Dark Heart (Dark Heart 1)

* * *EliseI feel like I’m moving through a dream as I step out of the Belluccis’ black car onto the sidewalk in front of Max’s house. Dani dips back into the car, murmuring something I can’t hear to Fil. Ree takes my hand, peering down at me with her eyes wide and careful.

“Are you sure about this?”

I nod.

“If you decide you want to go, we’ll go. No questions asked.”

“I just want to see if Luca’s here.”

Dani takes my other hand. “We won’t say a word to anyone. This is a quick in-and-out operation. We find Luca, bring him back to Ree’s if you want. Whatever you want,” she emphasizes.

I nod. “Thank you.” I want her to know how much I appreciate it, but I can barely whisper. Everything about me feels so small and quiet.

Dani hugs me, and I smile a little at the difference in her five-foot-ten frame and my five-foot-two one.

“What if he’s not here?” I murmur as we follow the cobblestone walk. Max’s home is a white two-story set back from the road, rising behind big trees that line the driveway.

“If he’s not here, we’ll go back by his house or keep calling,” Ree says. “I’m sure he’s okay. Maybe their house always looks like that.”

I swallow hard. It doesn’t—there’s no way—but I don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to cry again. So I just nod.

Max’s house is hopping, with music bumping, a big crowd on the second-story rooftop deck, and the front door thrown open wide to welcome everyone. Max’s parents are on a cruise. He and his sister were going to go, too, but something happened at the last minute. So I guess they’re not worried about Mr. and Mrs. Romano finding out. Maybe they wouldn’t care anyway. Mrs. Romano is vibrant and funny, and Mr. Romano never struck me as particularly uptight.

We reach the front door and it opens wider for us. Then Max steps into the doorway. He looks gorgeous in what seems like the last threads of a tux. He’s wearing a starched white shirt that’s rolled up to the elbows and a pair of black dress pants. His dark hair is messy, flopping in a breeze that smells of grass and cologne. Dangling from his lips: a Camel menthol in an Audrey Hepburn-style cigarette holder. When he takes a drag, he tips his head back, showing off his thick, smooth throat. He blows the smoke away from our faces and gives us all a villainous grin.

I watch as the grin fades and his brows scrunch over his hazel eyes. He steps out onto the porch and shuts the door behind him.

“Hey…did something happen?”

A tear drips down my cheek despite a lot of effort.

“Oh, shit.” He’s all eyes. “Is it your sister?”

I nod, and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his warm chest. “Jesus, Elise. I’m so fucking sorry.”

The hug feels good—but not as good as one from Luca. Still, I’m grateful for Max.

“You’re going to be okay. You know that, right? She would want you to be completely happy. Eventually.”

He steps back so I can look up at him, and I nod. Max has known my family forever. He remembers Becca before, when she was small and feisty, doing cannonballs into his family’s Southampton pool to annoy my friends.

“Thank you, Max.” More tears spill down my cheeks. “Maybe I shouldn’t even be here, but…”

“No way.” He gives a shake of his head. “Galante’s in there.” He tilts his head at the house. “Does he know yet?”

I wipe my eyes and shake my head.

He nods once. “You guys still…?”

“Yes. We are.”

His hand gently claps my shoulder. “If you need anything, Elise—anything at all—you come and find me.”

I don’t want to be this person tonight. I don’t want to be in tears, to feel fragile as a sheet of glass. I don’t want my sister to be dead! I feel knotted inside—my chest, my throat, my head all tight and sore—but I go through the motions to act normal out of sheer necessity—to get to Luca.

Dani and I find a shadowy nook in one of the sitting rooms and settle on a cozy couch while Ree goes off to locate Luca. A second later, Jace walks over to us. He’s got on well-fitting jeans, a snug, pale green T-shirt that’s flipped up at the sleeves, and expensive-looking boots, and he looks stunning as he always does. He keeps his curly hair trimmed short, so it’s just a little longer than a buzzcut, but he’s got big gray eyes, dramatic cheekbones, and an angel’s lips—which means hiding his pretty hair doesn’t change his pretty looks. I’ve kissed those lips before, in sixth grade, but there was no spark. Jace is like a brother to me.

So I feel my stomach flip-flop when I see how angry he looks. The look fades some as he approaches, crouching down in front of me and hugging me against him.