Chapter One
Saturday, July 21st, 1923
I stood at the door and watched the red Buick tear down the street, my lips buzzing and my head spinning.
Joey had kissed me. Again. But for real this time.
I brought my trembling fingers to my mouth and closed my eyes. I could still see the barely-suppressed fury on Joey’s face as he put everything together—my uncharacteristic nervousness, the thousands of dollars in cash I’d just handed over, the diamonds at my throat.
He knows.
He hadn’t said so, not in so many words, but Joey and I had known each other for years. And even though we’d spent most of them at each other’s throats, for him to get worked up enough to kiss me like that could only mean one thing: he realized what I’d done with Enzo.
Which was everything.
Twice.
At the thought of Enzo’s naked body pressing against mine, my breath caught and my insides went weightless. For a moment I was back in his bed, pulling him deeper. A wave of arousal swept through me, and I leaned against the doorjamb for support, my knees nearly buckling. When my body felt grounded again, I opened my eyes and frowned in the direction of the Buick. Anger pinched off the warmth inside me. Go to hell, Joey Lupo!
Not once in seven years had he done anything but tease me and pick fights, and the one time he had kissed me, he’d made it clear he was only pretending we were a couple to fool the Prohibition agents who’d spotted our boat full of bootleg whisky on the lake. Now just because someone else had gotten their hands on me—as well as some other body parts—he got proprietary. Well, tough!
And he hadn’t even given me a reason. He just announced I was making a mistake and grabbed me, muttering some nonsense about how he knew me, how he’s always known me.
Huffing an angry breath, I slammed the door. Screw you, Joey. I don’t care how long you’ve known me or how much you helped me when my family was in trouble or how tempting your mouth is. That doesn’t give you the right to judge me for my choices or tell me I’m making a mistake or kiss me with those perfect fucking lips. Goddamn you! I stomped up the stairs to my bedroom and slammed that door too. The more I thought about it, the madder I got—mad at Joey for kissing me, of course, but the truth was, I was just as angry at myself for wanting that kiss.
For enjoying it.
Going straight to the dresser, I placed the diamond and pearl choker Enzo had given me into its blue Tiffany box and clapped it closed. Then I grabbed my hairbrush and yanked it furiously through my hair, eyeing my flushed face in the mirror. How dare he make me feel guilty about finally going after something I want for myself! Damn him for waiting so long to show me he felt something for me. And damn him to hell for making me feel something for him that has me questioning everything right now!
Hurling the hairbrush across the room, I took satisfaction in the loud thwack it made against the wall. In fact, it felt so good I scanned the dresser for something else to throw. My eyes fell on the blue box, and I nearly picked it up. Instead I braced both hands on the dresser top, stared hard at my reflection, and took a deep breath. And then another.
A memory surfaced.
A few nights ago, I’d stood here in my room wearing nothing but that necklace as I touched Enzo in ways Joey could only dream about. Let him dream, then. So he’s mad, so what? Served him right. Maybe I’d enjoyed that phony embrace in the boat last week, and maybe the impulsive kiss downstairs had me worked up a bit, but I wasn’t the same person he’d known all those years—and if I wanted to make a mistake with my life, it was mine to make.
Because if that mistake was tall, dark, handsome as a movie star and supremely talented with his tongue, then I was willing to risk it.
“You don’t know me, Joe Lupo,” I whispered to my reflection. “You don’t know anything.”
I felt superior for exactly ten seconds, which is how long it took me to remember that Enzo was counting on me to stay friendly with Joey so I could get some information from him. Specifically, Enzo wanted a way to get back at the River Gang and its leader, Sam the Barber Scarfone, for hijacking a shipment of booze he’d been expecting from the east coast a few days ago. It hadn’t just been any old shipment—hidden somewhere in the cargo was forty thousand dollars worth of opium, which even the hijackers hadn’t known about. Briefly I wondered what had happened when they discovered it. Joey worked for the River Gang, and he had just returned from Chicago, where they’d sold the hijacked load, but he hadn’t mentioned the drugs.
Then again, he’d only been at my house for about five minutes before he got angry, kissed me, and stormed out.