Chapter 6 Daisy #2
A hand reaches across my chest, and I sit back as Giulio buckles me into the seat. When he pulls his arm back, his fingers graze right over my breasts, and I barely withhold the urge to shiver. I focus on the driver instead. “So?” I prompt when Giulio’s back on his own side of the car.
Alonzo shakes his head, and the dark close-cut crop of curly brown hair on his head sways with the action. “It is just funny,” he says with a bemused grin, “that in the end, his new bride wasn’t arranged, but coerced.”
I open my mouth and then shut it. Slanting a look Giulio’s way as the car slowly pulls away from the sidewalk, I note that he’s already buckled into his own seat with a cell phone in his hand as if he’s finished with the whole conversation.
“It’s not that he’s not attractive,” I say lamely, responding to Alonzo.
“It’s just—I mean, I didn’t plan to get married.
You know? And she did ask questions—what best friend wouldn’t?
I mean, had this all been planned, she would’ve been there and probably have met him before today and…
” I trail off as Alonzo’s shoulders shake with renewed amusement.
I huff out a breath, crossing my arms and looking away from the douchebag currently directing the town car. Technically, Giulio’s secret is safe. I consider all of my promises kept. Michelle’s like my other half—my sister from another mister, if you will. She doesn’t count.
Giulio finishes typing out a text before finally setting his phone down and looking at me. “I conduct business on behalf of the Luciani family,” he states. “This includes enterprises concerning shipments, property, and loans.”
I sit there for a second, confused until I remember what I said—that I didn’t even know what his profession was. I guess that’s a start. Before I can say anything, though, he speaks again.
“And so long as you abide by the rules I set out for you, you and your friend will remain unharmed.”
My upper lip curls back. “Rules,” I deadpan. “Great. Sounds super-duper fun.”
He narrows his gaze, but I merely turn and look out at the passing scenery. That only seems to irritate him because I watch, in the reflection, as his face shifts, brows lowering over eyes the same color as a frost giant’s. Loki ain’t got nothing on this man.
“Don’t you wish to know what those rules are?” he inquires.
I shrug, forcing a casual disinterest just to see if it annoys him further. “Oh, uh, yeah, sure.” I pause, turning to face him again and tilting my head to the side. “Are you guys still considered mobsters today or is that an outdated term?”
“It…” A tick starts up in his jaw. “We are not mobsters,” he finally states. “We’re businessmen who are part of a family-oriented organization.”
I give him a bland “oh, suuuuuuuuure” look.
His men had guns last night, and instead of reporting a murder, they cleaned up the previous bride’s body and made it disappear.
If that doesn’t scream mobster, I don’t know what does.
I know I’m not a genius, but I’m also not so naive as to believe that this man won’t tie me to a pair of concrete blocks and sink me in the ocean if I become the least bit threatening to his “family-oriented organization.”
Giulio gives a very put-upon sigh. I don’t know why.
It’s not like he’s the one who’s suddenly had his whole life flipped upside down.
That would be me. Though, to be fair, I guess being married to someone outside of his world so abruptly when it was obvious he had other plans would kind of turn his life on its head, too.
I think about that for a moment and come to the annoying realization that we’re both in a hard place. My eyes latch on to the ring on my finger and I hold it up.
“Do you want this back, by the way?” I ask, reaching to pull it off.
Giulio grabs my hand and puts it on the seat. “Do not ever take this ring off.” He glares at me.
My shoulders shoot up to my ears, and my eyes widen incredulously. “Okaaay?” I let the word draw out with a slightly higher-pitched sound at the end. Did he need to sound so harsh? When he doesn’t take the hint and explain after a few seconds of waiting, I flat out ask. “Why?”
“This ring signifies you as my wife,” he states. “As long as you wear it, you’ll be allowed into our marital home and into any of the offices in which I work, should you require me. It will keep you safe from others in our organization.”
“Do I need to be safe from such a family-oriented organization?” I ask pointedly.
The glare I receive only earns him another eye roll. Deftly removing my hand from under his, I turn and rest my elbow on the window’s armrest as I watch the buildings go by.
When the town car slows to a stop in front of a white brick building with a glass display of mannequin women in glittering suits and expensive-looking cocktail attire, I realize I was right.
Wherever it is that Giulio intends on taking me for lunch would probably not have approved of what I have in my closet.
Casting a glance at the man at my side as he frowns at something on his phone, I decide that I’m going to enjoy this. If I could die at any moment, I’m going to buy the most expensive outfit in that shop even if it’ll just seem like putting lipstick on a pig.
After all, what else is a mob wife—excuse me, the wife of a family-oriented organization man—supposed to do but spend her husband’s money?