“Okay,” I whisper.
He exhales, clutches me tight for a moment, and then spins me out. When he pulls me back close, his gaze has that faraway look. The one he gets when he’s thinking. “But you still don’t suspect Matthew at all?”
There’s a tightness in my chest. “Should I?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes, he seems to make the most sense.”
“He has an alibi too, though.”
“Not as firm as some others.” We take several spins across the floor in silence. Mariano looks down at me, sadness in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Piper. I know you want to believe he’s been falsely accused. It’s just not in my nature to trust. Not anymore.”
A sentiment I well understand. “The thought has crossed my mind, for sure.”
“But . . . ?”
“But Lydia was as na?ve as she was sweet. If someone wanted her to get into the car voluntarily, I don’t think it would have been so hard, really. You could simply say you were hurt or lost or a friend of a friend or whatever, and she would’ve done it.”
The song comes to a close, and Mariano rests his forehead against mine. “I sure know how to woo a girl, don’t I?”
Around us, people applaud the quartet, and I mindlessly join them. “You’re the only one who’ll still talk to me about this instead of just telling me I need to move on. The only one who seems to care about the issue that matters more to me than anything else. That’s . . .”
Love, Lydia whispers into my ear. That’s love.
I swallow. “I’ll take that over wooing any day.”
Mariano grasps my hand in his. Smiles.
“Pippy.” Nick’s voice blasts into the moment. Alana trails behind him. “They’re about to cut the cake. They want to photograph the wedding party in front of it first.”
Of course they do. We wouldn’t want a moment to go by that we don’t photograph.
“Fine, I’m coming.” I squeeze Mariano’s hand before releasing it. “I’ll be right back.”
As I walk away with Nick and Alana, Nick emits a blustery sigh. “So you’re really going to do this, huh? You’re really going to date a Cassano.”
My fingers curl into a fist, and if we weren’t dressed in formal wear inside a ballroom, he would feel the full force of my right hook. “Why do you hate him so much? Is it just him, or are you prejudiced against all Italians?”
Nick shoots me a scathing look, but falls quiet as the photographer arranges us.
But the anger is too consuming for me to keep my mouth shut. “I like him, okay? And I don’t see why that’s such a big problem.”
“Now isn’t the time, you two,” Tim says as the photographer steps back to survey his work.
“Smile, everyone!” he chirps.
“What did you expect, Piper?” Nick asks through his smile. “That we would all be okay with you dating someone from a mafia family?”
What? My head snaps toward my brother. “What?”
The pop of the flashbulb sounds.
Nick looks at me, his brow pinched. “What do you mean, ‘What’? You know, right?”
“Brother, sister,” calls the photographer. “Eyes up here, please! Let’s try again!”
The memory that I couldn’t quite grasp earlier rolls me flat. Dinner with Father and Nick the night Lydia went missing. Father had offered the wine to Nick, saying, “Nick, you help with the Cassanos’ cases. You should enjoy some of the spoils.”
Air rushes from my lungs as I breathe out the family name. “The Cassanos.”
Clients of Father’s. A name that I had probably caught snatches of when walking by his office, or if I came upon my brothers and him discussing a case. How could I not have put it together?
“Sister?” calls the photographer. “Up here, please! Smile!”
Tim puts on his big brother voice. “Nick, Piper. Do this later.”
I turn to the photographer. Beyond him, Mariano appears to be making polite conversation with Alana. Why didn’t he tell me?
“They’re our biggest client. We thought you knew,” Nick mutters.
The flashbulb pops, and the metallic scent of magnesium fills my nostrils. “I didn’t.” I hate how stupid I sound. I had been so annoyed when Lydia fell in love with Matthew and became so illogical, and it turns out I’m no better. All the clues were there the whole time, and I just couldn’t see.
“I’m sorry.” Nick’s countenance has softened. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you Mariano isn’t the white knight you thought he was.”
I don’t want to ask, don’t want to hear the answer—but I can’t bury my head any longer. “What is he, then?”
Nick’s eyes hold sympathy as he deals a second blow. “Just another crooked cop.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY
Piper?” Mariano’s voice rises above the cacophony of the busy city street.
I stiffen, but don’t turn. I don’t want to see him coming down the Congress Hotel steps with that confident gait I’ve admired. I don’t want to see him, period.