Alessandro slides into the kitchen beside me, snagging a bottle of water from the counter. His scarred jaw flexes as he leans against the island, eyes cutting to me for just a second. The look is subtle, practiced. The kind that sayswe need to talk.
Not here. Not now. I take another sip of whiskey and shake my head ever so slightly. Not when the girls are knee-deep in peonies and prosecco. Not when Serena’s laughing, cheeks pink, and Antonio looks like he’s finally worked past all the guilt around the origins of their relationship. It’s like he’s finally figured out how to breathe around her.
I haven’t made any headway regarding the femme fatale from the other night at the Velvet Vault so there’s nothing to discuss anyway.
Ale doesn’t push. He just claps me once on the shoulder before joining Rory on the couch, stealing the pen out of her hand and scribbling something ridiculous on her flower chart that makes her swat him with a cushion.
I wonder if Rory regrets their hasty wedding. They never got the huge party, the gifts or all the hoopla that goes along with a Valentino or Rossi wedding. Knowing the tiny tyrant and my broody cousin, I think they’re okay with it. But who knows? Maybe after Serena and Antonio’s big bash, they’ll throw one of their own.
For a minute, I just sit there and watch them all.
My cousins,mifamiglia, one by one have paired off like it’s some cosmic joke. Isabella and Raf, practically glued at the hip. Serena and Antonio, bickering their way to forever. Alessandro and Rory, the king and queen of this madhouse, scars and all, still managing to look like they stepped out of some dark fairy tale. Even Alessia, for all her cold pretense and chaos, I know won’t be alone for long. She’s dating some guy insane enough to keep up with her.
All of them. Settled. Anchored. Loved.
Except me.
I swirl my drink again, watching the amber catch the light. Maybe it’s better this way. I’ve never been the relationship type. Too reckless, too charming for my own good, too busy burning through nights and women like matches.
At least, that’s what I tell myself. But the truth, the truth is different.
Because there was one.
One girl who mattered. One summer I can’t shake no matter how many women I distract myself with. Her hair burned likecopper in the sun, her laugh salted the air, and those eyes, as blue as the sea we swam in, saw every flaw I tried to hide. That girl burrowed under my skin and never left.
Cat.
And like the idiot I am, I left her behind.
I drain the rest of my whiskey, the warmth burning down my throat as Rory’s laughter rings out again.
Love, family, forever. That shit’s for them.
Me? I’m just the wicked devil still dancing on the edges.
Across the living room, Serena snaps her fingers in front of Alessandro’s face, drawing my attention, too. “Earth to Ale. Are you even listening to me, or are you too busy scribbling hearts with your wife on my floral arrangements?”
Rory snorts. “Don’t tempt him. He already suggested skull-shaped centerpieces.”
“I stand by that idea,” Ale mutters, grinning. Then he turns to our cousin. “What’s up, Sere?”
“The bridal shower.” She rolls her eyes like it should be obvious. “Next week. At the Vault. Is everything ready?”
Across the room, Alessia gasps. “Wait, you’re letting my brother plan a shower? God help us all.”
“Of course not, Alessia. I’m not a complete idiot. We’re just using the club as the venue. I’m bringing in a team to handle all the details.”
“There’s nothing too good for my future wife.” Antonio curls his arm around Sere’s waist and drops a kiss to the top of her head.
“Hey,” I protest, setting my glass down with a clink. “The Velvet Vault is the classiest joint in Manhattan. Ale and I could’ve handled it. You’ll have chandeliers, champagne fountains, maybe even a chocolate one if you behave.”
Serena narrows her eyes, unimpressed. “If I see a single stripper, Matty, I swear?—”
Her voice fades in my ears because Ale is looking at me again. Just a flicker, quick as a blade flash in the dark. That wordless exchange we’ve been trading since the other night. Since that woman.
My stomach knots. Hosting a big family circus in Ale’s club while an assassin is still breathing down my neck? Brilliant idea.
But Ale answers smoothly, voice steady. “Yeah, Sere. Everything’s sorted out. You’ll love it.”
