Page 37

CHAPTER 37

L ea

It’s been a week since I walked into Salvatore Morandi’s house and nearly got a bullet for it. There were so many guns pointed at me that I would never have known which one fired it.

My relationship with Massimo’s father has improved since then.

“To the guest of honor,” Salvatore says, nodding to me and offering a glass of wine. “We are naming a private selection of wines we’ll be releasing soon, and I’ve decided to call this one Eleanor .”

“What?” I gasp, nearly dropping the wine before I get a grip on it. “You’re naming a wine after me?”

“Mm, yes,” he smiles, and his drop-dead-breathtakingly gorgeous wife walks up beside him. Massimo’s mother. “I still have a few bottles of the wine I named after my wife, back when it was just the two of us.”

“Do you?” she replies, her tone a bit lighter than his thicker one. “I thought I finished the last bottle a couple of years ago, when you left me alone to go to Isola Selvaggia without me.”

“It was business,” he says, slapping her ass. “And if you drank the last bottle, you and I are going to be having a talk later.”

“I look forward to that,” she says, clearing her throat. “Anyway, our guest of honor! Eleanor!”

“L-Lea,” I say, even though I’ve told her that several times. “Nobody calls me Eleanor, really.”

“Maybe I’ll start calling you that, too,” Massimo growls, sneaking up on me like a shadow and wrapping his arms around my waist. “ Eleanor .”

“Ah!” I stiffen, then relax in his arms, careful not to lean on his injured shoulder. “Please, don’t. If I’m the guest of honor, that’s my request. Don’t I get one of those?”

“Oh, she’s been reading up on the family traditions!” Salvatore says with some excitement in his voice. “That’s what I like to hear. But you’re going to waste your request on a name? Tonight? Some people wait decades before they come to the table to make it.”

“He’s not lying,” Massimo says. “You have a personal favor from the head of the Morandi family—or as your friend Sarah likes to call us, the Dirty Vegas Mafia.”

“I hate that fucking name,” Salvatore spits out and his wife consoles him with a gentle rub on his back.

“I can ask for anything?” I blink a couple of times. “I’ll be honest, I haven’t been reading up on the family traditions. Massimo just told me I was going to be given a special request as the guest of honor.”

“It means a little more than that,” Salvatore says dryly. “And you’re not the only guest of honor tonight. Just the only one who has a wine named after her.”

“Hmm,” I say. “Okay, I guess I can live with everyone calling me Eleanor.”

Massimo lets go of me, and we continue talking for a while. I mostly listen, because I’m still getting used to being around such a lively crowd.

Yes, I’m still in Las Vegas. Sarah’s here too. And Cadence. We’re the guests of honor at a party that nobody outside of the Morandi family knows about. Salvatore Morandi’s way of saying thank you for saving all three of his sons—and the wine, well, that might be because I’m not leaving.

Sarah and Cadence fly home tomorrow. Sarah’s been gambling at Massimo’s casino, and he’s been ignoring the fact she’s counting the cards. She’s smart enough to push her luck and thinks she’s getting away with it. Cadence stays in her room, doing something on her laptop. She swears it has nothing to do with the Morandi family, and we’re trusting her. A hacker we literally don’t know.

But she’s owed the same debt of gratitude, and this is how the Morandi family does things.

“Wow!” Sarah says, pulling me away from Massimo and his parents. “I’m just going to borrow the other guest of honor for a moment. Guest of honor—stuff!”

I glance at Massimo and shrug, then let Sarah lead me away. She pulls me toward the corner, where nobody else is.

“Can you believe this?” Sarah asks excitedly, then pulls her vape out of her purse and takes a tiny puff. “We’re at a Dirty Vegas Mafia party! And we’re the guests of honor!”

“Don’t you usually want all these people in prison?” I laugh nervously. “Isn’t that the whole point of your true crime obsession?”

“Maybe there’s been a tiny bit of Mafia fangirl in me,” she laughs. “Not, like, crazy fangirl or anything…”

“Fangirl enough to put their pictures on your wall,” I say.

“But seriously, isn’t this kind of awesome?” she asks, tilting her head slightly.

“It’s a little overwhelming,” I admit.

“You spent a week as a Mafia prince’s prisoner.” Sarah bats her eyelashes. “How can any of this be overwhelming?”

“He’s not a Mafia prince,” I sigh.

“His father is the king of Las Vegas, right?” Sarah asks. “I mean, they even call it his throne at the head of the table. So, what does that make Massimo?”

“A Mafia prince,” I relent. “But not like the ones from your podcast. He wasn’t hunted by the Mafia Prince Killer.”

That podcast put Sarah on the map in the true crime world. I listened to it, but I wasn’t obsessed with the killer like she was. I never imagined coming face-to-face with someone who could have been targeted by the killer. Thankfully, he’s in prison now.

“I know, but he’s still a Mafia prince, and you’re going to marry him,” Sarah says emphatically.

“Stop!” I say louder than I should and feel the heat in my cheeks. “It’s way too soon to talk about anything like that! I’m… staying in Las Vegas. I’m his guest.”

“His prisoner ,” she cackles, nudging me.

“Enough,” I laugh. “I have to get back to Massimo. Enjoy the party. Remember, none of this ever goes on your podcast.”

“I know. Morandi family. Off limits forever,” she exclaims, darting away from me. “Have fun!”

Staying in Las Vegas. At Massimo’s enormous estate. I’m no prisoner. I have a life I never imagined having—right now. I’m letting life guide me, and following my adventure, wherever it decides to take me.

It seems to keep leading me back into Massimo’s arms.