“We’ll do this again soon,” she says. “You’ll have to come to the Sandtrap so you can meet all the others.”
My eyebrows raise. “Sandtrap?”
Calvino groans and Vince laughs. “It’s what we call the Long Beach house,” Vince says, nudging his brother in the ribs. “I’m not surprised he didn’t tell you. It’s a stupid name.”
“Our father chose it,” Calvino explains.
“They’re just being silly, it’s a really lovely house. You’ll come soon and meet everyone?”
“So long as my boyfriend approves,” I say, smiling at him, and Calvino winks.
We say goodbye and I climb into the car with Calvino. The driver heads back to his penthouse, the privacy shield rolled up like we really are out on a date. Calvino watches me in silence for a couple of minutes with a little smile on his lips and I glare back at him, heart racing, sweat stippling my skin. I think of his mouth on mine, hands on my hips, and my confession in the bathroom—and I hate what I have to do now.
I’ve had two glasses of wine and I’m feeling loose but not drunk, and the way he stares at me makes my legs cross.
“You really are beautiful, Grace,” he says quietly. “It’s strange, but I find myself wanting to introduce you to my family. I was dreading it before, but now I wonder. You might actually survive this.”
“Calvino,” I say, looking down at my lap. I can’t meet his gaze. It’s too intense and my shame burns so bright and hot in my cheeks.
“Don’t worry. I’m not getting attached. Only you did so well tonight that I think you can handle more, and I want to give you more, my little thief. My good fucking girl. Although you’ll have to get used to me following you into the bathroom and trying to fuck—”
“Calvino,” I say again and look up. “I need to tell you something.” Fear spikes then, replacing the roiling lust that filters along my flesh every time he says those words, good girl, like he owns me.
He tilts his head, his smile fading ever so slightly. “What’s that, little thief?”
“It’s about my cousin.”
Whatever happiness and contentment lingering between us drifts away and evaporates into the air. He shifts in his seat, sitting back and watching me carefully as he strokes his fingers down his chin. He was open and relaxed a moment before, but I watch him put his walls up and strap on his armor, and I know this is the Calvino I’m most familiar with.
“Go ahead. Tell me.”
“Riley’s dead.”
The words fill the car and tears spark into my eyes. I don’t know why, I haven’t let myself cry over her in a long time, but they come unbidden and unstoppable, and all the hours of mourning and self-hatred and anger fill up my chest as he stares at me, his face a mask of unfeeling nothing, while I’m a bottomless well of grief. Riley, poor Riley, dead and gone and buried and never coming back, no matter how hard we look.
We’ll never find her, because I already know where she is: in the cemetery back home, her gravestone decorated with lilies, her favorite, and my tears.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asks and his voice is like a drill slamming into my skull.
“Because it’s not easy to talk about. I loved her more than I’ve ever loved anyone, and she’s gone. I didn’t come out here to find Riley, I came out here to find the guy that killed Riley.”
His breathing becomes faster, more ragged. He’s glaring at me and I feel his hatred like a tongue shoving down my throat. I’m nearly choking on it, or maybe that’s just the tears that won’t stop spilling, but either way his stare is oppressive and I don’t know how to wiggle away from it.
“Someone in the Manzini mafia killed her, didn’t they?” He’s quiet, but he’s burning with rage. “You want revenge. That’s what this is about. You lied to me.”
“I want truth. And yeah, maybe I want revenge too, but can you blame me? Someone killed her, Calvino. Some guy she was dating in your brother’s mafia, she told me all about it, the guy was a real piece of shit and he killed her and now—”
His hand shoots out and grabs my wrist. I gasp in surprise as he squeezes hard and stares into my eyes, his jaw tight with anger and his eyes wide and wild, and for the first time since this all began, I feel a sudden pulse of utter terror because this man could break me right now if he wanted to.
“I thought we’d be finding a stray girl, not hunting a murderer. What you’re asking for is much, much more complicated than I realized.”
“I just want to find the guy. I don’t care if you help beyond that. Whatever happens next doesn’t need to involve you at all.”