Page 69 of Last Breath

‘We know something Matteo doesn’t,’ she said quietly, ‘and Clarkson might have figured it out too.’

‘What’s that?’ Tom scoffed. ‘How to pair adequate wine with cheese that doesn’t taste like the bottom of a boot?’

‘Ariana owes us. Well, she owes Max and Grey for saving her life at the gala.’

‘You think that stuck-up cow would betray her own family for a favour?’

‘Maybe our brother knows more about what makes Ariana tick,’ Nella said. ‘They used to be friends, didn’t they?’

‘Before his prefrontal cortex had completely formed.’ Tom glared.

‘Ariana won’t help you,’ Jett said. ‘And even if she would because she thinks she owes you, Matteo would never let her.’

‘We need Luca,’ Nella said. ‘He—’

A phone rang.

‘Speak of the devil and he shall butt-dial you.’ Tom held up his phone with Luca’s caller ID flashing across it. ‘I’ll take it outside.’

No, don’t,Jett wanted to yell. Too late.

The car may as well have plummeted upwards into the atmosphere, where there were no pressurised cabins or oxygen filters, as Tom slammed the door, phone to his ear. Jett undid his top button to help himself breathe.

‘I know it’s there,’ Nella whispered, her voice level – of course it was level, she was in a stationary car, not an oxygenless aeroplane nosediving towards Earth. ‘Clarkson found the proof we need. It’s in the La Marca Lake Orta house – I can feel it.’

She shifted in the seat and Jett’s mind spiralled back to the feel of her hips in his hands. Her skin scorching through his. He had been perfectly content burning alive as cosmic punishment for his transgression.

‘Jett?’

All he could smell was her perfume. All he could taste, still, was her strawberry gin and bitter, silky red lipstick.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

‘Huh?’ He fiddled with Bessy’s radio dials, desperate for any sound other than the echo of the noises she’d made into his mouth. Anything he could touch that would not remind him of the feel of her.

‘I shouldn’t have made you do that. It was all I could think of ...’

Me too.

‘... that would give us a legitimate excuse for why we were there. I panicked. You can tell your girlfriend it was all my fault, I’m so sorry I put you in that position. But you can’t beat yourself up. You didn’t cheat – it’s my fault.’ She paused, searching his face. ‘I’ll tell her if you like, I’ll explain everything. What’s her name?’

The last time he’d seen Nella ramble like this was after he and Greyson had dragged her out of Sally Sue’s apartment. She’d been humiliated, terrified and desperate for someone to understand.

It took way too long for him to actually realise what she’d said.

What was wrong with him?

‘We’re not exclusive,’ he said. ‘I told you that. We’ve only been out a couple of times. She won’t care.’

‘She would,’ Nella insisted. ‘I’d be furious.’

He snorted, grateful she’d led him down a road that was easy to navigate. ‘You? You’ve never been jealous of another woman in your entire life.’

She frowned. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Come on, Nella.’ This was better, they were falling back into their normal banter. Everything would be fine; they would put this behind them. He would forget. He had to forget.

Except Nella wasn’t smiling. And he couldn’t forget.