Page 2

I light a cigarette, inhaling deeply as I watch her through the glass doors. Her eyes are closed as she plays, lost in a world I'll never understand. Those delicate fingers dance across the strings with precision that reminds me of the way I handle my knife—expert, controlled, deadly in its own way.
From the first moment I saw her at Damiano's wedding something shifted inside me. Something I didn't recognize, didn't want. She stood there in a blue dress that matched herstormy eyes, playing as though the instrument was part of her body. I couldn't look away then. Can't look away now.
It's not just her beauty—though, fuck, she's beautiful. It's the contradiction. So controlled on the surface, following every note perfectly, but underneath I see it—a wildness she keeps caged. A fire burning behind those proper manners and polite smiles.
I take another drag, feeling the smoke fill my lungs. She doesn't belong in our world. Too clean. Too untouched. But here she is anyway, playing for killers and criminals, completely unaware of how close she stands to the edge of something dark.
Or maybe she knows exactly what she's doing.
I watch her bow slice through the air, her body swaying slightly. What would it be like to break that perfect composure? To see what happens when all that discipline crumbles?
I crush the thought along with my cigarette. Women are complications I can't afford. Distractions. Weaknesses. My father taught me that lesson along with my mother's blood.
Yet I can't stop watching her. Can't stop wondering what her skin would feel like under my hands. If she'd tremble or fight back. If her eyes would still hold that defiance when I?—
"Enjoying the view, Rivera?"
I don't turn as Matteo joins me on the balcony. Don't give him the satisfaction of catching me off guard.
"Just getting some air," I say, my voice flat.
"Sure. And I'm just drinking water tonight." He laughs, following my gaze to Evelyn. "Careful with that one. Ivan's been circling her for months."
My jaw tightens at the mention of Ivan. That Russian piece of shit has no business touching what doesn't belong to him.
Not that she belongs to me either.
But maybe she should.
"Fuck off, Matteo." I keep my voice even, bored almost. Won't give him the satisfaction of seeing how his words hit their mark.
He laughs, the irritating sound that's followed me for years. "Always so charming, Noah. It's why everyone loves you."
I light another cigarette, letting silence hang between us. Inside, the music has stopped. Evelyn's taking a break, accepting a glass of champagne from one of the waiters. Her fingers brush back a strand of hair that's fallen loose and I find myself tracking the movement.
"Damiano wants us to handle that situation in Queens next week," Matteo says, switching to business. "The Colombian shipment got complicated."
"It always does." I exhale smoke into the night air. "Tell him I'll take care of it."
"You always do." He leans against the railing. "Though I'm starting to think you enjoy the bloody parts too much."
I shrug. "It's just work."
"Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?"
"Bold of you to assume I sleep."
Matteo laughs again, but there's something different in it this time. Almost concern. I hate it.
"Speaking of Damiano," he continues, "he's got plans for expansion down south. Wants us both in the meeting tomorrow."
I nod, barely listening. Evelyn's disappeared from view and I scan the room for her. Can't find her anywhere.
"You hear what I said?"
"Tomorrow. Meeting. I'll be there."
Matteo follows my gaze into the ballroom. "Jesus, you've got it bad."