Chapter 4 #2
The moment we step out onto the busy street—even though it’s well after dark—the heat of summer’s air slaps me in the face.
I sag into Giulio’s side, exhaustion clinging to my every limb, but as he lifts a cell phone to his ear, barking quick and succinct orders for a car to be brought around, I rouse myself a bit more and step away from the warmth of him with a shake of my head.
Immediately, my insides cramp with longing.
A quick roll against a man as fine as Giulio would definitely relax me. Too bad.
“Well, um… thanks, I guess, for not killing me,” I say, scratching my side again. “I’ll—” I pause and glance down at the dress. “I’ll get this cleaned and send it back to you if you want to try and get your money back.”
Giulio frowns at me. “What are you talking about?” he demands, irritation in his baritone.
“The dress.” I gesture down. “You bought it, so it’s yours. I was just borrowing it for the ceremony.”
Frost-coated eyes continue to stare at me. I shuffle awkwardly on the sidewalk, stepping out of the way as a man in a long suit coat with a phone glued to his ear stomps past. “I’ve got to go get my purse and head home,” I say.
“We are going home,” Giulio replies.
I shake my head. “I don’t have my keys,” I say. “They’re in my purse.” Along with my wallet, both of which are in the locker of the employees’ section of the venue.
Giulio sighs as a black town car pulls out of the throng of cars that are driving by, their noses and bumpers nearly touching as the drivers speed along, honking at anyone who dares go too slow. He reaches over and opens the back door.
Sure that this is where we part ways, I take a step back toward the venue as he bends, ducking his head into the interior of the car. Instead of getting into the vehicle, though, Giulio comes back up a moment later with a long strap attached to a familiar-looking square of denim material.
“My purse!” I jolt forward, hands coming up and reaching out for the object.
Giulio pulls it back at the last second. “Get into the car, Daisy,” he orders, holding it just out of reach.
“Are you holding my purse hostage?” I gape at him. “That’s stealing.”
He arches a brow, and the ridiculousness of my words echoes between us. Yeah, I guess if he doesn’t mind covering up the murder of his first bride, stealing someone’s purse would be child’s play.
“I mean, what I meant to say is—”
“Get in the car,” Giulio says on a huff of breath, “and I’ll give you your purse.”
I eye the handsewn bag with the strap made of roped leather braiding swinging from two of his fingers with contemplation. “I was taught not to get into cars with strangers.”
“Are you serious?” Giulio lowers his arm, and this time, instead of urging me into the car with his words, he takes the three steps toward me, bends over, and casually lifts me over his shoulder—big skirts and all.
“Hey!” My shriek is one of self-preservation as I reach back and slap against the pillowy tulle that comes up off the ground. “Put me down!”
Ignoring me, Giulio easily strides back to the town car and bends down, depositing me inside the back seat with surprisingly gentle hands before he nudges me over and climbs in alongside me. The moment the door is closed at his back, he tosses my purse into my lap.
“Here,” he snaps before directing his attention to the man in the driver’s seat. “Go.”
Before the car can take off, however, a familiar voice calls out. “G!” Just outside, Dante is hurrying toward the vehicle before it can pull away from the curb. After a long-suffering sigh, Giulio leans over and rolls down the window.
Dante slows his pace before leaning into the car, crossing his arms over the open window and staring past Giulio to me. “Before you left, I wanted to ask what you plan to do with your new bride.”
“I was planning on taking her back to my home,” Giulio responds.
My head whips to him. “Your home?” I squawk. “I thought I was going to my home!”
Dante’s lips twitch, his brown eyes glittering with amusement.
Giulio reaches up and pinches the bridge of his nose. “What do you want, Dante? Spit it out before I have Alonzo run you over.”
Dante laughs at the threat. Like Giulio, he’s a handsome man.
Wider than Giulio, he’s got the body of an athlete and the face of a chiseled Greek god.
If I didn’t know he was involved in some shady shit since he’s attached to the man next to me, I might ask him if he were single and offer to set him up with my roommate.
Michelle could certainly do worse—and currently is with Tony the Tool.
“Come on, G, give the poor girl a break,” Dante finally says after his laughter has tapered off. “Ease her into the family—she just met you today.” Is Dante the savior I never expected to have? My gaze moves to the man at my side, hopeful.
Giulio’s face twists into a scowl, and he drops his hand away from his face. “We’re married.” He emphasizes the last word, glaring at his friend. “She’s my wife—don’t you think we should be together on the wedding night?”
“Wedding night?” I repeat hollowly. Does he think I’m ready to jump into bed with him?
I mean, yeah, he’s attractive in that perfect-male-model way—hence why I originally thought he was one—but a wedding night with a stranger?
Not happening. No matter how much my lady bits are curious about what this man would look like shirtless… sweaty… and all over me.
I shake my head to get rid of those fantasies as Dante nods at Giulio.
Oh no. My hopes begin to shrivel, but then he opens his mouth.
“That’s true, but…” he hedges. “She doesn’t know you, and considering the path to your union…
” Dante offers me another of those smiles, and I’m sold.
Michelle should definitely date this guy over Tony the Tool.
So what if he’s a mobster? Everyone has their baggage, right?
“Besides, it’s not like she can run away. ”
I nod violently. “I won’t,” I promise. “I can’t—we just signed a new lease anyway.” And no one has the money to break a brand-new lease—at least, I don’t.
“Hush.” Giulio waves a hand at me, and I narrow my eyes.
If he thinks I’m going to become a dutiful wife who follows her husband’s orders, he’s gonna find out soon that I’m not the wife he thought he was getting.
Maybe that would have flown with the dead girl, but she’s not here.
I am, and this is the twenty-first century.
Women have voting rights now. Before I can open my mouth and say as much, Giulio keeps talking.
“Your father returns tomorrow,” Giulio says, directing the words to Dante. “He’ll want to meet her.”
“And he will,” Dante says. “Let her go home tonight. She’ll need to pack her things anyway.”
I’m pretty sure I’m not moving anywhere, not even for Hotty McMafia Hot Pants next to me, but I don’t say anything, still praying that Dante will manage to convince Giulio to let me go home.
“She’s a flight risk,” Giulio responds.
Dante settles his gaze on me. “I don’t know. Are you the type to renege on a deal, sweetheart?”
I shake my head. “Nope, I’m a total non-deal-breaker,” I say.
“See?” Dante tilts his head toward Giulio. “Your new wife will be a good girl and stay put, but if you’re that worried, we can always leave a few guys behind for security.”
Security? Oh no. “I have a roommate!” I blurt. “And my lease has strict rules. We can’t have a lot of long-term overnight visitors. We could lose the deposit and be evicted!”
Both Dante and Giulio look at me as if I’ve grown a second head. It’s Giulio, though, who speaks instead of Dante. “They wouldn’t stay with you,” he tells me, “but they would watch you to make sure you don’t run.”
“Watch me how?” I frown. “Like, would they sit outside in a car, watching my apartment building?”
Giulio nods. “Something like that, yes.”
“Oh.” I cant my head to the side. I don’t love the idea of some mob guys hanging out watching my every move, but it’s a better option than not getting to go home.
“Will you agree to a security detail, cara?” Dante asks.
The look he gives me is kind of smug, but the dark glare from the man sitting next to me is a vibrating warning that if I decide to turn down this offer, the chances of me going back to my apartment are nil.
So, with sagging defeat, I lift my purse to my chest and cup it against my breast as I nod my acquiescence.
“As long as they don’t get us in trouble with the landlord,” I say with a nod, “I’m good with a security detail.”
Dante’s face brightens and he sends Giulio a self-satisfied smirk. “Well, then, sounds like you’ll have to take the lady home, G, and wait to introduce her to the marital bed later.” Gulp. “I’ll have two of our men follow and remain behind to keep an eye on her.”
My fingers contract around my purse, the scratchy denim fabric rough on my palms. “Stronzo,” Giulio mutters, his voice a grumble that makes it clear the word is not a term of endearment.
When he speaks in Italian, his tone lilts in a way that sounds less like his normal accent, as if the word was learned from a native speaker, and yet he sounds American when he speaks English.
A result of being in the foster system, I wonder?
Like me? Constantin had said he was an adoptive son, after all.
Dante merely laughs at Giulio’s attitude and straightens away from the town car before clapping a hand on the roof of the vehicle.
Giulio sits back and rolls up the window as the car pulls away, and I close my eyes and settle back in my seat before I realize Giulio probably doesn’t know where I live.
“My address,” I say, sitting up as my eyes pop back open. “I live in—”
Giulio waves a hand. “Alonzo already has your address,” he cuts me off, nodding to the driver. “He’ll get us there soon. Rest for now.”