Chapter 20
ROMERO
We are late for dinner. Leni frets about it, but I couldn’t give a shit. And as we slip into Rafael’s grand living room, my glare dares anyone to comment on our lateness.
Try me. I fucking dare you.
“I’m so sorry we’re late. It’s all my fault. I didn’t have anything appropriate to wear, so we had to go to the store to get some clothes for me.” The words tumble out of Leni’s mouth the second we cross the threshold.
She glances around the room at my brothers and their wives who are already seated, immersed in light conversations with glasses of bourbon and mocktails. The mocktails for the women—the breastfeeding Gianna, pregnant Elira, and Emily in moral support, I guess.
Emily is the first to stand. “And it was completely worth it. Look at you—you’re gorgeous.
” She beams at Leni as she comes over. “Hi, I’m Emily.
That guy’s wife.” She hitches a thumb at Rafael, who’s watching us with his usual cool, calculating gaze, though his expression melts the instant it lands on his woman, the way it always does.
Makes me wonder if I look at Leni the same way.
Probably. Fuck.
“Nice to meet you, Emily. I’m Leni,” my wife-to-be murmurs, taking her hand. The other ladies get up too and converge on us.
“I’m Gianna, the mother of those two girls in the playpen.” She points at her daughters, watched by two older women—the babysitters. “And that’s my husband.” Michael raises his bourbon in acknowledgment.
“I’m Elira. I love your hair. I’m sure you can guess who my husband is by elimination.” She chuckles, and something miraculous happens. Leni’s mouth curves into the first genuine smile since we arrived.
There she is. My beautiful girl, coming alive.
After the introductions, I watch helplessly as the women basically kidnap my wife-to-be.
They just… take her. Like she’s theirs now, part of their sisterhood, while I’m stuck watching from a distance as they weave their feminine magic around her.
My hands itch to reach for her, to keep her close, but I force myself to stay back.
She needs this. She needs to know these women won’t eat her alive.
Before long, she seems to loosen up around them, even letting out a laugh as they walk ahead of us towards the dining room. The sound makes my shoulders drop an inch. She’s going to be fine.
“While she’s not as beautiful as my wife, I can’t deny that she is pretty,” Maximo grunts. “But she’s not your usual type, Romero.”
I glare at him. “And what’s my usual type?”
“Cold as fish. Empty in the head.”
“You motherfucking—”
“Boys.” Rafael’s voice is low but sharp, just enough to stop us without alarming the women ahead of us. “Emilia worked hard on this dinner. I won’t have you upset her with your bickering.” His tone promises consequences. “We can talk after dinner.”
I bite back my response, but the fury still burns in my throat. Maximo always knows exactly which buttons to push.
The chairs in the dining room have been rearranged again—it seems to expand every year as our family grows.
Rafael’s massive, engraved chair still commands the head of the table, positioned directly in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that frame downtown Manhattan in all its glittering glory.
Emily’s chair—a smaller version of his—sits beside him now instead of across from him.
Two high chairs have been added for Michael’s girls.
They’re almost one and have slowly started eating solids, so they now have a place at the table.
The twins sit strapped in, Michael and Gianna flanking them, ready to jump into action at the first sign of baby chaos, while their babysitters wait outside with their own meal.
Elira sits next to Emily and Maximo next to her. I end up next to him, which means I get to listen to his running commentary all night. Lucky me. Leni takes the last available seat right across from Gianna, who gives her an encouraging smile.
“You don’t have to be nervous. These dinners aren’t as bad as we make them out to be in our heads,” she says, giving her a knowing look.
“Trust me, I get it. I didn’t want to come here after Rafael tried to send me back to my abusive uncle.
I hated him, you know? But he’s not as mean as he portrays himself to be. ”
“Gianna.” Rafael sounds exasperated, but there’s a thread of affection in there somewhere.
“I gave birth to the family’s first children—I get liberties.” She winks at him, and the bastard actually looks amused. Helpless, but amused.
Next to me, Leni snickers—actually snickers—then immediately slaps her hand over her mouth, eyes wide with horror at her own audacity.
Christ, she’s adorable.
The moment lingers only a beat before the dining room door opens and Rafael’s staff walks in with the food.
My sorrelinas work their magic throughout dinner, drawing Leni out of her shell piece by piece—which I’m glad for. By the time the ladies finish their dessert, she’s no longer sitting next to me but across the table with Emma, one of the twins, in her lap while she coos at her.
My chest tightens watching her. The soft smile that transforms her entire face, the gentle murmur of her voice as she entertains the tiny bundle.
She’ll be an incredible mother someday.
Then the thought twists when I realize the children she mothers might not necessarily be mine. And the urge to kill something—someone—pounds through my veins until my vision goes dark around the edges.
No. She’s mine. Any children she has will be mine.
Maximo’s hand lands on my shoulder as he gets up from his seat. “Come on. Meeting in Rafael’s office.”
“Yeah, yeah, go do your boring stuff in Rafael’s office. Don’t ruin the atmosphere here.” Emily waves us away with mock irritation. “And you only have thirty minutes. You know the rule—no business talk during dinner. But I’m letting this one slide.”
“Amorina.” Rafael chuckles, pressing a hard kiss to her temple as he stands.
I catch Leni’s gaze across the table, silently asking if she’s okay with me leaving her here alone with the ladies. Her smile is soft, reassuring, followed by the subtlest nod. Only then do I get to my feet and follow my brothers out.
Rafael takes his usual place behind his mahogany desk, Michael drops into a chair across from him, Maximo claims one of the armchairs, and I sink into the other, my eyes automatically drawn to the framed artwork on the wall.
Four paintings of four flowers. Azaleas, Tulips, Lily of the Valley, and Iris.
Each one representing the men in this office.
“I found out we have another thief targeting our pharmaceuticals.” I jump in before anyone can bring up anything else. Because knowing my brothers, they’re about to rip into me about Leni, and I’m not giving them the chance.
“What?” Michael frowns. “I took care of that last year.”
“In your territory,” Rafael reminds him. “I doubt anyone will try that on your turf again. They must be trying to see how far Romero will take it once he notices.” His eyes flick to me.
Maximo clicks his tongue. “Dumbfucks are about to learn the ‘playboy’ of Brooklyn isn’t just a pretty face.”
I glare at him. “Was bringing up that goddamn title necessary?” Over eight years since that article and they still won’t let it die.
“Speaking of playboys–” Rafael starts.
“Let’s not,” I interrupt. “Let’s stick to business.”
“Did you know that your fiancée is the daughter of John Barlowe, the traitor you had executed?” he continues unruffled, and my eyes slide shut. Shit. Here we go. “You knew?”
“Fuck, you have to break it off with her, Rome.” Maximo’s strange tone has me opening my eyes. “She’s going to be hurt when she finds out you’re the man who killed her father—and that you knew all along but kept it from her.”
When, not if. As if her finding out is inevitable.
“I’m not breaking anything off. I’m not the one who killed her father.”
“But giving the order is the same as doing the deed, isn’t it?” Michael asks quietly, and I swallow around the lump in my throat.
I can’t do this. Can’t sit here and dissect every reason why this is going to end in flames. I push to my feet, adjusting my cufflinks. “I don’t need to hear this shit. I’m going home.”
“You’re both going to end up destroyed by this,” Rafael murmurs. “You’re too invested. She’s going to react badly when she finds out—and she will find out. These secrets have an annoying way of coming out. You should know.”
His pointed stare burns into me. He still hasn’t completely forgiven me for telling Emily the full truth about what happened with her dad ten years ago against his wishes.
“This won’t be like that. I’ll make sure of it,” I say, forcing conviction into my voice.
“And you’re all going to keep your mouths shut. ”
Rafael just shakes his head. “Sit back down and tell us how you handled things with Julian DeMarco. Does he know where Katie is or not?”
I take back my seat again, but my mind is spinning. Because as I update them on the absolute waste of time that was lunch with Julian, I can’t stop thinking how similar Katie’s case is to Emily’s when she disappeared fifteen years ago, leaving behind only a letter.
Back then, Emily got help from Stacey Rodrigues, a special agent of the FBI who had some less-than-savory connections. Is Katie’s case the same? She’s also an FBI agent, isn’t she? Does she have someone with connections helping her out?
The pieces are there, waiting to be assembled. I just need to find the right angle to see the whole picture.