“What’s all that about?” I ask Nero.

He raises an eyebrow at me.

“You didn’t read about it?”

“No,” I say.

“Papa gets the paper every morning. This was front-page stuff.”

“Are you going to tell me?” I demand.

“Chief Brodie got shot in the back of the head in Rosenblum park.”

“What? By who?”

“That’s the mystery. It happened in the middle of the night. He was all alone in the park.”

Nero has a strange look on his face, like he’s trying not to smile.

“What’s going on?” I demand. “You look like you know something.”

“Maybe I do.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll tell you . . .” he growls. “If you convince me.”

“I don’t have time to convince you! We’re almost at your house!”

“Later, then,” he says, in his most infuriating tone.

We pull up to the Gallos’ mansion, which intimidates me much more than last time, because I know the whole family is waiting inside.

Nero takes my hand. He leads me up a dark, rickety staircase, all the way to the rooftop deck.

There I see the loveliest dinner imaginable. The place settings are laid out on a massive old table, big enough to seat twenty people or more. The dishes look heavy and hand-made, like they might have come from Italy a hundred years ago. Fairy lights twinkle from the bare grapevines that arch overhead, growing all across the pergola.

Nero’s family is already seated, waiting for us. I see Enzo at the head, looking older than the last time I saw him, but still intelligent and distinguished in his dinner jacket. On his right side is Dante, imposing in his bulk and his humorless scowl, until he gives me a nod of recognition. Sebastian sits next to Dante, much more cheerful than his eldest brother. He waves to me.

On the other side of the table is the baby of the family, and the only girl—Aida Gallo. I’ve never actually met her, because she’s so much younger—not even a freshman by the time I graduated. I heard stories about her, though. How she was wild like Nero, but kind like Sebastian. So I was always disposed to like her.

She’s quite beautiful—the same gray eyes as Nero, paired with a grin so impish that I don’t know whether to smile back, or be terrified of her.

Her husband, by contrast, is almost as serious as Dante. He’s starkly dressed in a dark suit, with carefully combed hair and pale blue eyes that are a little unsettling when they land on me.

However, he nods politely to me. I can tell from how close he sits to Aida, and the way he lays his hand on her thigh that they’re a tightly-bonded couple, no matter how mismatched they might appear.

The seat next to Aida is empty. I take it, with Nero sitting on my other side.

“Welcome,” Enzo says to me. “We’re very glad to meet you, Camille. I know your father, of course. I’m sorry to hear he’s been ill.”

“Thank you,” I squeak. “He’s getting better now.”

My heart is fluttering. The beauty of the table and this outdoor space, and all the handsome, well-dressed people sitting around it, are exactly the kind of things that remind me that Nero has always been wealthy and well-connected, while I’ve always been a nobody.

Nero is squeezing my hand tight. When I look at him, his expression is fierce and proud. He’s not embarrassed of me.

Greta starts bringing the food up from the kitchen. Sebastian jumps up to help her. I can see him limping just a little. Otherwise, he looks healthy and strong. He easily carries several platters at once, setting them in the center of the table.

I’m not Italian, but you can’t grow up in Old Town without learning about proper Italian cuisine.

I can see that Greta knows what she’s doing. The platters are heaped with roasted vegetables, eggplant Parmesan, radicchio Panzanella, Italian wedding soup, giant meatballs, and freshly-made pasta with clams and hot Italian sausage.

Once all the food is brought up, Greta sits down to eat with everyone else. It’s clear that she’s family, too. That makes me feel just a little more comfortable, as evidence that the Gallos aren’t snobs.

“Take a meatball!” Aida encourages me. “They’re the best you’ve ever had, I guarantee it.”

“Don’t hype it up too much,” Greta says, “I’m sure Camille has had plenty of meatballs in her life.”

I take a bite, chewing carefully so I don’t burn my tongue.

“Not like this,” I say, seriously impressed. “This is amazing.”

“You should open a restaurant,” Sebastian says to Greta.

“Don’t tell her that!” Aida cries. “She’ll never come back here if she knows she has other options.”

Greta snorts, pouring herself a generous glass of wine.

Seeing that she can’t get a rise out of Greta, Aida turns her attention on me instead.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Aida says, with a concerned expression. “But have you suffered a head injury lately? Because it appears that you actually like Nero . . .”

Nero scowls at her.

“You promised to behave yourself tonight.”

Aida lets out an infectious peal of laughter. “Is that by your standards, big brother? Because if that’s the case . . . I think anything short of burning the house down is acceptable.”

“You’re the only one at the table who’s set a house on fire,” Aida’s husband reminds her.

That’s Callum Griffin—probably the richest and most influential person at this whole table. He looks stern. But there’s no malice in his tone—he’s only teasing Aida.

“One library,” she says, airily. “Not a whole house.”

“That was my library,” he growls.

“Well, now you have a whole new apartment! And a wife!” Aida grins. “What a good trade.”

I can feel Nero sitting tensely next to me. I glance over at him, afraid that he is embarrassed of me after all.

Then I see that he’s looking at Aida, not at me—nervous at how I’ll take her jokes.

I realize he’s worried what I’ll think of his family, now that I’ve seen them all in their natural state.

I squeeze his hand, smiling up at him.

“These really are the best meatballs,” I whisper to him.

He relaxes a little, smiling back at me.

“I know,” he says. “You can’t oversell them.”

In the end, the dinner is just as lovely as the setting. Nero’s family is warm, charming—and most of all, just a family. Who love each other and drive each other crazy, in equal measure.

I feel like I could fit here.

I know that’s what Nero wants.

He put me right in the center of the table. He looks at me with an expression that plainly shows he wants me to feel at home. A part of this group.

I’m not a fool—I know this is the Gallos at rest. In their den, so to speak. When they’re out hunting, they become a different sort of beast entirely. Violent. Calculated. Vengeful.

But that doesn’t concern me. There’s a core of darkness inside of me, the same as Nero. We recognized it in each other.

The Gallos see it, too.