Taboo Flames (The Sicilian Sins #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Aurora

M y bedroom resembles the aftermath of a battlefield. It’s an upheaval mess, with clothes strewn everywhere after hours of ransacking my closet to find something suitable to wear for tonight's party.

Thankfully, I’ve managed to piece together a stunning ensemble.

The mess is a small price to pay for the satisfaction of looking absolutely fabulous. Looking fabulous is non-negotiable, which is really all that matters anyway.

Right on time, my phone pings with a text notification from my friend Kara informing me that she is waiting downstairs. I take a moment to smooth out the wrinkles on my blue silk dress, snatch up my silver mask adorned with feathers, and rush downstairs.

Outside, my chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce is idling in front, and as I approach, the driver emerges like a silent sentinel and holds the door open with a courteous nod.

“Looking beautiful as always, Signora Aurora,” he chimes.

“Thank you, Angelo,” I respond with a smile before climbing into the spacious back seat.

Kara dives straight into the gossip as soon as I settle in. “Can you believe Carlotta found out I was going to be wearing that red dress and managed to find the exact replica?” she reveals, her tone dripping with disdain.

“No way. She didn’t!” I say with a gasp, genuinely in shock, although my shock has a bit more to do with why this is even an issue.

“She did. I saw it in one of her minion’s stories. She didn’t even look that good in it. Red isn’t her color at all, and her legs are too short to pull off a thigh-high slit,” she sneers.

I glance at the black bandage dress she has on. “You still look drop-dead gorgeous, Kar,” I reassure her.

“Not that particular Coco-Chanel-red-dress-gorgeous,” she retorts. “I practically baked myself under the sun getting tanned yesterday just to rock that piece. We need to put Carlotta in her place.”

I raise a brow at her. “And how, pray tell, do you propose we do that? Throw champagne in her face at the party?”

Kara rolls her eyes, unimpressed by my jest. “You’re the most well-connected person I know, Rory. Can’t you arrange for someone to give her a little scare in a dark alley or something?”

I laugh, amused at her active imagination. “And which one of us will make sure she walks through that dark alley so my diabolical scheme can unfold?” I tease.

Kara gives me a dark look, a scornful and overly unenthusiastic glare before huffing and turning away in annoyance.

Kara and I are only friends by the loosest definition of the word, so I was more than a little surprised by her sudden invitation yesterday to attend the party together.

It has barely been ten minutes, and I’ve already gotten to the root of her ulterior motive. This is disappointing but not unexpected.

The car slides to a stop as it joins the long line of cars waiting to get into the compound where the party will be taking place.

“This line is endless,” Kara begins her familiar whining. I know this is also one of her attempts to leverage my connections for VIP treatment, so I ignore her, leaving her to mumble and groan about everything.

Finally, after a few minutes, we enter the compound and are now pretty near the entrance of the building. However, most of my entire focus is now on what is happening across the street.

A slender man in a tacky-looking suit is trying to drag a girl in a barely there mini-dress toward a car. The girl is fighting back with all her might, but it’s clear she’s outmatched. The worst part is that no one seems to be all that interested in helping the girl.

I don’t even think. I just swing open my door, hop out of the car, and hurry toward the two.

“What are you doing, miss?” I hear the driver call out to me in panic, but I ignore him and quicken my pace.

One of the party’s security personnel tries to intercept me, but I deftly sidestep him, effectively evading him and grabbing the baton hooked onto his belt as I pass.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” I demand as I reach them.

The man looks over his shoulder at me and growls, “Stay out of this, princess.”

“Help me,” the thrashing girl cries. “I don’t want to do this anymore, and he won’t give me my money so I can leave. I don’t even want the money anymore.”

“We had a deal,” the man spits out, grabbing a handful of her hair in a tight grip.

“Let her go,” I hiss at him, crossing my arms across my chest.

“Or what?” he sneers, his tone mocking.

“Let her go,” I say again, infusing as much hardness into my voice.

“Tell you what,” he spits, shooting me a leer that makes me shiver in disgust, “you and I have a little discussion behind that dumpster over there, and I'll let her go.”

My belly turns at the thought of the beady-eyed man laying his hands on me. “How about you let her go, or I’ll make sure you’ll be pissing blood for a week?”

His eyes drop down to the weapon in my hand, and he snorts. “Go back to your party. This is none of your business.”

As soon as he turns his attention back to the girl, I rush forward and swing my baton into the back of his knees as hard as I can, thwacking him. He lets out a loud howl and buckles to the ground.

“Run,” I urge the girl while digging into my purse. Pulling out a handful of hundred dollar bills, I shove them into her shaky hands and hiss, “Get out of here.”

“W—where am I s—supposed to go?” she stammers, her lips quivering.

“Anywhere but here. Take a cab or whatever,” I tell her before turning my attention back to the man, raising the baton, and hitting him over and over again until he finally goes still. I spy a tattoo of a spider on the back of his palm before I hurry away from his prone body.

“Are you freaking crazy?!” Kara screeches as I return to where she is standing beside the car. “You could have gotten seriously hurt.”

“I had it under control,” I tell her while fixing my mask on my face. “Anyway, are we going in or what?”

She huffs and whirls around before stomping away toward the entrance of the building, leaving me to follow in her wake.

The ballroom is already littered with women in glittering dresses and men in fitted tuxedos. Chandeliers hang from the ceilings, looking like diamonds dropping from the sky. In summary, it’s the usual high-class event.

I turn to say something to Kara just in time to see her disappearing into the crowd. I should have expected that she’d bail on me the minute we got in.

It's no surprise. She’s only here to bask in the Vitale spotlight, proving her association with me or my family. It’s a familiar scenario since returning from college in the States – friends who are more interested in my status than my company.

With a disappointed sigh, I head in the opposite direction, snagging a glass of champagne off a server’s tray as I make my way to the French doors on the second level. From there, I’ll have a vantage view of the whole room.

I recognize a few people even with their masks on, and I’m just deciding where to start to socialize when a dark, smoky voice speaks up beside me.

“Start from there,” the man drawls, gesturing at a well-dressed couple. “That’s Emilio Santos and his wife. They’ll draw a crowd in no time, and if you’re already with them, you don’t have to go looking for company. Company will find you.”

I startle, my heart skipping a beat as I spin around to find a figure cloaked in black standing beside me. The voice is awfully familiar, but I’m having difficulty placing it.

There’s not much I can make out in the dim lighting of the room other than his strikingly regal posture, highlighted by his impeccably designer-tailored suit. Little else about him is distinct.

It is a masked party. Each guest here has a mask with a unique design, but this somewhat intimidating and, I am assuming, handsome man chose a wolf?

Crafted from sleek black leather, it molds to his face, giving a snarling visage adorned with pointed ears protruding from the top. Almost his entire face remains hidden, but his eyes pierce through the darkness—I make them out to be a mesmerizing blend of deep brown with hints of green and gold. I find myself momentarily transfixed, unable to look away.

I can’t explain it, but there’s something about this man—a giant, towering figure standing over six feet tall. There’s something dark and mysterious but, at the same time, captivating about him.

Damn, it’s unsettling.

Gathering my wits, I pluck up the courage to speak, though my voice betrays the unease I feel in his presence.

“And how can you tell it's them?” I ask, trying to maintain an impression of composure despite the tremor in my words.

“I don’t see anyone else fawning obsessively all over their partner.” His tone is tinged with a hint of amusement, almost like he’s enjoying this little gossip liaison we are having.

“And why do you assume I’m looking for company?”

He shrugs casually. “Aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” I deadpan. “Who are you anyway?”

His mouth quirks up briefly. “That ruins all of the fun and mystery, don’t you think?”

From the little I can see of his face, he has a strong jaw dusted with a light shadow of stubble. The man is freakishly tall with broad shoulders and a build that strains against his clothes. I have a feeling that behind the mask is a face that is lethal to the female population.

“Do you know who I am then?” I ask curiously.

“No. Should I?” he replies, his smile suggestive.

I just give him a bland smile. “Maybe. You do seem to know a lot.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t. You must be a well-kept secret,” he muses, his smile wolfish. “Luckily for me, I like secrets.”

I’m not so much a secret. Rather, I just have “steer clear” in bold, neon letters on my forehead. Nobody wants to deal with my intimidating older brother, Leonardo. And why would they? He is terrifying to most people.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” I warn him.

“Good thing I’m not a little pussy then,” he replies with a smirk.

“Why are you all the way over here instead of out there?” I ask curiously, gesturing toward the crowd beneath us.

“I have a feeling you’ll be better company than all of them combined.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Will it?” he asks. “Then why do I get the feeling it won’t get me anywhere with you?”

“Probably because it may not,” I reply. “Regardless, you’re going to have to do a lot better than that.”

“Like a flash mob?” he suggests, his voice dripping with amusement.

I pretend to think about it for a second. “Will Beyonce be a part of your dance crew?”

He grins at me. “I’m sure I could take her family hostage to make her willing, so sure.”

I giggle. “That’s what you’d think of first? Seriously?”

“Are you scared of me now?”

“Terrified,” I deadpan again, exaggerating for effect. “My knees are knocking together in fear. Can’t you hear them?”

He chuckles. “I like you.”

I’m about to reply when I see the beady-eyed man from earlier with two other men. They’re looking around as if they’re searching for someone. My heart clenches in my chest, hoping that I’m not their target. But when their gaze lands on me, a malevolent sneer twists the apparent leader’s face, and it becomes evident they’re here for me.

“Who are they?” my masked companion asks.

“Long story, but I have to get out of here, pronto,” I reply urgently.

“Come with me.” The man grabs my wrist and begins to lead me away from the crowd.

For a second, I have a fleeting thought that I shouldn’t be trusting this stranger. I know him almost as much as I know the guys who are after me, but I let myself be pulled away from the ballroom through winding hallways and a steep staircase.

“What’s up there?” I wonder out loud.

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” he replies with a mischievous smirk.

I hesitate for a moment before nodding and letting him pull me up the stairs and out into a garden on the roof.

“Oh my God,” I exclaim. “How did you know this was here? It’s beautiful.”

“I know a lot of things I shouldn’t,” he says cryptically.

Unadorned by the bright ballroom lights, he looks even larger and more forbidding, and I’m drawn to him the way I’ve only ever been drawn to one other man in my life.

“And what do you do with all the information you acquire?”

He smiles coquettishly. “I use them to impress golden-haired, mysterious beauties. So, tell me, are you impressed?”

“By a rooftop garden that doesn’t belong to you?” I raise a brow. “I’m more of a diamonds kind of girl, to be honest.”

“I highly doubt that,” he counters confidently.

“You don’t know me,” I point out. “You don’t even know my name. How can you tell from a few minutes of conversation that I’m not a diamonds kind of girl?”

“As soon as I walked up to you, you looked right at my face. Not once did your eyes drop down to check my worth. You’d have clocked the expensive watch on my wrist immediately if you were what you claim you are.”

“Your watch was the first thing I noticed,” I fib, playing along as his mouth curls up in amusement. “And you’re one of those men who sneer at a woman who likes a man with money?” I guess.

“On the contrary,” he replies, his tone earnest. “Only a man without money sneers at a woman who prefers a rich man. I’m sure as shit not going to mind that my wealth is attractive to someone.”

“So, how many women have you lured to your bed with your wealth and charm?” I’m half-teasing, half-curious.

He cocks his head at me. “You think I’m charming?”

“I think you’re way too slick to be genuine,” I reply, a smirk playing on my lips.

He throws his head back and lets out a bark of laughter. “To answer your question, I don’t kiss and tell.”

I eye him warily. “That’s the line that men use when their life is a revolving door of women.”

His full, rosy pink mouth curls up into a smile. “Do I detect a bit of judgment in your tone?”

“None whatsoever. Life is too short for celibacy or monogamy, for that matter,” I tell him.

“Life is also too short to have never been with me,” he counters smoothly.

I suck in a shocked breath, then lick my lips nervously at the direction of the conversation. I’m aware I’m stepping into uncharted territory, but I’m also far too curious for my own good.

“And what’s so special about being with you?” I scoff, playing up my experience. I don’t want to look like the inexperienced girl I actually am.

While I’m not a virgin, my only claim to intimacy has been a terrible one-night stand, a few kisses, and lackluster fondling. It has nothing to do with a shortage of men or opportunities and more to do with the fact that my limited experience has been far too unexciting to urge me to go all the way.

“I can show you,” he drawls.

“No, thanks,” I chuckle. “It’s just going to be another utterly forgettable experience. In my opinion, sex isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Just sounds to me like you’ve been having a lot of bad sex.”

I don’t correct his assumption. Instead, I just shoot him a small smile. “There’s nothing like bad sex. It’s all the same process leading to the same end.”

“You’ll be singing a different tune when you spend one night with me,” he purrs, his tone dripping with confidence and promise. “When I take you to bed, darling, you’ll realize you’ve been doing it all wrong.”

I swallow hard. “When? That’s a little presumptuous.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Or maybe I just like to be hopeful.”

“You talk a big game for someone hiding behind a mask.”

He chuckles softly. “If you wanted to see my face, all you had to do was just ask.”

Did I want to see his face? I have to admit I was enjoying the feeling of anonymity between us at this moment. He could be anybody, and so could I.

I can enjoy this moment for the easy, no-pressure moment it is. It feels like we are cut off from the rest of the world, existing in our very own bubble.

“I think it’d be unfair of me to make demands, especially since I will not be able to reciprocate,” I confess.

“Maybe I can make a different type of demand then,” he suggests, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “I want to kiss you.”

I’m startled at the unexpected change in the topic even as I feel my body light up at his words. “What would you give to kiss me right now?” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

His eyes go dark. “As soon as you say yes.”

“You don’t mean that,” I challenge, my heart pounding in my chest.

He slowly walks forward, his steps matching every enunciation of his words. “If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I never say things I don’t mean.”

I hadn’t realized how close we’d become until his last words were breathed an inch from my mouth. I lick my lips, and his eyes trail the movement.

“Okay.”

I don’t have any time to reconsider my hasty decision because a second later, his mouth is on mine. I freeze at the first contact, my mind screaming at me to abort the mission.

Am I really about to let a stranger kiss me? But then he presses his mouth harder against mine, and I let him kiss me.

I’ve been kissed a few times in the course of my life, but at the moment, none of those kisses matter. It was at this moment that I realized I’d been kissing boys, and there was a huge difference between kissing them and being kissed by a man.

When he pulls away, I’m left in a daze. The masked man has just blown all of my past experiences out of the water.

“Holy schmolly,” I blurt out.

He suddenly steps backward like he’s been burned. “Aurora?” he gasps.

I freeze at the sound of my name rolling off his tongue.

He rips off his mask, and a face I am very familiar with stares back at me, looking both horrified and furious. It’s a face that has starred in my fantasies for years now. Suddenly, the instantaneous attraction I felt for a stranger made perfect sense. The masked stranger is none other than Giovanni Lombardi, my longest-standing crush and my brother's best friend.

Talk about how fast things can go from bad to messed up.