Page 8 of Dance of Deception

His thumb moves slightly, stroking the base of my throat like he’s considering something. My skin burns where he touches me, body locked in place, muscles coiled tight. I don’t flinch. I don’t dare.

His head tilts, studying me like I’m something strange and unexpected.

“What did you hear?” His voice is a low rasp.

I shake my head as much as his grip allows. “Nothing,” I breathe.

Carmine hums, unconvinced. “Nothing?”

I gulp. “I-I was just leaving the theater. I didn’t—I wasn’t paying attention.”

His grip tightens for a second, just enough to make my pulse spike against his hand before he eases up again. “Funny,” he murmurs. “People who’ve heard nothing don’t usually look this scared.”

I open my mouth, then close it again, forcing my breathing to stay even. He’s testing me, waiting to see if I’ll break.

I can’t do that.

Men like him eat weakness for breakfast.

My fingers clench into fists at my sides. “You… You startled me, is all.”

“If this isstartled, I’d love to see what it looks like when you’retrulyscared.”

He says it like a desire. Like he’s already thinking about getting off to the idea of my fear.

Carmine watches me for a beat longer. Then, finally, he lets go. I suck in a breath, my skin prickling where his hand was on my throat, the ghost of his touch lingering like a brand.

He takes a slow step back, his sharp blue gaze never leaving mine.

“Well, Miss Nobody who heard nothing,” he murmurs, his lips curling into an amused and cruel almost-smile. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

And then, just as quickly as he appeared, he’s gone, and the alley is silent once more.

The air feels heavy, charged, like the ghost of him is still standing there, watching me.

I don’t move. I don’t breathe.

Then my legs finally unlock and I’m able to stumble forward, pulse still hammering, his words pressing heavily on my spine and dragging over my skin like hot knives.

2

LYRA

I’m shakingas I stare out the window of the cab, watching the darkened buildings whiz past. My breath is still uneven, knuckles white and fingers curled tightly around the strap of my dance bag.

We’d never met before tonight. But I know who Carmine Barone is.Everyonedoes. The heir to the Barone family. Bianca’s older brother.

I knew he was mafia, but holy fucking hell, I didn’t know he was this dark malevolent force, or whatever the hell that was back there.

A leering, looming shadow.

An all-consuming blackness.

There was something so sinister about him, and it wasn’t just the mafia angle. It was like a darkness, bubbling like molten tar just beneath his perfect exterior.

The way he wrapped his hand around my throat and stroked my pulse as he studied me—it wasn’t just dominance. That was something much darker.

If this is startled, I’d love to see what it looks like when you’retrulyscared.

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