“Shhhh.” His breath came closer, sending a stronger shiver through me. Then I felt something pointy and scruffy on my shoulder. A bearded chin? His bearded chin? The confirmation came as the scruffy hair pressed to the side of my neck. Lightly, gently.
Suddenly, I was no longer cold. I was burning hot. The heat coming from his body seeped through my pores with his simplest touch. Oh my God, he was touching me.
And I was letting him.
Fear snaked down my spine, crippling me further. What the hell did I do? Why did I have to follow him? Why did I have to say what I said? I literally told him I wished I could’ve seen him, and here he was. What had I just gotten myself into?
And why the hell was I just standing there, unable to say a simple word such as no while he allowed himself to touch me without permission?
It’s just a bad dream.
Refusing to let me pretend, my senses crawled back into my foggy brain. He wasn’t exactly touching me. His hands and body were nowhere on mine. It was just his chin on my shoulder, and the side of his face on mine. So light and careful, as if he was afraid to break me, but it did make me quake.
Then I felt it. His hand. On my…hair.
Another gasp flew off my throat. He touched my hair so casually, so possessively, without hesitation. Like he had the right to do it. Like I belonged to him.
“What a-are y-you doing?” I stammered.
I heard him inhale deeply, and then he exhaled with the same intensity, inducing another shudder from my body. “You smell so good.”
Did he just sniff my hair? That was so creepy and sick…and so incredibly intimate.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered and took another deep breath.
Both my lashes and heart fluttered. Nobody had ever touched me in that way or said things like that to me before. Nobody except…
The horrible memory slapped me out of the trance he put me in. “Please stop,” I gasped.
He mumbled something in a foreign language. Spanish maybe or Italian? It sounded native but he didn’t have an accent when he spoke in English. Then, just like that, the strand in his hand dropped on my back. “I’m not like your father,” he reprimanded, as if he read my mind, as if he knew exactly how I felt.
My hands trembled harder, and my heart pounded in my throat. This was no random guy. He knew about my father. He knew who I was. Oh my God. Is it really him?
“Ci vediamo, my sweet Angel.”
His warmth on my face was replaced by an unbearable coldness, and I heard him step back. He was letting me go, even though someone like him, someone that obviously didn’t play by the rules, someone that was probably the most dangerous man I’d ever met, could have gone further. From what I’d glimpsed earlier, he was twice my size. I wouldn’t stand a chance in a fight against him.
But he was letting me go.
I should run now, grateful that he was. I should find my way back to Nicky and never look back. Why the fuck was I still standing here?
“Can I please see you?” I asked under my breath, shaking, unable to begin to understand what the hell was wrong with me. Why did the urge to see him outweigh my self-preservation? Why would I want him to stay longer when all I should be doing was running for my life, praying I’d never see him again?
One more time, I waited like an idiot in the dark for his answer, but I could no longer feel or hear his breath. He’d left. So long for putting an end to my confusion and fear. If anything, they’d multiplied.
He wouldn’t even let me see his face.
Just like he didn’t wait for my permission to smell my hair, I should have turned, not waiting for his, and seen his face. I was so angry at myself, at how much of a coward I was. For God’s sake, I was still frozen in place, not even moving my head to look at him over my shoulder.
Finally, I did. Then I strained my eyes into the darkness. He wasn’t there. All I was left with was tears, a frightened heart and a dark promise.
Ci vediamo, my sweet Angel.
That was Italian, and I understood it very well. Many of the students at Bellomo said it to each other. It meant until we meet again.
Chapter 8
Tino
I kept smelling my hand like I couldn’t get enough of her scent. It lingered on my beard, too, filling my mouth and nose with every breath, lick and swallow. Honey, peach, licorice and jasmine.
I should have left after she caught me. I should leave now, but the amount of willpower it took me to walk away from her when she was that close to me was all I had for the night. I hid in the shadows, close to the hall exit waiting to see her one more time. She looked so beautiful, so elegant in that dress. A princess soon to be a queen. All the time when we were alone together, I wanted nothing but to hold her and never let go.
You were born to rule, my sweet Angel, and so you will by my side.
She shouldn’t wear that dress in public again, though. Some of the kids—and fucking men—were looking at her. At her chest. Didn’t they know she was mine, and she was too fucking young? Even I hadn’t allowed myself to claim my rights and enjoy what was mine.
How many men am I supposed to murder for you, Angel? Because I’d have killed them all for just looking at her. But she didn’t know she was mine yet, and so the world couldn’t know.
I was counting the days…
People streamed out of the hall. I weeded them out until I found my girl. She looked…distant. Even when her sister spoke to her, she barely responded. I knew I shook her tonight, but I couldn’t keep my distance anymore. She had to know our time was coming soon. She had to know I was there, waiting. I had to occupy her mind like she invaded mine. I needed to make her think about me like I thought of nothing but her.
For years, I cared about nothing but La Famiglia and my duty toward it. I knew nothing but. I’d been a made man since I was fourteen. After I’d seen Angel, it was as if my life had been split into two halves. Before her and after.
Nothing mattered to me anymore but her and my son. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I got it out and stared at the name of the caller. Il Figlio. Speak of the devil.
Without taking my eyes off Angel, I picked up the call. “Piccolo.”
He grumbled. “When will you stop calling me that?”
“You know when.” When he stopped being a dick and became a made man himself so I could make him my underboss.
Another grumble. I could easily picture the eye roll and the finger he was giving me now. “Anyway, I’m at the house, but they’re telling me you haven’t been staying there all week. You good?”
I smirked at the reason. She was climbing into her ride home with Nicole, Michele ready in the car behind them. “Yeah. You?”
“Same. I just…um…wanted to check on you, old man.”
I chuckled. That was code for I’d spent all my allowance and needed more money. He had issues with being part of one of the oldest Mafia families but no problem spending its blood money. “Tell you what? Let’s have some good old father son time like we used to. I’ll text you an address. Stop by in an hour.”
Chapter 9
Tino
She locked herself up in her room since she’d returned home. Violin in her hand, she sat by the window. Was she going to play for me again? That other night, I’d felt she was playing only for me, as if she knew I was watching, as if she knew how much I loved listening to the music she made.