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When that didn’t take my attention, a loud bang!

rang out through the store, followed by the cracking of glass.

I didn’t look toward the noise until Sistine did.

I knew what it was: her sister throwing a temper tantrum.

And I was right. Capri had slammed the door to the case so hard it had cracked the glass.

Adone apologized to Zio Romeo, then cleared his throat before he asked me if I needed anything. He wasn’t outright calling me out on being in the store for no reason, but it was a subtle attempt to figure out what my intentions were.

What had me narrowing my eyes was when Adone set his hand on Capri’s back and set her in front of Sistine. He was blocking my view with one I didn’t fucking care to see.

Zio Romeo looked between Adone and me as I moved to the side.

I gave him a look daring him to pull the same fucking move again.

This time, he moved Capri to the other side of him and asked me again if I needed anything.

She growled a bit in her throat, and then her eyes narrowed on Sistine before her stare came back to mine, a sweet smile on her face.

“Yes,” I spoke to Adone in Italian. “I do. Sistine will design it and create it.”

“Capri—” he started.

“She can only design,” I said. “I want the same artist from start to finish.”

Adone stared at me, debating, then came to the smartest conclusion: he stepped to the side and invited me to the back. He spoke to Sistine in Italian, giving her instructions to take my order. She’d be designing the piece and creating it.

Her cheeks puffed out, and I knew she was fighting the urge to huff at me. She stood taller, though, and grabbed her notebook. After Adone returned to the front of the store, she met my eyes.

“I do not know what game you are up to, Signor Casanova , but whatever it is, I am not playing. Tell me what you want.”

I ran my fingers along her desk, and her eyes flew to my hands, inspecting them, just like she’d done the day before. As quickly as they flew down, they returned to my face, full of fire. I perched on the edge of her desk, and she pinched her lips at me.

“I want a name plate—the name Annie,” I said. “I don’t care about metals, and as far as the design, I want the name in script, and a cowgirl boot to be added to it somehow. A diamond for the ‘I’ in the name. Something dainty, for a slim neck.”

She wrote down the name and what I’d told her. “Poor Annie,” she mumbled, staring at the page and her notes.

I used my finger to pull the notebook down. “I know this is a process, but you’ll approve it from start to finish. You have creative control.”

She looked up, and I almost fell off the desk. She had those eyes. The kind of eyes that could deliver a look that could reform a man’s life to fit hers. They were innocent, but so damn...knowing. She looked at me like she’d known me her entire life, but at the same time, I was new.

“Needless to ask, but I am required to, Signor Casanova .” She whispered the “ Casanova .” “Price does not matter?”

I nodded.

She jotted down a few more notes, then lifted the book to her chest and looked me in the eye. “Anything else?”

“A question.”

She sighed—it was fucking dramatic. As dramatic as her eye rolls.

“Tell me, do you always wear your hair that way.”

Her hand went straight to her hair before she blinked at me. “This is not a professional question.”

“Humor me. Answer it.”

She studied my face. “I work with a torch. To keep it down would be a hazard.”

“Ahhh.” I sighed. “You answered without truly answering.”

She didn’t respond. We stared at each other. Then she glanced behind me and leaned in close. “I know what you are up to, Casanova Prince . It is not working.”

“Tell me,” I whispered back, only because it set a more intimate mood between us. “What am I doing.”

“Flirting. And your efforts are wasted on me.” She nodded behind me. “Try your moves on my sister. You will not have to break a sweat. Or mess your impeccable hair. You know where she lives. Which balcony is hers. The door will be perpetually open to you.”

“You think my hair is impeccable?” My eyebrows shot up for dramatic effect.

Her nose scrunched and she made claws out of her hands. Lifting them toward me, she bared her teeth at me in almost a snarl.

I laughed until a sigh hit my lips. “Ahh.” My breath washed over her skin.

“I don’t shy away from hard work or a challenge.

It fucking thrills me to know I’m putting in hard work for something that’s worth it.

That’s all fucking mine. Something I’ll carry the scar for until my body is no longer here.

” Without breaking the moment, I reached up and removed the clip from her hair.

Then I reached over and grabbed another one from her desk and held it out to her.

Her hair fell to her waist. It was thick, slightly wavy, and smelled like apples and roses.

There was a citrusy twist in there somewhere.

She had a center part, and it only took her a second to wrangle the strands back into place.

Like they were trained to fall a certain way.

The teeth of the clip held her hair in a tight twist, and that told me the smaller pieces snuck out of the hold on their own.

Rebellious.

I shivered and made the noise to go with. I fucking liked it.

“You are…” She growled low in her throat. “Insufferable! Cheeky! Pompous! What do you plan to do with my clip?” She went to snatch it back, but I pulled it out of her reach too fast.

“I’m going into battle soon. I’m going to keep it close. For good luck.”

“How many clips— ” she made air quotes around the word “—do you keep with you during your battles?”

“Up until this moment.” I made a show of staring at the ceiling, like I was thinking. Then I stood to my full height and had to look down at her. The height difference between us was sizable. Our eyes connected before I leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Zero. You’re my first.”

She stared after me as I left, her hands on her hips, but her mouth was slightly open. I laughed, and even Zio Romeo grinned and shook his head as he looked between us.

Out in the cold, I lifted her clip, fighting the urge to sniff the thing like a fucking creep.

It had a red silk rose on it. I clipped it to my coat, smelling her scent in the chilled air, and stood taller as we navigated the streets of Venice, on our way to meet my family so we could question a wannabe pirate about the status of my brother’s heart.

The status of mine suddenly?

Lost.

So fucking lost.

Or maybe it wasn’t lost at all.

Maybe it had been in a jewelry store in the middle of Venice all along.