Page 18 of Connected

But I know better than to say that out loud.

Violet smacks his bicep.

“It is so not the same thing and to be clear, they don’t inflate my ego. It’s quite the opposite.” Setting her glass on top of the bar, she spins around to face him. “I’m constantly told I’m not good enough, that I don’t have what it takes to make it onto the stage. I’m five pounds heavier than every girl in my class, and my hips lock entirely too much. My frame needs work and . . . ” her voice trails as she glances over her shoulder to look at me. My jaw tightens as I set my glass down.

“And what?”

“Nothing,” she says with a shake of her head. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Bug,” Rocco calls softly.

“I told you not to call me that.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen. If you hate the school so much, why are you still there?”

“I never said I hate the school. They’re only hard on me because they’ve taught the best and if I want to be in their company, I need to do better . . . be better. I will be on that stage,” she says, determination flaring in her blue eyes as she takes her glass off the bar and raises it. “And you two assholes better be in the front row with flowers, cheering me on.”

A smile ticks the corners of my lips.

That’s the girl I remember.

The one full of dreams and will.

This sex-crazed, half-dressed alter ego is nothing compared to that girl.

Swallowing, I raise my glass.

“To the determined ballerina I have the privilege of calling my sister, may all your dreams come true.”

A smile spreads across her face as she clinks her glass against mine. Before she can take a sip, I press a kiss to her cheek.

“Proud of you, Vi,” I murmur.

“Happy Birthday, Bug,” Rocco adds.

And just like that, I’m forgotten.

She turns to look at him and he winks at her before finishing off his drink.

“We’ll celebrate at the club,” he promises, setting his empty glass on top of the bar. I bite my tongue, letting the sharp threat that sits on the tip of it die and I signal for the bartender. Handing her my credit card, I tell her to keep a tab open for Violet.

Rocco clears his throat.

“He’s here,” he says, looking down at his phone.

“Who?” Violet asks.

“No one,” I reply. “We won’t be long. Stay out of trouble and don’t move from this fucking chair.”

“You know, I was just starting to like you again.”

“I mean it, Vi. Stay put.”

“Fine, but don’t be long. I want to dance.”

Shaking my head, I follow Rocco away from the bar, down a narrow hallway that leads to the back of the restaurant and a room reserved for private parties.

“How much trouble do you think she can get into in the time it takes for Victor to eat a porterhouse?” I question.

Rocco’s lips quirk as we reach the room. He pauses, turning to me.

“You don’t want to hear this, but I’m gonna say it anyway so maybe you get used to the idea . . . I’m gonna marry her.”

“The hell you are.”

“You’ll see.”

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