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might as well figure out what was going on so I could put an end to it.
     
    Bruno held the door to the backseat open and I climbed in, pulling my backpack in beside me. Bruno got in the front seat and turned the radio to an oldies station. “Music alright?” he asked, suddenly much livelier and friendlier.
     
    “Fine,” I replied shakily, clutching the top handle of my backpack.
     
    He drove faster, swerving through the city streets so we arrived at Lorenzo’s apartment in just minutes. I waited until Bruno opened the door and climbed out onto the sidewalk. The sun was just setting behind the tall, beautiful building and the whole scene looked sad and picturesque. My sense of doom from earlier left me and I just felt tired and resigned as I followed Bruno through the lobby and up the elevator to Lorenzo’s apartment.
     
    I don’t know what I expected to find inside the apartment. Maybe the whole damn mob and an array of hit men waiting for me. Instead, I followed Bruno into the spacious entryway and saw Lorenzo standing there, as handsome as he had been when I left him. Next to him, stood an older man with greying hair and a thin, weathered face. He looked familiar. Of course. Giovanni Romano looked older than the pictures I had seen of him in articles about the crime family, but he still had that almost regal poise.
     
    “Thank you, Bruno,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice that betrayed his years of cigar smoking. “Emma, please come in. Have a seat.”
     
    I wasn’t sure if it was meant to be an order or a polite invitation, but I obeyed him anyway. I stepped forward into the modern living room I had only just glanced at earlier that morning.  Several large paintings hung on the walls, ranging in styles from modern and abstract to paintings that looked like they might be genuine renaissance masterpieces. The furnishings were clean, bright, and modern. I walked over to the closest chair, the one furthest from Lorenzo and his father, and took a seat, laying my bag on the floor next to me.
     
    I looked up and locked eyes with Lorenzo. I had been carefully avoiding his gaze, but now I couldn’t look away. Damn, each time I looked at that boy he got hotter and hotter.
     
    His sharp, angular features somehow looked even better set off by the crisp black suit he was now wearing. His eyes looked even brighter, set off by the pale blue shirt collar and sleeves that looked crisply ironed. I noticed he wore heavy silver cufflinks shaped in the symbol of his family crest.
     
    The Romanos were descended, way back, from early Italian princes and they wanted to make sure the world didn’t forget their claim. I looked away, breaking the spell of our silent war. I wasn’t sure what he was trying to tell me with his eyes, but I didn’t care. He had dragged me into his mess and like the spoiled prince he was, he would walk away unaffected while my world crumbled. It didn’t matter that he was hot as fuck or that he had a freaking magical cock. He was an asshole and probably just as much of a megalomaniac as his father.
     
    “So, Miss Emma,” Giovanni began, his tone deep and calm.  It almost sounded like the beginning of a friendly conversation between friends. Almost. “One of my men told me you were spotted leaving the precinct this afternoon. This wouldn’t have anything to do with my boy Lorenzo, would it?” His tone took on the slightest edge at the end.
     
    I looked over at Lorenzo, but his face was now impassive as he stared off to the side. He didn’t meet my eyes, so I looked back at his father. The truth might be the only thing that would save me now.
     
    “The detective did ask me to come in and he asked me if I knew anything about Lorenzo but I told him I didn’t know anything. Which I don’t.  I can promise you that I never meant to be involved in any of this and I didn’t tell anyone anything because I honestly don’t know anything. I just want to forget about the last twenty-four