Aldo
The light and music of the ball faded behind us as we strolled from the manor. Our footsteps crunched lightly against the flagstones, and the cool night air kissed my cheeks in a welcome respite from the stifling perfumes and colognes and potpourris of the ballroom.
A gentle wind wove its fingers through my hair, as if to remind me how free the air was here—no fake laughter, no passive aggressive words delivered behind a painted smile, no tension heavy enough to thicken the air.
“Shouldn’t the don of the Mafia be back inside?” Layla asked, her voice a low murmur on the breeze as we passed the last of the gardens. “Shaking hands and making alliances? Kissing babies?”
I huffed a laugh. “Probably.”
“So this walk is an escape for you, too.”
“Something like that.” I dared a glance i
