“I’ll be using this for blackmail forever,” Taviano added. “The moment you put in your bet, we’re all taking pictures of that board.”
“Don’t pay attention to them,” Emmanuelle said. “I’ll have Rigina hack their phones and wipe them clean.”
“She can’t do that,” Ricco said with confidence.
“Don’t be too sure,” Valentino said. “Bernado can get into phones.”
“Not all the time,” Dario disagreed.
“In any case,” Elie said, “I’m one hundred percent backing Brielle. Not because I’m worried any of you might rat on me, but because I’m taking your money. She’s going to wipe up the floor with your investigators.”
He poured confidence into his voice. He felt confident, so much so that he didn’t look at the whiteboard as Brielle’s name was written in as his vote, but he wandered over to the double doors to stare out over the balcony. Dario had a beautiful office. He’d been in Valentino’s home many times, but never Dario’s. It was . . . unexpected. Dario was a dark, dangerous man and those shadows clung to him. He didn’t try to hide who he was; rather, he embraced the traits. The house reflected who he was, yet at the same time was open and unexpectedly bright with all the windows offsetting the dark wood in each room.
Elie had expected a small, cave-like house, not the huge home with elegant, custom features. Everything was in its place. He hadn’t expected that, either. Now that he thought about it, the precise OCD elements made sense. Dario was a man demanding instant obedience. He had been responsible for Valentino’s protection for a number of years during a very turbulent time when they couldn’t trust anyone. They had relied solely on each other.
“That leaves you, Dario,” Stefano said. “You haven’t weighed in yet.”
Dario walked across the large office to the back wall and stared at the board for a long while. “I’ve got a feeling about Brielle. She isn’t a woman who insists on having her way in front of a group of strangers. You called it ego and sass, Vittorio, but if one of us insisted we were skilled enough to do something, would you have called it that?”
Vittorio frowned, giving the question honest consideration. “I doubt it. You have a point. If a man had done so, and I didn’t know him, most likely I would have, especially if he was young. But one of you, no.”
“Because he knows us,” Ricco said. “That would make sense. He knows we don’t brag.”
“You thought she was bragging?” Dario asked. “I didn’t hear bragging in her voice. I heard honesty.”
“He wasn’t there,” Giovanni pointed out. “I was and I should have been paying more attention. To be honest, I thought it was funny that a little thing like her was defying Stefano.”
“I didn’t think it was so funny,” Elie said. He couldn’t keep the growl from his tone and he swung around just in time to catch Dario’s dark glance. Their eyes met. Dario’s eyes held comprehension. Elie shook his head slightly. They thought on two different levels. Elie knew they did. Dario might think they were close in the way they thought to handle their women, but they weren’t. Elie didn’t understand Dario’s needs and he never would. He wouldn’t ever judge him, but he didn’t understand him.
“However honest Brielle thought she was being doesn’t mean she’s capable of beating our teams of investigators,” Stefano said.
“Or Bernado,” Valentino added.
“Perhaps not,” Dario said. “But I’m putting my money on her.”
That shocked the hell out of Elie. There was no inflection in Dario’s voice, and he turned away from the board as Giovanni added Dario’s name under Brielle’s.
“You can’t kill her if she loses,” Emmanuelle said. “I mean it, Dario.”
Dario shrugged. “Surely Elie took out a healthy insurance policy on her.”
“I did,” Elie said, deadpan, just to get a rise out of Emme. “The moment I saw who I was marrying. She’s a pain in the ass.”
“Elie.” Emmanuelle flung herself into one of the low-slung swivel thick-cushioned chairs in front of the windows. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
“I insisted Valentino take out an enormous life insurance policy on you, Emme,” Dario informed her. “Seeing as how I want to strangle you at least six times a day, I thought it best he has some compensation in case I can’t restrain myself.”
“Ha!” Emmanuelle narrowed her eyes and glared at Dario. “What makes you think you would win if you tried to strangle me? I’d kick your scrawny butt.”
Dario was anything but scrawny. He was a man with wide shoulders, and muscles on his muscles. He didn’t look bulky but he looked ripped—definitely able to handle himself.
“I did consider that,” Dario said. “Or that if I managed to strangle you, I’d get back my status as the number one wanted man on your family’s hit list.” He poured satisfaction into his voice.
“I’d have to think that over,” Stefano interrupted. “My brothers would want to vote. I do love my sister, but she’s a pain in the ass. We want to strangle her six times a day, too. And you’re family, Dario. Putting you back onto the list would be considered very poor taste, especially in the number one position.”
“I earned that spot,” Dario said.
“Wait a minute,” Emmanuelle complained, throwing a dark pillow at her oldest brother. “I absolutely forbid you to humor Dario. He’s probably really thought about strangling me.”