Twisted Fate (Dark Heart Duet #2) - Ella James Page 0,1
of high school graduation, but it’s all good. I head through the well-dressed crowd, past the ballroom, and toward the largest kitchen, feeling numb and heavy. Behind the swinging doors are faces I don’t know and smells that make my stomach churn. My hands are sweating and my body feels too light, like a helium-filled balloon.
I set the big wine bottle on the counter, pop the top off, grab a glass, and pour some. Then I toss it back like a shot.
Leo comes through the doors while I’m holding the damn glass. I can see him process that I’m here while trying to keep his face neutral.
He grins, looking professional with his light beard and white jacket. “Galante.” I get another fucking pat on the back in a span of less than ten minutes, but I can’t be mad. I can tell he’s worried—or something.
“Hey, man.” He looks me over. “You decide to clock in?”
I snort, and I get a few minutes of peace shooting the shit with Leo. Then Alesso comes in, holding a big pot of something, and he’s got his hair cut short as hell. I rib him, and he tells me he caught himself on fire fucking with a motorcycle.
I pour him a glass, and as he grabs it, I see his hand is wrapped in gauze.
“Oh shit. What happened?”
“Fuel leak that I didn’t notice.”
“Why are you here, hauling all this shit around?”
Leo’s toward the back now, talking to some girls who are carrying platters. “He didn’t have enough people who know which way is up,” Alesso tells me.
“You want me to swap clothes with you?” I could fill in for at least an hour. The Columbus Building is so packed tonight, I doubt Roberto would know—especially if he’s hanging out on one of those private floors, sequestered with his crew the way he was that first night I came here, the summer of Elise and me, when I brought him his dinner.
Alesso gives me a no, dumbass look. “Why’re you here, Luca?” He looks wary, like he knows already.
I look down before returning my gaze to his face.
“I know he doesn’t like his boys to do lowly shit like catering.”
“Boys.”
“Well, what are you?” he asks.
“I’m not Roberto’s boy.” A cold sweat moves through me. Alesso gives me my third back clap in the last half hour. Then his arm goes around me. I’m pulled into a quick, tight hug. “You good?” It’s a murmur sort of near my ear.
“Are you?”
We’re looking at each other, and it feels surreal. He slaps at my arm. “Go home. Why you gotta be here? He wants you to be here? Go home, Luca.”
“Like you?”
He shakes his hand around. “I’m working, and I can’t feel my hand. That’s the thing about the third degree.”
I can’t speak for a long moment. Alesso sort of thumps my forehead. “You still got the scar I gave you.” He gives me a tight smile. “You remember that?”
“It was only two years ago.” I rub at the scar. After what happened… Well anyway, Alesso hit me—so I’d feel like shit was even after what went down here that May.
He grins wider. “Nothing between us, brother. Not even here at this place. You should go, though.” He shifts his gaze to the bottle, and with just that one look, I can feel the censure.
“I’m fine.”
He lifts his brows, and I can’t look at his face. “I’ll be out of here fast.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Want to come out after?”
He nods, slowly, I think; I’m not really looking at him. “Yeah. Leo and me are up for whatever.”
“Cool.”
For just a second, there’s something—I guess it’s a beat of awkwardness. At how it’s all so different now. How I’m…whatever I am. Roberto’s stand-in son or some shit. But it passes. I look up, and he’s happy. “We’re good for it,” he says. “It’ll be past midnight, though.”
“Yeah, I figured. If I get a few seconds, I’ll come in and powder up some zeppole.”
“Yeah, you’ll eat it.”
I give him a wolfish grin, and then he’s off again. Alesso’s busy when he’s helping Leo. This catering shit is a Leo thing at this point, but Aless will help out if you need him. Always.
I feel okay for a minute after I move back into the hallway. There’s some people here I know—old guys and young guys. Her dad’s around somewhere, and he’ll stop and speak if he sees me. So I’m hoping he doesn’t.
There was this thing last year. Someone was gunning