“Business calls,” Marcus said. “We’ll be in the VIP section upstairs when you’re ready to join us.”
Corrado reached for Ginevra as he replied to his brother, “Got it, Marcus.”
Ginevra found herself tucked into Corrado’s side with Alessio on her other side as Marcus walked away from them.
“He’s just like your father, you know?” Alessio asked.
Corrado sighed. “Too much, sometimes.”
“Just enough, maybe.”
“Yet to be determined,” Corrado muttered.
“I’d like to dance,” Ginevra said, peeking up at him.
Corrado made a face.
She laughed.
“What?”
Alessio chuckled. “Someone doesn’t dance.”
“Not unless it’s a waltz,” Corrado said under his breath.
“Why not?”
“Never cared to bother, but ...”
Ginevra pouted. “But what?”
“Alessio loves to dance.”
“Yes.”
Corrado’s heady laughter drifted all around them, over the music in the club and the loud people, as he stepped aside so Alessio could take his place at her other side.
“Ah, see, now she’s happy,” Corrado told Alessio. And then to her, “And he likes to make those he loves happy, Ginny.”
The words were said almost carelessly. Just tossed out like they shouldn’t have meant very much at all, and she shouldn’t take them too seriously. It didn’t matter. Their weight upon impact still took her breath away as the word loves kept ringing around in the back of her mind. Not that she could think about it or dwell for too long. Alessio was already pulling her out to the floor.
Later, she thought. She would deal with that word, what it meant, and her own feelings later. Surely, they would have enough time for that. Besides, she thought they should be aware.
They needed to know how she felt, too. That nothing in her life would ever be the same because of these two men, and she didn’t want it to be. There wasn’t a single part of her that wanted to be without Corrado and Alessio. She wasn’t sure how that happened, but she understood why it did.
Them.
Simply put—because of them.
How could someone not love those men?
Yeah, she suspected things would be tricky when she had to go back home, but shouldn’t they at least try? She winked back at Corrado while Alessio pulled her further away, waving two fingers as her silent goodbye.
He grinned back.
Turning her attention on Alessio, she said, “They won’t bother him, right?”
“Who?”
“His father’s people.”
Alessio’s hand at her waist tightened at her words. “Corrado is grown—he knows how to handle that nonsense.”
“Yeah, but still.”
Their walk came to a stop on the dance floor after they had weaved in and out of the moving people, so they were closer to the DJ booth on the other side rather than the tables and bar at the opposite end. Alessio spun around on her, a faint smile playing at the edges of his mouth, although she could still see the wariness in his gaze.
“No, they rarely make it a point to say anything directly,” Alessio explained, shrugging his shoulders under his leather jacket. “Mostly, it’s underhanded comments that people overlook because nobody wants to cause shit for something like that. And never when his father is around to hear it.”
Ginevra swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Gian isn’t here tonight, though.”
“No, he isn’t.”
“So, a quick dance, we get drinks, and then we go back to Corrado. Right?”
Alessio’s gaze drifted to somewhere behind her, searching the crowd. Probably for where Corrado had gone after they left him. He didn’t bother to mask the concern flashing in his gaze. Oh, sure, he acted like he wasn’t worried, but he was.
Because it was Corrado.
Otherwise, he didn’t give a shit.
That was his line.
“Sounds good,” Alessio murmured, his attention coming back to her with a sly smile. “Now, someone wants to dance, huh?”
Ginevra laughed. “Very much.”
• • •
“Two fingers of whiskey,” Ginevra told the bartender—for Corrado—before adding, “spiced rum on ice, and—”
“Try the house drink,” Alessio said in her ear, “it’s the same one across all the Guzzi clubs. Like a signature drink, it’s how you can tell when you’re in one of their spaces.”
He winked over her shoulder.
“Fine,” she said. He leaned in and kissed her lips, but backed away so she turned to the bartender and add, “and one of the Gold Dreams.”
“Coming up.”
“Thanks.”
“Turn around,” she heard Alessio murmur along the shell of her ear.
Ginevra grinned, but didn’t move. “Many people are watching, Les.”
“And?”
“And we’re supposed to get drinks, and find Corrado again, remember? You’re a bad influence, and a distraction.”
Not a single bit of that was a lie, either.
“We’re waiting for drinks. And I don’t see what the problem is.”
Of course, he didn’t.
Under the urging of his strong hands, Ginevra found herself turned around to face him. He had her pinned against the bar, his fingers tightening deliciously around the curve of her waist, so she was unable to move.
Not that she wanted to.
Not when he was looking at her like that.
Alessio tipped his head down, and caught her mouth with a slow, searing kiss. He was soft at first, his tongue teasing the seam of her lips until she parted them to allow him entrance. Then, at the taste of her, that kiss turned a hell of a lot hotter. All the while, he kept her steady against the edge of the bar, unbothered by the people around them or the noise.
His focus was on her.
That’s all that mattered.
All too soon for Ginevra’s liking, Alessio pulled away. Sure, he didn’t go far, only enough that his lips grazed hers as he spoke, but it was enough for her to sense his loss, and wish he was kissing her again.
“I have to tell you something,” he said.
Ginevra tensed, knowing nothing good ever came from those words. “Oh?”
“Relax.”
“What do you have to tell me?” she asked.
Alessio sighed, his tongue snaking out to drift along his lower lip before he muttered, “I have to leave soon—The League business, and whatnot. A job that has been in the works for quite a while now, and they have the okay for it. I was the contractor put up for it, and we’re not able to change those details.”
Ginevra blinked, taking in those words. “How soon?”
“Likely within two or three days, we’ll see how long I can stretch it. I got the call yesterday when you were ordering at the café; that gave me seven days to get my shit in order before I have to head out.”
“Oh.”
Alessio made a dark noise. “Don’t do that.”
She peered up at him. “Do what?”
“Sound so fucking sad, it kills me.”
“Should I be happy?”
“Well ... no.”