More like, whatdidn’tgive it away?
“Excuse me?”
“Lev. I’m not stupid. All evening, you’ve continued to search for him. You’d have to be blind to miss it.”
Have I? Fuck.
“And he won't stop staring at you. Or, if he does manage to, it’s to glare at Vitale. For a second, it seemed like he was about to end your entire wedding when the priest told you two to kiss.”
“Did Z notice?” The last thing I need is this going south because my brother chooses today to pick a fight with Lev overmychoices.
Nero shrugs. “If he has, he hasn’t said anything.”
“Fuck,” I groan, dropping my head onto his chest. “We didn’t mean to. I mean, he resisted for a long time.”
“Hey.” Nero reaches between us, tipping my chin up. “I’m not here to rat you out. It’s okay. Are you happy?”
“The happiest.”
“Then it’s fine.”
“You’re not mad?”
He shrugs again, spinning me faster and further away from others. “You know I’ve always seen you like a sister, so doing my big brother duty and all that—yeah, I’m mad at him, but only because I’m protective of you. At the end of the day, you deserve to be happy. We all know Vitale isn’t it.”
I snort, glancing around to see if anyone’s overheard, but they’re all lost in their own worlds. “Thanks, Nero. I do plan on telling Z…eventually. After today.”
The song ends before his response, and immediately, someone else appears at my elbow. At first, I think it’s Lev sticking to his plan about ensuring no one but the four of them dance with me, but a quick glance at stranger says otherwise.
“Santino Romano. May I have the next dance?”
With a parting grimace towards Nero, I rest my hand in Santino’s.
Three more dances, and it’ll be over.
55
LEV
She’s danced with the three other Capos of the Five Families—two middle-aged men, and an elderly one who looked past his bedtime. Some seemed bored, while others engaged with her.
Finally, the current song ends and the last one backs away from her. I’m up and out of my seat, avoiding my sister’s feeble attempt to yank me back into the chair. She narrowly misses me as I dart for the dance floor.
Across the room, Alessio’s also watching. His eyes narrow when he spots me approaching, but he doesn’t end his conversation to fight me on this.
I appear in front of her, hand up. “My turn with the bride?”
I don’t dance. At all. Ever. No matter what Bratva party I’ve been dragged to, it doesn’t happen. Anastasia and Vanessa make a game of trying to break my streak. It never happens. It’s everything I despise wrapped up into one action: music, touching, being around others, being social.
I’ll be damned if this day passes without Serafina in my arms, to reassure myself she’s alive and with me—for as long as I can keep her.
Her taste still taints my tongue from before the ceremony, a flavour I never want to fade. At least until the next time I get between her legs.
“Lev,” she breathes my name like it’s oxygen, like it’s the knife to slice through the binds tying her down. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
With a happy sigh, she falls into my arms, adopting the same position she’s held for her last few dances. Respectable and appropriate, even if my hand on her back dips to the curve of her hip and presses her closer.
Her hand, the one with the fucking stupid rock, rests on my shoulder. Better than being the one I have to hold, so I accept it, though ‘better’ would be to see that ring tossed down a toilet.
