The house was as he remembered it. Melanie clicked on the lights as they entered, and the whole room came alive. The blackout curtains were dusted with minuscule glitter that reflected light and shone without looking childish. The furniture was fun and upholstered in bright colors. The decor was wild and captured Cassandra’s spirit more than anything he’d seen in a long time.

For the first time in a long time, it didn’t make him feel miserable.

Melanie moved through the house, heading upstairs immediately to check on the bedrooms. Luciano detoured into the kitchen to look around. There was no food left, but above the stove was Cassandra’s collection of hot sauce. All of it was bad by now, but he considered it a decoration. It made him think of her without fail. She was always looking to add a little spice to life.

With a wry grin, Luciano shook his head, turned off the light, and went to make sure the front door was locked. His head was still spinning, and his vision was slow to adjust whenever he moved his head, but he wasn’t falling down just yet.

Dancing with Melanie had been amazing.

It wasn’t like him to dance—not anymore—but he hadn’t been able to resist when she came in through the doors. Beneath the throbbing lights and all the flashing colors, she’d looked gorgeous. Sarah had been right; if Cassandra were alive and circumstances had driven them apart instead of death, she would have been his wingman. She would have wanted to see him have fun and enjoy the rest of his life. She would have encouraged him to look for his own ‘spice.’

Luciano didn’t feel guilty about dancing with Melanie. He didn’t even feel guilty that he was hard for her. Melanie was an attractive woman, and he’d been suppressing feelings for her for years.

It was time to fix that.

He headed upstairs to find Melanie in the spare bedroom, folding down the dust covers to reveal the fresh sheets beneath. He entered the room and slipped his hands around her waist. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he felt bold. He didn’t loosen his grip when Melanie gasped.

“Luc!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing?”

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” Luciano replied. He pressed against her from behind, letting his clothed erection meet her ass. Melanie had a tight figure. He wanted to explore every inch of it. “Don’t bother with the guest bedroom tonight.”

He heard a breath hitch in Melanie’s throat, and he felt her tremble in his arms. For a moment, she stood still. His hands roamed her flat stomach, over her shirt, and then slipped beneath it to touch her soft skin. Luciano had forgotten how soft women were, and he held back a moan and closed his eyes as his hands explored.

Before his fingertips brushed her bra, she set her hands over his and stilled them. Turning in his arms, she faced him. He could see the indecision in her eyes as she bit her lower lip. Reaching his hand up, he pressed lightly on her lip with his finger separating it from her teeth. His hand slid easily to her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair.

With a groan, he captured her lips as she gasped in surprise. Luciano hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until she tentatively kissed him back. In that moment, he knew that he would happily drown in her kisses. She tasted of mint and berries and uniquely Melanie.

He slid his hands back under her shirt to reach for her bra, his fingers fumbling in his haste. Now was not the time to think. Now was the time to feel. Her skin. Her body. He wanted to drink her up.

Melanie’s hands slid up his chest, pushing gently.

“Stop.”

Luciano stopped. Resting his forehead against hers, he took jagged breaths. He was drunk, but he was respectful. Every woman deserved to be heard. “Why?”

“You’re drunk, and you don’t know what you’re doing,” Melanie said softly. There was hesitation in her voice, and Luciano was sure she wanted him to continue. He didn’t understand why she was telling him to back off. “I already prepared the master bedroom for you. You should go get some sleep. I’ll need you up early to drive me back to my car before we open tomorrow.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Luciano protested, his hands cupped her waist. She felt too good to let go. “You’re Melanie Noel, my assistant of two years, and one of the best women I’ve ever met. I want to make you mine tonight. I’m sick of not touching you.”

She shivered in his arms, and he could have sworn he felt her rock her body toward him. He imagined her splayed on the bed beneath him, her hair fanned out like a halo.

“We can’t,” she told him. “Luc, I need you to stop touching me. If you need to, go take a cold shower to get your head back on straight, but after that, go to bed. We’re not going any further than this tonight.”

There was so much more he wanted to do. He imagined her face as he unlatched her bra and cupped the small mounds of her breasts with his hands, then toyed with her nipples. How her lips would set in a tight ‘o’ as he laved his tongue across one of those hardened nubs, then sucked it between his lips. They’d gone swimming together before, so he already knew she had slender, gorgeous thighs… but what about what lay between them?

Luciano wanted to taste her. To see her squirm with delight. He wanted to plunge inside her, fill her, work her to the brink of orgasm, and then tease her with release.

“I need you and wanna make you feel good,” he whispered against her neck. “You don’t wanna mess around?”

“No.” Her voice was firm. She guided Luciano’s hands from her waist, and he took a step back. The rejection stung, but he knew that she wasn’t a lost cause. She’d kissed him back. The way her body responded to his and the desire in her voice…

If not now, then later.

“Please go to bed, Luc. Get some sleep. Get sober. When you wake up it’ll be a new day, and you’ll be glad I turned you down.”

There was nothing more he could do to argue. She’d made her point clear. He bowed his head and went for the door. “Goodnight, Mel.”

“Night,” she replied.

Luciano left the room and headed to the master bedroom. As soon as he stripped off his clothes and curled up beneath the covers, he was asleep.

It had been a long day, he’d come a long way, and morning came much quicker than he would have liked.

* * *

There was nothing to eat for breakfast, but Luciano wasn’t sure he could eat, anyway. His stomach lurched with every step he took, like it was full of sloshing liquids. Bile rose in his throat that he routinely swallowed down. His head throbbed with pain.

Hangovers were the worst. He didn’t drink often enough anymore to remember how terrible they were, but that morning was a staunch reminder of why he stayed away from excess.

A beer or two was nice. Hammering back shots like he’d done the night before? It was fun at first, but the aftermath was terrible.

Luciano pulled a glass out of the cupboard in the kitchen and filled it with water, downing as much as he could. He had no idea what time it was. The clock on the stove was usually wrong, and he had no idea if Melanie had changed the clocks in the house to reflect the actual time. Some of them had stopped working, their batteries drained. Luciano’s cellphone was similarly dead. He’d charge it at the shop.

What a morning.

What an evening.

He remembered coming on to Melanie, pushing against her, touching her, kissing her….

She’d told him that it was a mistake. Reflecting on it this morning, Luciano didn’t think that was true. If he’d brought her to bed last night, he wouldn’t have regretted it. Melanie was different from other women. It wasn’t like he was going after someone he’d met at the bar—he’d liked Melanie since they met.

He just hadn’t wanted to do anything about it.

There was noise from the living room, and Luciano lifted his head and frowned. His thoughts were still hazy, but he recognized the sounds of something moving around. The strange shuffling noise made it sound like paper was being disturbed.

Bringing his water glass with him, he went to investigate. He found Melanie sitting on the ground in front of the coffee table, working with a stack of printed pages. Was there a computer with a printer in this house? Luciano wracked his brain, trying to remember.

If not, Melanie was all the more resourceful. He wouldn’t put it past her to venture out to the shop, do her printing, and come back.

How long had she been awake? She looked chipper, and although her eye makeup was a little smudged, her red lips were as perfect as ever.

He wished he’d remembered if her lipstick had smeared last night. He didn’t have any on him this morning, had she wiped it off before he found her in the guest room?

“Good morning,” Melanie said. She rose slowly, lean and limber. Luciano appreciated her body from where he stood. Her lipstick wasn’t in disarray, but her hair was. It was exactly how he liked it. She was stunning. “I woke up early. New bed syndrome, I guess.”

“That’s a thing?” Luciano asked.

“Yeah. When you go to a new place? I used to struggle with it when we were on the road.” Melanie brushed her hands on her thighs. “But I guess that’s not so important. I got some sleep, and I got up early enough to start putting together some suggestions for redecoration.”

Luciano paused. He looked her over, unsure of what to say. Redecorations? They hadn’t talked anything about that. “For the shop?” he asked. “It’s kind of tight as it is. You want to change the wall art or something? I guess it’d be good to get some updated pieces put up….”

“No.” Melanie smiled. “For the house. You’re trying to sell, right? I’ve been talking with the real estate agent who’s going to help us move it, and she brought up a very valid point. If the house isn’t decorated right, it sets buyers off. It’s crazy, but it’s true. It’s the same kind of thing that makes people more inclined to like a house if you brew fresh coffee in it right before you vacate the lot for the viewing.”

“No.” Luciano shook his head. The furniture and decorations weren’t exactly mainstream, but he liked them that way. The house had been Cassandra’s, and her spirit lived on in her stylistic choices. “Absolutely not.”

“Well, I’ve put together this list of potential pieces of furniture I think would do this place good. We need to get rid of the color and go modern chic. The more minimalistic and ‘clean’ looking a space is, the better received it is. I’d appreciate it if you could take a look.” She hefted the pile of papers she’d been sorting. Luciano was certain he saw floor plans attached with them.

“I’ll look,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean I’m going to change my mind. You’re wasting your time.”

“And you’re wasting yours if you’re serious about selling the place.” Melanie crossed her arms over her chest, but her expression was at ease. “This is the last thing tying you to Vegas, isn’t it? Apart from your brothers, I mean. If you want to get rid of it, you’re going to need to get rid of this furniture, too. Isn’t that what you want?”

Luciano smiled. Reverse psychology wasn’t going to work on him. Luciano had no idea what her point was, or how he should respond to it. It was true that he wanted to sell the place so he’d be free of Vegas at last, but in the same breath, he didn’t want to think that Cassandra’s last mark on the world would disappear. He figured a new family would move into the furnished house and live in it, honoring her memory.

He didn’t want to gut it. If the new owners did, that was their choice.

“It’s too early and I’m too hung over to talk about this right now,” Luciano grumbled. He rubbed his temple. “We still need to go get your car, and we should probably grab breakfast on the way. How long until we have to be at the shop?”

“Three hours,” Melanie said. “We should probably get going sooner rather than later, especially if you want to eat.”

Luciano wished she would have gone to bed with him last night, if only because then she wouldn’t have taken it upon herself to remodel the house in her spare time. He didn’t want to confront that reality. Not yet. He’d made big steps, but there were still little things that tripped him up.

Getting rid of Cassandra’s furniture was one of them.

“C’mon,” Melanie said brightly. She walked over to him and took his hand, and some of the dread he felt slipped away. Melanie’s touch was his new addiction. He remembered her soft skin and the way her breath had hitched in her throat, and he wanted to experience them all over again. “Let’s get going. Standing around looking sad isn’t going to help anything. Life is about living, so we should get to it.”

Life is about living. He snorted, and Melanie shot him a look of contempt over her shoulder. “What?”

“Isn’t that a little redundant, ‘life is about living?’” he asked. “That’s like saying ‘death is about dying.’”

“No.” Melanie opened the front door and waited for him to exit before she locked it behind them. His bike was in the garage. “Dying is a very straightforward thing, living takes effort. I’d bet money that all you’ve been doing for the last several years is surviving.”

Luciano’s lips pressed into a thin line. “What do you mean?”

“Living means experience, growth, and laughter,” Melanie pressed the garage door button, and the door slowly lifted. “You’ve been existing all this time, hiding away, refusing to come out of your shell… and it’s about time you changed that, don’t you think?”

“That sounds like a challenge,” Luciano said. “You don’t think I’m capable of letting things go?”

“Nope.” Melanie shrugged. “The last two years haven’t worked in your favor. I mean, how many times have you talked about getting those knuckle tattoos? How long have you been talking about selling your house? It’s a lot of stagnation. A lot of survival.”

Luciano didn’t know what to say. Melanie winked at him and headed for the garage. “Now let’s go. If you want, I’ll drive. I’m not as fast as you, but I’m probably ten times a better driver. It’ll help us avoid that whole dying thing.”

One thing was for sure—Luciano needed to prove her wrong. If it was a challenge, she was on.

He was living. He was growing. He was experiencing.

Last night was proof of it.