She needed something borrowed and something blue, I realized as we got out of the limo.
We looked at each other and nodded, then turned and walked straight ahead.
We were here. At last. The moment we had been discussing for weeks. An emergency meeting of the five families, called by us.
Today, we were going to surprise them all.
Twenty minutes later, I was starting to agree with Francesca. They were not going to let us go gently into that good night. Not unless someone started to bend and the others followed suit. We only need one, I mused. Perhaps giving them a heads up in advance would have tempered their reaction. I glanced at Philip’s cousin, Marco. He was hot headed and in his early twenties. He wasn’t quite the psycho his cousin was, but he wasn’t exactly a choir boy, either.
His face was red as he stood there, banging his fist on the table. Demanding respect for the former, late, and not at all great, head of the Salerno crime family.
“It’s too soon. My cousin is barely in the ground!”
“We were divorced for years, Marco.”
“You know he didn’t believe in that! He was a good Catholic.”
“Oh, yes, he was very devout,” my fiancée said dryly. “But only when it suited him.”
“You dare to speak badly of the dead?”
“Yes, I do dare. I didn’t divorce him because he was a prince among men,” she retorted calmly. My God, she was glorious. I had no doubt that she could take them all on and win in a verbal dispute. Maybe a physical one, too.
She did have an excellent roundhouse kick.
“You are gonna pay for this, Francesca. You mark my words.”
“Are you threatening my fiancée?” I said, a not so subtle sliver of a threat in my own tone. “Because that is not allowed under our treaty. And also, I do not fucking allow it.”
Marco paled, suddenly looking like a greasy frat boy after a seven-day bender on spring break. Clammy. And out of his league.
“How are we supposed to control you? If you combine your houses, you could overthrow us all.”
“No one seemed concerned when the Salerno family combined with mine,” Francesca countered smoothly. I wanted to stand up and applaud her. I very nearly did.
“Our family is smaller than the Margarellis. This is different.” Marco waved a hand lazily.
“He’s right. This is Goliath and Goliath,” Alfonzo Genaro said.
“Our families are both moving into more mainstream operations,” I said, enunciating clearly. “We are not a threat to your businesses.”
“But not completely mainstream,” Mr. Genaro countered.
“No.”
“What if we agree to keep our enterprises separate?” Francesca offered, casting me a quick glance. “This is not a business arrangement. It is an emotional one.”
Everyone was silent. I noticed Marco was clenching his fist on the table. I watched him carefully as his eyes skimmed over my bride-to-be, lingering on her mouth and her curves. He wanted her, I realized. I scanned the rest of the men in the room, young and old.
They all wanted her.
Goddammit.
It wasn’t that I blamed them. Not one bit. She was magnificent. And it wasn’t merely her beauty, intelligence, strength, impeccable style, or humor. Her wealth and power alone made her catnip to fat cats like this. Her tremendous sex appeal just made her even harder to resist. It made it difficult for men to think clearly around her. The Lord knew it had led me to make some outrageous decisions since she came back into my life.
So no. I didn’t blame them.
But I could not allow them to think they had a chance.
It was plain to see that their desire for her made the whole situation more complicated. They wouldn’t try and kill her. That would be a waste in their eyes.
I was the target.
She was the prize.
Well, fuck.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Francesca
“That was utterly pointless,” I said, staring out the open window of the limo on the ride home. I glanced at Vincent. He was also staring out the window, on the opposite side, his hand intertwined with mine.
“Hmm?” he asked, rubbing his thumb against my palm. I broke out in goosebumps immediately. It was crazy what the man did to me.
“We accomplished nothing. All we did was set off their internal alarms.”
He squeezed my hand.
“Everything will be okay.”
I rolled my eyes at him.
“Really? That is all you have to say? Meaningless platitudes?”
“No, it is not all I have to say. You are a stunningly beautiful woman and the love of my life.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“You have a forked tongue.”
“It’s all true,” he protested, looking affronted.
“Maybe, but you are trying to distract me.”
“Hmm . . . perhaps. Is it working?”
“No,” I said. Now I was laughing. “Not in the slightest.”
“I have an idea,” he said as he pushed my hair away from my neck and stroked the skin there. He turned my head to face him and brushed his thumb over my lower lip. I felt shivers go through me, immediately centering between my legs.