“You want to stay in tonight?” he asked. “We can handle next steps.”
I shook my head. “I’m coming.”
I’d spent the first part of my adult life on the sidelines, letting Bram take care of anything even remotely inconvenient. If we were going to figure out how to get in to the White Night gala, I wanted to be there.
“Then get dressed mouse. We’re going out.”
We met Bram in the lobby, and for a split second, I almost didn’t recognize my brother.
Instead of ripped jeans, a black T-shirt, and his boots, he wore tailored gray slacks, a black button-down shirt, and dress shoes with no socks.
He’d slicked back his hair, and the scar that ran down his face — a scar he’d gotten in the accident with our parents — only made him look more handsome and mysterious.
“Wow,” I said, “who knew you cleaned up so nice?”
He frowned. “Gee, thanks.”
“I’m just saying. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you in anything but jeans.”
“I’m not an idiot. I know how to dress, and we have to fit in here.” He looked at me. “Who taughtyouhow to dress? Because it definitely wasn’t me.”
I laughed. I’d had to fight him to get a prom dress that wasn’t high-necked and below the knee.
“Lucky for you I have other sources.”
This dress had been waiting in the hotel, courtesy of the Hawks, when I woke up from my nap.
And this dress most definitely wasn’t high-necked and below the knee.
A swirl of metallic gold and green, the dress was microscopic. Body-skimming rather than body-hugging, it barely covered my ass, the straight bodice suspended by slim straps that matched the dress.
It was perfect for Capri, and I wondered which of the Hawks had picked it out.
I’d put my hair up, pulling out a few tendrils to fall around my face, and kept my makeup light and sheer.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Vigo said, adjusting the collar on his silky black vest. His arms were bare underneath, his inked biceps on full display. “I’m starving.”
“You literally just ate the entire room service menu a few hours ago,” Jagger said.
“So? I have a fast metabolism.”
Hawk took my hand as we left the hotel.
He leaned over, his lips brushing against my neck, and a shiver traveled up my spine. “You look good enough to eat, mouse.”
Outside, we piled into one of the waiting taxis and made our way down the winding road to the town nestled at the bottom of the cliff. It had been pretty during the day, the multicolored buildings a bright contrast to the pale blue, crystalline water close to shore.
But at night? At night Capri was a fairytale.
The taxi let us out on the main drag and we walked along cobblestone streets illuminated by the glow of lanterns strung overhead.
Music and laughter spilled out of taverns, bistros, and restaurants, festivity in the air as couples walked arm in arm and groups of friends conversed while they strolled.
Outdoor dining was plentiful, and my stomach grumbled as the scent of grilled fish and roasted tomatoes hit my nose.
I was with Vigo: I was starving.
Bram walked ahead, taking it all in, and I realized that he and I had never been anywhere together. He’d taken me to Blackwell Bay when I’d been a kid, day trips I remembered both for the sun and sea and also for the sight of Bram, sitting awkwardly on a blanket, looking like he’d never seen a beach before while I built sandcastles.
