Without looking at the man matching my steps, I shook my head, a smile pulling on my lips. “No.”

“Sushi?”

I wrinkled my nose.

“Okay, no sushi. Italian?”

“Ha ha,” I laughed.

“Are you coming tomorrow?”

Tyler was lean, like most dancers were, with dirty blond hair and a crooked smile. He was cute, polite, but not my type. He was a friend who wanted more, and for his sake I’d never let anything happen. I’d learned my lesson.

Sometimes I wondered how he would react if I told him the truth about my family. I doubted he’d still ask me out every time he saw me. Anyone could put together who my papà was if they merely Googled his name. My classmates at the all-girls school I’d attended had found out early on, and I’d practically been a pariah. Adriana had made lots of friends in her drama circle, but I never found the same.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” I said. “I’m bringing my cousin, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, yeah. That Benito. Your family aware women don’t need a chaperone anymore?”

I smiled. “They’re aware. They just don’t care.”

Chatter grew louder as we reached backstage where ten or so other dancers congregated.

“Last offer,” he said firmly. “Cheeseburgers. Bring Benito with you. We’ll make it a threesome.”

I laughed. “I don’t think he’s into guys.”

It was his turn for a “Ha ha,” as we parted ways.

OceanofPDF.com

“Every savage can dance.”

—Jane Austen

I LEANED AGAINST THE ALLEY door, the metal hard and cold against my back. Mist fell, mixing with the sweat dripping down my bare midsection. Tire noise, sirens, and an occasional laugh from a close bar filtered into the alleyway.

“You’ve got the right idea.” Sierra stepped outside and pulled her blond hair off her sweaty face and into a bun.

The red curtain had opened and then closed, some laterals, spirals, and stag leaps in between, and the recital was a success. The dance was based on a man who died for love—a modern Romeo & Juliet tale. I played Death.

The performance was slow and dramatic, but it had a beautiful, haunting tone. Why must everything have a happily ever after? Aren’t the most memorable, poignant moments of history tragic? I had always appreciated sad endings. I was a realist, not a romantic.

I talked to Sierra for a little while about her two-year-old son and being a single mom, and then decided Benito was probably growing tired of waiting for me.

“I’ll see you later, Sierra. Tomorrow at the party, if you’re coming.”

“Yes, I’m coming! My mom’s watching Nathan. Please tell me your hot cousin is coming.”

I groaned with a playful roll of my eyes. “He’ll be there.”

“Great. See you then.” She winked.

I threw on an off-the-shoulder top and grabbed my bag before heading to the front. I’d just made it out the stage doors when an arm draped around my shoulder.

“I know I said last offer, but I forgot I haven’t suggested Chinese yet.”

I shook my head with a smile, but truthfully, there wasn’t a chance I was walking all the way to the car with Tyler’s arm around me. I loved Benito, but I could never forget he worked for my papà. It was his own father, my uncle Manuel, who was responsible for the death that haunted me. Benito had done nothing but watch, and I held no belief he wouldn’t let it happen again.

Just as we reached the front hall and I was about to slide Tyler’s arm off my shoulders, my heart stilled and so did my feet.

Nicolas stood near the doors, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. With his black suit lit by sparkling lighting, he could pass as a handsome gentleman. One only needed to glance up and see the dark look in his eyes to know it was only smoke. What worried me the most was that his stare, edged with venom, was aimed at Tyler.

My stomach twisted, and I shrugged Tyler’s arm off. He seemed to notice Nicolas’s presence at that moment.

“Family?” he asked hesitantly.

“Um . . . yeah.” It was sort of true, I guessed. I wasn’t going to explain all the details with Nicolas’s burning gaze in this direction. He must believe that since he was marrying into my family it was now his obligation to deal with any men who came my way.

Frustration crept up my back. I had plenty of male cousins and uncles and a temperamental brother—the last thing I needed was another man butting into my life. I imagined everything Nicolas did, he did it with his all, because not even Benito would wear that expression over a man having his arm around me.

“So . . . I’m guessing Chinese is a no?”

“Just go, Tyler.”

“All right.” He took a step back, probably put off by my tone. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Elena.”

The worry tightening in my chest released when he left, still alive. I swore all the men in my life were psychotic. It was at moments like this when I hated it. I’d only wanted out at one point in the past. When it felt like I was nothing but a beautiful girl trapped in a world of forced smiles, with a grim future in the distance. The parties, the dancing, the fake laughs—it all exploded, until I stood alone for the first time in a city I’d never truly experienced.

It didn’t take long to realize I didn’t belong, that I was already stained by the world I was raised in. That a man with a clean conscience and clean hands would never fit me just right. I’d destroyed a decent man’s life, and while he’d touched me in places I’d never been touched before, I’d wished he did it a little rougher. I’d wished he was tainted by the darkness, as the men I was used to were.

Everyone knew you didn’t fall in love with a man in my world, like the one who stood before me now. Not unless you wanted your heart shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. No, I’d never fall in love. Truly, I’d never expected to. You didn’t mourn something you’d always known you couldn’t have.

At least this man wasn’t mine. He was too distracting, too fascinating . . . I’d never make it out alive.

I adjusted the strap on my shoulder and walked toward him, my heart beating to every step I took. I stopped a few feet from him. With that look in his eyes, I wouldn’t put myself in this man’s reach for anything.

“Your papà know you’re kissing men on stage?”

I faltered, my clammy hand tightening on my bag. Nicolas must have been here long enough to catch the end of the show. Where in the world was Benito? This man was going to kill me by the look of it.

My feet shifted. “I didn’t kiss anyone.”

Technically, it was a lie, but I was going to talk myself out of this. Because after Nicolas had overheard Tyler ask me out, and the fact that it was Tyler who I’d kissed—well, this might seem worse than it was. To the men in my family’s ears, it would sound like I’d gotten naked with the man. I told you—psychotic. Apparently, Russo men were the same.

Nicolas pushed off the wall and walked within a foot of me. “Yeah? Why don’t you explain what it was you were doing then?”

My cheeks grew hot. “I was Death. I was . . . sucking his life away.”

Maybe that was the wrong way to explain it, because his expression grew even darker. I thought “sucking” might have done it. Ugh. His stare crept under my skin, flustering me.

“It was completely platonic,” I said.

His gaze sparked. “You put your lips on another man’s and suck, it’s never platonic.”

He made it sound so dirty when it had really been a dry, unmoving kiss. Anger simmered in my veins. Who was he to tell me who I could kiss—Mr. I’ll Sleep with My Stepmom and Other Men’s Girlfriends?