Page 12 of Captivated

In fact, the last thing she felt in that moment was unsafe.

“They probably are,” she agreed.

“Would you do me a favor first?”

“Shoot.”

He cocked a brow, and shrugged one large shoulder like it wasn’t a big deal before he said, “Give me directions to the downstairs—I don’t want to miss supper later. I hear that’s rude, and I’m going to be around for a while. I would hate to make a bad first impression and all.”

Liliana laughed, but not for the reason he probably thought. The last thing he did was make a bad first impression.

Far from it.

Joseph Rossi.

That was his name.

Or Joe, rather. It seemed no one actually used Joseph when they talked to him, and instead, simply called him Joe.

Liliana hadn’t even gotten Joe’s name before Catherine had popped out of the theater room upstairs, and shouted for her to hurry the hell up. Dinner came two hours later, and Liliana was—strangely—happy to find that Joe hadn’t been lying.

He sat directly across from her at the table. His attention was on the conversation flowing around the table between her family, and the girls’ friends. More than once, though, Liliana caught him glancing her way, too.

And not a quick glance.

No.

A lingering one.

Especially when he thought she wasn’t looking.

“I hope Damian made his flight,” her uncle—Giovanni—said before he shoved in a mouthful of food.

“He did—let me know a few minutes ago,” Joe said.

His gaze dragged away from Liliana as he spoke, and she couldn’t help but glance down at her plate and smile. It seemed like no one else at the table noticed their occasional glances, and for the moment, she was grateful.

Oddly, Liliana still found herself wishing his attention was back on her instead of on other people at the table. She opened her mouth to make sure exactly that happened, too.

“And where do you come from?” she asked.

Although, she was pretty sure she knew the answer. His last name was enough of a hint to say he probably hailed from Chicago—or more specifically, he came from the Chicago Outfit. Another criminal organization much like the one her father and uncles were involved with.

Liliana got what she wanted.

Joe’s attention came back to her.

“Chicago,” he said. “You couldn’t tell by—”

“Your accent?” she interrupted with a sly grin. “Actually, the last name gave it away.”

Throats cleared around the table, and Liliana could almost feel the eyes turning in her direction at her statement. Apparently, she was getting a little close to waters she probably shouldn’t be talking about. The men of her family never actively discouraged the women to discuss business, or la famiglia, but it was always a big no-no at the dinner table.

That had never changed.

“I’ve never been to Chicago,” she said.

Joe lifted a single brow high. “We have a big lake. Lots of crime. Good food.”