Page 48 of Rosetti Family New York

"Nah. It was my turn to shoot.”

She buttons up, and the playfulness in her eyes softens a little, gets serious. She looks away like she’s weighing something, but I catch her chin, pull her gaze back.

"You don’t have to pretend with me,” I say.

Her smile is small, surprised. "Pretend what?”

"That you’re some kind of ice queen. That you don’t feel things, that you don’t burn for everything your father tells you you can’t have. I know who you are, Eleanor. I see you.”

It’s quiet for a second, like she’s not sure what to say.

Finally, she breaks the silence and fills the gap with words that sound a little like armor. “I don’t feel things, Leonardo, not really. I’m not like you.” Her eyes are sharp, deflecting. “All I want is for my sister to be safe and free. That’s not exactlyan emotion.” There’s a moment where her gaze falters and her mouth curves into a bitter, small half-laugh that almost breaks my fucking heart.

I don’t let her get away with it. “Don’t be stupid,” I shoot back. “I know better than that. Your feelings are deeper than anyone’s I’ve ever met. You just push them down. Bury them.” My voice hardens around each word. “You’re nothing like the facade you show the world, Eleanor. I see through it, through this ice queen act you’ve got going on. The perfect princess with perfect clothes and perfect manners.”

She narrows her eyes at me like she doesn’t quite believe it. Like she doesn’t quite believe me. “You’re ridiculous,” she says, but there’s the slightest waver when she says it, a fracture in her resolve. A fracture I know is real because I put it there.

“The way you took care of Marco,” I tell her. “Kept him alive.”

She scoffs. “Didn’t realize you appreciated that.”

I won’t stop until she knows I mean every damn word. “The way you put yourself forward your whole life to protect your sister. The way you’re still doing it. You’re strong, Eleanor.” She shudders as I say it, like the word means something to her. “Stronger than anyone gives you credit for.”

Her eyes soften, and she reaches out, runs a hand over my bicep. I tense under her touch, but I don’t look away, don’t let her look away. “Who knew there was more than a cold-blooded killer beneath all these tattoos?” Her voice is soft, but I hear the damn truth in it. I know this is the part where she lets herself be honest. “A big hard man with a soft squishy heart.”

The way she’s looking at me, like I’m something other than the wild card, like she’s searching me for something precious—it makes my fucking heart trip.

I laugh, cup her face. "That’s only there for you, baby,” I say.

It’s not like me to be sappy, but the way she smiles, the way her fingers find my chest and curl there like she never wants to let go, makes me feel like I’m the one winning.

It won’t last, this quiet moment. We’ll go back to fighting, to passion and fury, but right now, in the echo of the gun range, with my shirt hanging off her shoulders and my skin still humming from her touch, it’s enough.

25

Eleanor

Father’s mansion waits at the top of the hill, a brick and stone monstrosity. Its shadow falls over Leonardo’s SUV, darkening the windshield and making it impossible to see the fury in his hazel eyes.

“Sure you want to do this alone?” he asks. He’s not talking about what’s in the house. He’s talking about the half a dozen guards I’ve talked him into leaving outside with him.

“I don’t think a Price guard will pull the trigger on Richard’s daughter.”

“Is that a joke?” His eyebrows meet like a pair of thunderclouds. “You fucking joking right now, princess?”

“I told you never to call me that.”

“Right, well, you tell me a lot of things. Not calling you that’s gonna be as easy as you not getting into trouble.”

I sigh, looking around at the two SUVs parked behind us full of armed guards he insisted on bringing along for the ride. “Don’t you think the invasion force is overkill?”

“Overkill’s how you stay alive in this business.”

“Tell you what, if you’re nice and stay out here, I’ll let you say ‘I told you so’ if father’s guards open fire.”

He huffs, a puff of steam in the early morning air. “You need me, you call me.”

I nod.