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Desire.

Because what kind of monster did that make me? To be able to feel something so selfish and base when my closest relative was missing?

Annoyed with myself, I yanked the door open, charging out, wanting to get away from the privacy that allowed my thoughts to wander.

"That smells good," I admitted when I walked into the kitchen, finding Luca standing there with Lucky.

"It better. Or I have someone to fire," Lucky declared, giving me a warm smile, his gaze doing a quick once-over. It wasn't even a savoring glance, just a quick one, just taking in the situation.

"Fired?" I asked, hearing a strange croak in my voice.

"Food is from one of my restaurants, baby," Lucky explained, motioning to the pizza box on the stove.

"It's the middle of the night," I told them unnecessarily since they were awake at this ungodly hour with me.

"It is," he agreed.

"Your restaurant is still open?

"No," he said, shaking his head.

"You dragged an employee out of bed to make us food?" I asked. And as a former food service worker, I was deeply offended by the audacity there.

"Don't worry, babe," he said, shaking his head. "I pay him well enough that he doesn't give a shit about losing a couple hours of sleep. Come over here and eat. You lo

ok pale," he told me, flipping open the cardboard box. "Margherita pizza, garlic knots, and some panzenella," he told me, pulling out a foil container, popping off the plastic top to reveal a salad with tomatoes, bread, onions, olives, and spinach. He can do better, but this was fast," Lucky added, grabbing a paper plate his chef had packed as well, piling a slice of pizza, a garlic knot, and some of the salad on it before handing it to me. "Eat," he demanded, waving a hand over to the card table in the dining room.

I was too hungry to object, mumbling a thank you when he handed me plastic utensils, then heading off to the table.

"You don't have to sit with me," I told Luca when he grabbed his plate, making his way across the kitchen. "Your friend is here."

"He's my cousin," Luca corrected. "And he has places to be. It seems pointless to eat alone in separate rooms," he added, shrugging. "Out of curiosity," he said as I pulled apart my garlic knot," do you have a picture of your sister? Just for reference. If we want to ask questions."

"Oh, right. Yeah," I said. "In my ph—thank you," I said when he reached in his pocket to produce my phone. With the hand not sticky with butter and garlic, I unlocked it and found the most recent picture I had, one that had her beaming at the camera, standing there in a white and pink sundress, looking like a model. "I know," I said after handing it over. "It's hard to believe we're related."

'What are you talking about?" Luca asked, looking up from my phone, brows drawn together. "You two could be twins."

"That might be the kindest exaggeration I've ever heard," I told him, snorting.

"You haven't seen a mirror lately," he concluded, hitting some buttons on my phone. "Just sending it to myself. And now you have my number too," he added, passing it back to me. "I was wrong," he said a second later, gaze on me.

"About what?"

"You and your sister. I was wrong. I think your face has more character."

'Character?" I wasn't sure if that was a compliment. It didn't seem like one.

"You have a little scar here," he said, tracing a finger down his jaw where I did have an old nearly skin-tone scar.

"I, ah, yeah. I fell into a little ditch on the side of our house. I was stuck in there for an hour before my father found me," I added, not sure why I wanted to give him more than what he asked for, but following the impulse regardless.

"Clumsy kid?" he asked.

"Not particularly. I'd been trying to reach my ball that had fallen in. And then I followed, scraping my face on the edge of the cement as I went. Were you?" I asked, realizing I wanted the conversation to keep going. "A clumsy kid," I clarified.

"No," he told me, shaking his head, and even as I asked it, I had trouble picturing this very collected, very deliberate, very confident man tripping over his own feet. Even as a kid. "Matteo was the clumsy one."

"Your brother?" I clarified.


Tags: Jessica Gadziala Crime