Page 39 of Luciano

I sneered before I could stop myself.

He raised his glass in my direction, then tapped the guard next to him. When the blond bent down, he whispered something to him, his eyes never leaving mine.

The guard righted himself, crossed the room, came to stand next to Luciano, and leaned in, whispering something in his ear. Luciano stood, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. “I’ll return shortly, Mrs. Genovese.”

The way he said my new name sent something akin to an electric shock down my spine.

Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the side of my mouth, and my throat suddenly felt dry and my tongue felt heavy, my body warm.

He walked away, disappearing into the crowd. Two men came out of nowhere, flanking me like shadows. I breathed in deep to compose myself.

Twenty-four hours in, and I was in this too deep. This wasn’t normal, and I shouldn’t be acting like it was. I had shot this man hours ago, and now I was clenching my thighs at the sound of his voice. Damn near cumming on myself because he put his lips on me.

What the fuck was wrong with me? Had I snapped?

Was this some kind of psychological break? A trauma response to my shotgun wedding?

Or was this just who I really was—a girl made for destruction, built for chaos, wired to crave the very thing that would ruin me? My momma had been the type. Drawn to power. Seduced by violence. She let it swallow her whole. Was I just following the script written in my blood? Was she in me?

Or maybe I wasn’t just responding to him—I was responding to what he made her feel.

Unbreakable. Untouchable. Worshiped. Owned. Like when he beat Tommy for me. I guess the body remembers, even when the mind protests.

A waiter set a fresh glass of expensive champagne in front of me, snapping me back to reality.

I needed to stop drinking, I thought as I reached for the wine glass with trembling fingers. The rim was cold against my lips, but nothing could cool the slow burn spreading beneath my skin.

Maybe I was just horny. Horny for Luciano. I hadn’t wanted a man in years.

A few seconds later, my cousin Dre finally made his way over, towering over me before pulling me up into a tight hug. His arms locked around me.

Dewanda had been flirting and drinking all night, deliberately avoiding me. I knew her—she probably thought I had been hiding Luciano from her, and now she had an attitude. She didn’t like when I kept things from her. I’d let her be for a while longer.

“You good?” he murmured.

I nodded against his shoulder before stepping back. “Yeah. How are you all here?”

His eyes narrowed. “We got a call and were told you were getting married and to get on a private jet to Florida. Why didn’t you tell me you were marrying Luciano?”

I frowned. “You say it like you know him?”

Dre scoffed. “What you mean? I know him because of you.”

I just stared at him.

“He came around a lot,” Dre said, watching my face closely. “We knew he was mob, but he never brought trouble. Helped the gang out sometimes. Never said much, but he’s cool. After learning y’all were getting married, I assumed he was always around because of you and you just never told us. I swear I even seen him coming out of your house a few times. Then months passed without him showing up. I thought y’all had broken up or something. That’s why I invited you to the memorial. To meet someone new...”

I felt something cold slide down my spine. What in the fuck was he talking about? I hadn’t seen Luciano since that day after ice cream. He had been around my family, in my house?

I turned, my eyes scanning the room until I found him—Luciano.

He stood a few feet away, speaking in low tones with one of the older men in suits.

As if he could feel me watching, he lifted his head, locking his gaze onto mine.

He didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

He just watched me.

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