Page 69 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

“Sarah.”

“And on the drive to his house, we were talking and laughing, and it just kind of—happened,” she finishes. “By the time I got to his driveway, we were already making out.”

I stare at her, trying to catch up.

“He invited me in,” she says. “What was I supposed to do? Turn him down?”

“Oh my god. You are such a slut.”

“I can’t help it,” she says, completely unapologetic. “He’s six-two and delicious.”

I roll my eyes. “Anything else I need to know?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Did you know he and Michael are related?”

That gets my attention. “What?”

“Yeah,” she says, sitting up a little. “I was looking around his place, and there’s this picture of them together. It was him, Michael, and a bunch of other guys.”

A small knot tightens in my stomach.

“I asked him about it,” she goes on. “He got weird for a second. Said it was nothing.”

“And you just let that go?” I ask.

She ignores me. “Later, I see his college diploma hanging on the wall.” She leans forward slightly. “Guess what it said.”

I shake my head.

“Luca Amato.”

I blink at her. “Amato?”

She nods, watching me. “Luca and Michael are first cousins.”

For a second, I don’t even know what to say.

“Why wouldn’t he tell me that?”

She shrugs. “I asked Luca. He said Michael runs the company and likes to keep things professional.”

“But he wasn’t being professional last night,” I say. “And Luca was still calling him Boss.”

I trail off, the thought sticking. Sarah doesn’t say anything, just watches me.

“And seriously,” I go on, trying to shake it off, “who calls someone boss like that?”

“Katie,” she says, “I know I hyped this whole thing up, but it’s weird. He’s really into you. That’s obvious. But what do you actually know about him?”

I huff out a breath. “More than you think. We talked. A lot. He told me about his childhood, about running the company. We talked about random stuff too. It wasn’t all intense.”

She tilts her head.

“Stop,” I say. “He was just a guy. We hung out, and I really like him.”

Her expression doesn’t change. I fidget with my fingers.

“Why are you doing that?” Sarah pushes.