Mafiosa (Blood for Blood #3)(50)

Millie giggled. ‘Thanks, babe!’ She gave me a look that seemed to say I-told-you-he-was-in-love-with-me. I took a swig from the hip flask and winked at her.

Watching the two of them together, I now understood exactly what she had meant on the bleachers yesterday. Cris was so in love with her. There was no doubt about it. And she was in love with love, and I felt a huge burst of happiness for her, because of all the people in my life now, she deserved that joy the most. I couldn’t give that to her any more – not for more than one night – but Cris could. He was all-in. And Millie deserved someone who could go all-in for her.

‘I’m going to run to the bathroom,’ I told them. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Millie had already started to disentangle herself from Cris.

‘No, no, I’ll be fine. There are loads of people in there already.’ I waved her back into her suitor’s arms and slipped across the dance floor until the throngs of people started to thin out and I could relax a little. I didn’t really need to go to the bathroom, but I wanted to give Millie the space to make out with her boyfriend for a while. I didn’t need to witness that, and I could tell she was dying to kiss him. He was pretty hot, in that blond, all-American track-and-field-star kind of way. Abercrombie attractive. I guessed I only had eyes for nebulous assassins these days.

The song changed, and I almost squealed with delight. It was ‘Africa’ by Toto, old but epic. I thought about dancing on my own, then I thought about my dignity and if the rest of it was worth salvaging. I was half considering actually asking someone to dance – I had been getting a lot of appreciative looks, and since the mask hid my identity – more or less – what was the harm in a simple moment of escapism? Wasn’t that the point of tonight?

I hesitated, scanning the crowds. Who was I going to ask? My nerves kicked into gear. I couldn’t. Could I? But I loved this song. And the girl with the cane was dancing quite close … Maybe I could dance with her, though I imagined it would severely lower the air of coolness around her. Or at least sidle over and ask her where she had gotten her lipstick, because now I was near enough to see the glitter on top of the dark purple sheen.

Someone tapped me on my shoulder, and I turned around so fast, my dress swished like a move from an overly-expensive, random-actress-led Dior perfume ad.

My gasp was so intense it turned into a coughing fit, and all the grace that had emanated from my original twirl evaporated.

‘Luca?’ It took everything in my power not to press my hand into his face to check if he was real.

Luca Falcone was standing in front of me in the most pristine black suit I had ever seen. He was wearing a black silk shirt and tie, buttoned up to his neck. His hair was swept backwards and lightly gelled, and the mask he wore was thin – just a swathe of black to cover his eyes, but nothing could disguise that mesmerizing sapphire blue.

He was smirking at me. ‘Hi.’

I really wanted to go for a demure, perhaps even sultry, Hello, but what came out was a heaving, ‘What-the-hell-are-you-doing-here?’

His smirk didn’t falter. ‘Your own independence and self-sufficiency notwithstanding, I thought that maybe you might be open to having a chaperone tonight …’

‘Do you mean romantically or for security?’ I asked.

‘Which would you prefer?’

‘Which are you offering?’

The smile sloped to one side. ‘Whichever one makes you happier.’

‘Am I hallucinating?’

‘I’m the one at a high school dance,’ he pointed out. ‘Maybe I’m hallucinating.’

A memory trickled into my awareness. ‘It was you earlier in the driveway, wasn’t it? You saw me and you let me go.’

He nodded.

‘I thought you’d stop me.’

‘So did I,’ he admitted. ‘But then I saw you sneaking out, in that dress.’ His eyes travelled the length of me, slow and incredibly unsubtle. ‘And I couldn’t do it.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. I didn’t have to say the rest: I needed this. I needed this for my sanity. He already knew.

‘You look beautiful,’ he said.

‘I—what?’

His smile grew. It was unfairly ravishing, considering I was the one in the gown. ‘Did I stutter?’

‘It is a beautiful dress,’ I said decidedly. ‘I kind of had a moment with myself earlier when I was looking in the mirror.’

Luca stopped smiling. ‘It’s not the dress.’ He dropped his voice, and came a couple of inches closer. ‘I think you’re beautiful when you wear oversized hoodies and fleece pyjamas with teddy bears on them. Or when you wear thick socks and use them to slide around on the marble floors when you think no one’s looking at you.’

‘I – Oh. You know about that.’

‘And I think you are especially beautiful when you are giving out to me.’

‘In that case, you must find me constantly compelling.’

His laugh was breathy. ‘Come on, Cinderella.’ He took my hand in his and led me on to the dance floor, and before I could process the strangeness of everything, he was twirling me into him and we were dancing together. And he was good. Damn. He was really good. He knew all the words, too, and he was singing along, his voice lilting and strong, and then I was singing too, way out of tune and much too excitedly. We pealed into a fit of laughter, his amusement ringing in my ears, my smile so big it could have broken my face, because we were both cheating just for one night – we were both wearing masks belonging to other people, and it was exhilarating.