Brushing a wayward curl out of my face that had pulled free of the bun I’d tied my hair into, I dropped the last notebook on the pile I’d created in the middle of Laney’s living room floor and frowned.

Nothing. I’d found nothing in Laney’s notebooks. Nothing but sketches of dresses and skirts and tops, the same type of sketches Laney had done when we were kids, although these were way more intricate and showcased her design talent.

No matter how hard I’d looked over the past three days, I hadn’t found a note or a business card or even Laney’s cell phone to give me a hint. It was as if someone had already been through her apartment.

That thought sent a shiver down my spine, and my mind tripped back over Laney’s last words. He is the most dangerous of men. In a rush, I pictured both Salvatici men I’d met today. One brimmed with darkness and domination. The other oozed so much wicked sex appeal, my stomach quivered with the memory of his sinful eyes locked on me.

One could be Elena’s mystery man. Both held power in the palm of their hands. Something in the back of my mind warned not to trust either until I uncovered my answers.

I glanced over my friend’s living room, looking for something I might have missed. The apartment was small—way smaller than the house we’d shared together back in college. The front door opened right into the living area, which was only big enough for a couch, an end table and lamp, and a wall cabinet that held a TV and several shelves of books. Three rectangular windows looked out toward the dark street. Behind me, a low counter separated the galley kitchen from the living room, with a small wooden table and two chairs under the far left windows. To my right, a short hall gave way to the miniscule bathroom and the one bedroom so tiny it housed only a double bed, nightstand, and a small closet.

My gaze skipped over the paperbacks on Laney’s shelves—medievals, paranormals, contemporaries, suspenses…even a few young adults. From the time I was ten, I could remember seeing Laney with her nose stuck in a book, escaping her unhappy home with stories of bravery, adventure, and love. She’d craved her own adventure. She’d daydreamed about finding a once-in-a-lifetime love like the ones in her books. It was the reason she’d dropped out of college before our second year was even up. The reason she’d moved to New York on a whim. The reason she’d left everything she’d ever known behind when I’d begged her not to go.

I’d never understood Laney’s quest for true love. I might be from a small town, but I knew the world was nothing like a romance novel. It was hard and unfair, and there were no happy endings. Why had she thought she needed a man to be happy? I didn’t need a man. I was perfectly content in Boise working in the boutique I would someday own and expand. That was what mattered—controlling your own destiny—not placing your happiness in the hands of another.

“I want to say no, but I can’t. I need to please him. Need it more than I need air to breathe.”

Laney’s email flashed in my head again. I knew in my heart that she hadn’t overdosed. As a small child, she’d watched her mother slowly die from breast cancer discovered too late. She’d spent the majority of her youth with a father who’d drowned his loss and sorrow in alcohol, with an older brother who’d turned to pot and heroin. But Laney had taken her grief and directed it into something positive. She’d worked out religiously. She’d watched what she’d ate, choosing organic whenever her bank account allowed it, and she’d never touched soda. She’d been determined not to end up like her mother, like her father and brother. When drugs popped out at a party, Laney was the first to politely say no.

Even though we hadn’t seen each other in nearly four years, even though we’d led two very separate lives after she’d moved to New York, I knew my best friend could not have gotten twisted up in drugs. Someone had given the drugs to her. Someone, I suspected, who was the same him Laney had written about.

I pulled my gaze from the books, pushed to my feet, and moved into the bathroom to brush my teeth before bed, frustrated and close to furious that there was nothing in the apartment to give me any more clues.

Ignoring the shake in my fingers, I reached for my toothbrush, then glanced at the empty tube of toothpaste I’d found in Laney’s drawer.

Damn. I’d forgotten to get more.

More frustrated than before, I moved into the bedroom and shoved my feet into my Skechers. I didn’t bother changing out of my black leggings and favorite oversized gray sweatshirt, the one with the Boise State bronco emblem on the front that was so big it hung off one shoulder. There was a small market two blocks down where I could pick up what I needed. Twenty minutes, and I’d be back.

I grabbed my credit card and reached for the keys I’d dropped on the nightstand. Thankfully, by the time I got to the market, the place was nearly empty except for a few people buying beer. I quickly located the supplies I needed, paid for them at the counter, and carried the bags and my credit card out onto the sidewalk.

Thoughts of tomorrow flittered through my mind as I walked up the dark street. I was scheduled for a health screening in the morning. I assumed that meant Covet wanted me to provide a drug-test sample. Lots of companies did that. I had nothing to worry about there as I’d never had much interest in drugs. I was more worried about the photo shoot tomorrow in Times Square and what Gio would want me to do for it. He’d figure out quickly I knew nothing about photography or modeling.

Something hard slammed into my back, shooting the air straight out of my lungs and all thoughts from my mind. I lurched forward, tripping on my feet. The bags and credit card flew from my hands. I barely had time to lift my arms before I hit the pavement. My palms scraped along the sidewalk. The corner of my forehead cracked against concrete.

Hurried footsteps sounded around me. Dazed, I looked up to see a figure all in black swoop up my bags and credit card.

“Hey!” Adrenaline surged through my veins. I stumbled to my feet. “Hey, that’s mine!”

The person—I couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman—took off at a run, never once looking back. Panic and helplessness rushed through me as I watched the mugger speed off down the sidewalk with my things and disappear around the corner.

I stood flabbergasted in the middle of the sidewalk, unable to believe I’d just been mugged. Turning quickly, I looked for anyone who’d seen what had just happened, but the street was empty and quiet.

The streetlight above me went out, dousing me in darkness. My heart rate shot up, and my breaths grew fast and shallow. Footsteps sounded close. Whipping around, I looked back the way I’d come from the grocery store and spotted a man—a large, hulking man—dressed all in black with a hood over his head. A man who was striding straight toward me in a way that was anything but friendly.

The flight instinct beat out any inclination I had to fight. Pushing my legs into gear, I raced in the other direction, not waiting to see who the man was or what he wanted. Within minutes, I skipped steps up to the door of Laney’s building, keyed in the code, and didn’t draw a full breath until I was safely back in the apartment.

Gulping in air, I collapsed back against the door and tried to settle my racing pulse. It didn’t work. All I could see was that hulking figure heading toward me. All I heard was Laney’s voice echoing in my head, saying, “He is the most dangerous of men.”

I closed my eyes tight. Breathed deeply. As my adrenaline slowly lowered, a hysterical laugh sipped from my lips. I’d reacted like the naïve country girl Luciano Salvatici thought I was. The figure I’d seen striding toward me was probably just someone who’d watched what had happened and was checking to see if I was okay. Instead of behaving as a mature adult, I’d run like a child.

My pulse regulated, and I opened my eyes, focusing on the familiarity of Laney’s apartment. Wine. I needed wine to calm down. Then I needed to call my bank and let them know my card had been stolen.

I pushed away from the door and headed for the kitchen on legs that were still shaking. My feet drew to a stop as I passed the dark windows and caught sight of a shadowy figure beneath the lamppost across the road. I could only see his shape—no face, no eyes, nothing to identify him in the dark. But I could tell from his posture and the way his face was angled that he was staring up through my windows at me. I could also tell he had a hood pulled over his head and that he looked exactly like the man who’d come after me moments before.

My blood turned to ice. I jerked back from the window, out of his view. Why was he watching me? A mugging was one thing but this...this was stalking. Who was he? What did he want? No one knew me in New York except…

My breath caught.

No one except the two Salvatici men I’d met today at Covet.

For the first time since I’d hatched this impulsive plan to find out what had happened to my friend, I was frightened of the truths I might find.

---

“That’s right.” With his dark hair pulled back into a messy man bun, Gio stepped to his right and snapped another picture as he held the camera to his face. “Up just a little.”

My gaze drifted past Gio and the model in the purple chiffon gown, and I scanned Times Square. I’d never seen a street—or streets, since Times Square stretched several blocks—more crowded. People were everywhere—tourists gawking at the shoot, shoppers carrying bags, professionals in suits cutting across intersections to get wherever they were going. I felt as if I’d stepped into another world, the buzz of activity overwhelming my ears, the flickering LCD screens ambushing my sight, the smells of fried foods, garbage, and, yes, a hint of sewer, filling my nostrils.

It was a far cry from the quiet medical clinic I’d spent most of my morning in. After the scare of last night, that had been an interesting experience. The clinic had been located outside the city, in a wealthy area of Long Island. When I’d checked in at Covet’s front desk as Gio had told me to do, expecting to be given directions to a clinic a few blocks away, I’d been surprised to be redirected outside where a private car waited. In minutes, I’d been whisked out of the city, unsure where we were headed, growing more nervous by the second because the balding driver in the black suit refused to answer my questions.

We’d gone through a lengthy tunnel. I would never have known where I was if I hadn’t seen a Long Island Expressway sign from the backseat window. Once parked outside the clinic, my nerves had gone wild. It was housed in what looked to be a large colonial mansion set off a quiet street. I’d thought for sure the driver had taken me to the wrong place until he’d ushered me up the short walk and opened the opulent door for me.

I still wasn’t sure why I needed a thorough physical to work as an intern at a fashion magazine. The urine sample I’d understood—drug testing—but the blood sample and the four-page health questionnaire had totally thrown me.

I’d ignored several of the questions: Are you a virgin? At what age did you become sexually active? When was your last sexual encounter? Do you have a current boyfriend or significant other? Does he or she know you are seeking employment at Covet? Have you ever had a same-sex encounter? Have you ever participated in high-risk behaviors such as BDSM, anal sex, or multiple partners?

No one had the right to ask those questions, and I’d refused to answer them. When the nurse had finally called my name and taken me back for my exam, the model-blonde woman had frowned at my paperwork, more concerned at my blank pages than the scrape on my forehead from last night’s mugging. When I’d refused—again—to answer the questions, she’d made marks on my chart and comments about my uncooperative nature that had sent my irritation up several notches. Maybe those questions were normal for models in New York—though I couldn’t see how—but they weren’t for me and never would be.

“Nat.”

Startled out of my thoughts, I blinked to my left where Gio stood with his camera lowered and his eyes pinned on me. “Yes?”

“I said not so high. You’re reflecting the light across her face.”

“Oh.” I tipped the round white reflector in my hands down so the light from the umbrella lamp hit across the model’s chest.

“Better.” Gio lifted the camera and snapped photos again as he stepped to his right. “Tip your head back.”

This time, I knew he wasn’t talking to me, so I forced my mind away from the odd exam and focused on the five-eleven model with blonde hair down to the middle of her spine, waiting a few inches behind me in case Gio needed to snap a couple more photos of her.

No time like the present to start getting answers.

“Crazy place,” I said over my shoulder, careful to keep the reflector aimed properly.

The blonde didn’t even spare me a glance. Just shrugged and continued to watch Gio and the other model work.

“But you girls handle it like champs. I’m impressed. All this,” I dipped my head at the chaos around us, “and somehow you keep your cool. I’m afraid if I had to work in this kind of environment all the time, I’d be bashing someone over the head.”

Her light brown eyes finally shifted my way. And the faintest ghost of a smile touched her lips.

“Sometimes it gets hard.” Her gaze lifted to Gio, and her expression darkened. “Sometimes I want to bash.”

“Well, bash away,” I said, moving the reflector as the model in the purple gown preened for Gio’s camera. “I’ll tip this so they can’t see.”

She laughed outright at that, and Gio’s irritated gaze flitted our way for a second before he refocused on his work.

The blonde’s smile instantly faded.

An uneasy feeling rolled through my stomach. I cleared my throat, forcing myself to go on. “My friend sometimes wanted to bash a few heads,” I said as casually as possible, taking a chance. “She was a model for Covet. Elena McCabe. Not sure if you knew her…”

The blonde’s eyes widened and quickly shot Gio way. When he didn’t turn to look at us, she glanced from him to the other model currently twirling in the middle of the street, then to the assistants they’d brought, standing just out of earshot. “No,” she said in a low, tight voice. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

My internal radar went off. “Oh, sure. Well, that makes sense. There are a lot of Covet models. And I’m sure you don’t all work together.”

“No, we don’t,” she said quickly, stepping away.

She knew something. I turned to look after her, trying to think of something, anything, to keep her talking, but froze when a shadow fell over my shoulder.

My head whipped around. Gio stood right in front of me. Only he wasn’t watching me. His narrowed gaze was fixed on the retreating model at my back.

My heart picked up speed. Had he heard us? Had he heard me say Elena’s name?

His eyes shifted down to me. “You’re not holding the reflector properly. Your mind, it is wandering.”

With shaky fingers, I hefted the reflector above my head and forced a smile I didn’t feel. “Sorry. It did wander. But just for a second. It’s all so exciting. I’ll pay better attention, I promise.”

“See that you do,” he murmured, looking at the model again. Turning away from me, he added, “Your only purpose is to be at your employer’s beck and call.”

I didn’t like the way he said “purpose.” And I liked the way he used “employer” even less. Ironically, though, the word “employer” didn’t make me think of Gio. It made my mind shoot right back to Luciano Salvatici. His tall, muscular body, his commanding and intimidating presence, the way his assessing, odd gray eyes hadn’t missed a thing about me when I’d been in his office.

Unease rolled through my belly. Did he like to fuck his models? Was that why he needed to know their most personal sexual secrets? Had he made Laney answer those questions, then used them to his advantage?

The next few hours passed without a single opportunity to corral any other models alone. My arms ached from holding the sixty-inch round reflector over my head. It didn’t weigh much, but it was awkward, and after a day lifting it up and down, my arms felt as if they might fall off.

“Nice. Perfect.” Gio lowered his camera and winked at the strawberry blonde model he’d been shooting for the last thirty minutes. “I think we have what we need.”

The model’s face morphed from warm and happy to cold and bitchy faster than a Porsche Spyder shifts from zero to sixty on the open road. “Where did you get this one, Gio?” She nodded toward me with pure disgust, her French accent dripping with disdain. “She knows less than your last assistant.”

I lowered the flimsy reflector to my feet and bit the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t respond.

In a low voice, Gio said, “Careful, Antoinette.”

The model’s green eyes shifted to icy daggers as she narrowed her gaze on me. Huffing, she turned and stalked toward her three personal assistants already holding up several drapes to create a changing area for her right on the street.

“Don’t worry about her.” Gio unlaced the camera strap from around his neck and reached for the bag at his feet. “She’s hangry. Didn’t eat today. None of the models do when they have a shoot.”

I glanced over my shoulder toward the drapes being taken down by Antoinette’s frazzled assistants. Antoinette was already back in her low-rise, skin-tight jeans, four-inch heels, and a black, lacy camisole top that hit above her belly button to show off a wide swath of skin inked with an elaborate leopard-print tattoo that skimmed the right side of her waist and disappeared beneath her jeans. Her predatory glare was once again fixed on me. “You mean to tell me she doesn’t live off the blood of her victims? That is shocking.”

Gio’s grin widened as he rose from his camera bag and moved toward the umbrella light. “She does have some vampiric tendencies, but the camera loves her.”

“Hm,” was all I said as I brushed a stray curl out of my face, not wanting to read too much into “vampiric tendencies.” I couldn’t figure out why, but I’d never met a person who disliked me on sight more than Antoinette. It clearly had nothing to do with my looks—she was a thousand times more exotic and beautiful than me. But just the same, I sensed something about me threatened her.

I looked toward Antoinette and her assistants—or were they handlers?—fluffing Antoinette’s hair and chatting with her while the model stared across the camera equipment at Gio with that resting bitch face she had to practice to get so perfect.

My gaze followed and landed on Gio, and I watched as he shrank the umbrella light hood and slid it into its case. His head lifted, and he met Antoinette’s eyes across the space. He didn’t stop packing up equipment, but some kind of silent communication passed between the two. I saw it when I looked back at Antoinette. Saw it in the way the model’s face paled, and she lowered her eyes. And I heard it when she murmured, “Yes, sir.”

Antoinette turned toward her assistants and quickly ushered them down the street and into the chaos of tourists and shoppers and suits without another look back. Glancing around, I checked to see if anyone else had heard what she’d said. Gio was busy packing up his equipment. Chad, Gio’s one-man shoot security guard, held his bulky arms crossed over his chest as he stared at the ground, either unfazed by what had just happened or unable to watch.

Confused, I looked back at Gio, wondering if I’d imagined the entire scene or if it had really happened. His intense gaze met mine, and my breath caught as I watched his long limbs slowly unfold and he moved toward me with all the grace and danger of a lion stalking its prey.

“You did very well today, Nat.” He stopped inches away, reached out, and tucked a stray lock of curly hair behind my ear. I tried not to flinch. He was sexy enough but…something felt off about him. And every time I thought about that model calling him sir like in Elena’s letter…

“I don’t know much about photography, I’m afraid,” I managed.

“You will learn.” His gaze slid from my eyes to my mouth. “I’m a very thorough teacher.”

The sexual innuendo hung between us, the same way it had in the park, making the air around me hot and thick. He spent his days with gorgeous models, but he was clearly interested in me. Was it general interest, or was it something more sinister—something I couldn’t help but feel slither like a warning over my skin?

His wicked gaze slid back to my eyes. “How about food? I’m starving.” He dropped his hand, and the predatory look faded from his eyes, replaced by one that was warm and friendly. Slinging the camera bag over his shoulder, he turned toward Chad. “Go ahead and start loading up. We’re done for the day.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Salvatici.”

Yes, sir. There it was again. Was I reading too much into the words?

Gio nodded for me to join him. “Come on. I know a great place close by.”

I hesitated. I knew nothing about this man. I was more than wary of his innuendoes, but he was my key to Covet. Dinner might be my best chance to get him talking. “Okay,” I heard myself say. “Thanks.”

We stepped into the hustle and bustle of Times Square, leaving Chad to load the equipment in the van. I tried to keep up but was quickly swallowed by the crowd. Rising to my toes, I tried to look over heads but couldn’t see more than a sea of faces. Just when I was sure I’d lost Gio, a hand closed around mine and pulled. Startled, I looked up to find Gio grinning down at me in that sexy, sinful way of his as he maneuvered us both toward the sidewalk. “Don’t let go, bella. I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

A shiver rushed down my spine, one laced with both unease and fear. I told myself not to get swept in by his charm as I watched him lift two fingers to his lips and whistle for a cab. For Laney, I would flirt and smile and be as seductive as needed to get what I’d come for. And if Gio Salvatici wasn’t the him from those letters, I’d use him to find out who he really was.

Because one way or another, I was going to find Laney’s killer. I’d find him and I’d make sure he never harmed another woman again.

---

The place “close by” that Gio had mentioned wasn’t one of the chain restaurants I’d spotted in Times Square. It was a French restaurant off Fifty-first Street called Le Bernardin, and as soon as I stepped through the revolving door, I knew I was way out of my element—again.

Twisted vertical strips of steel covered one whole wall. Another held an enormous painting of a stormy sea. The décor was fresh and modern with low tables decked out with crisp white linens, glittering china, and plush padded chairs. The restaurant was packed, every patron dressed in dinner jackets, fancy dresses, and so much bling, the room sparkled.

My gaze shot to the cheap slacks and light blouse I’d worn today, then to Gio’s casual jeans and deep blue tee. “We’re not dressed for a place like this,” I whispered at his side as he moved toward the hostess. “And I’m pretty sure you have to have a reservation.”

He grinned down at me. “Fear not, bella.”

Glancing over my shoulder toward the dining room, I felt every eye in the place on me. I tucked a stray lock of hair back into place and tried not to fidget.

I didn’t like how out of my element I felt. Something was disturbing me, and it wasn’t the New York crowds or the cold-hearted models I’d encountered. It was Gio, and his brother. It was the way Antoinette had said yes, sir, and the way the other model had stepped away in fear when I’d mentioned Elena’s name.

All the more reason to dig deeper, I told myself, dropping my hands and straightening my spine like I belonged here. Let them look. I wasn’t a nobody like they all thought. I was a girl on the hunt for a killer.

The hostess—a young blonde who was as striking as any model at Covet—laughed at something Gio said, then stepped away from her station and disappeared around a corner. Seconds later she returned with a dinner jacket in her hand. “Here you go, Mr. Salvatici.” As Gio shrugged into the blazer, she reached for two menus from her station. “If you’ll both follow me.”

Gio held his arm out so I could move in front of him. “After you, bella.”

The hostess led us to a secluded U-shaped booth in the back. “Here you are.” She handed each of us a menu when we were seated and reached across the table to flip our water glasses over. “Jacque will be your server tonight.” She looked down at Gio and winked. “Enjoy, sir.”

“Grazie, Gabriella.” Something about the way Gio said the girl’s name hit me as off. And I didn’t miss that word again: sir.

“Do you know her?” I asked, watching the sway of the girl’s hips as she walked away.

Gio shrugged and studied his menu. “She sat on me before.”

“She what?”

Grinning, he glanced up. “Sat for me. Sometimes my English is off.” He looked across the restaurant toward Gabriella already talking with another couple at the hostess station. Something in his eyes spoke of familiarity. And intimacy. “She sat for me. For the camera.”

“Oh.” My gaze drifted toward the blonde. “She’s a model?”

“Some.” He looked back down at his menu. “The food here is delizioso.”

A strange feeling rolled through my belly, like too long spent on a rocking boat.

“Wine, bella?” He reached for the wine list from the edge of the table. “The seafood here is exceptionally delicious. I suggest a white.”

I knew virtually nothing about wine, but the comment made me remember what I’d found on the Internet about the Salvatici family, and I latched on to it. “I understand your family owns a vineyard.”

“Ah, we do.” He flipped a page in the thick wine book. “The Salvaticis make the best wine in all of Tuscany. You should come to Italy sometime. Sample our fruit.” He glanced across the table at me. “It’s the most succulent you’ll ever taste.”

There it was again. The blatant sexual innuendo. I chose to ignore it once more.

The waiter came and read off the specials. Gio ordered a bottle of Salvatici Pinot Grigio—winking at me as he did and pointing out to the waiter that the French wines on their list paled in comparison. By my first sip, I had to admit he had a point. The wine was light and crisp with no oakiness, and it went perfectly with the sea bass Gio suggested I order.

We lapsed into an easy discussion about the photo shoot over dinner and the spread it would fill in the magazine. I was careful not to bring up Laney’s name, because that hadn’t gone well before, instead asking about the other models—how long they’d been with Covet, what other photographers they worked with, how easy or difficult the models were to manage. Gio answered all my questions without any hint of suspicion. I learned that Covet models signed directly with the magazine. If they wanted to take outside work, they had to get approval from the CEO. Basically, they were owned by the company. By Luciano Salvatici. The Beast.

My appetite waned, and I set down my fork, reaching for my wine again. What was it about Luciano Salvatici that bothered me so much? It was more than his pompous arrogance, more than his intimidating glances. He was a threat. I’d felt it the first moment I’d laid eyes on him. He was the kind of man who was always in control. I’d heard it in his voice when he’d told me my interview was over. No back and forth. No pleasantries. Nothing but cold, hard steel staring back at me.

“Bella?” Warmth rushed over my fingers, and I blinked at Gio across the table, realizing his hand was sliding over mine at the stem of my wineglass. “Are you still there? You seem a million miles away.”

I suppressed the urge to jerk my hand back, instead working for a smile I didn’t feel. “Sorry. I think I’ve had a little too much wine.”

He grinned, pushed his plate forward, and rested his forearms on the tablecloth. “Salvatici wine is potent. Like its men.”

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed. After two glasses of wine—or had it been three?—his innuendos were more funny than disturbing. “Good thing there are only two of you. Pretty sure I couldn’t handle any more.”

His eyes darkened again, and his gaze slipped from my eyes to my lips and lower, hovering on the edge of my blouse and the hint of cleavage at my chest. “I bet you could handle way more than two.”

Whatever warmth I’d been feeling turned ice cold, and for a moment, I felt as if I were in a yacht on the swirling, stormy sea in the picture behind me. I needed to go before he got any ideas. I hadn’t brought Laney up tonight, but I’d learned a lot about Covet and how the magazine worked, and that would have to be enough. At this point, giving him a reason to trust me was more important than pumping him for information. But I was not about to give him a reason to think I was interested.

“I really appreciate dinner, but I should probably think about getting home. It’s—”

Gio’s gaze skipped past me, and the way his jaw clenched down and his expression hardened stopped me midsentence.

I turned to see what he was staring at and froze when I spotted the Beast walking right toward our table.

My rolling stomach twisted into a tight knot. Looking back at Gio, I watched as he leaned back, his muscles coiling tight beneath the black blazer the hostess had loaned him as if ready for a fight.

Luciano Salvatici nodded at the two men in suits he was with. They moved past him and found their table. The Beast, however, stopped when he reached us.

“Giovanni,” he said in that deep, pompous voice. He was dressed as he had been yesterday, in a charcoal suit, but tonight he was missing the tie, his dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of dark chest hair.

“Luciano.” Gio’s hand gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white.

“Entertaining, I see.” The Beast’s blistering gaze flicked once at me, then away as if I were nothing but a speck of dirt on the tablecloth. And though I tried to hold my breath, I couldn’t. The clean, fresh Kilian scent I’d detected in his office during my interview filled my senses, distracting me.

“Always.” Gio grinned, but there was a bite in the smile, no warmth as he’d shown me.

The Beast’s jaw flexed, and a flood of Italian spilled from his lips, words I didn’t understand and couldn’t decipher.

Gio’s features grew more tense with every word. He bolted to his feet and let out a stream of his own Italian. Voices quieted in the restaurant as all eyes turned our way. I sank back in my seat, hoping no one noticed me, hoping these two weren’t about to get into an all out fistfight in the middle of the fancy restaurant. The Beast’s gaze grew stormier—if that was possible—and the moment Gio stopped talking, he let out one sentence in Italian, flashed a last scathing look my way, and turned to rejoin his group.

“What was that?” I breathed as soon as he was gone.

“That was my dick of an older brother, as you so eloquently called him.”

Gio pulled a wad of cash from his wallet and dropped it on the table. Grabbing his camera bag from the floor, he said, “Come on, bella. Time to go.”

I pushed to my feet, and my gaze locked with the Beast’s across the room. A shiver of unease rushed down my spine. He was watching me as if I were the threat, not him. As if I had something to hide, not Covet. Grasping my purse, I stepped after Gio, but I could still feel the Beast’s eyes boring into my back, and halfway to the door, I remembered the way he’d said Elena’s name in our meeting yesterday.

With knowledge. With secrecy. With contempt.

He was the one Laney had gotten wrapped up with. I was sure of it, now. Somehow, I had to find a way to prove what he’d done.

Gio was quiet in the car ride to the East Village. We pulled to a stop outside my building, and I turned to say good night to him, but he surprised my by telling the driver to wait while he walked me to my door on the third floor.

Nerves rolled through my belly as I fumbled through my bag for my keys. I hoped like hell he didn’t expect to be invited in. “Thank you for dinner.”

“I had fun, bella.”

His voice sounded normal again, not edgy and hard as it had been when we’d left the restaurant. I pulled my keys out, relieved this night was almost over.

“Is your friend home?” He nodded toward the door.

Shit. He did expect an invite in. “Yeah. Probably,” I lied. He hadn’t acted like he’d recognized the building when we’d driven up, but there were pictures of Laney all over the apartment still. If he saw one, he’d figure out my working at Covet was more than a coincidence, and I wasn’t ready for that to happen.

He nodded and looked down at me. “Friends are good. They keep us from doing things we shouldn’t.”

He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, and a shiver of unease raced down my spine at both the whisper touch and his loaded words. Again, I forced myself not to jerk back.

“Well.” He gazed down at me with unreadable eyes. “I should probably go.”

“Yeah,” I answered, more relieved than I hoped I showed.

He flashed that mesmerizing smile once more and stepped away.

I was just about to turn toward the door with my key when he gripped the banister and looked back over his shoulder at me. “I forgot to ask you.”

“Oh, um. Yes?”

“A friend is having a party tomorrow night. I know you’re new to the city. It’s a good opportunity for you to make some acquaintances.”

“Friends are good. They keep us from doing things we shouldn’t.”

That shiver turned to a full-on warning tingle. A party with him was probably not a good idea. I’d seen the way he looked at me. On the other hand, I needed to know more about his brother. Maybe at a party, with a few drinks, I could get him to let a few things slip.

I bit my lip, debating. “What kind of crowd will it be?”

“Industry people. A few from Covet. I could introduce you around.”

“What’s the dress code?”

He flashed those gorgeous teeth. “Nice dress, heels. Nothing too fancy.”

I mentally flipped through Laney’s closet. Even though Laney had been five inches taller than me, I’d always been able to squeeze into her clothes.

My heart pinched at the thought of my lost friend, reminding me why I was really here. Tomorrow was Saturday. If I said no, I wouldn’t have a chance to ply Gio for information until next week. Before I could stop myself, I heard myself say, “I could probably find something that would work.”

“Good.” He winked back at me as he moved down the stairs. “I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow. Ciao, bella.”

“Ciao,” I said in response, repeating the Italian word for both hello and goodbye. But alone, I couldn’t stop wondering what the hell I’d just agreed to.