Don Santoro waves away the man who’s returned to check our drinks and after he’s gone, he says, “I’m sure you noticed my increase in security. Times aren’t as safe as they used to be.”
“How are the other families faring?” I ask.
“We were sorry to hear about Don Fontana’s passing,” Sandro says, gently guiding the conversation to where we want it. “How is the family adjusting to the new don?”
Giuseppe lets out a soft grunt before finishing hisespresso and taking a drink of the sparkling water. “The title should’ve passed to his youngest son. Franco isn’t ruled by his temper.”
“Leonardo always had a very short fuse,” I say.
Sandro nudges my arm. “Remember how jealous he always was of you?”
“He was jealous of everyone,” I say. “He always wanted what he couldn’t have.”
I meet Giuseppe’s eyes, watching his reaction, and I know he agrees with me. He’s much too cautious to come right out and say it, though, so instead he gives a noncommittal shrug and says, “A period of transition is to be expected with the death of a don.”
“It is,” I agree, and then push things just a bit by adding, “Six months is a long period of transition, especially when coupled with these unsafe times.”
He raises a brow at me throwing his earlier words back at him, but doesn’t say anything.
“And Don Esposito?” I ask. “Are things well with him?”
“As well as can be expected,” Giuseppe says. “His wife still nags him every chance she gets, his ungrateful brat of a son is still gambling away all their money, but they haven’t been attacked if that’s what you’re asking.”
“The first part is unfortunate, but I’m glad to hear they haven’t lost any men.” I take a drink of the sparkling water while I look out at the sea view that I’ve missed so much.
“Dominic has a good head on his shoulders,” Giuseppe says, pulling my attention back to him. “I’m not going to pretend I understand his desire to go to America instead of running the family from here like his father did, but I always respected his decision, and he’s done an admirable job of making this work. He’s always been reasonable and never once stuck his nose in where it didn’t belong or try to take more than was his due.”
“He’s a good don,” I agree, meaning every word of it.
Giuseppe meets my eyes and says, “Leonardo hasn’t earned that kind of respect from me.”
I nod, recognizing the gift he’s just handed us. When the time comes, Don Santoro will side with the Alessi family, and if we have his support, then it’s guaranteed we’ll have Don Esposito’s as well. As soon as we can prove Leonardo is behind all this, we can take him out without risking a war between the families.
Sandro and I both thank Don Santoro and politely decline the offer of lunch. We still have to talk to our men and run a few errands and I’m anxious to get back to Mia. Marcello is waiting for us in the hall, and we manage to get our weapons and step outside before I hear the one voice I was really hoping to avoid.
“Goddammit,” I hear my brother mutter before we both turn around to face Bianca. She’s slightly winded, and I wouldn’t be surprised at all if she’d been secretly watching us from the balcony and then ran down the two flights of stairs to reach us before we could make our escape.
“Bianca,” I say, giving her a polite smile.
“Hey,” Sandro says, briefly catching her attention before she puts her focus back on me. That’s the problem with Bianca Santoro—once she has her eye on something, she’s impossible to sidetrack. It’d be an admirable quality if she applied it to anything other than me.
Her dark eyes run over me, and out of respect for her father and the fact that we’re guests in his home, I don’t tell her to fuck off, even though I really, really want to.
“I heard you got married,” she says, and her tone is full-on accusatory, like I’ve severely wounded her by daring to marry another. When we were younger, she’d tease me about the two of us uniting the families. That was my first clue to stay the hell away from her, and I’ve never been so grateful for my past restraint before, because if I had fucked her like she’d begged me to, she would’ve gone to our fathers and demanded I marry her. Even though I’m technically not married to anyone, the thought of wearing this ring for anyone other than Mia makes me feel like I can’t breathe.
“I am married,” I tell Bianca, “and I need to be getting back to my wife.” I force myself to add, “It was nice seeing you again.”
“Yeah, sorry we can’t stay longer,” Sandro says, sounding not even slightly sorry.
Bianca narrows her eyes at us, but unlike when Mia glowers at me and it turns me on and makes me want to dominate her cute ass, this just leaves me feeling annoyed and put out.
“I look forward to meeting yourwifetomorrow night at the party. I’m sure she’d love to hear some of the stories I have about you.”
Her threat has my hands curling into fists as I take a step closer. “What stories?” I ask, noticing the way she quickly takes a step back and then darts her eyes to my brother for help. I don’t need to look over my shoulder to know she’s not going to get shit from him. “The stories where you begged me to fuck you for years, and I always turned you down? Are those the stories you’re talking about?”
Her face flushes at the harsh truth, but I don’t give a fuck if she’s feeling uncomfortable. Leaning down, I make sure I have her full attention before saying, “Don’t ever threaten my wife again.”
“I was just going to tell her about the kiss we shared,” she says, looking thoroughly offended while trying to save face.
