Page 24 of Phantom Mine

“We’ve never met.” I wince when I rub at the sensitive skin of my throat. “Can’t say I’ve enjoyed the introduction thus far.”

She cocks her head to the side. “Didn’t he audition you?”

This again. If I’d known just how out of process having Matteo take me to the VIP room would be, I’d have fought harder against it.

Then again, that would have meant spending time with Guido alone and that hardly presents as an appealing alternative.

“No,” I say simply.

“Then who did?”

I shrug offhandedly. “A guy named Matteo Leone.”

The stretching silence is broken by her sharp, astonished whistle. “Cazzo,” she curses.

“What?” I question. “Is he worse than Guido?”

“No,” she says, before correcting herself. “Well, yes. He’s second in line to be Don after his father, Augusto, dies, behind only his brother, Rocco.” She scoots across the hall to sit next to me, whispering, “That entire family… They’re sociopaths, Melody. Take Guido as a prime example of that, he’s a cousin of theirs. You need to avoid the Leones at all costs.” Her eyes dart up and down the hallway fearfully. “Don’t tell anyone I said that. They’ll kill me. But you need to be careful.”

“If you’re so terrified of him, why did you say no at first?”

She winces, her eyes moving back to mine as she admits, “Because Matteo is a mystery. He moved back to London less than two years ago and we know as much about him today as we did on that first day. I’m not just saying “we”, the dancers, I mean “we”, the wholeFamiglia. He takes care of his branch and that’s it. He stays out of the way, he ignores mostly everyone except his shadow, Enzo, and he never interacts with the girls.”

If Matteo moved back to London less than two years ago, that means he came home just before Adriana was kidnapped and murdered. I wonder if that’s just a coincidence or an actual piece of evidence to be leveled against him.

“He’s limited the dancing I’m allowed to do,” I admit.

Surprise colors her features. “How so?”

“I’m only allowed to dance. No stripping, no nudity, no lap dances. I’m not sure why.”

Capri’s brows hit her hairline. “He’s putting a hands off order on you. I think thewhyis clear.”

I shake my head at her suggestive tone. “No. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s exactly what I’m thinking. It’s a good thing I didn’t take you through the menu, yours is going to be very short.” She laughs, her expression turning bemused. “No wonder Arabella sees you as a threat. Her and her posse have been trying to get their claws in him from the jump. He’s quitethe catch, if you’re willing to take the risk that he might turn out to be just as psychotic as the rest of his family.”

“Maybe he’s not,” I hear myself say. Then, because I could slap myself for saying something so foolish, I add, “But it’s irrelevant. Whatever his motives and interests may be, I have no intention of going anywhere near him.”

She gives me a conciliatory smile beneath a dubious expression, like she doesn’t quite believe me. Like she thinks I might be as foolish as Arabella where he’s concerned.

“Good,” she says nonetheless. “Because all men are bad, Melody, but Leones are by far the worst.”

She rubs at her forearms, absentmindedly feeling for the bruises on her skin. I think back to Guido, to how easily he’d hit her. He never paused, never hesitated. There was a familiarity in his blows that spoke volumes.

“Is Guido the one who gave you those bruises?” I ask softly.

Her throat works with difficulty as she looks down at her arms. When her eyes meet mine, there’s a raw vulnerability in them that rends me open.

“Yes.” Her answer is barely audible. “He doesn’t care about dirtying up the merchandise,” she adds with a mirthless laugh. “His words.”

“Does he make you do other things?”

This time, she doesn’t look at me when she speaks. I barely make out her answer. “Sometimes.”

There’s a hollowness to her voice that I haven’t heard yet. It sends a violent urge flaming through me to murder him for daring to dim her sparkle. She’s already saved me twice in a place that made a victim out of her.

I reach over and twine my fingers with hers. Her hands are smaller than mine, darker. We must be around the same age but her diminutive size makes her look younger. When I look up, it’sthe innocent look on her face that has honest words tumbling from my lips.

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