Lucia puts her glass down. “Prove it.”
I smirk. “Prove I don’t dance?”
“Sure. Look, they’ve got a dance floor and everything.” She eyes me with a grin. It’s like she daring me.
“Fine,” I shrug. We both stand from our barstools and walk over to the side of the bar. They do actually have a small dance floor. But we’re the only cringe-cases currently about to dance on it. I take her hand. Suddenly, it’s like instinct kicks in.
I pull her close. It’s almost involuntary. But the way I spin her into my arms feels like second nature. My heart races, and I spin her again. Her hair whips around. I can smell her shampoo or soap, and it sets fire to something inside of me.
We swing apart and then back together. I rock her in my arms. I hold her close and tight. Her breathing is heavy. Her face is flushed, and her eyes are wide and locked with mine the whole time. As the final piano notes tinkle out, I dip her low. The whole damn place starts clapping around us. I’m panting heavily. So is she.
“You lied,” Lucia whispers. Her eyes are holding mine like lasers.
“Seems that way,” I growl.
She chews on her lip. “All a ploy to dance with me, huh?”
I chuckle and bring her back upright. “Maybe.”
“It worked,” she breathes.
The song is over. The dance is done. But I’m still holding her close: one hand on her hip, the other holding her hand. The music changes to some dumb upbeat pop song. The bar goes back to chatting around us. But we’re still locked in this little bubble.
My arms pull her closer. She comes willingly. Her body presses to mine, and I look down into her big blue eyes. Before I can think, my head lowers, and my lips press fiercely to hers.
I kiss Lucia hard. And goddamn, she kisses me right back.
And then, like lightning, we both spring apart. My heart is racing. Her face is white yet flushed.
“We…” she blinks quickly. She brings a hand up to touch her lips. “We need to get to the airport.”
We’re silent during the limo ride. My heart is still beating like a goddamn drum though. I turn to her. She’s looking out the window at the darkening sky. A glimmer catches my eyes. They lower to her hand, where the neon from the Strip is glinting off of her huge goddamn ring.
Yeah, what happens in Vegas doesn’t fucking stay here. It comes home on a finger. And it very well may put me in the ground.
But maybe we can be adults about this, right? We both made a mistake. We can work through this. We can be mature about—
Lucia turns to me and frowns. “Stare much?”
I groan. Yeah, I’m fucked.
8
Lucia
There are some definite downsides to being the granddaughter to one of the biggest crime kingpins in the world. But travel accommodations are not one of them.
The temporary “apartment” that my grandpa has set up for me in New York is beyond luxurious. It’s not big, which I know is on purpose as to not attract too much attention. But what it’s lacking in space, it makes up for in pure glitz and glamor.
The men who picked us up from the airport and drove us here are Micheal Genovisi’s men. When one of them opens the door to the apartment, even my jaw drops a little. Yeah, wow. The guys bring my bags in, nod at Dominic, and then take off.
Then we’re alone. I bristle. We’ve been frosty to each other the entire trip back here. And I do mean frosty. We’ve barely said a word. We’ve hardly looked at each other. We definitely haven’t mentioned the kiss in the bar. Not to mention the shit show of a trip before that moment.
But now here we are. Thankfully, it’s cold in New York. That means gloves, which will cover this big damn ring at least while I’m outside. In the doorway to my temporary apartment, I glare at him. He glares right back.
“Well, I guess this is goodbye.”
He sighs. Slowly, he smiles thinly.
“I said goodbye, Dominic,” I mutter. “You’re dismissed.”
He snorts a hard laugh. “I’m not your butler, princess.”
“Yeah, well, we’re done here. You can go.”
“Yeah, don’t I wish,” he mutters.
“Excuse me?” I glance down and realize he’s got his luggage bag with him. “What, what are you doing?”
“I’m staying here. With you. This place is for two people.”
“No,” I shake my head. I blink quickly. My heart races. “No, it’s not.”
Dominic sets his bag down inside. He picks up a brochure pamphlet from the table next to the door. It’s emblazoned with “Diamond Properties,” which I’m guessing is the rental place for vacation housing like this.
“Bonjour,” Dominic reads with a flourish from the pamphlet. “Ciao, hola, nin hao, konnichiwa, guten tag, zdravstvuyte.” He clears his throat. “Welcome to your luxury dual occupancy Diamond Properties accommodation.”
“No,” I mutter, shaking my head as he drops the pamphlet back onto the table. “No no no no no…”
“I’m not exactly thrilled about it either,” he grunts.
“Fuck this, no!” I glare at him. “No, you’re not staying in this apartment with me. Absolutely not!”
“Orders are orders, princess.”
I glare at him. “I’ll call my grandfather.”
“Please do.”
I smirk. “I think you’re forgetting how much trouble you could get into. You know, if I get to rambling about all the things I got up to on my trip to Las Vegas?”
His jaw grinds. “Are you threatening me?”
“I’m making a point.”
Dominic looks at me coolly. His lips smirk. “I could, you’re right. You tell him about what happened, I might be dead.”
I swallow uneasily.
“So, go call.”
“Are you calling my bluff?”
He smiles. “No, princess. I’m saying whatever Salvestro does to me when you tell him beats staying here with you and your attitude.”
My jaw drops. “Wow,” I choke.
Dominic just keeps smiling. He picks up his suitcase and waltzes inside. “I call top bunk, by the way.”
“What?!”
He chuckles. “I’m joking. It’s a two bedroom.”
“Wonderful,” I mutter.
“Shared bathroom though.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, very fucking funny.”
But Dominic is still smiling at me. “I’m not joking.” He walks through the big open living room and kitchen area, past a dining nook to a door. It opens to a big, white marble bathroom. Two more open doors from the bathroom lead into each of the bedrooms.
“You have got to be shitting me,” I hiss.
Dominic chuckles. He grabs his bag and heads to one of the bedrooms. “Night, princess,” he calls over his shoulder.
“Asshole.”
He shuts his door, leaving me to sulk by myself. I groan and sink onto one of the couches by the big windows. God, this is terrible. This whole trip is a freaking disaster. I pull my phone out. I feel a mix of dread and excitement when I open the Connect app.