Page 54 of Satin Empire

“You’re the only person I’ve ever met who thinks trash is a good sign.”

He laughs and takes my arm, tugging me into a massive, cavernous space broken up by pillars. There’s more spray paint, more bottles, more trash, and lots of natural light spilling down from the windows up near the beam-crossed roof. He points out where he thinks stuff can go: DJ booth, bar, bathrooms, that sort of thing, and the layout starts to make sense.

“Imagine the place packed with people,” he says, gesturing widely as he tries to paint the picture. “The walls shaking from the bass music, people dancing up on each other right here where we’re standing.” He pulls me against him and moves his hips as if we’re grinding to club music.

I laugh and put my hands on his chest. The man’s lost his damn mind but I love the way he moves, and I love it even more when he’s moving on me, so I let it happen. “Tell me more.”

His hands grab my ass. “Imagine all the people getting lost in the moment right here in this club. I know it isn’t much right now, but it’s got good bones and a better location—everything else I can fix.”

I chew my lip, and if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t see it at all. I don’t share his enthusiasm for this project, and I can’t envision this dump of a warehouse somehow turning into a fancy club that people want to actually attend. It’s more like a homeless encampment than anything else, but Carlo’s excitement is contagious, and his hands on my ass are very distracting, so I don’t say anything. But in my heart, I know I don’t feel the same way he does.

“It’ll be a lot of work,” I say as he kisses my neck. I shiver, closing my eyes. His hands move up my hips.

“Good. I want the work. I want to do something for myself for a change.”

“I’m happy you’re excited then.” Even if I’m not sure this is the best move, I’m not going to be a dick and say that out loud, not when he’s getting so into it. The place is practically falling apart, and I’m very positive I almost stepped on a used needle just now, but Carlo seems like he really believes this can happen.

And who am I to tell him that it’s unreasonable? Hell, I don’t know anything about building a nightclub. Yes, this warehouse is not structurally sound, and I’m pretty sure it’s one match away from roasting a whole lot of people alive, but this is his dream, and I’m going to support him.

I get on my toes and kiss his chin. He beams at me and presses his lips to mine, drinking me in, and we move together on the imaginary dancefloor among the malt liquor bottles and the heroin paraphernalia, pretending like we’re in a high-end club, giddy with expensive champagne.

“I’m going to make this work,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over my lips.

“I believe you. I honestly, really do.” My hands move up his back, gripping him hard.

“Good. I know this isn’t something you ever really wanted, but I’m happy you’re doing it with me.”

I nod and press my face against his chest. “You want to hear something strange?”

“Only if it’s stranger than the two of us dancing without music in an abandoned warehouse.”

I smile and shrug a little. I feel so small in his arms as we continue to sway to an invisible beat—maybe just the pulse of our hearts. “I keep thinking about the future, you know? About what life might be like if we follow through with this nightclub idea and actually build something together.”

“You like it,” he says, his voice sounding husky.

“I kind of do. That’s the weird part. Because I didn’t come into this wanting any of that, you know?”

He laughs and bends down to kiss me again. I love when his lips touch mine. Every time it lights a little fire in my stomach. “I’m well aware of how you felt about our marriage when this started.”

“Hey, it’s not like you wanted to marry me either.”

“I was willing to do my duty for my family. It was just a nice bonus that you happen to be fucking beautiful.”

I laugh lightly and feel my cheeks flush. I never was good at taking compliments. “I was doing it for my mom, you know? She’s terrified that Orsino’s going to leave her one day, and she kept pushing me into this, because if I’m the one married to you then he can’t just cut us out, right? Then he’d be violating your alliance. So I thought it would help bind her to him better and make her happy.”

He sighs and brushes his fingers through my hair, hand landing on my lower back. “Did it work?”

“I don’t think so. My mom…” I shake my head, thinking back to the old days, to when Gran was alive. My mom was so damn young, just fifteen when she had me. The mom of my childhood memory is still a kid, even though she seemed like an adult. She was everything to me—except she was emotional and difficult, and even though she tried to do what she could, it was always Gran picking up the slack when she screwed up. Gran was my rock. She was everything. Then when Gran died, I could see all the cracks in Mom’s facade, all the little gaps she rebelled against.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he says, probably misinterpreting my silence as reluctance.

“No, it’s not that. I just don’t know how to explain her sometimes. It’s like Mom’s got all these missing pieces, and she’s constantly wandering around looking for them and trying to make other pieces fit, but they never do. I think she married Orsino hoping that he could give her enough things to fill in all the little fissures and holes, but it didn’t work. She’s just so damn sad.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, holding me tight against him. “I know how it feels to have a difficult parent. You look up to them when you’re young, and as you get older, you start to see them as people again, and it’s hard to put those two versions together.”

“Shit, I shouldn’t complain.” I stop moving and stare at him, my hands coming to my mouth. “Your mom?—”

“My mom has nothing to do with yours,” he says, pulling me against him again. “Just because my mom’s sick doesn’t mean you don’t have your own problems to deal with.”

---