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I blush and look down at my feet.

“I—we’re not?—”

“Oh, no, ofcoursenot,” he says, smirking. He studies me carefully as he takes another sip. “Does Marko Kalishnik know his daughter is hanging out with the likes of Nero?”

I arch a brow. “I’m sorry, isn’t Mr. De Luca your boss?”

He grins. “He’s also my best friend. So I can ask. So…I’m asking,” he says, more pointedly. “Does Marko know about this?”

I shrug. “My personal life is none of my father’s?—”

“Oh, I don’t think either of us really believes that,” he says flatly. “Italians and Russians just don’t usually play well together, if you’re curious why I’m asking.”

“They don’t?” I smile. “I’m not sure that Kir Nikolayev and Nero got that memo.”

The second I say it, my mouth clamps shut.

Like, what the FUCK, self.

Dominic says nothing at first, just eyes me cooly as he takes another sip of water.

“What do you know about that,” he finally says, a curious note in his voice.

I shrug. “I know they hang out.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I’veseenthem.”

Dominic’s brow furrows. He sets the water down on the counter and folds his arms over his chest. “I’d not mention that if I were you,” he growls.

“Who are you talking to?”

I jolt, turning quickly as a dark-haired girl walks into the kitchen wearing…

Not much.

She’s in a somewhat skimpy camisole top that’s a little on the see-through side, with just a pair of boy-short panties on underneath. And for a second, I seered.

Green.

Maybe both.

But then she suddenly realizes I’m standing there, and shrieks a little as she whirls and stares at me wide-eyed.

Suddenly, it clicks.

This is notsome girl.

This is Gabriella De Luca. As in, Nero’s sister.

We’ve only met once, sort of, at Doomsday. But that was…over a year ago? Still, the second I see her, it’s obvious she and Nero are family. Same face, same nose, same dark hair, theexactsame piercing green eyes.

Hers go wide as she jumps back and scrambles behind Dominic.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“Milena,” I smile weakly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”