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“Are they here?” Ilias asked.
My eyes searched for any unwanted familiar faces.
“Yes, Enzo and Leo arrived minutes ago, along with a woman who held onto Enzo’s arm.”
“Anyone else?”
“Just those three inside.”
I’d heard Arlo’s response the same second I found it for myself.
Leo Vitelli stood under a shadow, alone in all black. His wicked smile directed at me while his eyes watched us from afar. I tried hiding my reaction, not showing how my heart raced or how my mind had taken me back to the feel of his knife. I held his gaze unable to let it go. Even in the distance, I saw the snicker he tried to contain as his teeth trapped his bottom lip. Leo tipped his head and slipped from view.
The spot where he’d stood seconds before sat empty, allowing fear to creep in. I didn’t know where he’d hidden.
“Don’t allow him to make a mess inside your head, Davina,” Ilias whispered in my ear.
Turning my head, I glanced up to Ilias and smiled.
My smile was big, it was fake, and he knew it too.
“You should both go and mingle, and for the love of God, behave,” Arlo said the last part to Ilias, but Ilias didn’t acknowledge his brother. He ushered me forward, leaving Arlo behind while his strong hand guided me away.
The voices and laughter blended along with the melody of the room the stronger my heart beat. My heels clicked softly, and I returned any polite smiles as we walked, not caring to remember the faces of the strangers.
“Miss, would you like a glass?”
Taken aback, I twisted toward the voice. A slender young man smiled with a tray on his hand.
I didn’t get the chance to reply before Ilias raised his left hand, the other guiding me forward.
“No, thank you,” he replied as he passed by the waiter.
It wasn’t until we stopped in front of a bar that matched the rest of the house, even if it didn’t belong inside, that Ilias moved next to me.
“Care for a drink?” he asked, and my brows pinched.
“Did you just want to offer me a drink? Or is there a reason.”
“We don’t drink anything unless it’s poured from one of ours,” Ilias murmured. “Even then,” he raised his hand to catch the attention from the guy behind the bar, “you watch it carefully.” Ilias was warning me, teaching me, and in a way, molding me for a life by his side. Though, all I could replay in my head was the way he’d said, “we” and “one of ours.”
I’d already known this would happen. I hadn’t asked any questions from the night before, and now, they weren’t needed.
Ilias was one of them.
A mafioso.
As I looked at his side features, his strong jaw line and generous lips while his attention remained ahead, nothing had changed.
He was still Ilias.
He was still mine.
“You are staring.” His lips lifted at the corner.
“Am I?”
Ilias’s head turned, and his icy blues warmed before turning his attention back to the man who approached. “Aberto,” he acknowledged with a dip of his head. “Just a glass for Davina, please.”
