Chapter 33
MAX
Iclutched my phone tight as I pressed it to my ear, my patience wearing thin. “What part of ‘stay with her’ didn’t you understand?” I demanded, my voice sharp with frustration.
I knew where Rosalie was. I had to. What I didn’t know was that she’d been left without anyone by her side. The very thought made my blood boil. Rosalie was too precious, too important, and most importantly, too vulnerable in our line of work. She was my weakness, and everyone knew it.
On the other end of the line, Lev stammered, his voice shaky. “She told me she was with her family! Something about dress shopping. Her grandma owns the place—I thought she was fine.”
I let out a bitter laugh, the sound echoing through the empty warehouse. “You thought she was fine? Lev, do you think any of those women carry a gun with them? God damn it.”
My patience was beyond thin. I was done trusting Mikhail’s half-witted men. They were liabilities, every single one of them. I’d considered staying home myself and giving up the marina temporarily. At least then I could keep an eye on things personally.
“Lev, listen to me very carefully. Rosalie is not to be left alone. There are too many people who want me dead, and they’d easily use her against me.
If there is so much as a hair on her head missing or out of place, it’s your head I’ll be taking.
Do you understand me?” My voice was a low growl—the kind that promised to stay true to my threats.
Giovanni glanced up from the table, where he was counting the latest take. “Everything okay?”
I shook my head, ending the call. “Dealing with some . . . incompetence,” I muttered. The word tasted bitter on my tongue. “It seems some of our men don’t understand the meaning of loyalty or basic instruction.”
“Do you need me to take care of it?”
I considered the offer for a moment. Giovanni was one of the few I could trust implicitly. He was efficient, ruthless when necessary, and most importantly, he understood the stakes in our family. But this was something I had to handle myself.
“Nah, I’ve got it. But keep an eye on things here. I don’t want any more surprises with Mason.”
Giovanni nodded, his gaze returning to the table. “Got it. Just say the word if you need help.”
Lifting myself from the seat, I made my way to the door, ready to keep an eye on Rosalie while I waited for Sean to show up.
He and Enzo were the only two I knew who would put their lives on the line for her.
They knew Rosalie wasn’t just another asset.
She was everything, and if anything ever happened to her, there wouldn’t be a safe place on this earth for those responsible.
Finally, I reached the shop her family owned.
It was the entrance to heaven, right here in New York.
The second I stepped inside, I felt out of place, surrounded by women.
The shop was a sea of white dresses that seemed to never end.
How did they even shop for dresses? How could anyone tell the difference? They were all the same.
A saleswoman approached me, her expression curious. “Can I help you, sir?”
“I’m looking for Rosalie.”
The woman’s eyes widened slightly, and she nodded. “She’s in the back with her sister, trying on dresses,” she replied, gesturing toward a set of double doors at the rear of the shop.
“Thank you,” I said, making my way through the shop. As I walked, I caught snippets of conversations—women discussing lace, silk, and tulle, comparing various styles and cuts. I didn’t understand a single word.
Pushing open the double doors, I found myself in a smaller, more private area of the shop. Rosalie stood on a platform in the center of the room with her back to me. She was wearing a wedding dress, her figure framed by the soft, flowing fabric.
Christ, she was beautiful.
It was a truth that punched me in the gut each time I found myself near her. Men used to go to war for women who looked like her. And I had. I’d pitted myself against not only her family but my own, and I’d gladly do it again.
Her gaze found mine. At first glance, it looked like she was refraining from rolling her eyes, which wasn’t beyond her. Rosalie was the most dramatic woman I’d ever met. She also happened to be the most beautiful.
She didn’t waste any time in asking everyone else in the room to give us some privacy.
Her sister didn’t listen immediately. Instead she stepped directly in front of me, holding out her hand.
“Gun,” Daisy demanded, her voice low but insistent.
“Excuse me?”
“Give me your gun. Those are prohibited in my store, and I know you have one,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly as if daring me to argue.
She wasn’t nervous around me anymore, it seemed. Maybe Rosalie’s courage and defiance were contagious. Knowing my luck, Daisy was going to be just another Clarke I’d have to learn how to handle.
“I’m not giving you my gun, Daisy. I’m not here to cause any problems. You know that.”
She turned to Rosalie with a suggestive look. I didn’t understand their silent exchange.
“Fine,” Daisy said, taking a step back. “But if I hear so much as a pin drop, you’re out.”
She was bossy, just like her sister.
“Understood.”
Daisy gave me a nod and then left the room. With her gone, the room felt even quieter. Rosalie and I stood there for a moment, just looking at each other.
“Perfect,” I heard her mumble before she threw her arms out to the sides.
God, I loved that damn attitude of hers. Loved how mouthy she could be.
“Happy to see me, as always,” I said with a crooked smile.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Romano.”
I bent down to the floor and pinched a piece of the material between my fingers. “Scratchy,” I muttered. “And not your style.”
“Please. As if you know anything about me.” Her retort was immediate, a reflex as natural to her as breathing.
I couldn’t help but smile. She was wrong. I knew too much about her.
“Give me some credit.”
“No, and you need to leave,” she said, glaring at me. “It’s bad luck to see the bride in her dress, and we don’t need any more bad luck.”
She was kicking me out of the shop because of a superstition.
I guessed she did believe in those silly things, Black Widow and all.
“Only if I see you in the dress you’re getting, and this is not the one.”
“And why not?”
“Flashy doesn’t look good on you,” I said, shaking my head.
She rolled her eyes. “That’s rich coming from a man in a suit that screams ‘desperate.’”
“Do you think I look desperate?” I asked, my voice low, almost a whisper.
I definitely was.
“I know you are,” she replied. “You always have been.”
Keeping my mouth shut was impossible when it came to Rosalie. “Funny, how you call me desperate when you were the one who couldn’t keep your lips off mine.”
“You really want to go there?” she asked, her voice suddenly sharp.
“Why not?” I shot back.
She took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing as she picked up the fabric of her dress. Then Rosalie came to a stop at my feet. “‘Desperate,’ says the man who killed all three men I ever kissed. Though ‘desperate’ might not be the right term . . . ‘Psychopath’ would fit you better, don’t you think?”
I shrugged. “Psychopath, desperate . . . I prefer ‘efficient.’ Saves time and avoids unnecessary complications.”
Her eyes flashed with fury. “Efficient? That’s one way to spin your delusions.”
“Oh, come on, Rosalie. We both know you were never really into them. If anything, I did you a favor. Admit it—you’re more intrigued by me than you were by any of them.”
“Maybe disgusted.”
“Is that why you can’t stop staring at me?” I teased.
She stood her ground, tilting her head up defiantly. “Staring at the train wreck doesn’t mean I want to be in the crash.”
“Really? Because you’ve been riding the rails for quite some time now,” I said with a smirk.
“Max,” she warned, using my name as if it were some sort of complaint, a sigh wrapped in a single syllable. “Why are you here?”
“You left the house without any muscle.”
“You mean I left without one of your watchdogs.”
“Think of them as insurance,” I explained.
She gave me a disapproving look before turning away from me. “Well, I told Lev where I was going. I can handle myself just fine,” she insisted.
“I know you can. But I won’t be leaving until Sean gets here.”
“You worry too much.”
“Only because you give me so much to worry about,” I shot back.
She looked up at me with a dark stare. “Well, if you’re going to worry, at least do it outside.”
I shook my head slowly, taking a deliberate step closer to her. “You’re always bossing me around.”
“Someone has to.”
“You’re right, and you do a great job.” My tone turned serious, the playfulness long forgotten, and the reality of our situation settled back in. “Don’t leave the house without one of my men again, Rosalie, or you won’t be leaving at all.”
Her eyes narrowed, and her lips curled into a defiant smile. “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out,” she shot back, her voice laced with sarcasm.
I held her gaze for a moment longer. “Pick a different dress,” I suggested. “This one screams ‘suburban mom.’”
With that, I turned and headed for the door. Before it closed behind me, I glanced over my shoulder one last time.
Rosalie stood there with a middle finger pointed at me.
Damn woman.
My woman.