I hear the door swing open. My eyes widen so far I’m afraid they’re going to pop out of my sockets. Izzy and I stare at each other. I snatch the bottle of wine we just finished, rush to the kitchen, and dump it in the trash. I rush back to the living room, crouching on the lavender pillow I was sitting on.

“Act natural,” Izzy whispers.

I shake my head at her; I knew I shouldn’t have listened to her about drinking Gunner’s stuff.

“I don’t know how to act natural!” I whisper-hiss. “I’m blaming you. I’m throwing you under the bus.”

“I thought you were my ride-or-die,” she says, her doe eyes moving back and forth between me and the living room door.

“That ship done sailed the minute we got caught.”

Footsteps slap against the wooden floors and another man’s voice bounces off the walls. The voice sounds familiar—it’s deeper than Gunner’s, but smooth. When they stroll into the living room, I suck in a breath at the lovely sight in front of me. Gunner sports a gray polo shirt and dark denim jeans. Bags hang under his eyes, and his hair sticks up. He looks rough and boyish at the same time. He’s as beautiful as a rainy day in April when raindrops glisten in trees and the green leaves look well-nourished after the rain.

Then a guy strolls in behind him. No wonder I recognize his voice. He’s one of Gunner’s friends from college. His name is Matteo, and the rumor on campus was that he’s related to the famous Italian Mafia family Rizzo. That his grandfather shot his brother in cold blood because of greed and jealousy. Dateline and CNN shoved that story down everyone throats. Since his family had the biggest murder case in the country, he hates his last name.

In college, he was a drug dealer and now he owns a few well-known clubs throughout the United States. He has a God complex and thinks he’s God’s gift to women. I guess I would think that too if every time I turn around, women fall at my feet. And he will go to great lengths to screw you over while smiling in your face. His body is a walking canvas, covered in tattoos from neck to toe. The tattoo of a skull is smiling at me from the back of his hand. He has a bald head and strawberry-blond beard. He’s built like Dwayne Johnson, muscles stacked on muscle, and he has a face that makes women’s panties wet. He looks lethal in his expensive navy suit.

Matteo does a double take when he sees me, and his green eyes bounce between me and Gunner.