CASSIAN SEEMED TOO HANDSOME TO BE REAL.

When my grandfather, the Reaper, first introduced him to me, I had to do a doubletake. I recognized him―the Genovese from the Louvre who pointed a gun at me and gave me his number. It's still somewhere in my boot, but I don't need it; I memorized it long ago.

So seeing him again was a surprise.

At first, I was hesitant about doing business with the Genoveses. They had slaughtered the family of the girl I loved; they had shot at us; they had chased us around the world. But Nonno explained that they weren't our enemies.

In fact, he told me the real reason why they had killed Angel's parents was because the Falcones were lying and in huge debt that they owed. Of course, it didn't seem like much of an excuse, but after living with my grandfather for a year, I understand.

Business is business.

My friendship with Cassian was hesitant at first. I expected him to be an arrogant pretty-boy with a hot, nasty temper. I might have put him in a stereotype, but he clawed his way out of that. He showed me a different side of him, where he was sweet and kind. He held open doors for me and brought me flowers.

Maybe he wasn't Angel, but . . . I could love him too.

It's been maybe ten months since I met him. We weren't introduced until a couple of months after I arrived.

Cassian braids my hair while I rest on his bed. He has a photograph of us together on his desk, one where we shared a cone with eight scoops of gelato.

"Are you ready for tonight?" Cassian says, his nimble fingers twisting my hair.

I shrug and roll over, which ruins his attempt at styling my hair. He gives me a playful swat and opens his arms for me to cuddle in.

With my head nestled against his chest, I say, "I guess."

"Hm," he says nonchalantly. "Tonight's the night they reveal you. Ruby will be exposed."

I groan into his sweater. He smells like mint and salt.

"What's wrong, princess?" he says.

"What if . . . when I take over, what if they don't want me? What if they don't accept me? A female Mafia lord is . . ."

"It's unheard of," he says.

But he's wrong. Because Angel is a Mafia lord, and she's a fucking badass.

"But," he continues, "you won't be alone. I'll be by your side. Me and you―we'll be a team. An alliance."

Something else is hovering in the air . . . he won't say it, but I know. My grandfather and his father want us to be a couple―the ultimate power couple.

But Cassian has never said anything about that. Not to me, at least, and I appreciate it. I'm glad he's not forcing it on me. For now, we're just dating―no more commitment than that. I'm not ready for more.

"Good," I say, kissing the corner of his mouth.

As for sex . . . well, we haven't done it yet.

It's not that I don't want to―actually, it's exactly that. I know that he's beautiful, with glistening carved abs and thick dark hair. He's any woman's dream, but it's just that . . . he's not mine. Though I do pretend. I tell him I'm not ready. I tell him I'm waiting for marriage.

Whether this so-called marriage is with him . . . I don't know.

"Want to go eat something before we go?" he asks. "Just a snack? You probably won't have time, not with you in the spotlight all night. Let's go down to the kitchen."

As I follow him downstairs, I still marvel at the fact that I'm inside of a Genovese's house. A year ago, I never would have thought this was possible. I've learned since then that Cassian isn't the bad guy; that maybe it was the Falcones all along.

After all, they did kill my father.

I hoist myself onto the granite counter and swing my legs while Cassian prepares rose-sauce pasta. He really is handsome, with those broad shoulders and hard biceps. When he catches me staring, he gives me a slow kiss. It's sweet, and thoughtful, and I lean into it.

Sparks don't fly, but it is nice as far as kisses go.

"I was at the club yesterday night," Cassian says, making idle conversation. I nod, trying to sound interested as I think about what will happen later this evening.

"Some fight broke out." The pan sizzles.

This isn't unusual, so I don't comment. Fights happen all the time at my grandfather's clubs, between anything from macho men to scorned wives.

My thoughts wander to my grandfather. He told me that tonight, he was naming me as his heir. After a year, his reasoning was that since it was his seventy-fifth birthday, he wanted the world to know who I was before he . . . well, before he died. Because he was announcing it personally, no one could dispute it and I wouldn't be challenged.

Now, I think about what it will really mean for me to be a Mafia lord.

The consequences, the responsibility . . . it's enormous. It's a lot of power, and while I crave that, sometimes it feels overwhelming. But over these long months, the Reaper has been preparing me. I know I am ready, if anything should happen to him.

I realize Cassian is still talking, and I zone back in. He's saying, "You wouldn't believe the size of this woman. I mean, she wasn't small as far as girls go―she's the long and lean type―but she completely demolished this three-hundred pound man. She swung him to the ground. I've never seen anything like it."

My interest peaks. "Really."

"I was too shocked, and I'm betting security was too, because they didn't stop it. The guy was unconscious by the time she was done. I mean, she took a good hit, too, but she was clearly drunk."

"Wow."

"By this time, though, it's time for me to kick her out," Cassian says, adding cream to the sauce. "I can't have this kind of thing going through your grandfather's clubs, especially not when he's left me in charge. So I go up to her, and then I recognize her."

His voice turns strange, at a weirdly low pitch. I lean closer. He adds minced garlic and onion to the pan and stirs it. The smell of flaky red pepper, mixing with the pasta, is heavenly.

"Who was she?" I ask, to fill the silence.

"A Mafia boss," he says. My heart drops. I already know who it is before he says, "Angel Falcone."

Of course it was. Of course she beat up a three-hundred pound man.

He looks back at me carefully, as though he's studying my reaction. I keep my face blank, uninterested. "So you kicked her out?"

"Yeah," he says, and he puts the pasta into two plates for us.

I can't help it. I ask, "Did she say anything?" About me.

"No, not really," he says casually. "She was pretty drunk. Seemed like she was losing it."

The thought of Angel leaves me dizzy. I try not to think of her hazel eyes, the way glowed like sunflowers in the light. I try to forget the way her smile was sharp and dangerous, the way her moans sounded as she came. I shake my head quickly, dispelling these thoughts, and thank Cassian for the pasta.

>>>

A little insight into Cade's new life. What do you think? Has she moved on?

I think I'm going to make this one book.

From the moon and back,
Sarai