“Such as?” I ask.
Uberto scrubs a hand over his lower jaw, scratching at the light beard while he taps out a fast rhythm with his foot. I want to tell him to stop fidgeting, that he’s driving me fucking crazy with his inability to sit still, but I keep my mouth shut, wanting the information more than I want to berate him.
“It’s just talk. It may not be anything,” he warns. “I’ve got a girl who works at one of the restaurants Leonardo’s men like to go to. She keeps an ear out for me.” He shrugs and flicks his lighter open again. “When we hook up, she lets me know if she’s heard anything.”
“What did she say?” Sandro asks, knowing me well enough to know I don’t have the patience right now to talk. He’s well aware of my hatred of fidgeting, and he often does it around me just to piss me off.
Uberto finally gets to the fucking point and says, “She said some of his men were in there last night, bragging about how they were going tooverthrow your family, said they’d already taken out a few of your men.”
“Anything else?” I ask while trying to keep my tone even.
Uberto meets my eyes briefly before quickly looking away. When he starts to fidget even more, I say, “Spit it out,” and this time my tone makes his body tense and the mindless movement stop.
“They mentioned your wife,” he says, and even though this is what we wanted and that it’s the entire fucking reason for our visit to Italy, my body still grows cold at the mention of Mia.
“And you’re just now telling me this?” I growl at him.
He’s quiet for a second, and then Uberto finds his balls and shows me the part of himself that earned him his current position. “With all due respect, sir, you just flew in this morning. I was going to approach you at the house,” he stops and clears his throat. “But you were busy.”
Sandro chimes in with a “Yeah, busy making his wife come in broad daylight like a fucking animal.”
Everyone shares a small laugh at my expense, but the comment doesn’t faze me. I’m a grown man. If I want to make Mia come, then I’m going to make her come. I don’t give a fuck where I’m at or what time of day it is when I do it. I’d done it there on purpose, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’d do it again in a heartbeat just for the simple pleasure of watching her fall apart in my arms.
“We’re going to try and lure the Fontana family out. We want them to act, and when they do, we’re taking those fuckers down,” I say. “Is Franco a part of this?”
Gio takes the lead again and says, “He’s not even here right now. He’s been in Milan for months. I don’t think he has any idea what’s going on.”
“No one goes after him until we know if he’s involved,” I say, “but anyone who’s working with Leonardo is dead. How Franco reacts to that will decide his fate.”
“Everybody clear on that?” Sandro asks. “We want extra patrols around the house, and the men we brought with us will be acting as our bodyguards.”
Sandro and I don’t mention that Mia will be used as bait. No one needs to know the truth about her. I trust my men, but there are very few people I would trust with Mia’s life. I won’t risk her safety, and the less people who know, the better.
We go over a few more details with the men, and by the time we get up to leave, I’m confident the house and surrounding property will be secure. On the drive back to the house, Sandro tells me that he’s going to take Sasha out and show him around, let him see how we run things.
“Don’t let him kill any of our men,” I tell my brother.
Sandro laughs, but we both know I’m not kidding. “I think he’ll be okay. He told me on the flight here that he knows he’s not allowed to hurt anyone unless they come after his sister.” My brother looks over at me when I park the Ferrari in front of our family home. “I kind of feel like you shouldn’t have to tell someone that, but I’m not going to argue with it. He’s not allowed to kill unless Mia’s in danger, so that’s good enough for me.”
I start to get out when he says, “Don’t forget your stash of condoms. I’m curious to see how many you can get through in a night. Be sure and let me know if you can keep up with her.” He laughs at the look I give him. “You’re not getting any younger, and you’re going to be trying to keep up with an eighteen-year-old. I’ve seen Mia train. She has incredible stamina.”
“As do I, brother,” I practically growl at him.
He gives me asure ya dolook, making me wish he was close enough to punch. The truth is I’m not so sure we’re going to be doing anything tonight. I want to, I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything, but if she’s not healed enough, then I’ll be forced to stop. I won’t risk hurting her.
Ignoring my brother, I walk inside and go in search of my wife. I find her in our room, sitting on the balcony in a hammock chair, barefoot with her feet propped on the railing. She’s looking out at the sea, and when she hears me and turns her head, I’m stunned yet again by the very sight of her.
I hadn’t planned on it, and it sure as hell isn’t anything that’s goingto make either of our lives easier, but I’ve completely fallen in love with Mia Melnikov, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to let her go once we return to America.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Her hazel eyes run over me, suspicious and wary and so veryher. Mia’s never going to give me a bubbly laugh and run across the room like she’s been holding her breath until I could come back to her, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t constantly giving me clues about how she feels. I just needed to learn the signs. I needed to learn to understand her language.
She may be suspicious, but she’s relaxed in her chair, both hands visible, neither one within easy reach of a weapon, meaning she’s comfortable around me and she trusts me completely. When I have her in my arms, kissing and teasing her, and I feel her soften at my touch as her small body clings to mine, begging me for more, I know she’s showing me how deeply she cares for me.
Mia’s never going to be cutesy or over the top about things, but I know she loves me just as much as I love her. I don’t need her drawing hearts around our names. I’ve never cared for that shit, and I love that she’s independent. I wouldn’t change a single thing about her.
Her eyes run down me, stopping at the bag I’m holding. The contents are easy enough to see through the transparent bag. You don’t need to understand Italian to know I’m holding several boxes of condoms. The corner of her mouth lifts up in the tiniest of grins.
“Someone’s an optimist.”
