Black Hearted (The Margarelli Brothers 1)

I’d buy them a milkshake machine tomorrow. As soon as I calmed down. I wouldn’t yell. I would be calm. But I would make it clear that Francesca was never, ever, ever to do anything like this again.

Ever.

I sighed, reminding myself how hard their separation had been on them, how challenging to be kept apart for so long. Francesca had been afraid for so very long. And I doubted she’d ever had this much freedom.

Certainly not when she was married.

Certainly not when she had been growing up as the heir to one of the most notorious crime families in the nation.

So the fact that she clearly had not considered my feelings was somewhat more understandable when I thought about it further.

They drank their shakes, giggling and whispering. I continued to wait, my mind circling through future plans on how to avoid this ever happening again. I texted my cousin to make sure he had gotten what I wanted.

He texted back that I was a maniac, but he was on it. It would be waiting at the new house for me within the hour. He begged me to reconsider my plan. I told him to mind his own damned business.

When they were down to the dregs, I decided to let her know I was there. It was time to go home. I lifted my hand, and her guards stepped forward. Her head snapped up, sensing the coordinated movement out of the corner of her eye. Of course, she did. She was Italian. Mafia. We never sat with our backs to the door.

She saw me immediately.

Her beautiful face paled. She stood and wobbled a bit on her bad leg. It was acting up. Clearly, she had overdone it on this spontaneous plan of hers. Another thing that filled me with quiet fury.

I needed her to take good care of herself. She had to be safe. Well. Whole. If she wasn’t careful, she could get hurt. And I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to her.

Anything at all.

Angelique smiled at me mischievously as I walked toward them.

“Hi, Vince!”

I smiled at her. I had to hide my anger, although none of it was projected toward her. But one glance at Francesca, and I was well aware that she knew there would be hell to pay.

She looked nervous. Scratch that. She looked very nervous. She looked borderline afraid. But I could tell she was doing her best to hide it.

“Uh-oh. Are we in trouble for sneaking out?” Angelique teased me.

“Yes. I am very upset that you did not save me any milkshake,” I said calmly. I jerked my head, and Tiny came forward, lifting the little girl into his arms.

That left me alone with my woman. My frustrating, elusive, beautiful, terrified looking woman. She hid her fear well, lifting her chin to glare at me.

But I knew she was afraid. That was unacceptable. I was not going to beat her, for God’s sake!

“You should have brought your cane,” I said, my mouth tight as I grabbed her arm and half carried her through the cafe. She gave me a startled glance. I knew now that she needed it on long walks because of a former injury.

Not an injury. A beating. At the hands of that monster.

“Vincent . . .”

I glanced down at her and shook my head.

“Stop looking like a victim. I’m not him. But I am furious with you. We are going to have a long talk when we get home.”

She inhaled sharply. I knew she didn’t like the sound of that. To tell the truth, I didn’t much like the sound of it, either.

“Take her home,” I said to Francesca’s men as they loaded Angelique and the packages into a limo and SUV. The damned vehicle was stuffed to the gills with mafiosi and packages. The girls really had bought half the store.

I made a mental note to take them shopping more often. Women liked to pick things out for themselves, I was coming to realize. And they valued the time together spent to shop and select things, to share opinions and encouragement. They liked it better than just simply receiving extravagant gifts, although they didn’t seem to mind that too much, either.

“Where are we going?” Francesca asked, looking worried as the limo pulled away, carrying her daughter toward home. I helped her inside my limo and headed in the opposite direction.

“A house I bought recently, just outside of town. It’s quiet there.”

“How recently?”

“Last week, actually. But I’ve been looking for someplace for us to get away to since you came back into my life.”

She gave me an alarmed look, crossing her arms over her gorgeous, distracting chest. I sighed and dragged her against me. I brushed her hair away from her startled eyes before taking her mouth in an angry, possessive, domineering kiss.