Page 32 of Where Dark Hearts Devour
“Serafina?” Cristiano’s brow dips.
“Yes. You’re interested in marriage, no?”
Both Cristiano and I gasp at the same time but for probably very different reasons. I suspect any marital involvement with my family is low to nonexistent on his bucket list, and nausea overcomes me at the thought of him marrying one of my sisters. One Mafia man in the family is more than enough.
“No. Trilby,signora. I owe her an apology.”
Allegra flushes deeper than a ripe raspberry.
“No, you don’t.” My words come out too high and too fast. “It’s fine. I understand. Savero has business to attend to.”
His eyes darken. “Still ...” He pauses, his gaze burrowing beneath my skin. “Would you mind walking me out?”
Nerves sizzle across my shoulders. Allegra pans to face me slowly. Tess returns from her search empty-handed and with an obvious awareness of the uncomfortable vibe. Her gaze flits between me and our aunt.
“Um, of course,” I mutter. I can hardly refuse him. “In fact, it’s time I went home anyway.”
If I leave now, I might save myself the Spanish Inquisition for at least twelve hours.
I kiss Allegra’s stone face and wave good night to Papa. Then I numbly follow Cristiano out the dining room to the front door. Before he opens it, however, he shrugs off his jacket and slides it around my shoulders.
“It’s been raining out, and I noticed you didn’t bring a jacket.”
He opens the door before I can think of a response.
Our pace is slow as we walk along the path. When we reach the steps to the apartment, an image from the night at Joe’s flashes across my lids, and I burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I just remembered something. When I got home from Joe’s Bar that night, I was so relieved to see these steps. I had the cab driver doing circuits of this whole neighborhood, because I couldn’t for the life of me remember my address.”
When I look up at him, he’s not laughing. It sobers me right up, even though the only thing I drank tonight was the one glass of whiskey.
“Didn’t the bartender tell the driver? He knows where you live, right?”
I gawp at him. “Yeah, he does, but ... why would Rhett tell my cab driver?”
In a beat Cristiano has my arm in a tight grip. “Who called the cab?”
“Cristiano, that hurts . . .”
He growls through clenched teeth, “Who called the cab?”
“I did. What’s the matter?”
“Who paid for it?”
“Me!” My voice is high-pitched, and I look around the gated development, hoping no one is witnessing this. “Who else?”
When he doesn’t respond I glance back at him, and for some unknown reason, I’m afraid of what I might see.
It turns out I’m right to be, because a shadow has descended over him likethunder.
Cristiano
My heart has been hardened against everything my family stands for. My brain has been rewired to focus only on what can be achievedwithoutresorting to firearms and a ton of ammo. But my blood will always be Di Santo through and through, and right now, it’s boiling.
I can barely conceal the tremor in my voice. “Say that again?”
