THE DRIVER OPENED the back door of the SUV with a smile, and offered a hand to help Liliana down from the high vehicle. Still a little wary about why she was even there to begin with, she took his hand and let him help her down.
Besides, she had lived as a Marcello long enough to know that when someone was sent for her, it would be entirely useless for her to refuse. They were typically told to give no information, and answer no questions. Rather, they were directed to drop whoever off wherever they had been told, and nothing more.
It wasn’t often it happened.
Today, the man picked Liliana up after her training was finished at the studio. He had been waiting outside—a recognizable face as he was an enforcer who often followed her father around—and leaning against his car with a smile.
And with orders to take her to the Marcello mansion.
“Are you going to be taking me home after?” Liliana asked him.
The man nodded. “I’ll be waiting when you’re ready.”
“Great, thanks.”
Frankly, she was ready to go now, and she hadn’t even gotten inside the house yet. A full twelve hours of training was more than just physically taxing, it was emotionally exhausting. Her feet ached—they needed to be cared for, and soon. Her muscles needed a good soak, so they wouldn’t be terribly sore in the morning.
Given she had been brought here first, and not home to her apartment in upper Brooklyn, it was unlikely that she would get enough time to take care of her body, and sleep long enough not to be tired tomorrow.
Win some, lose some.
That’s how the saying went, right?
Liliana supposed the quicker she got inside the Marcello mansion, and figured out what was going on, then the quicker she could get back home and relax. She had to practically drag her tired legs—and stiff back—up the marble entrance to the mansion.
The man posted at the door gave her a nod before opening it, and stepping back. “You will find your father in the upstairs office, Liliana.”
“Thanks.”
So, it was Daddy who called me in.
It was only lately that her grandparents had begun posting enforcers at their doorstep, and usually only at night when the sun went down, or if they were having a big party and needed extra precautions. They didn’t typically have the guards so close, but they also didn’t like it being pointed out, for whatever reason. Age, she supposed. No one liked to feel like someone else thought they were incapable, or something like that.
Liliana was half way to the office—just coming up to the top of the staircase into the upper wing of the mansion—when a familiar face greeted her.
At the sight of her, he instantly grinned. A sexy, yet still sweet grin that accompanied the way his gaze drifted over the comfortable flats on her feet, tight leggings, and the long-sleeved body suit she hadn’t gotten the chance to change out of. Usually, she would do that once she got home.
He didn’t hide his staring at all.
And her heart skipped.
Joe.
“Back again so soon?” she asked him.
Joe laughed, and gave a half-hearted shrug. “Seems I am going to be around for a while.”
Was she supposed to complain about that, or something? Because she couldn’t find a single reason to do that.
Not at all.
“Good,” Liliana said.
“Is it?” Joe asked back.
“Is it, what?”
“Good, Tesoro.”
Treasure.
Liliana felt a familiar heat climb up her throat, and threaten to color her cheeks with a pretty red. She used to be a shy girl who blushed at every little thing. Somehow, she had grown out of the trait over the years, and she was grateful for doing so.
Yet, here she was with this man about to turn into a teenager again who flushed and tittered at every little compliment he gave her. Add in the way her stomach did the strangest clenching and flipping whenever he stared at her, and yeah …
She was screwed.
“I think it’s good,” she said.
“And why is that?”
Liliana tried to play her interest off because that seemed easier than stumbling over her words to admit she was curious, and interested in him. “Guess we’ll find out, huh?”
Joe laughed again.
That sound—the look of him when he tossed his head back and let loose—was intoxicating. Liliana had seen firsthand how this man was able to flip his switches back and forth when it came to other people. She watched him shut off, and shut down like it was nothing. Warm to her, and then cold to someone else in a blink.
So, when she was able to get a glimpse of him like this?
Free, defenseless, and happy?
She liked it a lot.
Sobering from his laughter, Joe crossed his arms over his broad chest, and gave her another once over with his gaze. The action caused his white T-shirt to strain against his muscles in the best way, while the veins in his forearms and strong hands stood out even more.
Liliana had her thing.
All women had their things when it came to men, and what they found attractive. Apparently, she had more than just one thing because she suddenly had the strangest fucking urge to feel those hands of his grabbing ahold of her tightly while she traced the veins in his hands and arms with her fingertips.
Preferably naked.
Wow.
She went there fast.
“Dancing today?” he asked.
“Training,” she clarified, hoping how turned on she was didn’t come through in her voice. “But basically, yeah. I dance six times a week, and sometimes seven. Really just depends on what’s coming up, and what’s happening.”
“What would you have done, if not ballet?”
Liliana blinked at the unexpected question. People never asked her that—she knew why, too. Everyone just always assumed when they heard that she was a professional ballerina that dance was all she had ever considered as a path in her life. It was probably all she had ever known, and she didn’t fault them for that way of thinking.
She kind of adored Joe for asking something different. He was different, so it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise to her.
It still was.
“A nurse,” Liliana said, “and it still might be an option once this career gives out.”
A brief frown flickered across Joe’s face before he schooled his features. “Why would you think this career would give out, sweetheart?”
“Even the best ballerinas can’t dance forever.”
“Teaching. Mentoring. Owning their own studio. There’s lots of options.”
Liliana nodded. “There are, but I spent the first three years after high school trying to get in with the company I am currently at, and going to school all at the same time. A demand of my father—if I couldn’t be a ballerina, then I had to have something else to fall back on. I never got to finish school, so …”
“Because you got the spot in the company,” Joe assumed, and rightly.
“Exactly. I learned something about nursing, though.”
“Which is what?”
“After all the world gave me, it’s nice to give a little back.”
“So, a nurse, then?” he asked.
“Someday,” Liliana said.
It was another dream of hers. It wouldn’t mean her name would be in lights, or that a whole theater full of people would be enamored with the way she floated from one side of the stage to another, but it did mean fulfillment. A kind of fulfillment she had not yet been able to find as a ballerina.
“Sometimes, that’s how life works,” Liliana said vaguely.
“I get that.”
Joe didn’t press her for more details about her strange statement. She thought right then and there to ask the man to dinner, or even for a coffee, but it was the sound of footsteps echoing from down the hall that stopped her from asking anything at all.
Her father, and uncle, it seemed.
In a blink, Joe’s entire demeanor changed. He reverted back to that stone-still statue with little expression, and no clear emotion as he regarded the oncoming men. He still looked like the same man, and his woodsy scent was still lingering with every breath Liliana took in, but it was clear he put on a different mask depending on who was around.
She didn’t take that as a sign he disliked the men of her family, either, but rather … that Joe was probably more like them than she knew.
Liliana had come to learn that all made men acted in similar ways when other made men were around to see it. She didn’t know if that was because they wanted to keep business separate from their personal life, or because the mafia demanded those kinds of things.
None of it mattered, anyway.
Liliana saw Joe.
She had seen him.
That was enough for her.
“You’re heading out, Joe?” Dante called.
Joe nodded, and then passed Liliana a quick look, too. “Until the next time, Liliana.”
“There will definitely be one.”
She would make sure of it.
Liliana turned to greet her father, but still took the chance to glance over her shoulder at the same time. She caught sight of Joe’s broad back as he took the stairs two at a time with his hands stuffed loosely in his pockets like he didn’t have a care in the world.
And then, he was gone.
“I wondered when you were going to get here,” Lucian said.
Liliana turned back to her father. Her uncle gave her a small smile before he too headed down the stairs to the main floor of the mansion’s largest wing.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
Lucian’s warm smile belied the fact that there might be something for her to be concerned about. “Not at all, mia ragazza. Why would you think that?”
Uh …
“Because you had a driver pick me up from the studio, and bring me here without as much as a phone call. You only do that when something’s up.”
Lucian shook his head, and shrugged. “No, I just haven’t seen you all week, and your mother was getting worried. I told her I would make sure you were fine.”
Liliana laughed. “By dragging me two hours away to the mansion?”
“Yes, well …”
He sounded both amused and nonchalant at the same time. She could only laugh again.
“Well, I am fine,” Liliana said, “as you can see. Pass the message along to Ma, and tell her I will be at church on Sunday for her to see for herself.”
“You better be,” her father joked.
“So, seriously, nothing’s wrong?”
Lucian reached out, and grabbed his daughter. He pulled Liliana in for a quick, tight hug that almost took her breath away. Still, she relaxed in his embrace, and a familiar comfort seeped into her bones.
“Everything is perfect,” he said, dropping a quick kiss to the top of her head, “and everything is going to stay that way—I promise.”
“Wow, I can’t believe you actually got out of the studio this week to spend more than five seconds with little old me,” Cella teased.
Liliana shot her sister a look. “Are you back on that again?”
Cella rolled her eyes upward, and smiled in that joking way of hers. It made her look like their mother when Jordyn was trying to play tricks on them—albeit, their mother had never been very good at following through because she would just start laughing her ass off.
“I just miss you, Liliana,” Cella said.
“I know.”
“But you did get time away to spend just with me, so yay!”
Her sister did a little happy dance on the sidewalk, and gained the attention of several passersby. Some of the people gave them a strange look—how often did you see a girl dancing on Fifth Avenue like a crazy little wild child, anyway?
“Stop that,” Liliana muttered, trying hard not to laugh. She grabbed her sister’s arm, and tugged Cella back into her side to get her attention focused on what they were currently doing. “You’re drawing attention.”
Cella preened. “I know, that’s the whole point.”
“Well, let’s not.”
“You’re a ballerina, Liliana. Your whole job is to be beautiful and graceful on stage, all the while keeping an entire audience’s eyes on you. So …”
“Yes, but we’re not on a stage right now,” Liliana countered, “we’re on a sidewalk in the middle of Fifth freaking Avenue.”
Her sister only laughed, but she didn’t try to do another crazy dance routine to give the gawkers a show. Soon, the two sisters were on their walk again, and nearly at the salon where they both had appointments for the day.
Cella, for manicures.
Liliana, for a foot treatment.
God knew her feet could use it.
“We should bring Lucia the next time,” Liliana said. “I bet she’s feeling left out at home.”
Their far younger sister sometimes liked to tag along for their girls’ day out, but she never actually spoke up and asked to go. That didn’t stop Liliana from feeling like shit whenever they left their younger sister behind.
“She went to the movies with John, according to Ma,” Cella said, shrugging. “I called and asked.”
“Huh.”
“Yep.”
Liliana stared into a storefront window as they passed, and wondered out loud, “Do you ever feel like she got a longer end of the stick with John?”
“Uh …”
“I just mean … she kind of never had to deal with the bad shit from John, right, not like we did. And so, she doesn’t have the same kind of issues we do when it comes to him.”
“I love John.”
“Me, too,” Liliana quickly said.
But the history they shared with their older brother was still very real, and a little too raw sometimes. It was just easier to deal with those feelings from afar.
“I’m actually really glad Lucia has a good big brother in John,” Cella said, smiling from the side at her sister, and linking their arms together again. “She got what we didn’t, and there’s nothing wrong with being happy for her, you know what I mean? And maybe for him, too.”
“What’s that mean—for him?”
“I don’t think it’s easy on John to be kind of distanced from us, either, but have you ever noticed how he doesn’t push us for more than what we give? Yeah, he knows how we feel, and respects it, I think. And that’s important, too.”
“Never thought of it like that.”
“Yeah, well …”
Cella trailed off, and left the rest of her statement unsaid. Liliana didn’t mind. This had been more than enough for her to take another look at her previous feelings, and reevaluate them when it came to her brother, and what she thought was his imposed distance.
“So, hey,” Cella drawled suddenly.
At just the sly tone her sister took on, Liliana knew Cella was about to get up to something. Whether or not Liliana would like it was a whole other story. Sometimes, it was a toss-up with Cella.
“What?”
“Last week at dinner—you know, the one with Mr. Built-Like-A-Brick-Shithouse.”
Liliana blinked.
What?
Cella laughed hard, and pointed at her sister. “Oh, my God, the look you just had—deceased. I am dead.”
“What are you talking about, Cella?”
“At dinner last week. You know, the mansion. Joe Rossi.”
Oh.
Oh.
No doubt, Cella had not missed the passing glances, or the way the conversation between Liliana and Joe at the dinner had felt laced with something else entirely. Friendly, sure, but a little bit more, too. Not to mention, Joe hadn’t bothered to pay any other woman sitting at that table any bit of attention but for her.
She adored that, too.
Liliana tried to school her features when she asked, “What about it?”
“Did I miss that there might be something there—or could be?” Cella asked.
“I mean, he’s cute—”
“More than, actually.”
A hot spike of jealousy flared in Liliana’s gut at nothing more than the idea of Cella finding Joe attractive. Before she could think better of it, she said, “Don’t look as much, and you won’t notice, Cella.”
“Wow, okay.” Her sister nodded. “Definitely something there. Tell me everything.”
Shit.
Now, her sister wouldn’t let up until—
Liliana’s thought process shut off entirely at the sight of a black stretch limo passing by them on the street. There were probably thousands of limos in the city. One on every block, if someone wanted to look for them.
It wasn’t so much the limo itself as it was the small flags on the front and back end of the vehicle. A signal to those outside of who might be inside.
And suddenly, Liliana shut down.
Or rather, broke down.
A full-blown panic attack right there in the middle of Fifth Avenue. Her heart raced to the point it felt like she was going to have a heart attack, and the only thing she could really hear was her blood rushing in her ears. No matter how hard she inhaled, it felt like she couldn’t get enough air with every breath. So, her breaths just came faster and faster while her palms clenched into tight fists. Tight enough for her fingernails to break the skin of her palms, and likely leave crescent-shaped bruises behind.
None of it registered, though.
Even after the limo was gone.
Even through her sister trying to help.
None of it registered.
Faintly, Liliana heard Cella saying, “It’s okay, breathe. In and out, slowly. Look at me, Liliana. Me.”
She couldn’t.
She couldn’t find her sister in the swarm of dizziness that had somehow become her mind, never mind the horror that was her anxiety.
A mess.
She felt like a total mess.
And then …
“I don’t know what happened, she was just—”
“It’s all right,” said a soothingly dark, familiar voice. “Liliana, sweetheart … have you ever heard of grounding?”
She didn’t reply verbally.
She might have shook her head.
“Okay,” Joe’s voice echoed back to her, “let’s find five things to see.”
The street. Pavement under my feet. A sky so pretty, and blue. Cella trying to smile. Joe with eyes on only her.
“Why are you here?” Liliana managed to ask.
Joe gave her a crooked smile. “And five things you can hear.”
Liliana listened for sounds even as Joe explained why he was on Fifth Avenue.
“Thought I might do some sightseeing since I am staying in the city for a while,” he said, “and I happened to see both of you from across the road. I wasn’t going to come say hi, but this seemed more important. And five things you can feel, and then we’ll see how you’re doing.”
Liliana thought about how she could feel the thumping in her aching feet even through the soft compression wraps, and the cashmere dress she had thrown on to look presentable before coming out to meet Cella. She could feel the nice breeze, too, and the heat of the sun’s rays on her skin.
But mostly important?
“You,” Liliana murmured. “I feel you.”
Joe grinned, and his hand on her wrist tightened just enough to make her smile, too. “Yeah, I suppose that’s one thing.”
Settled.
Calm.
Present.
The anxiety was there, sure, but not nearly as bad. Her breathing had returned to normal, and all was well again.
At least for the moment.
Liliana was lost in the daze Joe provided her when their gazes locked on one another. She didn’t have to think about anything else, or why she had been thrown into her first anxiety attack in almost a year.
“You okay?” Cella asked.
And the daze was gone.
Liliana nodded quickly, and tried to offer her sister a smile. She didn’t know if it came off as true, or not. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“What happened?”
“Not important,” Joe said before Liliana could try to deflect. “We don’t need anyone going into another panic attack like that by triggering themselves when they explain details.”
“Good point,” Cella muttered. She gave Liliana a look, mouthing, “I like him.”
Joe didn’t notice.
He was still looking at Liliana.
“If you’re good, then I’ll let you two get back to whatever you were—”
“No,” Liliana said before she could stop herself.
Two sets of eyes fell on her again.
She felt that fucking blush coming on again.
Jesus.
Joe raised a brow. “No?”
“I just meant … well, I might feel a little better if you talked to me some more, or … we went for a walk. Maybe?”
Why was she dancing around asking him out like a lovesick girl?
Thankfully, Cella seemed to catch onto Liliana’s nonsense, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw her sister nod.
“Um, I am going to head down the road to my appointment,” Cella said. “Liliana, call me as soon as you are up to chatting.”
Okay, so maybe she loved her sister.
A lot.
Joe passed a look between the two. “You’re not doing something together? It kind of looked like it. I don’t want to ruin whatever plans you two had for the day. I was just going to head back to my place—or, where I’m staying.”
“We’re not doing anything. Not now,” Liliana said.
“And that is totally fine,” Cella added. “Later.”
They’d walked a bit, but not very far before Joe directed Liliana into a parking garage, and then into a black Mercedes. She hadn’t thought to ask where he got the car from—a rental, probably. Apparently, what Joe meant by where he was staying, was the Waldorf Astoria hotel in Manhattan.
She figured it didn’t matter.
“This suite is …”
“Something else, huh?” Joe asked, grinning from the wet bar. “Drink?”
Liliana made a face. “You know, I probably shouldn’t.”
“Ah, dancer.”
She shrugged. “Everything needs to be exactly as they want it.”
“As long as one of the things they want isn’t for you to starve yourself, or work yourself dead then … whatever makes you happy, Tesoro.”
“Some girls do.”
“Hmm?”
“Starve themselves down to nothing but sticks in the hopes of being noticed, or whatever the case may be. Their brains and mind get so sick from it all that they don’t even realize how much they need help. It’s sad, really. Scary. Once, I might have been one of those girls, too. Not so much anymore.”
Joe glanced down at the glass of whiskey he had poured, and twirled it a bit making the ice inside click against crystal. “Can’t say that’s a bad thing, though.”
“No, growth is … good.”
“It can be.”
Joe kept his gaze on the whiskey, and Liliana suddenly decided to be a little bold. They weren’t outside where anyone could see, or where her sister was right there to watch and make her feel nervous. There was no stumbling over her words, or feeling skittish.
Really, Joe didn’t make her anything but comfortable.
And a little hot sometimes.
Crossing the distance between them, Liliana came to stand right in front of Joe. It was only then that he finally glanced up from the glass in his hands to give her one of his slow, easy grins. The kind that made her stomach do that weird clenching thing—like butterflies for big girls.
“Hey,” she whispered.
Joe tipped his head to the side a bit. “Hey.”
“Thanks for helping me today.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“Lucky you were there to help me, really.”
Joe quirked a brow high. “Yeah, lucky.”
Before Liliana could over think her next move, and while she was still feeling that bit of boldness in her heart, she stood on her tiptoes, and kissed Joe. It was a fast kiss—nothing too spectacular, and certainly not lingering. Just a sweet press of her lips against his, and then she was pulling away again.
As fast as it had happened, it was over.
Then, she waited.
For him, that was.
Joe’s gaze darted to hers, and she swore she saw a flash of heat behind his eyes. Without ever looking away from her, he set that glass of whiskey to the wet bar, grabbed her waist with a firm grip, and brought her even closer. She didn’t even get the chance to take a breath before he kissed her.
His kiss was not like hers.
Deeper, harder, and hungrier. A teasing stroke of his tongue against the seam of her lips, demanding she open up to him, and let him in. She couldn’t even help herself but to part her lips, and taste him.
Joe pulled her closer still until her chest was molded against his, and she found it hard to take in a decent breath. And only then did he pull away. His hand came up to cup her cheek, and his thumb stroked her cheekbone with a soft touch.
“I mean, if you’re going to kiss me,” he murmured as he pulled away, “then at least really kiss me, Liliana.”
She laughed breathlessly. “I wanted to see …”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you see whatever it was?” he asked.
Liliana grinned widely. “I did.”
“And?”
“Would you like to go out with me sometime, Joe?”
She expected an immediate response, but not the sudden silence that answered her back. And certainly not the slight stiffening in his body against hers. His mouth didn’t even open to speak, but she didn’t really need him to at that point, either.
She felt his refusal before he could even say it.
Rejection swept hard against the current of her lust.
Liliana blinked, and then took a step back. “Sorry, I guess I thought—”
“Hey, don’t do that,” Joe said, coming closer again.
“No, it’s fine. I suppose this was fine, but anything else probably isn’t your style, huh?”
Joe frowned. “You don’t know that.”
She knew enough about men like him to make an accurate assumption, as far as that went. And really, if he was going to reject her, she would much rather save some of her pride in the process.
Liliana waved a hand, and took another step back. Grabbing her bag from the spot where she’d set it down on the couch when she first entered, she slung it over her shoulder. “No, it’s fine, Joe. I should really get back to my sister. Thanks for helping me today—I appreciate it.”
“Liliana, just wait a damn—”
“See you around, Joe,” she said at the door, not bothering to even give him the chance to say more, or make some lame excuse for all of this, “or maybe not.”