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KENDRA

T he champagne buzzes in my veins as Griffin spins me around, my navy blue dress flaring out around my thighs. In all our parties through college, I've never seen him move like this.

The reception is stunning—strings of twinkling lights hang from the trees surrounding the outdoor dance floor, creating a ceiling of artificial stars. Jazz and Nerio spared no expense, transforming this garden into something magical.

I was skeptical when my childhood best friend Jazz said yes to the Bueti capo, but she's happy. And now that our mutual friend, Skye, is married to the Mantione Don—yes, rival families—I've accepted that I'm now surrounded by made men. Ones that are more than willing to destroy each other no less.

Not to mention Mikayla has a huge crush on a well known criminal hacker, Elliott Romano, who she brought as her date. It seems I'm the only one who brought a man who isn't entrenched in the underworld.

"You're actually not terrible at this," I tell Griffin as he pulls me back in, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Four years of forced ballroom lessons as a teenager. My mother was convinced it would make me a gentleman." Griffin's hand settles on my waist, warm and familiar in the most platonic way possible. He's been my closest friend—besides Jazz—for six years now and while we tried to make it work once, we realized we are far too perfect as friends.

"And did it?" I arch an eyebrow.

"Absolutely not." He grins, that perfect jawline catching the light. "But it does make me look good at weddings."

I laugh, grateful I brought him. When Jazz announced she was marrying Nerio Bueti—of all people—I knew I needed a buffer. Nothing says awkward like being the only single woman at a table of coupled-up friends.

Across the dance floor, I spot Mikayla in a blush pink gown, looking up adoringly at Elliott. His hand rests protectively on her lower back, dark curls falling into his eyes as he whispers something that makes her grin. For a tech genius who runs a cybersecurity firm, the man moves with surprising grace.

"Think they'll be next?" Griffin nods toward them.

"God, I hope so. She deserves someone who looks at her like that."

Even if she tries to deny there's anything there, none of us believe it.

We twirl past Skye and Luca, newlyweds themselves having only married four months ago. Skye's amber eyes glow with contentment as she leans against her husband's chest. Luca, ever the ice prince, has actually managed something resembling a smile today—though his calculating blue eyes never stop scanning the crowd, though he is in enemy territory I guess.

"Thirsty?" Griffin asks as the song ends.

"Dying for water. Too much champagne."

"I'll grab some. Meet you back at the table?"

I nod, letting Griffin disappear into the crowd. The night air feels good against my skin, a slight breeze carrying the scent of jasmine from the surrounding gardens. I turn to head back to our table, then freeze.

Eyes. On me. Not a casual glance but an intentional stare—heavy, deliberate.

I scan the crowd until I find the source, and my heart stutters. Enzo Rossi, leaning against a marble column at the edge of the dance floor. His steel-gray eyes lock with mine, unwavering and unreadable.

A capo in the Mantione family, Enzo commands attention without trying. His broad shoulders fill out his tailored black suit with lethal elegance. Those intricate tattoos I've glimpsed before are hidden tonight, but I know they're there beneath crisp white fabric. His presence feels like a physical thing—dangerous and magnetic.

I've run into him before—at Skye's boutique a few times, and several times during Skye and Luca's wedding festivities. Each time, our interactions were brief but charged with something I couldn't name.

He doesn't smile or nod or give any acknowledgment that our eyes have met. He simply watches me, his gaze so intense it feels like a hand on my skin.

I force myself to break the stare, tearing my eyes away from Enzo's magnetic gaze. The air between us feels charged with electricity, making my skin tingle in a way that's equal parts warning and invitation.

"Well, well, well." Skye's voice cuts through my thoughts as she appears at my side, radiant in her cream wedding gown that hugs her curves before flaring dramatically at the bottom. "Someone's caught the attention of a very dangerous man."

"Don't start," I mutter, taking her glass of champagne and downing half of it. "I saw you coming from across the dance floor with that look in your eye."

"What look?" She blinks innocently, but those amber eyes gleam with mischief. The small diamond stud in her nose catches the light as she tilts her head.

"The 'I'm going to meddle in Kendra's love life' look." I hand her back the glass. "You've been wearing it since college." I grew up with Jazz, knew her all my life, but she and Skye met in college. It didn't take long for the two of us to click.

Skye's perfectly manicured nails tap against the crystal. "I'm just saying, that man hasn't taken his eyes off you all night. And don't pretend you haven't noticed."

I glance over my shoulder. Enzo hasn't moved, still watching us with that calculated intensity that somehow makes me feel both exposed and protected at the same time.

"He's probably just sizing up potential threats," I say, smoothing down my dress. "That's what these guys do at social gatherings, right? Threat assessment?"

Skye laughs, the sound light and musical. "Keep telling yourself that, honey." She leans closer, her sleek black hair brushing against my arm. "You know what I think? I think you're just what the Mantione family needs—another strong woman to keep these men in line."

I snort. "Right. Because what I want most in life is to join your little mafia wives club."

"You could do worse." She smirks, looking pointedly at Griffin who's chatting with Mikayla at the bar. "And you know I just want someone else in the family. It gets lonely being the only one married to?—"

"A psychopath?" I offer helpfully.

"I was going to say 'a complicated man,'" she counters, but her smile doesn't falter. "Besides, wouldn't it be fun to have someone to share my secrets with?"

Before I can respond, Luca appears behind his wife, sliding an arm possessively around her waist. Even at what should be a casual social event, he maintains that unnervingly calm demeanor, ice-blue eyes giving nothing away.

"I need to steal my wife," he says, his voice smooth and controlled. It's not a request.

Skye pouts playfully, but leans back against his chest. "We were having girl talk."

"I'm sure Kendra won't mind," Luca says, his eyes briefly meeting mine with something that might be amusement. I'm still not sure when it comes to him. He's literal ice. Except with his wife.

Skye sighs dramatically but gives me a wink as Luca pulls her away. "This conversation isn't over," she calls over her shoulder.

I've barely caught my breath when a dark presence materializes beside me, the air around us suddenly charged with electricity. I don't need to turn to know who it is—my body has already registered Enzo's proximity, responding with a rush of heat that has nothing to do with the summer night.

"Running from me, Washington?" His voice is low and rough, like whiskey over gravel.

I turn slowly, determined not to show how his sudden appearance affects me. Up close, Enzo Rossi is even more devastating—sharp cheekbones, strong jaw dusted with precisely maintained stubble, and those steel-gray eyes that seem to strip away every defense I've carefully constructed.

"Considering I didn't know you were following me, that would be difficult." I take a deliberate sip of my champagne, using the glass as a barrier between us. "Shouldn't you be lurking in some corner, plotting whatever it is capos plot at weddings?"

His mouth curves into something too dangerous to be called a smile. "Maybe you're what I'm plotting."

"Original," I say dryly, but my heart kicks against my ribs. "Do women usually fall at your feet when you use lines like that?"

He steps closer, and the space between us shrinks to almost nothing. I can smell his cologne now—something expensive and woodsy that makes me want to lean in despite myself.

"I don't waste lines on women who fall easily." His eyes track over my face, lingering on my lips. "You're far more interesting than that."

"You don't know anything about me." I hold my ground even as every instinct screams to create distance.

"I know enough." He leans in, his breath warm against my ear. "I know you've been watching me since you arrived. I know you’re far too witty for the guy you brought with you. I know that dress was chosen to command attention, not hide from it."

His observation unsettles me. I hate that he's been paying such close attention—hate even more that he's right.

"I also wore comfortable shoes," I counter, lifting my foot slightly to show my strappy but sensible heel. "Because I'm practical above all else. And getting involved with a Mantione capo would be the opposite of practical."

His laugh is unexpected—deep and genuine. "At least you recognize the danger. Most women don't."

"I'm not most women."

"No," he agrees, eyes darkening as he studies me. "You're definitely not."

Before I can respond, Griffin appears, slightly breathless and holding two waters.

"Sorry that took so long," he says, glancing between Enzo and me with obvious curiosity. "Bar was packed."

Enzo doesn't move back, doesn't surrender an inch of the space he's claimed near me. Instead, he extends his hand to Griffin with calculated politeness.

"Enzo Rossi."

Griffin shifts both waters to one hand and returns the handshake. "Griffin Taylor. Friend of Kendra's."

The word "friend" hangs in the air, and I watch Enzo's expression shift microscopically as he processes this information.

"Come on," Griffin says to me, oblivious to the tension. "They're playing our song."

It's not our song—we don't have a song—but I recognize the lifeline he's throwing me. Even Griffin, who knows nothing about these families, can sense the dangerous current flowing between Enzo and me.

"Right," I say, taking the water and downing half of it. "Nice chatting, Enzo."

Enzo's eyes don't leave mine as he steps back, a predator willing to pause the hunt but not abandon it. "We'll continue this conversation later, Kendra."

The way he says my name—like he's tasting it—sends an unwanted rush of something through me. Something I choose to ignore.

Griffin leads me to the dance floor, his hand light on my back. "So, do I need to ask what that was about?" he says once we're safely swaying among other couples.

I glance over his shoulder. Enzo hasn't moved, his gaze still locked on me from across the reception.

"Absolutely nothing," I say firmly, even as my body hums with awareness. "Nothing at all."