Page 2 of Sin City Obsession

She tried to keep the surprise off her face even as she shook his hand.Cavallo the second?That meant the Underbosshimself had come to greet her. She hadn’t expected that type of reception. Which either meant they were trying to prove their allegiance now that it was being tested, or they didn’t plan for her to make it to her hotel. She chose to keep that concern to herself for the time being and simply remain vigilant. “I’m honored that you would come out yourself, Mr. Cavallo.” She glanced between them as her arm swung back to her side. “Please, Alessa is fine.”

The big guy inclined his head. Up close, she could see the age lines beginning to form on his face—as well as a faded scar low behind one eye. He’d lived a hard life, as one did when they worked as muscle in the mafia. “Can I help with your suitcase?”

She glanced down to it on reflex, pushed away her pride just a little, and wheeled it out in his direction. “Sure. Thanks.”

Underboss Rocco Cavallo swept an arm toward the doors. “Let’s get going, then. Are you hungry? We can stop somewhere for a quick bite if you want.”

Alessa obligingly followed his lead, falling in between Cavallo and Emanuele. “I ate before take-off,” she said, “so I’m fine.”

“Airport food is shit,” Emanuele said.

Alessa shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

Cavallo turned a disarming smile on her as they crossed the threshold into the late-night desert air. “Well, tomorrow you’ll have better. The restaurant at the hotel is one of our best. All your meals are on the house, of course, so feel free to take advantage.”

Alessa did her best to focus on his words, or at least the dimples that teased when he smiled, and not gasp desperatelyagainst the rush of heat that had slammed into her when she’d stepped out in his wake. She had researched her destination, of course. She’d seen what the weather was supposed to be for the next week, and it stood to reason it would be a drier heat than she was used to. But damn. She had not been prepared. Not physically, as she was still wearing pants, and not mentally, because already it felt like something heavy was pressing on her.

Behind her, Emanuele chuckled. “First time spending summer in the desert?”

She blew out a breath as they adjusted course and Emanuele picked up his pace to stride ahead. “The only place I’ve been aside from Jersey is Italy,” she said. “I spent a couple summers there when I was younger. I don’t remember anything hitting like this.”

Cavallo was the one who chuckled this time. He slowed and turned to face her as they approached a waiting Cadillac and another man who stood like a statue beside it. “Spend a lot of time in Italy?”

A strange guilt sparked in her chest. “Not in recent years.”

Emanuele popped the Caddy’s trunk and swiftly swung her suitcase inside.

Alessa passed over her carry-on when Emanuele indicated for it, but kept her words for Cavallo. “We went more often when I was younger.” Her throat swelled for a dangerous moment and she swallowed hard against the unwanted, unhelpful surge of emotion. She was the one who’d gone and brought up Italy and her childhood.

The unnamed man pulled open the back passenger door without a word.

Cavallo never looked away from her. “Us, too, back when I was just a rugrat.” He motioned to the soldier at the door. “This is Ignazio, by the way. He’ll be your primary local coordinator, tour guide, and authenticator.”

Alessa blinked and shifted her focus to the other man. His expression was stoic, he looked to be two or three years older than her at most, and his light brown hair was styled in a popular undercut that enabled his bangs to shadow his dark eyes. He was taller than her five-foot-six, but shorter than either of the men who’d met her inside the airport. Overall, though, he certainly looked like he fit the bill for a bodyguard. She inclined her head to him. “I look forward to working with you, Ignazio.”

He met her stare and dipped his chin.

Cavallo motioned into the car, indicating for her to take a seat. His smile seemed to warm as she drew near and he lowered his voice like he was speaking just for her. “Tell me one of your stories, I’ll tell you one of mine?”

Alessa almost flopped into the seat as his suggestion caressed her ears. He wanted to share stories? Of theirchildhoods? Was she understanding him correctly? “I-I’m sorry, sir…?”

He ducked into the car as soon as she’d made room for him and turned a bit to face her, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement. “I just want to get to know you, Alessa,” he said smoothly. “There’s no great conspiracy.” His dimples reappeared. “And you can call me Rocco. I’m not your superior.”

She barely bit back a laugh. It was true, she wasn’t formally part of the Cavallo family, but since the Cavallos were in allegiance with the De Salvos, she was expected to respect their chain of command. At least as long as they continued to respect the alliance.Still, he was specific.She could indulge him at least outside of formal settings. “All right … although I can’t promise anything I think of will entertain you.”

Rocco clicked his seatbelt into place as Ignazio and Emanuele settled up front. “Consider me at rapt attention.”

Alessa Adimari was fucking gorgeous. Rocco had not been prepared. He’d seen her ID in the email with her name and itinerary, but as usual, the government photo had not done her justice. She wore a simple pair of clean, dark blue jeans with a modest blouse, but there was nothing simple about her. And that was a big problem.

He didn’t care that she was a few years younger at twenty-nine to his thirty-five. He didn’t care that she wasn’t local. The issue was that Alessa Adimari was there as a representative of the goddamn De Salvo family. She was their boots on the ground, their eyes on the scene, their voice in the room, for the foreseeable future. He was just old-fashioned enough to have found it odd when he’d learned they were sending a woman for the job at hand, but Mikey’s email had been clear. She wasone of their best for this type of work, and one of their most trusted.

Every single word of which translated to a single, irrefutable fact. Alessa Adimari was off-fucking-limits.

Rocco tried to let Em hold conversation, tried to reprimand himself into line, but every word she spoke was like a melody to his ears. So of course he prompted her to keep talking.

His father would un-retire the belt if he found out how badly Rocco already wanted to get their guest underneath him.

Em drove in dutiful silence while Alessa settled on a surely safe, nonetheless amusing story of antics she had gotten up to as a pre-teen during one of her aforementioned Italian vacations. Every now and again she would pause and purse her lips, as if some part of the memory had caught her off-guard, but then she would push ahead. She mentioned grandparents, whom she referred to in Italian, and general family, but was never more specific.

---