Inferno (Page 67)

‘Me?’ I said, hearing the high-pitched squeal in my words. Oh, just betraying you. ‘I was checking the damage you did.’ I cleared my throat, wondering if my cheeks were still red, if my lips were swollen. ‘He’s OK, no thanks to you.’

‘It’s fine,’ said Luca. He was scrubbing a hand through his hair, trying to tame the unkempt strands. It was hard not to blanch at how uncomposed he sounded now, how flighty his breathing still was. ‘She took the glass out.’

‘Right,’ said Nic, eyes narrowed. ‘Sorry about that.’

There was a very long, very deep silence, during which time I imagined Nic barging in five seconds earlier and decapitating Luca. What was I doing? What was I feeling? Everything. My whole body was pulsing with every possible emotion all at once, and it was making me forget myself, and the danger my family and I were still in.

Stupid. I was being stupid.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Luca. He flicked his gaze to me. It was unreadable.

It had been less than a minute since we were gasping between deep, lingering kisses, and now it felt like he barely knew who I was. Did he regret it? Did I? Was he freaking out too?

‘Let’s go,’ said Nic, standing between Luca and me, so that his brother left the room ahead of us. ‘Everyone’s waiting downstairs.’ He looked at me when he said, ‘You’re going to be fine. We won’t make you and your mother face the Marinos alone. You don’t have to look so worried.’

‘Worried’ was a colossal understatement.

I had just kissed Nic’s brother.

I was going to hell.

I pressed a trembling hand to my heart. I was swirling in a pit of my own foolishness and trying to keep my mind from replaying the kiss that had swept me out of my world and made me forget my name.

Holy crap.

I had kissed Luca Falcone.

Luca Falcone had kissed me.

What …?

We were on the second floor. When had we come down the stairs? Luca was still in front of us, his shoulders sloping away from me as he walked down another flight. ‘Where’s Valentino?’ he asked over his shoulder.

‘In his office,’ said Nic, with a shrug. ‘Something urgent came up.’

Luca nodded without turning around, his feet falling quick and light on the steps as he hurried away from us. When we got to the bottom of the stairs, the foyer was swarming with mafiosi. I stalled with my hand clutched tightly to the banister. Old men with gnarled faces and engraved walking sticks milled beside younger counterparts with severe eyebrows and pursed lips. The level of attractiveness was definitely unnatural. There was an abundance of enviable olive skin and luscious dark hair.

And all this for little old me.

Before my life got sucky and dangerous, I barely answered my mother’s calls and I rarely checked my voicemails. The Falcones, on the other hand, seemed to be entirely reachable. They had come at once. Now they stood shaking hands and greeting one another in the foyer as the sound of their laughter echoed around them. It was hard to listen to what was being said – what greetings and stories were being exchanged – because most of the Falcones, especially the older ones, spoke in Italian. No one noticed me as I stood at the foot of the stairs. This was power and family rolled into one, and the strength of their bond seemed to fill the mansion up, reminding me of just how alone and vulnerable my mother and I truly were.

Councils, Nic had told me, were a common occurrence, but Sanctuary was not. In the history of the Falcone dynasty he had heard of only one appeal for Sanctuary – a wealthy bootlegger back in Sicily who was in trouble with a rival mob and came seeking refuge for his young family from Luca’s great-grandfather. But I was a Gracewell, with no wealth to offer. I wasn’t even Sicilian. And the cherry on top of the murdery cake was my ever-present status as niece of the man who had likely stabbed Calvino Falcone and daughter of the man who had shot Angelo.

Luca got lost in the crowds, shaking hands and kissing cheeks, widening that ever-growing space between us and leaving me wondering whether I had imagined our entire moment upstairs. Gino and Dom passed me by. Dom winked and I flipped him the middle finger.

Felice appeared and started to usher everyone down a hallway. Luca was leading the pack, making niceties with an old man with white candyfloss hair, his arm offered to a stooped lady with leathery dark skin.

Nic stuck by me and that only made it worse. I sent a quick update minus-the-kiss to Millie while guilt twisted like a knife in my gut. Still, there was so much distrust between Nic and me already that part of me rebelled at the idea that I should feel bad at all.

I was shuffling after him, following the procession of Pantene hair and expensive suits, when someone called my name.

I turned on my heel.

Valentino was in the middle of the foyer.

Nic lingered beside me until Valentino waved him away, and then he disappeared, dutifully, like the good soldier he was.

Valentino’s gaze was hooded, his lips drawn tight; his mood wasn’t good. Felice had obviously delivered news of the Marino plot to take his family out.

He was dressed well, in a dark suit and tie. He wore a thick gold ring on his right hand. I noticed it when he used his finger to beckon me towards him. I went, because he was the boss, and we both knew I needed something from him.

‘Hello,’ I offered, realizing he wasn’t going to break the silence first. I stood far enough away so we could look at each other straight on.

‘Hello?’ he repeated, his mouth twisting to a frown. ‘Is that all you have to say?’