with circular booths and candles that cast flickering shadows across the tables where people are having conversations in hushed tones.
Vincenzo leads me through the entrance with his hand on the small of my back, his touch possessive and proprietary, and I’m acutely aware of every eye that turns our way. A Vici and a Montoni, walking in together like we’re not sworn enemies.
The host greets Vincenzo by name and leads us to a corner booth that’s made somewhat private by a decorative metal lattice. I’m sliding into my seat when I see him.
Damiano Barone.
My best friend’s older brother, tall, dark-eyed, and curly-haired, is sitting three tables away with Jessica Calabrese,Senator Calabrese’s daughter. She’s brunette and polished and laughing at something Damiano just said. They look relaxed and intimate. It’s nothing like the formal dinners I’ve attended with Lucy’s family where everyone seems to be buttoned up tight and performing a role.
Damiano glances up, and our eyes meet for a split second. Recognition flickers across his face—surprise, then concern bordering on shock when he sees who I’m with. For a split second, I think he might stand up. Come over. Ask if I’m okay.
But this is the mafia. We don’t interfere in other families’ business, even when it’s Lucy’s best friend with the man whose family was slaughtered at her engagement party.
He gazes at me a moment longer, and then reluctantly returns his attention back to Jessica.
I realize with a jolt that this is Barone territory. Not neutral ground, and not Montoni streets where Dad’s word is law. If I kill Vincenzo here, this becomes Don Carlucci Barone’s problem, who will definitely make it Dad’s problem.
My stomach clenches as the implications crash over me. So far, Dad’s kept the other families on his side by insisting that the Vicis attacked him first. He’s the victim, not the aggressor. If I poison Vincenzo in this restaurant, completely unprovoked, the Barones will demand answers. They’ll be caught between my father and whatever arrangements they have with the other families. It could start a war. More people will die. More blood on my hands.
I look at Vincenzo across the table, and he’s watching me with that predatory stillness that makes my skin prickle.
“Something wrong, doe?” His voice is casual, but there’s an edge to it.
“Not at all.” I smooth my napkin across my lap, trying to calm my racing heart.
