Abramo’s jaw tightens, and he takes a step forward. Beside me, Enzo releases me and my eyes widen as his hand moves to his waistband, where I know he’s always carrying.
A gentle laugh enters the fray.
“Let’s all put our dicks away, yes?” a feminine voice says, as a new woman steps into the circle.
She isn’t very tall, maybe 5’4, but her big curls seem to make up for the disadvantage. They fall over her shoulders and down to her waist, and her caramel skin looks lovely with the red dress she’s wearing. Her brown eyes are soft as she lays a hand on Abramo’s shoulder. “Brother, I’m sure the Costas meant no offense and Isabella is a grown, uncommitted woman. You can’t control who she fraternizes with.”
The new peacekeeper smiles up at Abramo, and he seems to relax slightly. His gaze turns to Isabella and he shakes his head. “This is not a swinger’s party, and anything you want to do, do it in private, not here,” he tells her. His gaze moves to Giovanni. “Costa, we need to talk,” he says, turning on his heels and making his way to a door beside the staircase.
The irritation on Giovanni’s face is evident, and I have a suspicious feeling it's because Abramo’s words seemed too close to an order. Giovanni aims a warning look at Maximo before he moves to the same door that Abramo went through.
The new woman says something in what sounds like Italian to Isabella, who waves her hand and laughs. She turns to Maximo, rolling her eyes. “It seems I must go back on my chain until the party's over, but you know where to find me,” she tells him before allowing the other woman to drag her away.
Once again, I can’t help but ask questions. “Who was that?” I turn to look at Enzo. His body is eerily tense and his expression blank.
“Abramo’s sister.”
My brows furrow and I peer into the direction they headed. “Is… she adopted?” I don’t want to state the obvious polar opposite skin colors.
Maximo dips into the conversation. “Daria is a bastard,” he says, waving a server over. “Her mother was old man Accardi’s mistress but she died during labor, so Daria was raised like a legitimate Accardi. She’s now engaged to…” his eyes roam the room before he snaps a finger up to point across the room and I follow the direction to a slim man with long, dark hair, “Lorenzo Damone.”
The server brings Maximo another drink and he tosses it back. “I’ve got to charm a couple of people,” he says, shoving the empty glass into Enzo’s hand. He pauses, studying Enzo’s still blank face. He discreetly cups and squeezes Enzo’s hand, now holding the glass. Enzo’s eyes flick to him and he relaxes slightly. "Stai bene?"
I don’t have to understand Italian to hear the concern in Maximo’s voice. It catches me off guard.
Could he actually care about Enzo?
Enzo gives a sharp nod.
“Good.” Maximo removes his hand from Enzo’s. “We have plans for after my brother dismisses you tonight.” Maximo blinks when he looks at me, as if he forgot I was present. “And you… well I’m still not done with my plans for you,” he says cryptically before smirking and moving across the room.
I push Maximo’s threat out of my mind as the rest of the party goes on.
It's nowhere as chaotic as the last party I went to with the family. I try to get more information out of Enzo about people, but he doesn’t answer me, only giving soft grunts here and there. He seems to be holding on to his irritation from the earlier confrontation.
I catch sight of Giovanni at one point, with a red head who can’t keep her hands off him, but otherwise I don’t see him. I watch Vito and Maximo with different people, moving around the room. Once, I even see Maximo dancing across the room with a short, blonde woman.
“I want a drink,” I tell Enzo. It's starting to get a little hot in the room.
“I’ll see what nonalcoholic beverages they have,” he says shortly, before moving across the room.
I’m jolted forward slightly as someone bumps into me and I curse, reaching out to brace myself for the fall. A hand wraps around my wrist, pulling me upward and forward. My hands stop against a hard, warm chest.
Sparkling, blue eyes meet mine. I swallow audibly, realizing I’m pressed against an unfamiliar man. “I’m sorry,” he says, not releasing me.
His grip isn’t tight, but panic moves through me and I quickly steady myself. The man continues to watch me with those beautiful eyes. He has dusky tan skin, as if he stays in the sun a lot, and his black hair is slightly wavy. He’s just over six feet, his shoulders wide. The three-piece suit he’s wearing does little to hide his muscles.
“I’ve never seen you around before.” His eyes wash over me from head to toe. “What’s your name?”
I look past his shoulder but I’m facing away from the direction Enzo went, and I don’t see anyone else from the family. Keep it short, give him your name and then leave. “Winter,” I say.
He holds out a hand before I can walk away. “Winter, I’m Polo Messano.”
I hesitantly take his warm hand, sparks lighting my skin when he presses his lips against my hand, in an outdated fashion. His eyes meet mine and a wicked smile crosses his face, making my heart beat a little faster. I tuck my hand against my side when he finally releases it.
He takes a step closer and I take one away. There isn’t anything creepy about him, but his presence feels a bit overwhelming as he crowds me.
“Now Winter, who would leave you roaming around by yourself?” he asks as my back hits a wall. He brings a hand up, placing it beside my head and crowding me. “And how much do I need to pay him to have you for myself?”