As we pass by the hostess podium, I thank the woman before reaching for the door and holding it open for Enzo to pass through. The moment I pull it back, the cool New York air contrasts against the warmth of the restaurant, and nearby, a car's horn sounds.
Just outside the restaurant, a black town car idles, and Enzo nods to it. “Want a ride?”
It’s tempting, but I know the walk will do me well. I need to clear my head, because as much as I want to deny it, seeing Vinnie again has messed with my thoughts.
Shaking my head, I tell him, “I’m happy to walk, but thank you for having dinner with me.”
“Always happy to meet you for a bite—just tell me when and where,” he says in earnest, pulling me by the shoulder into a hug. We embrace, then he climbs into the backseat and shuts the door, enclosing himself inside.
The tint is too dark to see him, but as the driver pulls away from the curb, I lift my hand to wave goodbye, watching him go.
Turning to head home, I hardly take three steps before sensing I am not alone, and within seconds, I feel a soft hand wrap around my wrist, pulling me into the shadows of the building.
Chapter 8
Vinnie
“Did you follow me here?” I accuse from the shadows. My hand around his wrist slows his steps, and as he turns to look at me, eyes flaring, the air constricts in my lungs.
Using my strength, I pull him closer to the building and into the darkness of it, away from prying eyes.
Dinner with Raina and Evelyn was everything my soul needed after the day I’d had, and the last thing I expected was to look over and seehim.
Sly Lucchetti had gotten under my skin last night, which isexactlywhere he doesn’t belong.
After my driver took me back to my apartment, I stormed in, slamming my clutch down on the oversized kitchen island, which startled Cecilia.
My former nanny turned “maid” moved to my new apartment with me, which makes my mother feel better about me living alone. I use the term maid lightly because, yes, she helps me with just about every aspectof my life, but I don’t treat her like most people treat their staff. I treat her like a friend because that’s exactly what she is—she just also happily accepts the paycheck my father gives her each week.
Last night, she listened while I went through the events of my entire night, telling her about the awkward dance with Mason, every despicable word August said, and about the strange encounter with Sly. I spared no detail, knowing she would never breathe a word.
Her advice for me was to just forget about the run-in with Sly. We’d made it how many years since we saw each other since the party when we were teens? It was a one-off—a fluke.
Well, I must have the worst luck in the entire world.
Pointing my French manicured fingernail into the middle of his chest, I ask again. “Seriously, why are you following me?”
His laugh is husky as he steps into me, forcingmeto step back, but there’s nowhere to go. My back nudges against the wall.
Refusing to cower, I tilt my head up.
He leans down, his presence looming over me. “Now why would I follow you,principessa? I have dined here many times and have never seen you. So perhaps I should be worried aboutyoufollowingme.”
“You’re delusional,” I hiss, annoyed by the sheer audacity of his accusation.
“And you’re wasting my time.” His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t back away or make any move to leave.
Instead, he pins me with his stare, and it feels liketime stands still. The noise of the city fades, and the cars and people who pass us zoom by in a blur. Before I realize what's happening, my chest is rising and falling with heavy breaths, mirroring his. The magnetism is palatable, crackling in the air between us.
Until a car horn blares, pulling us both back to reality.
What on earth was that?
Sly steps back quickly, like he’s been electrocuted, putting distance between us.
“Stop following me,” I sneer, pushing past him as I pull out my phone. A simple text lights up the screen.
Ross
