Valentina ran up on stilettos and wrapped me in a hug. “Happy birthday!”

“Do you think you might have overdone it a little, Val?”

“Is it the photo?” She frowned, releasing me. “Too big, you think?”

Laughing, I kissed her cheek. “It’s perfect.”

I maneuvered my way into the club, hugging and thanking people for their birthday wishes until my cheeks hurt. My world tilted as someone picked me up by the waist and spun me around. The spinning stopped, and Luca’s close gaze came into focus as my feet still dangled a foot off the floor.

“You owe me money, Gianna.”

I frowned. “Is this how you wish everyone a happy birthday?”

“Only women that try to wiggle their way out of their debts.”

“Oh, please.” I brushed a piece of nonexistent lint off his shoulder. “You’ll lose the next bet. I’m only saving us time with an exchange, is all.”

A dry breath of amusement escaped him, and he set me back on my feet. “I think you’re the worst cheat of us all, and you’re not even a Russo by blood.” He took a seat back at the bar.

“Oh, look,” I said, stepping between Luca and Nico, who sat beside him. “I’m so popular to be honored with the great Nicolas Russo’s presence at my birthday party.”

Nico gave me a half-smile, nursing a glass of whiskey. “Got a meeting tonight.”

“Ah,” I responded, understanding it would be downstairs in the conference room. “Do you think you could at least pretend to be here for me?”

“You have plenty of people here for you.”

I pouted, looking around the crowded club. “True.”

We hadn’t talked about that night one year ago. Not once, since the morning after. It was like, if we didn’t speak of it, it hadn’t happened. However, the secret had eaten away a large chunk of my soul. Regret was a hungry beast, and every day, it fed.

Nico and Luca’s gazes went to the door. They stood at the same time, and I turned to see a man I didn’t recognize—black suit, black hair, the glint of the Cosa Nostra in his eyes.

“Who’s he?” I asked.

“None of your business,” Nico responded. He didn’t take his eyes off the Made Man as he cupped the back of my head and pulled me against his chest in a rough, short hug. “Happy birthday,” he said, adding, “Try and take it easy tonight, yeah?”

“Sure, Dad.”

He pushed me away playfully by the face, and then both Russo men headed toward the man who was none of my business.

Valentina bumped shoulders with me as she ordered a large number of drinks from the bar, and soon after, I was lost in the bottom of a shot glass, bathroom trips, and a heady, uninhibited rush in my blood.

Purple, yellow, blue. The panels beneath my feet blinked back and forth, casting a glow against my bare legs and white dress. Katy Perry’s I Kissed a Girl blared through the speakers, as the bodies on the dance floor moved together, limbs jiving, hips rolling, lips touching.

Purple. A drop of sweat down my back. Yellow. The glide of skin against mine. Running my hands over my neck, I lifted the heavy strands and looked up.

Blue.

My breath slowed, and so did my movements.

I held his gaze as he stood next to Nico at the bar. Allister responded to something Ace had said but kept his eyes on me.

The roll of my hips, the glide of my hands in my hair—they moved to a different rhythm than the beat. Slower. Sexier. Like a caress of silk sheets against naked skin. Holding his stare, I lip-synced a line of the song. The words poured from my red-painted mouth, sensual exhales between parted lips.

His eyes darkened.

I’d only been messing with him, but somewhere in the middle of it, my body had grown confused. The blood in my veins heated. My nipples tightened. Sweat glistened like drops of oil on my skin, tickling as it ran between my breasts.

His gaze drifted to my photo on the wall behind me before he met my eyes.

I smiled, lifted a hand, and blew him a sweet kiss.

With shaky legs, I stumbled off the dance floor a half hour later and drifted upstairs to quiet the thumping pulse of music in my head.

I opened a VIP room door and paused with my hand on the knob. A familiar dirty fed stood with his back to me, facing the large window that sparkled with city lights. He had a phone to his ear, and his smooth, deep words reached me. Something about a contract and a bad situation. Sounded intriguing. I entered the room, closed the door, and leaned against it. Allister’s back tensed subtly at the quiet click, but he otherwise didn’t acknowledge my presence.

He’d grown out the top of his fade haircut in the years since I’d met him. It was now long enough to run one’s fingers through, to grab a handful of. The thought made me feel warm and strange, and I quickly pushed the feeling away.

He hung up and turned around.

We stared at each other, and a thick, almost suffocating tension filled the air. Two nights on a terrace had been the only other times we were alone. Now, with a closed door, a ceiling, and four walls surrounding us, it felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the small space for us both.

“Grown bored of your party already?”

There were a number of games we’d played over the last year, at the few functions where we ran into each other. A favorite of mine required us to ignore the other’s presence completely, even if an acquaintance chose to introduce us to one another. Another game was that I pretended to be madly in love with him. He hated that one the most, and because annoying Allister would taste sweeter than my birthday cake, it was the one I decided to play.

I slipped my heels off. “Maybe I came up here to be with a man.”

Something dark moved through his eyes, but as soon as he leaned back against the glass it disappeared. “Let’s hope you’re not keeping it in the family this time.”

My stomach dropped like lead, and a quiver started in my chest. He knew. He knew about me and Nico. I’d seen the fed with Ace a few times over the last year, but I didn’t believe they were close enough to share secrets with one another. How much had Nico told him? It felt like I was going to be sick.

I swallowed and tried to keep my voice steady. “You and I aren’t related, Officer.”

His lips lifted. “Ah, so you came to be with me.”

Unease suddenly rose up to choke me, and I couldn’t pretend to be normal anymore. Heels forgotten, I turned and grabbed the doorknob, but before I could get the door open all the way, his hand appeared above my head and slammed it shut. The echo sent a tremor through me.

His shoulders blocked out the light. His presence, heavy and palpable, skimmed down my spine. “You started this game,” he said, with the rough sound of anger. “Finish it.”

I couldn’t think with him behind me, cornering me against the door. We’d always stood close—close enough to watch the room and insult each other’s looks and intelligence with ease. But this was different. Real, volatile anger poured off him, and it was freaking terrifying.

Plainly, and as bland as stale bread, I said, “The way I feel about you, well, it’s put me in a small spot.”

“Tight spot,” he corrected softly.

I didn’t say anything because I was internally shaking. At his closeness, his unexplained anger, the fact I was trapped, and I wasn’t getting out unless he chose to let me go. Just the idea he might touch me sent every nerve ending in my back tingling in expectation.