It’s dark when Lydia and I enter my parent's house. She tiptoes upstairs, where she lives with her kids, and I drag my feet down the hallway to my room across from Lucas’s. I’m exhausted and have been holding my pee since the hospital, so I push into the bathroom we share. My brother is hunched over the sink, washing his hands, and the water is pink with blood. 

“Lucas, what hap—”

He shoves me out and slams the door in my face without saying a word. I huff and jiggle the door handle, my brows furrowed.

“Open the door, you asshole!” 

It swings back open, and he yanks me inside. I yelp.

“Keep your voice down!” he hisses, but then he sees me in the light, and his hands go to my face. “Mara. What the hell happened?”

“I was mugged.” I shrug away.

“What?”

“I was on my way to the BART station.” 

Lucas steps back, his chest rising as he takes in the information with a deep breath. “Where?”

“Where, what?”

“Where did it happen?”

“A block away from Market Street.”

“Did you see the person’s face?”

“No, they had a mask.”

“What kind of mask?”

“I don’t know. Like the one from that movie Scream.” 

“I’ll take care of it.” He brushes past me and reaches for the door.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He exits, so I follow him to his room.

“No, what do you mean?”

“Nothing. Maybe one of the businesses has surveillance footage of the guy. I’ll find out tomorrow.” We enter his room, but he turns and points to the hallway. “Out. I need sleep.”

“Wait.” I study his knuckles. “What happened to your hands?”

“Nothing. Now, go to bed, Mara. I’m tired.”

“Don’t you nothing me.” I grab his hand, and he jerks away, but I see his split knuckles anyway. “Lucas.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It looks like you got into a fistfight.”

“Well, I didn’t.” He nudges me toward the door, but I don’t budge.

“There’s a rumor at work you’re dating a woman married to Mario Caruso—a dirty cop whose dad is Carmine Caruso. A mobster.”

“Well, I’m not.”

I fold my arms. “I think you’re lying to me.”

“I’m not.”

“Where were you tonight? Why did you say you were sick?” 

“I had something to do. Are you done with the interrogation? I want to go to bed.” 

“Why does it look like you punched a cement wall?” 

“I fell. It’s nothing to worry about. Now, get out.”

“I know you’re lying. Something must have happened tonight, and I think it has to do with Hazel Caruso.”

“Jesus, Mara. Let it go.” 

“If I tell you a secret, you must tell me yours,” I say. “That’s always been our rule.”

“I don’t have any secrets.”

“Fine. Neither do I.” I spin around, but Lucas slides in front of me, blocking the path.

“You’re lying.”

“You are, too.” I raise my chin.

“You don’t have to worry about me.” He shakes his head. “But if you’re in trouble—”

“I’m not,” I cut him off. “I was just going to say that I met a guy. That’s my secret.”

Lucas narrows his eyes, studying mine with hands on his hips, trying to find the lie, but then his shoulders ease. “Is he a good guy?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“What’s his name?”

“E… Kyle.”

“Kyle, what?”

“Cameron,” I say, and Lucas exhales, nodding. What did he think I was going to say? I smooth my thumb over his split knuckles. “What happened?” I whisper. “Are you dating that woman?"

“No.” He shakes his head.

"Are you in trouble?”

"You're the one with a giant bruise on your face, yet you're worried about me?" He pulls me into a hug and squeezes. “I’m glad you’re ok. I should have been there tonight.” 

“Where were you?”

Lucas’s arms slip away, and he steps back. “It’s late, Mara. We should get some sleep.”

There’s no way I’m getting anything else from him tonight. So, I go to my room, crawl into bed, and pull the blankets over my head. The screen on my phone glows as I type out a message to Enzo, thanking him for being there tonight.

Seconds later, my phone beeps, showing he liked my message… with a heart emoji.

◇◇◇

It’s been a few days, and I haven’t heard from Kyle besides a bouquet and a text saying he’s glad I’m ok, but he had to go to Miami to manage one of the hotels. He wants to take me out for dinner when he gets back, and as much as I’m looking forward to seeing him, I’m more eager for the event I get to attend with Enzo tonight. 

Thanks to the stitches, split lip, and injuries on my face, Tina took me off the schedule at Penthouse again until I’m healed. Lucky for me, my side hustle is still hustling. 

It’s six PM, and I sit on the armrest of my parent’s couch, staring out the window, waiting for Enzo’s driver to arrive. My mom thinks I’m just going out to a fancy dinner, so she sits with me while watching a Telenovela, but Lydia barely looks at me as she eats with her kids at the kitchen table. She’s disappointed that I’m still spending time with Enzo, but I’m not her, and Enzo isn’t her narcissistic ex-husband. 

This is different.

He would never hurt me.

Lucas enters the kitchen, showered and dressed for a shift at Penthouse. He kisses the heads of Lydia’s kids, rounds the table to kiss her cheek, and snatches his keys from the wall hook.

“Where is pop?”

“Zonked out,” my mom says.

“Tell him goodnight for me then.” He enters the living room to kiss her cheek but pauses when he sees me dolled up.

“Where are you going?” 

“To dinner.”

“You look like you’re going to a wedding.” 

Headlights flash in the window, so I peer past the curtain and spot Charlie. “Time to go.” I hop off the couch and blow kisses. “See you. Love you.” 

“Do you have the pepper spray?” my mom asks.

“Right here.” I pat my clutch purse. “Byeeee.”

The evening air is crisp when I exit the house, so I tug my shawl tighter and carefully walk down the steps in my new stilettos. My brother is close behind me, clomping with his boots like he has somewhere urgent to be. 

“Fancy car,” he says, catching up and taking my elbow, forcing me to halt. “Where are you really going?”

“To a dinner.”

“Mara.” He narrows his eyes.

“Lucas.”

The car door squeaks, and in my peripheral vision, Charlie has stepped out. 

Only it’s not him.

“Ready to go, beautiful.” 

My eyes widen. Enzo is smoothing down the lapels of his tux, and my stomach is about to fall through my butt as I glance back at my brother. 

“The fuck,” he says, and it’s not like Lucas to drop F-bombs. He steps in front of me like a guard dog. “She’s not going with you.”

“Pardon?” 

“I know who you are, and she’s not leaving here with you,” Lucas says. 

But I can hardly register his voice over the boisterous thumping in my chest. What does my brother mean? And why did Enzo have to step out of the car? I’m going to barf. 

Swallowing the bile rising in my throat, I step around Lucas. “Gotta go.”

“You’re not going anywhere with him!” He snatches my arm, but I yank free.

“How about you tell me your secret, and then I’ll tell you mine.” 

A flat line forms across Lucas’s mouth, and he inhales a breath that causes his nostrils to flare. 

“That’s what I thought,” I say, and go to Enzo. 

We slide into the car and drive away from my parent's home, leaving Lucas to stand there in the street alone, but now I need answers. Does my brother know Enzo because he's a guest at the club, or does he know him? I stare at the side of his handsome face. How can I feel so connected with this man yet know so little about him? Lydia would say it's infatuation.

“What happened back there?”

“What do you mean?” Enzo's thumbs fly across his phone’s screen.

“How do you know my brother?”

“I don’t,” he says, but his attention is on whatever he’s typing, so I cover his phone with my palm. 

“Hello?”

He finally looks up. “Mara, I’m replying to an urgent email.” 

I gnaw at my bottom lip, debating whether to chuck his phone out of the window. However, that wouldn't solve anything. Instead, I should ask the question that's been burning in my mind since that night at House of Prime Rib.

Inhaling a breath of courage, I say, “What exactly do you do for a living?”

“Hm?” Enzo quirks a brow, but he’s still focused on replying to the email.

“Your uncle and his friends are mobsters. Criminals.” 

That gets his attention as his thumbs come to a halt, and he peers at me from the corner of his eye. He hits send on the email, tucks the phone into his inner breast pocket, and shifts to face me. 

“What are you getting at, Mara?”

“Are you a criminal, too?” I dart his gaze and pick at my manicure. “Should I be worried?” 

“No. I’m not a mobster or criminal. The work I do is honest and legitimate. I close deals. When a bigger company is trying to buy a smaller company, or a business wants to merge with another one, I’m the guy they hire to access the situation and negotiate.”

“What kind of businesses?”

“Just now, I sent a final offer from Morpheous Games Inc. to Judicious Entertainment. This is a case of the big guy wanting to buy the little guy.”

“Video games?”

“Yes. That’s one example. Would you like another?”

“No.” I shake my head. “But your uncle…”

“Yes, he is an old Italian mobster, and he went to prison for twenty years on a RICO charge, but he isn’t part of that life anymore.” 

“How do you know? Why would my brother get so upset seeing you?” 

“People know who my uncle is and what he used to be, so I’m sure your brother does, too. But I’m not my uncle. You don’t have to walk in someone's shoes to learn from their mistakes. I’ve done well for myself without playing dirty, and it's ok if you don't believe me.”

I stop picking at my nails and raise my gaze to meet his. “…I do.”

“Listen, I get it. We're still building trust.” He places his hand on my knee. “Would you like Charlie to turn around and take you home?”

My eyes widen. “No.” 

“It’s ok, Mar—”

“I believe you,” I cut him off. “My gut says you wouldn’t lie to me.”

“I wouldn’t. Nor would I let any harm come to you.” 

Beats of silence tick as we stare into each other's eyes, his thumb swiping back and forth across my knee. My gaze drifts down to his mouth and his to mine. I want to kiss him, but if I make a move and I’m wrong about his signals, it’ll make the rest of the night awkward. Enzo glides his hand up my arm, his fingers tracing my skin like he’s memorizing the texture of it against my shawl.

"I like your ensemble tonight." He stops when he gets to my neck and has undoubtedly felt my nervous swallow before moving on to my face, where he brushes the stitches on my cheek with his knuckles.

“Still so beautiful even with a few scrapes,” he says, looking into my eyes as if they’re a window he wants to climb through to explore my soul. 

I nuzzle my cheek against his palm and lean in, hoping he’ll close the gap, but instead, his hand slides away. Even his body retreats to his side of the backseat, leaving me awkwardly in the middle.

“I’d like to show you something,” he says.

“Like what?”

He presses a button and the partition opens a crack. “Charlie. Make a pit stop at the loft.”

“The loft?” I squeak.

“My apartment.” Enzo smiles.