PROLOGUE
ANYA
As I watch Nicolo Marchetti in the hallway of our high school, I feel sick to my stomach. He leans toward the dimple-cheeked brunette before him and twirls a strand of her long hair around his finger, his proud lips curving into a cocky yet charming smile. The same smile he won me over with weeks ago. I can see it in the girl’s face as she leans back against the lockers–she’s falling for his tricks just like I did, the smooth, flirtatious words, the promises of his attraction to her, how she’s changed his life just by being in it.
“I’ve never met anyone like you. The moment I laid eyes on your beautiful face, my heart stopped, and I knew I couldn’t live without learning every detail about you.”
I close my eyes as I hear his smooth, deep voice reverberating in my mind, recalling those words he murmured to me during our night together.
Though it’s been weeks since he’s even spoken to me, I can still imagine his voice perfectly. A shiver runs down my spine as my body responds viscerally to it now as it did then. The intensity of Nicolo’s gaze, the way his dark curls fall into his hazel eyes, everything about Nicolo screams Prince Charming–at a glance. He’s quite good at maintaining the facade long enough to be convincing. In the current of his overwhelming attention, I actually lost sight of my singular focus to become a ballerina as I fell for his honeyed words.
With intense clarity, I recall our night together. The thrill of sneaking out for the first time to go to his house party was only superseded by my excitement at being asked by one of the most gorgeous guys in school. It was a party I knew I shouldn’t be at. My Aunt Patritsiya would never have allowed it. And as soon as I entered the front door, I knew I was out of my element.
The cloying scent of vape pens mingled with the sweaty stench of teens who were too busy dancing and making out to notice my arrival. I felt myself crawling into my shell as the music blared too loudly in my ears. I was positive the cops would break up the party for a noise complaint. Then again, it was in the rich, gated Forest Glen estates, so the cops were probably used to seeing extravagant house parties with blaring music.
I wandered in search of Nicolo, feeling out of place, and when someone shoved a red Solo cup of keg beer into my hands, I was almost grateful. Though I hadn’t ever drunk before, I’d heard about liquid courage and thought it might put me at ease. But as soon as I tasted the alcohol, I gagged and looked for a place to set it down. Definitely not for me.
That was when I spotted Nicolo.
In designer ripped jeans and a pale-green button-down rolled up to his elbows, he looked so cool and casual with a red cup in hand, leaning against the doorway as he laughed with friends. As soon as our eyes met, his attention turned to me, and I was sure he could hear my heart beating clear across the room as he approached me.
“You look beautiful,” he said, toying with a lock of my blond curls.
“Thanks.” I blushed profusely at his attention, unused to boys speaking to me, let alone calling me beautiful.
“I’m glad you came. I wasn’t sure you would, and I’ve been dying for an opportunity to spend time with you outside of school.” His hazel eyes studied me appreciatively, making me grateful I chose to wear one of my nicer dresses, though it wasn’t yet spring.
“I’m glad I came too,” I said with a shy smile. I didn’t know why Nicolo Marchetti had a sudden interest in me, but I wasn’t about to pass it up. Despite his reputation as a bad boy with family ties to the Italian mob, I found him singularly engaging, interested in me, and yet charming in a playful way. And I liked him.
Someone stumbled into me, knocking me forward, and Nicolo put out a hand to steady me by gripping my forearm. Warmth spread through my chest at his strong touch.
“Want to go somewhere a bit quieter?” he offered.
At the time, I thought he might have sensed my discomfort with the crowd and wanted to put me at ease.
“Yeah,” I breathed with relief.
When he took my hand, butterflies erupted in my stomach, making me thankful I didn’t try to drink any more of that god-awful beer for fear I might have thrown it up. He led me upstairs with a quick smile over his shoulder, and my body melted into a puddle.
In the quiet of a bedroom filled with baseball paraphernalia, Nicolo closed the door behind us, cutting the party music booming from below. He paused by the door, watching me with a playful gaze as I sat hesitantly on the bed–the only place I could find to sit besides the floor.
“So, you’re a dancer?” he asked, bringing our conversation back to the first time he spoke to me the other day.
He’d seen a picture of me in a tutu as a child sitting with my parents that hung in my locker. And after breaking the ice with a witty observation, he’d closed my locker door and trapped me between his arms so I had no choice but to speak with him.
“Yes, ballet. It was my parents’ dream that I become a ballerina… I suppose it was their way to carry their culture with them since they immigrated here from Russia before I was born.”
“It was their dream?” Nicolo asked, walking slowly across the room to join me on the bed. “But not anymore?”
My nerves kept me talking before I had time to doubt his interest in my sob story. “They died. In a car accident.”
Nicolo’s strong brows pressed together in concern. “I’m sorry.”
I shrugged to show it was in the past, though the pain of their absence still haunts me. I dropped my gaze to my lap to hide my pain as I tried to regain composure. “It was a few years ago.”
“I’m sure they’re proud to have a daughter who wants to carry on their dream after they’re gone.” Nicolo slid closer to me on the bed, his hand resting on my thigh as his thumb stroked a comforting line across my skin. Warm excitement pooled in my belly at his touch, despite the fact that I was sure he only meant it to be nice.
When our eyes met, though, I could see the same crackle of anticipation reflecting in his gaze. And then his hand was combing into my curls, and his face was mere inches from mine. I could smell his cologne, subtle and enticing, and the hint of beer on his breath. His lips pressed to mine, sending a jolt straight to my core. Our first kiss sucked the oxygen from the room. I lost all sense of control, overwhelmed by the excitement that coursed through my veins at Nicolo’s caress.