Page 29 of Damiano De Luca (The Five Syndicates)
“Worried about me?”
His eyes flicked over my body, and my pulse thrummed as he studied me. Just when I thought he would answer, he took another step back and started to walk away. I hated watching him walk away, but I couldn’t say anything about it, because once upon a time, I’d done the same thing.
I opened my mouth.
Don’t do it, Ren.
You don’t need a ride.
You don’t need Damsel.
He’ll be fine alone.
You’ll be fine alone.
“Wait.”
Holy hell, what did I just do? I stared at his back as he paused his retreat. He stopped in an instant, like he’d been waiting for me to make the first move, but that was a silly thought. I had wronged him. How could he want me after that?
He turned to face me. “Well?”
Stop this right now, Ren.
I took a step toward him. “Will you give me a ride?”
Why did you just do that?
He didn’t answer for a moment. Tense silence filled the gap between us like water in a sinking ship. “Fine.”
I followed behind him as he led me back to L’Oscurità, sending a text to my bodyguard to head to my place before me. Damian’s driver pulled in front of the bar, stepped out of the car, and opened the door for us.
I slid in first. “476 5th Avenue.”
It was a five-minute drive, give or take. If I could last that without caving, it would be a miracle.
Damian entered after me, and his hip brushed against mine. “What hotel is that?”
I didn’t answer and stared out the window, wondering what the hell I was doing. That look in Damian’s eyes had since fled, but I knew tonight shook him. With a secret sister in the FBI, how could he not be shaken? But it wasn’t my responsibility to help him. We were nothing to each other.
He relayed the address to the driver, and I felt him turn to face me as the electronic soundproofing barrier between the passenger cabin and driver lifted. “Word about my sis—Word about Ariana cannot get out.”
It felt so good to hear his voice again. I could feel it on my skin and in the air. He was everywhere. In my past. In my head. And worse, beneath my skin. I steeled myself against him, embarrassed by my weakness.
“Obviously.” The words bit out of me. My self-preservation instincts built walls of sarcasm around me. I had prepared myself for seeing Damian again. Clearly, not well enough.
“I meant within the mafia community.”
“That’s obvious, too.”
“Will you be reporting back to the Vitali?”
I had no choice. Everything that happened while I represented the Vitali name needed to be reported. But there were no rules dictating who I had to report to. I could report to my mom. She ran the Vitali archives, because Papà saw her as nothing more than a glorified trophy wife and secretary. He wouldn’t press her or me on what happened at the funeral processions because, while he probably should have been here representing the Vitali name, he couldn’t step foot in New York.
My dad was afraid of the embarrassment that would come if Maman ever chose to leave him. So, they had an unspoken agreement. Maman got New York and the surrounding states, and Papà got Italy and everywhere else. But since Maman had a secret relationship with Vince, I didn’t trust her to not be overly emotional at his funeral and draw suspicion. Which was why I agreed to come out of the woodwork and represent the Vitali.
Maman’s relationship with Vince was also leverage I could hold over her to keep Ariana’s position in the FBI a secret, not that I thought she would say anything if I asked her not to. We always did our best to look out for each other.
I turned to face Damian and took in his tense, closed-off body language. “I have to report to someone. Failing to do so will escalate the situation and draw attention to Ariana, you, and possibly Bastian. I can report to my mother, since she sent me here, and let her choose to do what she will with the information. That’s the best I can do.”
