CHAPTER SIX
Emmanuelle loved Stefano’s home. One wouldn’t ordinarily think of a hotel penthouse as an actual home. The suite took up the entire upper floor. Before Francesca, the rooms had been cold, without personality, more like a place to do business than a place to live. Once Francesca had moved in, every room had undergone a transformation, just as Emmanuelle’s oldest brother had. The transformation might have been subtle in Stefano, especially to an outsider, but all of them could see the happiness in him. That was the way Emmanuelle thought of the penthouse—a place of absolute happiness.
The kitchen was often the gathering place. Taviano and Francesca both loved to cook and were excellent at it. The table was large, and they would surround it, talking and laughing and filling Emmanuelle with hope and love of family, something she needed when she knew she had lost the love of her life—the only man she would ever love. Over the last two years, Stefano’s kitchen had saved her sanity more than once.
Sometime over the last year, Elie had been accepted as a family member, coming and going just as her brothers did, in and out of Stefano’s home and sitting with them at the kitchen table, laughing and talking, sharing that same love. Emmanuelle knew he needed it the same way she did. He’d lost his one chance at the real thing as well. She could see the knowledge in his eyes, even if the others couldn’t.
She’d asked Stefano not to invite anyone but her brothers to the meeting. He’d raised an eyebrow, but he’d complied. She hadn’t even wanted sweet Mariko or Nicoletta there. She didn’t know if she was ashamed of the things Miceli had said over his radio, knowing his men as well as every single one of her people could hear. She only knew she felt as if she were being crushed under a terrible weight. No matter which path she chose, she would lose.
Valentino, Dario and Giuseppi were just two floors beneath them. They had a suite half the size of Stefano’s home. It was enormous, one they could easily live in, with multiple bedrooms and bathrooms. They could have guards with them as well. Stefano had assigned only his most trusted staff to clean and stock their suite. Drago and Demetrio would check them before they entered the room to clean. There would be no substitutes.
Emmanuelle had deliberately avoided going to see Valentino, afraid she would lose her resolve. She had to tell Stefano the truth, now that she knew other riders could be in jeopardy. She hadn’t known before, but she had no excuse now. She couldn’t settle, pacing back and forth, the buildup of nervous energy overcoming the pain that had begun to come through from the pounding she’d taken from Mo’s fists.
“Emme, you need to just come out with it. Get it over with.”
Stefano’s voice always grounded her. He spoke low. A velvet growl of command. No one would ever mistake him for anything but the leader. When he said to do something, you just did it.
She couldn’t look at her brothers, feeling as if she’d betrayed them. Vittorio loved Grace so much. Grace had almost been kidnapped. Everyone thought it had been over a gambling debt her foster brother owed, but now she knew it was because Grace’s shadow was like her shadow. And Nicoletta …
“I love Val the way you love Francesca, Stefano. The way all of you love the one person you’re married to. I’ve loved him for so long, and I don’t want anything to happen to him. I don’t think I could ever forgive any of you if you hurt him.” She had to get that out there. “I don’t even know if I’d be able to stop myself from retaliating.” That was the truth as well.
Her eyes were burning. Was she crying? Had she turned into a baby? That was the last thing she needed to be right now. She had to make her brothers understand. She might know she couldn’t be with Val, but she wouldn’t tolerate them killing him for what he’d done. There wasn’t anything different from what any of them had done when they found their women. She knew Stefano had deliberately tied Francesca to him using their shadows. She was fairly certain the others had done so as well.
“Emmanuelle.” Stefano handed her a crystal glass with an inch of amber liquid in it. “No one is going to hurt Val.”
She took a deep breath. She had to just say it. Tell them. “The Saldis have a story they hand down from father to son. They apparently have done so for generations. It’s some kind of requirement. I only found out this information today or I would have told you immediately. I had no idea. None.”