The alleyway was still, the kitchen staff having already dispersed. Tire noise, honking, and sirens were steady in the background, but even louder than that was the soft, harmonic lilt of a saxophone.

My heels clicked on the asphalt as I took a few steps toward the music. A certain reality settled on me: I didn’t have a spellbinding love story to bring to this world. The honest truth was, I only forced myself to enjoy tragic endings because I knew mine wouldn’t be far apart.

Warmth brushed my bare back, the whisper of a thrill trailing behind. I turned around to find Nicolas standing so close I had to tilt my head to meet his gaze. He took the cigarette from my fingers, put it between my lips, and then, with the metallic clink of a Zippo lighter with an ace of spades on the side, the mesmerizing glow of a flame flickered between us.

“This is the last cigarette you’re smoking, so enjoy it.”

I smiled, and as he lit the cigarette, I puffed slowly so I didn’t cough and come off as a rookie once again.

“Something funny?”

A soft laugh escaped me. “Yeah. You.”

With a pensive stare, he pulled the cigarette from my lips, brought it to his own, and inhaled.

I tilted my head, regarding him. “So, can I call you my fratello now?” I didn’t know why I’d said it, but it had just slipped through my lips as easily as air. Nicotine ran through my veins and lightened my tongue.

He looked at me, blowing out a breath of smoke above my head. We were standing so close his sleeve touched my arm. So close his presence obliterated mine. And there was nothing that felt familial about it.

He handed me the cigarette. “No.” It was a hard no, not one you debated with.

“Why not? You will be.”

His jaw ticked. “I’ll be your cognato, not your brother.”

“Same thing, really. You already have the controlling brotherly act down.”

His expression told me he wasn’t amused and he wasn’t going to participate in this conversation.

“You can call me your sorella. Maybe a sibling is what you need to realize the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

He let out a breath of amusement, but it sounded like he wanted to choke me. “Smoke your cigarette and shut up.”

I turned around to hide the ridiculous warmth that rushed to my cheeks and walked a few steps from him. The soft clicks of my heels in tune with the saxophone’s lilt was hypnotic. The nicotine must have been mixing with the alcohol in my system. Or maybe I was just drunk on his presence.

Spinning around, I leveled my gaze on him. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know. I don’t usually get assaulted twice in one weekend.”

He leaned against the back door, his gaze sparking with sarcasm. “Just once, then?”

“Just once,” I repeated, a smile pulling on my lips.

“I’m not your babysitter.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

His expression darkened around the edges. I didn’t know why I was practically poking him with a stick, but the filter that was usually in place had drifted away with the last saxophone note.

His tone was rough and dry. “Keep opening your mouth, I’ll assault you.”

I didn’t believe he meant the sexual variety, though that’s how I regrettably decided to take it. I brought the cigarette to my lips and inhaled. His gaze met mine through a breath of smoke.

“I’ll be sure to tell my next attacker that only my cognato gets to assault me.” Somehow, a suggestive nature filled the alleyway so heavily a passerby couldn’t miss it. My expression was thoughtful, though my heartbeat played the conga in my chest. “I’m sure you’re running out of ways to ruin men’s lives, anyway.”

“It’s called a repertoire, Elena. They can be used again.”

“Hmm. And what’s next on the list?”

“Who’s being assaulted?” His voice was bland, like we were talking about the weather for the third time.

I lifted a shoulder. “Me.”

His gaze went cold, but his tone stayed impassive. “The entertainment for tonight would be watching him bleed out.”

Nothing about his expression told me he was exaggerating. “Well, it wouldn’t be a normal evening with you around if there wasn’t some blood involved.” I paused. “Though, I guess you did all right at our last supper.”

The smallest yet darkest smile pulled on his lips. “Guess I did.”

Butterflies erupted in my stomach. That mischievous, wicked smile was the exact reason women liked bad boys.

Cazzo.

I needed some air.

Bending down, I put the cigarette out against the concrete before tossing it in the restaurant’s dumpster. Butts and trash already littered the alleyway; I didn’t want to contribute.

Nicolas still leaned against the door, and so I stopped in front of him and waited. He held out his phone to me. “My list. Write it now.”

I frowned at the cell phone and then looked at him.

His expression was serious, and truthfully, with this attraction spiraling out of control, zinging under my skin like electricity, I didn’t have it in me to argue with him. I grasped the phone and took a few steps back. There wasn’t any way I could think with him standing so close.

I opened his notes and typed in Adriana’s dress size, shoe size, and even bra size. He didn’t look like a man to skirt around details. When it came to her hobbies and likes, I couldn’t help myself.

Acting

Cult horror films

Gardening

Not you

I smiled, but then his phone pinged and it fell from my lips.

I stared.

Who was he? Benito?

The image was of a woman, naked. Blond hair, coy smile, big breasts.

Jenny.

I glanced at him to see he was only waiting for me to finish. I turned the phone around. His gaze stayed on mine for a second before giving it a glance. Not a blink.

“This is Tony’s girlfriend,” I accused.

“Is it?”

I couldn’t tell if he was amused or annoyed. Couldn’t tell if he didn’t know who this was, or if he was playing stupid. Did he get so many random pictures of naked women he couldn’t tell them apart? Anger sparked in my chest.

“Stop sleeping with her,” I said coldly.

Now his darkness was the amused variety.

My grip tightened on the phone. “It’s wrong.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Tit for tat.”

I paused. “You don’t have a girlfriend.” You have a fiancée . . . though that usually didn’t mean much to a man in this life.

“Did.”

Oh.

A strange discomfort curled in my chest.

I blinked, trying to sort this out. “You guys are sleeping with each other’s girlfriends to, what? Get back at each other?”

Not a word from him, and his gaze told me there wouldn’t be one.

“He loves her, Nicolas, whether he knows it or not.”

His expression turned to ice. “You’re a champion for love, are you? Personal experience, maybe?”

What?

My eyes narrowed. I didn’t know what he meant, but I was too angry to care. “You’re marrying his sister, so it’s not fair anymore.” I had no idea what I was saying, but I wasn’t taking his side.