“Do you know him?” I asked Frankie.
“Go,” she ordered through clenched teeth. “You should go.”
I did no such thing.
“He looks familiar.” I tipped my head, trying to figure out where I had seen him before. A magazine, maybe? Was he one of those people in Page Six, someone I’d seen on local tabloids? Half of the city had hard-ons for these rich assholes.
Then he smiled at Frankie, and I knew exactly where I’d seen that face before. Or at least another version of it. It wasn’t in the paper. It was at my kitchen counter, eating breakfast cereal. Tossing a baseball. Talking about Doc McStuffins. I saw that face every day in my own damn house.
“Frankie, is that Sofia’s—”
“Hush!” Her hand pressed into my chest, shoving me a full step away from her.
I frowned as the man approached. He was staring at Frankie with the kind of awe I felt whenever I saw Nina. But it didn’t make sense. Was this the guy who had abandoned her and Sofia? The deadbeat, possibly married man who shirked his daughter and left my sister crying?
If that were true, then why did he look so damn excited to see her?
“Frankie,” I started again, but I was cut off by the exact same look Nonna used to give me whenever I came home with stains on my white shirts.
Message received, loud and clear.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, brushing out any creases she might have left on my lapels. “But you’re answering that question later, little sister.”
“Get lost!” she hissed.
“Going. But my two cents? He’s too tall for you anyway.”
“Francesca?” I could hear him ask as I walked away. “Is it really you?”
“Hello, Xavier.”
Yeah, she was definitely going to have some explaining to do on our way back to Brooklyn.
Deciding to make my way to where I’d last seen Jane, I started pushing through the crowd, ignoring the bored, curious looks, especially from some of the women. Yeah, yeah, ladies. I know you like. It didn’t matter. I was only here to see one of them, and she was nowhere to be found. I’d say hello to the hosts and get the hell out of here, back to where I actually belonged.
A cascade of shoves ended with me bumping into a woman on my left, who dropped something as she turned around.
“Beg your pardon, miss. Let me get that.”
I crouched to the floor and retrieved the small leather purse, but then froze when confronted with shiny black heels, delicate ankles, and a pair of intensely long legs.
Slowly, I looked up, noting the slight curves of her calves, then the knee-length dress. It was demure at first, solid black broken by a white lace panel that traveled from the hem all the way up her body. And as my gaze traveled too, it became very clear that there was absolutely nothing under that lace but miles and miles of butter-soft skin. And I was intimately familiar with all of it.
Even so, I nearly fell over when I found those bright gray, almost silver eyes looking down at me, full of imperious, almost haughty irritation.
“Nina,” I murmured.
“Hello, Matthew,” she said. “Are you coming back up, or are you going to stay down there all night?”
Chapter Seven
Matthew
I cleared my throat, then finally managed to pull myself back up to standing. It was hard, though. I couldn’t stop looking at her. All of her.
It was Nina, but like I’d never seen her. Her hair, which used to fall about six inches past her shoulders, now stopped just below her chin in blunt waves the color of amber—still blonde, but several shades darker than the sunny gold I remembered. Her mouth was painted a deep, oxblood red, and her eyes were lined in black, lending a ferocity that reminded me of the female jaguar I’d seen at the zoo with Sofia. Elegant, yes. But with a lot of bite.
And then, of course, there was the dress—all black, except for that transparent lace and the skin that was more evident through it the longer I looked. So different from the white and grays she usually wore (and yes, the one red dress). Ironic, really, that the most delicate part of it was most revealing.
Good fuckin’ God, that was her hip bone right there. And the swell of her perfect, pert ass, the curve of her art-worthy breast.
I gulped and tugged at my collar. Anyone who took a good look would see most of Nina’s body in profile. Could feast their eyes over her long, lithe muscles, subtle yet powerful curves. Gone was the demure socialite. Lace or not, she looked ready to fight.
“Jesus, doll,” I whispered. “You, um, want to borrow my jacket or something?”
She smirked as she took back her purse. “Why would I do that?”
I swallowed, unable to look away from the slight tip of a berry-shaped nipple only just evident through the black silk. “Ah…you look cold.”
But when I managed to tear my gaze back to meet hers, what I found was ice…laced with fire.
“I’m fine,” she said shortly. “Thank you for your concern.”
Only the rich knew how to make gratitude feel like a slap across the cheek. Yet again, I felt like I’d failed some kind of test. Nina had been here the entire time, and I hadn’t even recognized her.
This time, however, I had an excuse.
“You changed your…” I trailed off. I wanted to say everything, but that wasn’t true. Not exactly.
“My hair, yes.” She gestured toward her head with an almost bored movement.
“To say the least.” I looked her up and down again, and this time
