He was worse than Elie. He really was. He knew she was afraid to walk the distance to the sofa, but was he just going to come over and help her? No, he was going to make her ask for help. Maybe she really was too stubborn. And why could these men read her so easily?
“Has it occurred to either one of you that I barely know you and maybe it’s a little difficult to ask for help from strangers?”
“We aren’t strangers to you.” Valentino dismissed the idea. “Now you’re just stalling. You’re family. You belong to Elie. We regard him as a brother. That makes you a sister.”
“Elie is a pain-in-the-ass brother and you’re worse,” Dario pointed out. “He isn’t going to like that you were so fucking stubborn, you would rather topple over than ask us to help you to the sofa.”
Sweat had begun to bead on her forehead and trickle between her breasts. Little black dots began to float behind her eyes. “Fine. I would appreciate help in making it to the couch since I’m about to faint.”
Dario and Val both jumped to either side of her. Val slid his arm around her waist, careful of where he put his hands, not wanting to hit any of the places a bullet had torn into her body.
Dario, muttering curses under his breath, gripped her with hard hands. “I don’t envy Elie one minute. We should let the chef’s assistant make his try. Maybe put poor Elie out of his misery.”
“Dario,” Val tried to sound harsh, but his voice was filled with laughter.
“I’m getting used to him,” Brielle said. “He’s scary when he’s at a distance, but this close I can smell lavender all over him. Lavender has a calming effect. It’s used for things like reducing stress, anxiety and even mild pain.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Dario snapped as they helped her onto the sofa.
Brielle gratefully lay back. She definitely felt the stretch on her belly, telling her she’d been sitting too straight for far too long. She’d been warned that she had to be careful and take it slow. She wasn’t to work long hours at a desk.
Valentino burst out laughing at her revelation that Dario wasn’t in the least scary close-up. “We’d better take that into consideration when you’re interrogating prisoners, Dario.”
Dario gave him the finger.
“I think maybe it’s just me, Val,” Brielle said, closing her eyes against the light. It felt so good to be off her feet and just lie down. “I used lavender all the time for anxiety and when I’d get so sick when I’d work.” She was chattering because she was nervous. Talking too much, but she couldn’t stop herself. “I found lavender was calming to me if I used it for aromatherapy or as oils in the bath. I probably conditioned myself to react that way. I honestly didn’t mean to embarrass you, Dario.”
She loved that he not only had a lavender farm but oversaw the running of it himself and that it was a legitimate business. He didn’t taint it in any way. He didn’t use it to launder money or for any purpose other than to sell the lavender to his wholesale clients. Brielle found that was endearing.
She lifted her lashes, just to try to get a look at his expression, but Dario raised an eyebrow at her, his mask slipping easily back into place.
“I knew when I bought that farm, I would take some heat for it,” he said before throwing himself into a chair in the casual way he had.
She lowered her lashes again, partially blocking out the light, but she was still able to see the two men. “Did you always intend to keep it going?”
“No. I bought the property because it was next to Val’s. He needs looking after whether he wants to admit it or not.”
Val made a sound of derision under his breath. “He likes to think that. It makes him feel needed and gives him the opportunity to be bossy.”
“I’m good in that role.”
“Which is why I handed Miceli’s territory to you. Boss away, Dario.”
Dario raised his middle finger to Val. “Drives me crazy to have to have all those idiots coming to me and asking if they can do things they should be able to figure out on their own.”
“You have to stay on top of every detail, Dario. You don’t, and someone’s going to try to slip something past you the way Miceli did. The way Carmine Catani was doing.”
Brielle bit down on her lower lip. She had identified Carmine Catani as a traitor in Dario’s organization. He was feeding Santoro information, and he’d provided the photograph of Elie to the traffickers.
“I’m on top of it. I brought in my boys just as you suggested, although that almost lost us Brielle. It didn’t occur to me they wouldn’t be welcome without being investigated first.”
There was something in Dario’s voice that captured Brielle’s attention. She didn’t make the mistake of turning her head toward him or tensing. She made certain to stay relaxed. Dario didn’t like the idea of anyone investigating his two personal protectors. She’d been warned off and she’d done it anyway. Their bogus backgrounds were completely false, so good one had to be an expert to recognize they’d been given new identities.
She had wondered, for a brief moment, if they were in witness protection, but knew better when they were so blatantly guarding a known crime lord. “By now, Stefano’s people must have done background checks on them. Why aren’t they with you?” She couldn’t keep the little edge of anxiety out of her voice.
Brielle still couldn’t go to sleep without seeing Leone shot in the chest and falling backward, right in the doorway. She knew Elie had the same problem. Most nights, he still paced up and down restlessly, his eyes on her as she tried to reassure him that she was perfectly fine. They both knew she wasn’t—not yet.
“You and Emme.” Val sighed, shaking his head. “Does it never occur to you that we are capable of taking care of not only ourselves, but the two of you as well? Our regular security details are just outside your door. A few others are stationed close to the elevator. I’ve sent word to them to watch the windows. Now that I know the Winslow brothers could be involved in this, I asked for locations of their equipment on every floor. I don’t want any surprises appearing at the window.”