“JUST COME OUT this weekend,” Cella said. “What’s one weekend going to hurt?”
Liliana’s younger sister always liked to dangle that rope to her as though she seriously thought it was going to work. It never did.
“Gordo would kill me,” Liliana replied. “If he knew the shit I was about to shove into my mouth, he would have a fit. Imagine him finding out I was drinking and partying all weekend when I am supposed to be resting in prep for next week.”
Cella and her two friends—mutual with Liliana, too, really—piled out of the SUV. “You’re no fun anymore, Liliana. All you care about is dance, and that company.”
“That’s not true, but I worked hard to even get my spot in that company. I have the chance to be the lead dancer again for the upcoming production, and I don’t want to piss off my—”
“Whatever.”
Catherine, their cousin, rolled her eyes in the front seat when the door slammed. “She’s dramatic today.”
Liliana would tend to agree. “I think she misses me being available all the time.”
“Maybe.”
Fact was, even before Liliana had gotten her spot in the Wylder Ballet Company three years ago—a couple of years later than most of the dancers in the company, as some of the people there liked to point out—she still hadn’t been able to spend every waking moment with her sister. From the age of ten, her focus on ballet had been a huge part of her life. She didn’t want to do anything her parents tried to put her in for extracurricular activities.
Then, ballet was on the table.
God, she hated it at first. Despised it, really. But she watched all the ballerinas come into the studio to work, and something about them was amazing. They were beautiful, graceful, and strong. Sylph-like in their pointe shoes, and moving across the floor as though they were completely weightless. Like fairies with their hair tied up in perfect buns, and their soft pink or flat black leotards.
Liliana had been young enough—and dumb enough—to think she should be able to do ballet just like them, and that was where the frustration came in. And then she nailed her first en pointe and she got it. She finally understood why doing the work, learning the craft, and earning the praise, was a far better reward than anything else.
She respected ballet.
She worked hard for it.
Cella didn’t understand, and Liliana didn’t know how to explain it to her sister. Cella was two years younger than Liliana’s twenty-two, and she was just trying to have the time of her life. She was living her best life.
Her sister didn’t realize that Liliana was trying to do that, too. They didn’t have to be doing the same things to reach a similar goal, or to be happy.
What did it even matter?
“Maybe she’ll be out of her mood by the time we get upstairs to the theater room,” Liliana grumbled.
Catherine pushed out of the SUV with a laugh over her shoulder. “You know how Cella is—that’s unlikely.”
Tell me about it.
Liliana’s gaze scanned the driveway of the old Marcello estate as Catherine headed for the mansion. She didn’t see the same black car that had been parked off to the side when they first left for the store.
Or the gorgeous man she couldn’t stop staring at, either. The man with the sky-blue eyes, and dark hair. Just his size alone should have been enough to make Liliana a little hesitant considering he was built like a linebacker with the height to match, and an almost blank expression, but still … she had stared, and couldn’t seem to stop.
Which was altogether strange for her, considering … Liliana didn’t take notice of men anymore. At least, not ones she would consider strangers. She wasn’t as trusting as she once had been. Life taught her to be wary, in a way.
And yet, she wondered about him.
Who was he?
“You coming?” Catherine called.
“Yep.”
Liliana shook off the curiosity still burning in her gut, and headed after her cousin.
Before long, the two were inside the mansion, and heading for the upstairs where the theater room was situated. Her grandparents owned the mansion—no one lived there but Antony and Cecelia, most of the time. Still, Liliana liked to visit them as much as she could. Usually, she brought along others like her sisters, cousin, or a friend.
It gave the place some noise. Life, even. And her grandparents loved to entertain. They never complained, and even welcomed it.
So was the Marcello way.
Upstairs, Liliana could already hear the laughter coming down the hall from the theater room. Catherine shot her a sly smile.
“Maybe Cella is in a better mood,” she said.
Liliana shrugged. “Maybe. I’ll be right in. I need to use the bathroom first.”
“Okay.”
Disappearing into the closest bathroom—one of probably twenty in the large, two-wing monster that was the Marcello mansion—Liliana didn’t actually need to use it. She pulled out her phone, and checked for any messages or missed calls.
The director of the Wylder Ballet Company could be particular. To say the least. While he didn’t mind giving Liliana the weekend to rest and relax in preparation for the coming weeks of grueling practice, and long hours of training, his mind was like a switch.
He could flip his decision back in a snap.
Just like that.
Finding nothing waiting on her phone to say Gordo had suddenly up and changed his mind about Liliana’s weekend, she counted her lucky stars, and considered it a win. Shoving the phone back in her pocket, she headed out of the bathroom, and damn near crashed into what felt like a fucking brick wall the second she left the room.
Liliana couldn’t have caught herself from falling even if she tried. For all her balance, strength, and grace … none of it helped very much when she ran headfirst into something as unexpected as—
“Careful there,” came a dark, rich voice.
Like a bass rumbled with his words.
Like a melody colored up his chuckles.
A strong arm had caught her easily—just one, it seemed he didn’t need two—and righted Liliana to her feet probably before she even realized what had happened. Pushing her wild waves of dark blonde hair back out of her face, she blinked.
And came face to face with him.
The mysterious man from earlier in the driveway.
He was not quite the same as he had been earlier, though. Getting a closer—really up close and personal, considering how she was balancing herself by putting her palms to his chest, and was close enough to feel his warm mint-scented breath wash over her face—look at him was bad for her insides.
Bad, because he was gorgeous. More so than she realized. Bad, because her stomach clenched, and her palms felt sweaty already. For a second, she tried to make her voice work, but nothing came.
The dark lines of the man’s face were shadowed by the hall, but it only added to the appeal of his square-cut jaw, strong cheekbones, and inviting grin. He was taller than her five foot eleven by at least six inches or more. She had to wonder if he played football, or rugby, because under her fingertips, his chiseled-from-stone muscles jumped from her touch.
Jesus.
“You okay?” he asked.
Liliana nodded quickly. “Yeah, sure.”
“It’s Liliana, right?”
She blinked.
He grinned deeper.
“Right?” he pressed.
“Liliana, yeah, but if you call me Lily, I’ll probably gut you.”
Might as well get that right out in the open and over with. She expected a bit of surprise in the man’s eyes at her warning, but he actually tipped his head back and laughed. And sweet Christ, that laugh of his was dangerous.
The sound made her breath catch.
The sight made her heart race.
“Good to know,” he said.
Laughter echoed from down the hall—her cousin, sister, and friends voices followed right after. Conversation about the movie they wanted to pick, or something like that. It didn’t really matter.
“Ah, that’s what I was trying to find,” the guy said.
Liliana’s brow dipped. “Pardon?”
“I heard noise, but this place is so big that I couldn’t find out what it was or where it was coming from. I think I got lost.”
She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. “Well, the mansion is pretty big.”
Liliana had a good mind to ask him what exactly he was doing at her grandparents’ mansion, and why she had caught sight of her father and uncles waiting for him and the other man before she left with the girls. She didn’t ask any of that because if the guy was in any way connected to her father and uncles’ business in the mafia, he probably wouldn’t tell her anyway.
Besides, sometimes it was better not to know.
That’s what life as a Marcello principessa had taught Liliana. It was also pretty quick to teach her that even men who weren’t connected to the life were their own particular brand of dangerous when it came right down to it.
“I bet your friends are wondering where you are,” he said.
It was only then that Liliana realized how close and alone the two were in the dark hallway. Sure, someone might hear her shout if she needed to, but none of that had even factored in to her usual cautiousness.
In fact, the last thing she felt in that moment was unsafe.
“They probably are,” she agreed.
“Would you do me a favor first?”
“Shoot.”
He cocked a brow, and shrugged one large shoulder like it wasn’t a big deal before he said, “Give me directions to the downstairs—I don’t want to miss supper later. I hear that’s rude, and I’m going to be around for a while. I would hate to make a bad first impression and all.”
Liliana laughed, but not for the reason he probably thought. The last thing he did was make a bad first impression.
Far from it.
Joseph Rossi.
That was his name.
Or Joe, rather. It seemed no one actually used Joseph when they talked to him, and instead, simply called him Joe.
Liliana hadn’t even gotten Joe’s name before Catherine had popped out of the theater room upstairs, and shouted for her to hurry the hell up. Dinner came two hours later, and Liliana was—strangely—happy to find that Joe hadn’t been lying.
He sat directly across from her at the table. His attention was on the conversation flowing around the table between her family, and the girls’ friends. More than once, though, Liliana caught him glancing her way, too.
And not a quick glance.
No.
A lingering one.
Especially when he thought she wasn’t looking.
“I hope Damian made his flight,” her uncle—Giovanni—said before he shoved in a mouthful of food.
“He did—let me know a few minutes ago,” Joe said.
His gaze dragged away from Liliana as he spoke, and she couldn’t help but glance down at her plate and smile. It seemed like no one else at the table noticed their occasional glances, and for the moment, she was grateful.
Oddly, Liliana still found herself wishing his attention was back on her instead of on other people at the table. She opened her mouth to make sure exactly that happened, too.
“And where do you come from?” she asked.
Although, she was pretty sure she knew the answer. His last name was enough of a hint to say he probably hailed from Chicago—or more specifically, he came from the Chicago Outfit. Another criminal organization much like the one her father and uncles were involved with.
Liliana got what she wanted.
Joe’s attention came back to her.
“Chicago,” he said. “You couldn’t tell by—”
“Your accent?” she interrupted with a sly grin. “Actually, the last name gave it away.”
Throats cleared around the table, and Liliana could almost feel the eyes turning in her direction at her statement. Apparently, she was getting a little close to waters she probably shouldn’t be talking about. The men of her family never actively discouraged the women to discuss business, or la famiglia, but it was always a big no-no at the dinner table.
That had never changed.
“I’ve never been to Chicago,” she said.
Joe lifted a single brow high. “We have a big lake. Lots of crime. Good food.”
Liliana nodded. “And you, too.”
“Pardon?”
“It has you.”
Joe matched her grin, then. “That it does.”
A beat of silence passed before down the table, her uncle, Dante, said, “Joe, we will have everything set up for you tomorrow to make your stay in New York comfortable and quiet. I’m sure you understand why we would rather be the ones to do it than have you go on record anywhere.”
Liliana’s brow furrowed.
Quiet?
What did that mean?
Her confused thoughts drifted away as she glanced back at Joe, and realized something just by the expression on his face. Or rather, the lack of expression. He had suddenly—in nothing more than a breath and blink—reverted to his neutral, passive state.
His gaze gave nothing away. No warmth, or interest. Some might even look in his eyes in those moments, and think the stare was cold or hard. His posture became a bit more rigid in the seat, and when he spoke again, his tone was flat yet concise.
“Sounds fine,” he said.
“Good,” Dante replied.
Even when Joe’s attention came back to Liliana for a brief few seconds, his expression and posture didn’t change. It was as though he had dropped his defenses and pretenses with her during their exchange, and just as quickly, shifted back to someone else entirely.
Certainly not the same man she had met upstairs in the hallway with his charming nature, and boyish grins. Sure, he had the same dark, sexy, and mysterious appeal now. Just for two entirely different reasons.
Yet, Liliana had to admit … she was just as curious about this Joe, too. What made him like this, and why? Was it the men at the table—was he like them, too?
Oh, yeah.
Her curiosity about Joe Rossi dug in under her skin, and suddenly refused to let go. It only burrowed deeper the longer they sat at the table, and she continued to stare at him. She was pretty sure her attention wasn’t going unnoticed by others, but she didn’t really care.
It wasn’t like her father was the type to hold her back when it came to men, or dating. He simply asked her to be careful, but he never stepped in.
Or he hadn’t before …
“Do you dance?”
At the quiet question Joe posed, bringing Liliana out of her thoughts with a bang, the rest of the table quieted. Or at least the people nearest to them quieted down while they waited for her answer. She could plainly see the way her sister’s gaze darted between the two of them curiously, a lot like her cousin, too.
A little too interested, maybe.
The men at the other end of the table were too busy discussing something in hushed tones with their gazes locked on each other to notice what was happening a few seats away.
“I do dance,” Liliana said.
“Ballet, I bet,” Joe murmured.
She swore she felt his words reach out and touch her like the softest stroke.
“How did you know?”
Joe’s smile deepened into a sexy smirk—just like that, his defenses and mask dropped once more, and she was given a glimpse of him. “The way you walk.”
“The way I walk,” she echoed.
He nodded. “It’s telling.”
“And how do I walk?”
“Like the ground is air, and you’re floating on it. Ballet dancers have a unique kind of grace. Mesmerizing, really.” Joe leaned back in his chair, adding quieter, “Some might say it’s even alluring.”
Funny.
That’s exactly how she would describe him, too.
“Well, how did dinner go?” Jordyn asked.
She gave Liliana a quick pat on her cheek—she had only come with her father to grab some stuff from her old room for her apartment before she was heading out.
“It went … well,” Lucian said.
Liliana didn’t miss the way her mother’s gaze darted in her direction. “Really?”
Lucian came to a stop in front of Jordyn, and reached for his wife before pulling her into a tight hug that engulfed her mother. Liliana almost looked away simply because the action seemed so personal and affectionate, but she didn’t.
Her parents wouldn’t care, anyway.
They had never hid their love.
And it was a beautiful love.
“I promise,” Lucian murmured, “you know me.”
“I do,” Jordyn said. “Did John show up?”
“No.”
Liliana stiffened at the mention of her older brother. Four years older than her, John was … well, her brother was a lot of things. Diagnosed with bipolar at seventeen, she knew that things were not simple for John in his life. Nothing was easy for him.
He hadn’t made things easy for them, either, growing up. To say the least. His mania had manifested in ways that both terrified her, and hurt her.
Mostly, emotionally.
He could be nasty one second, and violently angry the next. He might say something so cutting, the words felt like knives slicing through someone’s heart.
And then he would be good again, as though nothing had ever happened. It just made for a difficult and complex relationship, as far as that went.
Liliana loved her brother, though. She just found it easier to love John from a distance so that they could both see each other a little more clearly. She didn’t want to hurt him, or worse, hate him for things he couldn’t control. And she worried if she pushed too much, or stayed too close, that was exactly what might happen.
“Andino must know where he is,” Jordyn said.
Lucian sighed heavily, and scrubbed a hand down his jaw. “I assume so, yes.”
“Assuming isn’t good—we need to know.”
“Gio said he was going to get ahold of Andino tonight, anyway. We need them both for tomorrow.”
Liliana came to lean against the kitchen island, and gained both of her parents’ attention when she asked, “What’s happening tomorrow?”
Her father graced her with a smile that usually distracted people. She wasn’t the type to fall for it. Jordyn gave her husband a look before she made a beeline for the entryway to leave the kitchen.
What was that all about?
“Nothing you need to be concerned about,” Lucian replied easily once his wife was gone.
“And yet, I asked, Daddy.”
Lucian gave the ceiling a look as though he were searching for the heavens before saying, “Just business, sweetheart.”
“Joe?”
Her father stiffened a bit.
Liliana didn’t miss it.
“Dante said at dinner that tomorrow they would set Joe up in the city. He comes from the Chicago Outfit, right?”
Lucian chuckled, and patted his daughter on her cheek as he passed. “You’re too curious for your own good, Liliana. Let it go, sweetheart. You have much more important things to focus on with the ballet company now. Worry about that.”
“Nice deflection.”
Her father shrugged as he pulled open the fridge, and produced a beer before spinning around to face her. “So be it.”
“So, you’re not going to tell me anything about him at all?”
“Who, Joe?”
“Yes, him.”
Lucian popped the top off the beer, and took a swig before saying, “There’s really nothing to tell.”
“Why’s he in the city?”
“No particular reason.”
Mmhmm.
She didn’t know if she believed that.
“He seemed … nice,” Liliana settled on saying.
She didn’t think her father would appreciate her saying all the other things she also thought Joe was—sexy, gorgeous, killer smile, beautiful eyes, and dangerously alluring to her senses. Those were not the kinds of things fathers appreciated from their daughters.
“Nice is one way to put Joe Rossi,” Lucian agreed.
“But again, why is he here?”
This time when Lucian passed her by, he patted Liliana on the top of her head with an affectionate touch. As though she were a small child again, and his greatest pride and joy. He always used to do that when she was a little girl.
Oh, she had idolized her father.
Loved him.
Adored him.
Still did, really.
Lucian never failed her.
A lot like her ma, too.
“Liliana, in New York, Joe does not exist,” Lucian said as he headed for the doorway of the kitchen where her mother had disappeared to, “and it will do you well to remember that for a while.”
“Doesn’t exist?”
“That’s what I said, sweetheart.” Lucian ticked a finger over his shoulder, adding, “I always take care of things, even if it takes me a while to get to it—don’t forget that, Liliana.”
What in the hell did that mean?