Page 39 of Mafioso's Muse

He looked up at the sky. ‘The trial was tough on everyone.’

‘Of course.’ She paused. ‘But I was asking specifically aboutyou.’

He stopped and pulled out his cigarette case, then, changing his mind, returned it to his pocket. ‘You want a sad story in hopes of humanising me, Miss Hayes. Is that it?’

‘I don’t need a sad story to do that,’ she replied as confidently as she could. ‘I just want to know you a little.’

He met her gaze, his eyes appearing more blue than grey in the fading light.

‘I was there the night of the accident. It was a difficult scene, even for someone like me.’

Willow remained perfectly still.

‘There was a girl.’ He looked around before continuing. ‘Eight years old. She was conscious when I lifted the plaster off her.’ A pause. ‘She died before the ambulance arrived.’

Willow pressed her eyes closed. ‘Oh my God.’ She had read a little about the case but not the victims. ‘I’m so sorry.’

He shook his head. ‘You can google the rest.’

‘I know it was ruled an accident.’

He stared at her, saying nothing.

Willow offered him the sprig of rosemary, and he took it. She decided it was time for a change in subject. ‘I think your mum really likes me.’

‘I think you’re right.’

‘This has been one of the best first dates I’ve had since moving here.’ A smile spread across her face. ‘Too bad my date is a married woman.’

His eyes shone with amusement. ‘That is too bad.’

‘Does your dad normally take a while to warm up to people?’

‘Yes. If he warms up at all.’

She laughed through her nose. ‘And what about you?’

‘What about me?’

She shrugged. ‘Are you mad that I said yes and came here?’

He shook his head. ‘No.’

It was so difficult to read him. ‘Because I’m a dancer?’ Her cheeks heated at her own question.

His brows pinched together, like the question pained him. ‘Because you’re a lot of things.’

The silky tone of his voice combined with how beautiful he looked washed in the last rays of daylight had Willow stepping closer. She reached up and touched the cross on the side of his neck. ‘Are you quite religious?’

Vaughn caught her hand.

‘What?’ she asked, feeling no urge whatsoever to pull out of his grasp.

‘This is not a good idea.’

‘But you said I was a lot of things.’ Her mouth stretched into a smile. ‘You’re a lot of things too.’

His hand slackened around her wrist.