Adriana flinched at the shrill scream of a motorcycle on the bend of the narrow waterfront road. She quickly turned away from the road, and her gaze snagged on mine. Those gorgeous eyes widened, those lips that were just kissing mine parted.
Remember me, baby?
Her features tightened, and she shook her head at me. A slight movement, but I caught it. Was she calling Game Over or warning me off? Maybe she hadn’t been some random girl bumping into me, flirting with me. If Alessio Aliberti was her boyfriend, did the Alibertis know who I was and had sicced the girl on me as a distraction?
Only one way to find out.
I strode toward her. Toward them.
The traffic on the road behind her got thicker. A tourist bus, droning motor scooters with helmet-less teens, motorcycles with couples, cars.
Those blue gray eyes of hers got even more huge the closer I got to her. My impudence astounded her, and that set off a hot fizz in my blood, my pulse gaining speed with every step I took.
“Turo?” Adriana said, her voice low, stiff.
“Leaving so soon?” I asked.
Her long elegant neck straightened. A swan preparing to take flight. Or a woman about to fight.
Not so fast, lovely.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your boyfriend?” I asked.
Alessio prowled over, his brother, Luca tossed his cigarette, tracking to the other side of Adriana. Alessio’s dark eyes gleamed as he gave me a curt shake of his head. That Italian “Who the fuck are you, what the fuck is this?”
I stretched out my hand to Alessio. “Turo DeMarco.”
Alessio stared at my hand, an eyebrow raised. His full lips twisted into a smirk. Luca’s face was a mask of cold amusement.
“Adriana! Adrianaaaa!” shouted photographers from across the street, interrupting us. Her gaze darted to them but she immediately turned her back on them, pressing next to Alessio, her body bunching up. Her jaw set, her face tightened. She was uncomfortable. Was she famous?
“Ignore them, Adri,” muttered Alessio, a hand at her back.
But they were loud and couldn’t be ignored. Just over her shoulder, a few yards beyond us on the main road, a mud splashed motorcycle with two helmeted figures in long sleeved jackets slowed down at the curve approaching the club’s entrance, weaving in front of the line of cars parked at the end of the walkway. They moved slowly, deftly, swiftly. They weren’t paparazzi. They weren’t club-goers. Not to this club.
Needles pricked up the back of my neck.
The rider in the back raised his arm, a semi-automatic in his grip. Pointed straight at us.
I lunged at Adriana.
A new mafia romantic suspense novel by Cat Porter ©️
Coming Spring 2018