Page 33 of Mafioso's Muse

‘I don’t even have his number.’ She paused. ‘And we’re having caponata.’

Lili blinked. ‘Do you mean carbonara?’

‘No, but that’s less embarrassing than what I said. I thought it was the name of a composer.’

A frustrated breath slipped from Lili. ‘I don’t understand. You’re so much smarter than this. If anything happens to you?—’

‘I’m safe with him.’

‘How can you say that so confidently?’

Willow shrugged. ‘Call it a hunch.’

Lili searched her eyes. ‘And if this hunch of yours is wrong?’

‘Then you’ll beright—and you love to be right.’

With a loud exhale, Lili said, ‘I really do.’

‘For the record, the dinner wasn’t even his idea. Hismotherinvited me. I’m not even entirely sure why I said yes. Maybe to see what he would say when I did.’

‘What he should have said is “I’m a criminal whose idea of a good time is being poked repeatedly with a needle, sodon’t come.”’

He had wantedherto pull out of the dinner. ‘I think he’s too much of a gentleman to tell me not to come.’

Lili laughed abruptly. ‘A gentleman?’ She looked in the direction of the bar. ‘I’m going to need another fizzy water.’

Willow’s lips turned up. ‘Go hard or go home, right?’

‘Right.’

As she followed Lili to the bar, she glanced over her shoulder to the last place she had seen Vaughn, but he was nowhere to be found.

12

February 2024

Willow received a phone call at noon on Friday from a private number. She assumed it would be Vaughn calling about dinner, but it was his driver, Finn, asking what time she would be ready.

‘I’ll be outside at 5:30 p.m.’

‘Okay,’ Finn said on the other end of the line. ‘I’ll be waiting out front.’

Willow hesitated before asking. ‘Will Mr Gallo be with you?’

‘He’ll be waiting for you at the house.’

‘Oh.’ That was weirdly disappointing. ‘Okay, thanks.’

After ending the call, Willow headed to the studio to warm up.

Harrison spent most of the afternoon working one-on-one with Willow, refining her solo variation, scrutinising every movement and position, right down to the angle of every finger. She couldn’t recall him ever pushing another dancer that hard and didn’t know what to make of it. Either she was falling short in some way, or he simply wanted her to blow everyone away with her performance. She really hoped it was the latter. By the end of the session, she could barely lift her arms above her head.

‘You look thoroughly exhausted,’ he commented at the end of their session. ‘I suggest you go straight home, hydrate, and get plenty of rest.’

She eyed him as she towelled off. ‘You know I have that dinner.’

He rested his hands on his hips. ‘You’re not still going through with that, are you?’