“Creep,” I mutter once he’s out of earshot.
Damiano’s thumb traces a circle on my lower back, sending electricity up my spine. “Is it wrong I want to break his fingers for looking at you that way?”
My heart beats faster. I turn to face him, and we’re suddenly very close. Close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. If I rose on my toes just slightly, our lips would meet.
“Damiano—” I start, not even sure what I’m about to say.
“There you are!” Jessica Calabrese appears, looping her arm through Damiano’s and pulling him away from me. Her smile is bright and possessive. “You promised me a dance, remember?”
Damiano’s hand drops from my back, and I feel the loss like a physical ache.
“Of course.” He glances back at me, something complicated and painful in his eyes. “Lucy, will you be all right?”
I want to say no and ask him not to leave me.
I force a smile. “I’m fine. Go dance.”
I watch them glide onto the floor, his hand on her waist instead of on mine, her head tilted up toward him adoringly. Around me, the gala continues, a glittering display of power and wealth.
Andreas Montoni is watching me from across the room, that calculating smile still in place.
Mom is holding court near the bar, regal and cold, probably already plotting which suitable man she can marry me off to.
This is what our lie has bought us. I set down my champagne flute and walk out of the ballroom before anyone can see the tears threatening to spill from my eyes.
I don’t know how much longer I can pretend my heart isn’t breaking every single day.
3
Damiano
Ten years earlier
“Lucy, don’t go in there. Lucy, please. I’m begging you.”
I’m standing on the edge of the creek watching Lucy smile and wave at me in slow motion before walking into the old weatherboard house that’s standing once more, whole and unburned. There should be plenty of time to run and save Lucy, but my feet are rooted to the spot.
I scream her name until I’m hoarse.“Lucy.”
The house explodes in flames, glass and metal flying out in every direction. A small figure stumbles from the house, her whole body on fire. She crumples to the ground and doesn’t move as flames engulf her body.
“Lucy,”I sob, and I know it’s all my fault, because for some reason that I don’t understand, I’m the one who brought her back here.
A cool hand touches my forehead. A sweet voice calls my name. “Damiano.”
My eyes snap open. Lucy is hovering over me in the dark, stroking my sweaty brow. Her blonde curls are wild around her head, unsinged. Whole. Alive.
“It’s not real. You’re having a nightmare,” she whispers.
I groan, seizing her and pulling her down against my chest. She’s okay. She’s okay. With my heart thundering in my ears, I watch as Lucy lifts the blankets and crawls into the narrow bed with me.
“You’ll get into trouble,” I remind her. The Milbray group foster home is very strict about girls staying in the girls’ dorm at night and boys staying in the boys’ dorm, but my arms are already wrapping around her, needing the comfort of knowing she’s safe and in one piece.
“I don’t care.” Lucy scowls in defiance and pulls the blankets over both of us.
“I care,” I insist, but I still hold her tight against me, feeling her heartbeat against my ribs. Proof that she’s alive, and I didn’t fail her like Lily.
Getting into trouble at Milbray isn’t like school where all you get is a telling-off or lines to write. We’ve only been here a short time since Lucy was discharged from the hospital, but I’ve already discovered that the people who work here are mean. When they look at you, they see every misbehaving, troubled kid who’s been through this horrible place. I guess some of the kids swore at them, or punched them, or threw things at them, and now the workers don’t like any of us.
