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November 8 - November 22, 2025
“Aurora. Stand up.”
Why do I find this attractive?
“Perfect. Now, take three steps to the left.”
“Happy?” But if Angelo replies, I don’t hear it. There’s a glint in his right hand. Then the bang is too loud. The smell of gunpowder too strong, and the taste of blood splatter on my lips too tangy. The bullet enters Max right between the eyes and exits out the back of his skull, taking half his brain with it. His head hits the table with a heavy thud, his blood turning the lace tablecloth crimson.
“Papa always used to ask me and Gabe, if Angelo jumped off a cliff, would you jump, too?”
“Know what I’d always say?”
“Without a parachute.”
“You’re my uncle’s fiancee. I can’t touch you.”
“Who are you trying to convince—me or yourself?”
“Do. Not. Tempt. Me.”
TEMPT HIM!!
I should have told him that it won’t come to that. He won’t have to choose because we drew a line in the sand. But that’s the thing about lines in the sand. Eventually, they wash away, and you can’t remember where you drew them.
“You’re wearing sunglasses too,” I snap back, jerking my chin up to his mirrored Aviators. “What’s your excuse?” “How else am I meant to check out your ass without getting caught?”
“I killed my father.”
“I thought he died from a bleed on the brain?” “He did. I shot him in the head and then his brain bled.”
Angelo Visconti isn’t a knight in shining armor, he’s a monster in an Armani suit.
“Rory?”
“Yes?”
“Out of all my sins, you’re my favorite.”
“I swear to God, Rory. You better know how to fly, because if you fall, I’m coming with you.”
“Look after my girl for me.”
“I can’t believe Angelo Visconti is in love with you.”
“He’s not.” “Shut up, Rory. He left his entire life in England and came back to Devil’s Dip for you. He’s so in love with you that it makes me sick.” “She’s right, I am.”
“What I want, is for you to be happy.”
“Not just regular happy. I mean really fucking happy,” he growls into my mouth, palming my ass to pull me on top of him. “Can’t stop fucking smiling, don’t want to go to sleep because reality is better than your dreams kind of happy. I want to make you so damn happy that you shit sunshine and piss rainbows and people think you’re as high as a kite when you walk into a room.” He nips my lower lip in mild frustration, and his fingers dig deep into the back of my thighs as he slides me up to his groin. “If you want to be mine, I’ll make you that happy, Rory.”
