I tried to pull away, but his hand slid up my neck, fisted in my hair, and kept my mouth brushing his. He stepped closer, forcing my back against the wall. “You seem to forget that I haven’t fucked you.”

Each brush of his lips was a douse of gasoline on fire inside me. A hazy wave inside my mind. A wasteful breath I couldn’t inhale. I turned my head to the side so I could find the air to speak. “Everything about that night was forgettable. Why do you think I didn’t call you?” Sympathy filled my voice. “Seems I didn’t listen.” We both knew I was referring to what he’d said to me that night: “You won’t forget me.”

My heart beat in my ears, and I hated myself for feeling a pang of regret.

His eyes were dark and terrifying; a reflection of skies lit up with smoke and fire. His lips pressed against my ear, words rough and threatening. “Run home to your husband before I make him a widower.”

I JUMPED TO MY FEET. “GO, BLACKIE, GO!”

The grandstand rattled and roared as the horses closed on the finish line. Ears pulled back, hooves pounding into dirt, muscles sleek with sweat. Adrenaline saturated the air, like the heavy humidity the dark clouds had brought in a moment ago. The end of August was upon us, but the heat didn’t want to let go.

My look was inspired by Clueless star Cher Horowitz’s closet—the small white dress her daddy had refused to let her leave the house in without a coverup. I had some issues with daddies, so here I was, in a small white dress—even sans sheer cardigan—as the clouds grew heavy with rain.

It fell from the sky the moment the horses crossed the finish line. I sat, watched the jockeys lead their horses off the track. Watched the dirt turn to mud.

A hand rested on my shoulder, a gaudy sapphire ring attached to the third finger. “I’m sure you’ll have better luck next time, dear.”

“I knew he wasn’t going to win.”

Patricia, a seventy-year-old widow, grabbed her purse. “What did I tell you about betting with your heart? It doesn’t win you a dime.” She patted my arm. “Well, I’m sure you’ll learn someday. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go collect my winnings.”

A little girl with big blue eyes stared from a seat in front of me, while her parents conversed with another couple. She had to hold her fountain soda with two hands it was so large. “Why would you bet on him if you knew he wouldn’t win?”

“Wouldn’t you want someone to believe in you, even if you knew you couldn’t do it?”

She nodded. “Uh huh.” She slurped her soda, looking me over. “You’re gonna look silly when you get rained on.”

I sighed and stood. Tugged my dress down my thighs and braced myself for New York’s unpredictable weather.

I had just reached the overhang outside when I stopped, seeing a familiar face.

“Gianna.” Vincent’s smile was small. “I didn’t know if I’d find you here.”

“Of course I came. It’s Blackie’s last hurrah. I had to wish him well in his retirement.” I bit my lip as the soft drip of rain sounded between us. “I thought you had a trip to depart on today?”

“The weather put it off until tomorrow.” He looked embarrassed, his gaze dropping to the pavement. “I was going to invite you—”

“You don’t have to explain, Vincent. I get it.” I shouldn’t have been upset—I couldn’t have gone even if I wanted to—but I still felt the sting of rejection.

I walked out from under the overhang and toward the sidewalk to catch a cab. The rain was a welcome relief from the heat, falling to my skin in fat drops.

“Gianna, wait.”

I turned around.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I don’t like feeling like a coward.”

I blinked. “Why would you feel like a coward?”

He opened his mouth, closed it.

An unsettling feeling expanded in my stomach. “Why would you feel like a coward, Vincent?”

“I haven’t invited you to anything lately because I didn’t want to get you into trouble, but . . . I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t have to do with self-preservation as well.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I realize now . . .” He grew distracted as his gaze ran down my body, down the dress that was probably transparent by now. “Here.” He slipped his suit jacket off and rested it on my shoulders—as always, an exemplary gentleman. “I’ve known you’re a little out of my league when it comes to your family, but now, I get why you’re so cautious of them.”

Embarrassment warmed my cheeks. Someone had visited him. Had threatened him, most likely.

“Who was it?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, understanding what I was asking him. “I didn’t ask for his name. He was a bigger guy, intimidating.”

Luca.

I gritted my teeth to calm myself.

“He had a badge on him, made me feel like a criminal just for liking you, if I’m being honest.”

Wait, what?

My breath stilled, and I asked my next question very slowly. “Did you say he had a badge?”

“Yeah, FBI, if you can believe it or not.”

My laugh was dark. “Oh, I can believe it.”

That son of a bitch. I was going to kill him. Murder him in cold blood. Toss his body to the sharks.

Was my life an amusement to him? A game, just like all the others we played? Frustration bubbled up my throat.

“I want you to know I wasn’t ignoring you, Gianna. I just think it’s better if we . . . part ways.”

Great. I’d been exiled from an entire group of friends. Vincent was the ringleader—without him, one simply didn’t get an invite. On the other hand, I could say I’d never been more turned off in my life. How easily he’d conceded to one measly threat.

“I agree, Vincent.”

“You agree,” he said, like he was confused.

Did he think I would beg him to keep me in the loop? I’d been a Russo for the last eight years of my life. We wouldn’t beg with a gun to our heads.

“I have to go now. Thanks for the jacket.”

I turned around and raised my hand to hail a cab.

Rain poured from the sky, weighing down my hair. Soaking my clothes. But doing little to cool my ire.

“Where to?” the cabbie asked.

I rattled off the address to Ace’s club.

My hands shook with resentment and something pent-up I couldn’t even explain. All I knew was that I couldn’t keep playing games with this man. I was going to wave the white flag to our rivalry, because in the end, I’d never win.

I stepped out of the cab in front of the club. It was only two o’clock and currently closed, but I’d been informed of a meeting happening here this afternoon, only because Elena had told me why they’d put off their honeymoon until tomorrow.

Angelica stood in front of the basement door looking at her nails. Her gaze came up, and she pursed her lips. “You can’t be here.”

“Well, I am. Move.”

Her eyes fell down my body. “You know, some of us girls actually use a mirror when getting dressed in the morning.”