Page 49 of Where Wild Hearts Dance
I suddenly wish Trilby was still here. Without her I’m just a young girl hanging out alone at a mafia don’s house. I swallow back a laugh at how absurd that sounds. A year ago, I had no idea how closely involved with the Di Santos my father was. Now, we’re all as central to the family as it’s possible to get. I’m one ofthem.
That thought doesn’t make me feel any more comfortable though, especially when I hear someone talking about “another” hit on the Marchesis. I slowly lower my bowl to the table and slide onto a chair.
“They’re hiding it from us, but there’s definitely someone else involved,” one of the voices says.
“Someone who isn’t related by blood,” another voice says.
“But they’re made?” The third voice makes me sit up and my heart pump fast. Bernadi is here.
“Must be.”
“That was fast. I thought we knew all of Marchesi's wise guys.”
Another voice chimes in. “With Fury stepping down and our hit the other night, they’re panicking. They’ve yet to announce the nephews at the helm and they needa strong man at the top, if only for the optics. This one, whoever he is, could be the answer.”
“We need to find out exactly who this guy is,” Bernadi says. “If he’s a made man, he’s probably been around a while. Get some of Augie’s men on it.”
“Will do, boss.”
Hearing someone call Bernadi ‘boss’ makes something regrettable flutter below my waistline.
Footsteps crunch on gravel and I hastily put my pods in my ears and focus all my attention on my Kindle. Three men appear around the corner and stop when they see me. Some parting words are muttered and two of the men disperse—one inside the house and the other across the lawns to the security gates. Bernadi doesn’t move and I feel his gaze pressing on me like a branding iron.
I glance sideways at him, and his feet take slow, measured steps in my direction. I remove the ear pods one by one, expecting some sharp put down to fly out of his mouth but he walks straight past me, his jacket sleeves brushing the hairs on my arm.
He walks right to the edge of the terrace and stands with his feet braced looking out over the ocean drop.
“Good afternoon to you too,” I say, snarkily.
I know he heard because he gives his head a small, exasperated shake.
But, for all intents and purposes, Benito Bernadi isignoringme. And I realize I like that even less than when he’s shooting people in the head without giving me any warning.
No doubt to Bernadi’s relief, Cristiano walks out onto the terrace. “Hey, Tess.”
Cristiano’s greeting makes Bernadi look round and his gaze caresses my skin for just a second longer than is comfortable. Warm blood rises up my collarbone into my cheeks and I look down at the salad wondering where my appetite has gone.
“Hey, bro’,” I reply, biting back a grin, then I push back the chair and return to my lounger by the pool. The atmosphere on the terrace feels prickly. I want to stay, for reasons I don’t understand, but I also don’t like this feeling of being snubbed. I hesitate briefly before typing a quick text to Paige. She’s always inviting me out and I never go. It will be just my luck—and everything I deserve—if she’s not doing anything I can join in on right now.
While I await her reply, I take one of the pool towels and wrap it around the jewelry box. I love my car but it’s a vintage convertible Camaro that hasn’t had nearly enough TLC, so I want to make sure this beautiful box is as safe and secure as possible when I drive it home.
Quicker than I’d expected, Paige replies.
“Hey there Dancing Queen. So great to hear from you. Sure. At a pool party. Come IMMEDIATELY.”
I look down at my outfit—a tiny black two-piece, fitted top and a black skater skirt. I think it’s pool-party-esque. A second text arrives with the address of the party and a photo of Paige and two girls I don’t recognize all pouting at the camera. My stomach fillswith anxious butterflies but I force myself to type a message back.
“Great! On my way!” I’m so not an exclamation mark kind of girl but I figure this is how sociable types communicate, and when in Roma…
I put the wrapped box into my tote and return to the table to collect my bowl just as Cristiano heads back my way. My gaze darts timidly in Bernadi’s direction but he’s resumed his moody perusal of the landscape.
“You heading out?” Cristiano nods to my bag as we walk back inside the house.
“Yeah. Pool party.”
“Nice. Whose pool?”
I arch a brow. “You really want to know?”
