And this was the aftermath.

Red marks covered Tony’s bare torso, the beginning of bruises forming on his ribs and back. Blood spilled from a nasty cut on his face, from his nose, his lip, and dripped down his chest.

He leaned back in the island chair, dressed in his shoes and dress pants, texting.

“What’s the cut from?” I was unsure of how such a ragged wound from the corner of his eye to his hairline had been the product of a fistfight. Though, I guessed it was a pretty severe one, as though they’d both been saving all their aggression for it.

“Broken chair leg.”

My eyes widened. “He hit you with a chair leg?”

What a cheat.

“Yeah. After I hit him with it.”

Oh.

Truthfully, I didn’t know why I was even trying to help Tony. He hadn’t exactly been the best brother as of late. It made me feel like a pushover, but for as long as I could remember I’d had this mother-hen gene I couldn’t get rid of. It was an urge to help I couldn’t ignore. I didn’t know where I’d gotten it. It wasn’t from my mamma and, as Nonna used her cane to push open the kitchen door and then thanked Tony for winning her fifty bucks, not from her either.

My skin also danced with an edginess that tonight had left behind. I had to do something to stay busy, otherwise thoughts of him came to the surface, making me feel hot all over. And, to be clear, it was the wrong him I thought of.

I crossed my arms, still wearing my dress and heels. “Well, did you get some hits in? Because it looks like you took the brunt of it.”

A sarcastic gaze flicked to me before he glanced back to his phone. “I got enough.”

“Please tell me you aren’t texting Jenny.”

“I’m not texting Jenny,” he said dryly.

He was texting Jenny.

“You both cheat on each other. Don’t you think it’s not the healthiest relationship to be in?”

He set his phone on the island and ran his hand through his hair. “I love her, Elena.”

A little lump formed in my throat. “Sometimes love isn’t enough, Tony.”

“Of course not,” he responded with a serious tone, and I thought we were going to have an intelligent, meaningful conversation for once, but then he opened his mouth again. “Good sex has to come with it.”

I sighed.

He laughed and ran a hand down his chest, smearing blood as he did. “You’re a good sister, Elena. Now come give your big brother a hug.”

“No.” I frowned. “You’re sweaty and bleeding.”

“A hug is the least I can do.”

“The least you can do is not—no, Tony, don’t!”

He squeezed me in a bear hug and made a show of wiping his nasty man-ness all over me. I groaned, wrinkled my nose, and tried to fight my way out of it.

He sucked in a breath. “Fuck.”

I froze. “What?”

“Broken rib, I think.”

I winced and pulled back just as Papà pushed the kitchen door open. He glanced at my first-aid supplies on the counter and then at me with disapproval, telling me not to coddle Tony. His gaze went to his son, eyeing him with that judgmental stare he was good at.

“You look like shit.”

Tony chuckled. “Thanks, Pops.”

The door swung shut, and then Papà’s voice filtered through it. “Office, now.”

Wide awake, with all my synapses still firing, I dragged my feet to my room. As the hot shower water sluiced down my skin, I wondered how bad Nicolas got it. Who was cleaning his cuts? Gianna? An unpleasant weight pulled on my chest.

In a restless daze, I combed my wet hair and then pulled on some panties and a tight t-shirt that said, “Sleep Tight, I Bite.”

Lying in bed, the gothic band Type O Negative leaked from Adriana’s room and into mine. A good sister would have gone to ask her why she was upset, but I was beginning to learn I was a selfish one. I closed my eyes, wishing I could only flip a switch to get rid of this attraction for her fiancé.

When I opened them, I still felt it—a fascination so deep in my skin it was like it had always been there, lying dormant. My breathing turned shallow as I relived the night: his presence brushing mine, his deep voice in my ear, his hand on my thigh, pushing my dress up and up.

Warmth ran between my legs, leaving an emptiness behind I was scared only he could fill.

I had it bad.

So bad.

I wanted this man like I hadn’t even known you could want a man.

Throwing the covers back, I slid out of bed and padded to the dresser. I pulled a Zippo lighter out of my clutch.

With the scratchy sound of the flint, a flame danced before my eyes.

After the fight, I’d gone back inside to retrieve my purse and found the lighter on the floor. It was his, with an ace of spades on the side.

I took it as easily as he took my sanity.

Climbing back into bed, I lay there and flicked the Zippo open and closed, filling the room with a flame for a man I shouldn’t have.

Before I snuffed it out.

“A woman is like a tea bag—you can’t tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.”

—Eleanor Roosevelt

“I’M GOING ON A RUN!” I yelled downstairs. A sleepy grumble sounded in the dark man cave before I slammed the door.

I liked to pretend I could leave the house and run in our gated community alone, but I couldn’t. So, I sat on the staircase and took my time lacing up my sneakers.

It was early—eight o’clock, maybe—and a couple servants were moving around, cleaning an already clean house. There was always someone here. When I married and owned my own home, I didn’t want servants. I wanted to walk the halls naked. Hopefully that would be enough incentive for my husband to agree.

A moment later, Dominic appeared, his thick hair mussed from sleep and his broody expression even broodier than usual. He wore a sleeveless t-shirt, running shorts, and shoes. I knew underneath there would be a gun strapped to his thigh.

Gabriella came around the corner, carrying some sheets. Her eyes brightened when she saw me. “Oh, good, you’re running! I’ll start with your room then. Your nonna yells at me when I go in hers earlier than ten.”

Her dark hair was in a messy pile on the top of her head, and her smile was infectious. I couldn’t help my own.

“Yeah, you’ll have to maintain a queen’s schedule with her.”

Gabriella had vivacious good looks and a coquettish personality. I’d wondered if the men in my family were taking advantage of it, but I knew I was wrong as she walked up to Dominic—who was texting, go figure—stood on her tiptoes, and whispered something I could only imagine was dirty in his ear.

He never pulled his gaze away from his phone, but a grin tugged at his lips. “Later,” was all he said.

She dropped back to her heels with a shy smile, and then excused herself as she made her way past me up the stairs.

Him, too?

“Unbelievable,” I muttered once she was out of earshot. “You don’t even have to look at a woman to get laid.”

I received the tiniest bit of amusement from him as he slid his phone in his pocket. “Let’s go, before it gets hot.”