I drink an Italian soda with the straw between my teeth, the bubbles tickling my nose. It tastes like grapes, like a summer afternoon in Sicily, with my head tilted back and my eyes shut and the sun warming my face, like eating fruit right off the vine and going for a swim in the deep, blue Mediterranean. It tastes like a dreamlike illusion. To distract myself from these fanciful thoughts threatening to consume me, I survey the room. Heavy, masculine furniture; wallpaper in a deep forest green; carved mahogany bookshelves towering around the room with thick tomes in rust and sienna. It gives me the sensation of being in a very exclusive gentlemen's club, or maybe a very old library. Tired as I am by the events of the night, I have to take care not to spill my drink.

Please, God. I can't do this without You. You are all that I have, all that sustains me. The words filter through my mind like a reflex, like clinging to a handrail to keep from tripping. Have mercy on me, Father, in the time of my need... Don't let me fall into this trap... Don't let me fall into danger... Don't let me fall into sin... Lead me not into temptation, but deliver me from evil.

Sin has never dressed so well. Never spoken to me so gently. Never poured me a soda and told me to enjoy it while he took care of some business in the back, leaving me under the watchful eye of his sister. Sin never looked at me like he wanted me; like I was the most precious treasure in the world to him.

Antonio Cavalli is a liar and a thief. But he's worked his way into my life, or maybe dragged me into his by the hair, and I need to keep my sanity.

"So, how are you liking your soda?" Allie asks me as she sips on a cocktail. "I've just never had one of those, so I'm curious."

"It's not bad," I say, trying to relax in the small study that Antonio directed Allie and me to with instructions not to leave until he called for us. Suspicious, perhaps, but I wasn't about to question a man who could dismember me five ways to Sunday. "Do you know why Antonio is locking us in this room like prisoners?"

Something painful flashes through Allie's eyes as she leans back on the leather settee and props her booted feet onto the ottoman. She sets her drink down and folds her arms across her chest. Clearly, I've hit a nerve, apparently. "My brother is a good man, Christina. I know he may seem rough on the surface, but I assure you. Antonio wouldn't treat anyone like a prisoner."

"You're awfully defensive of your brother," I say after taking a sip of soda. Is there more to him beneath the surface than I've previously assumed?

"I don't take kindly to people who hurt my family." She straightens up, her blue eyes sharp and alight with a fierce love for the Cavalli's.

I smile. Deep down, the promise I made to Lucas stings, like a paper cut when you add too much hand sanitizer. I told him I would help him take down the Cavalli's. Just because Adelina loves them, doesn't make them good people. "I didn't mean to attack your brother or anyone else, Allie. I was just curious."

Her shoulders relax slightly, her posture softening. "It's alright. I only... They're the only family I've ever known. I was adopted by the Cavalli's at a young age. Antonio is the best brother a girl could ask for, Bianca is my favourite sister, and Tony is the cutest nephew. If I didn't have them, I don't know where I would be."

"Well, I hope we can move past this," I say, swallowing thickly. "They really... They sound like a loving family."

A loving family who trafficks in crime, drug deals, and murder?

Allie squeezes my hand with her small, blue-nailed one. "I'm glad you understand."

I wish I could. How many times have I wished for a sibling? For a big family? I never resented that it was only my mom and I, but sometimes, I wanted more than that. "Yeah, of course."

Our conversation moves onto a different topic, something more superficial and easier to discuss. The party, the people; she gives me a run-down of the family tree and tells me why Lucia's return would cause such a big stir.

Still, something sticks in my mind and I have no choice but to ask the question, as rude as it may be. It feels like God is prompting me to pose it. "If you don't mind my asking... what were the circumstances of your adoption?"

"I don't mind at all." Allie downs the rest of her cocktail and sets the martini glass on the crystal-topped coffee table, her eyes as bright as the sparkling surface. "I was six or seven when I came to the Cavalli's, but they never really told me who my biological parents were... Sometimes I wonder who they were, but most of the time I don't really care."

"Do you remember anything about them?" I say before wishing I had never said anything about it. Even though she looks fine with talking about it, there's a difference between fine and eager. And, this is a sore subject for many people. My mom would be scolding me for such a faux pas. "I mean, you don't have to answer..."

"No, no, it's fine." She waves a hand as though to bat away my concern. "I don't remember much. I think I had an older brother, he had blue eyes. And an older sister. She had red hair. I was the baby of the family... That's the only thing I remember. I've never seen pictures of them or anything. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like if I was still with them. But I already have a brother and a sister"

"Huh," I say, filing away the information. She mentions her siblings, but not her parents? I guess Roberto Cavalli doesn't seem like a very friendly father, at least not to my eye. "Thanks for sharing."

The conversation takes a more casual turn. I tell her about growing up as an only child and she quips that she is jealous of that, although the love in her eyes belies that joke. We keep talking until the door opens again, my soda bottle empty. I turn toward the door, half-expecting a waiter or something, and have to stop myself from asking for more soda when I see that it's Antonio standing in the doorway. He looks between the two of us, his face impassive. Unreadable.

Then, for a moment that makes my heart squeeze and stutter, his gaze lands on me and he breaks into a smile, relief sagging his shoulders. Like he thought I would have escaped out the window or something while he wasn't looking. The idea makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time. On one hand, what choice do I have but to stay? On the other... I almost can't imagine leaving. I can, I can imagine leaving him and going back to my ordinary life, but too much has changed.

"Hi," he says, hands stuffed deep in his pockets as his grey eyes remain fixed on me.

"Very eloquent of you, fratello," Allie teases him, her eyes darting between the two of us like someone watching a tennis match. Her chandelier earrings sway with each movement of her head.

He rolls his eyes, one of the first times I've seen him crack his shell of an icy, untouchable mafia boss and Capo. "Don't you have somewhere to be, Allie?"

She pats him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, lovebirds. I'll see myself out."

With that, the door to the study closes behind her, leaving the two of us alone.

The door closes with a click that seems to thud in my ears, resounding through the room. Or maybe it's just me, thinking that my sister leaving the room is more important than it actually is. I'm always shaken up when I see my younger brother, Sebastian, show up in my life again, and every time I wish things could be different between us. But they can't, and there's no point in dwelling on it.

"So," Christina says, her gaze fixed on her soda bottle. It's glass, fluted, condensation beading on the sides, and the way she looks at it instead of looking at me makes me wonder if letting Allie leave us alone was the right decision. Her voice trails off, the single word hanging in the air like an olive branch. Waiting for me to take it or leave it.

"So," I echo, sitting down next to her. "What did you and Adelina talk about?"

She shrugs, leaning forward. I take the moment to put my arm over the couch, letting it drape over her shoulders. Christina doesn't speak for a moment, instead resting her head on my chest. My body freezes for a moment as her face presses against my shirt, her eyes shutting softly. "She told me about how she was adopted."

I can scarcely pay attention to her words. I'm not some blushing schoolboy who has never been in a compromising situation with a woman before. So why does Christina Martell have this effect on me? Is it the scent that surrounds her, all floral and delicately sweet? Is it because she's not part of my world, supposedly innocent and untainted by this life of blood and crime? Is it the fact that she seems to actually care, about me, not what I am, but who I am?

"Really?" I say, lifting a hand to stroke her hair. It feels like silk between my fingers, and she lifts her head slightly, tilting it back to look up at me. I wish I knew what she was thinking. Then again, it's probably better that I don't. "I'm surprised that she would share that with you. Allie must really like you."

Adelina doesn't trust strangers easily. She hardly ever bonds with people outside our immediate family. Yet maybe there's something about Christina that causes the Cavalli's to open up more than usual around her. Even my father begrudgingly seems to approve of her. Although there is that other Martell problem to be solved... My mind drifts into complex plots of mafia bosses and murder and territory disputes before Christina's voice startles me.

"Something about what she said was really interesting," she says as I card my fingers through her hair. Her voice is a low murmur, slurred with tiredness. "Allie said that you would never treat anyone like a prisoner."

"Why was it interesting?" I say, cupping her cheek with my hand. Christina feels small next to my six-foot-five frame, but of course, it's only that I'm taller than her by an entire foot. "Have I treated you like a prisoner?"

She looks up at me briefly before shaking her head. "Not at all. I just wondered if you... or your family... I mean, do you ever kidnap people?"

Her voice breaks into a squeak as she rushes out the last few words.

I want to tell her the truth, but I can't. She already knows too much yet I can't help but give her more. Still, I make my voice cold, matter-of-fact, as I inform her. "I've never kidnapped anybody. It breaks up too many families. And we aren't involved in the human trafficking business either if that's what you meant."

"Oh." With that word, she moves so that her head is against my shoulder, her body curling up against my side. I pull her close and hear her breathing even into the deep, slow pace of slumber.