Chapter 7 Giulio
GIULIO
What do a woman’s thighs and a hit man have in common? Both will take you out, but one will simply be faster and the other, more pleasant. I’m not sure which I prefer.
Daisy practically sprints into the shop as soon as we get out of the car. Alonzo waves me off as he drives away to park. I glance down the street and spy the security detail we set up on Daisy’s apartment building pulling over.
The soldier that gets out—a short, bald man who appears nondescript despite his muscular frame—straightens his jacket and makes his way toward me. Mateo will follow us in and stay a careful distance so as not to overwhelm or disturb my new bride.
I make my way into the shop and go in search of said bride.
When I decided to marry the girl and fulfill my father’s wish, I never considered that she would react so…
imperviously to everything. Now, I find the girl standing in the women’s section of the exclusive store, a fluttering saleswoman scowling at her as she lifts a dress off the rack and holds it up to herself.
“Miss.” I watch the saleswoman through narrowed eyes, waiting for what I’m sure will be an insult. It’s always best to give people just enough rope to hang themselves; that way, they can never blame you for tying the noose that takes their life. “Is there something I can help you with?”
Daisy glances up from the dress. If she notices the woman’s obvious haughty look, she doesn’t comment on it.
Much to my surprise, she shoves the dress into the woman’s hand.
“Yes, can you hold this for me?” Then, without waiting for a response, she continues down the line, grabbing clothing item after clothing item.
Does she think we’re going to a fashion show?
I hang back as the door behind me opens and I sense Mateo’s approach. “Sir?” His voice is low as he stops behind my left shoulder.
“Speak.”
“The Cesari heir was seen in this vicinity a few minutes ago,” he states. “Should we move you and your wife to a new location?”
My lips press together. Even if the area isn’t directly under either of our control, it’s not good to be near a rival Syndicate’s heir. Should anything happen to him—however minor—and it’s reported that I, as one of Luciani’s top men, was in the area, it wouldn’t look good.
“Miss!” The saleswoman stumbles on her too-high-for-the-job-she’s-doing heels as Daisy tosses another dress onto the pile in the woman’s already full arms. “This is—are you sure—oh!”
My lips twitch. At least, I’m not the only one my new wife likes to torment.
Saleswomen are apparently on her list of victims as well.
I shake my head at Mateo. We aren’t leaving now.
Daisy needs appropriate clothes for when she meets the father of my heart.
I hope he’ll be as impressed by her as Dante surely seemed to be at the reception.
“No,” I tell him. “We do not run from our enemies, and as far as Cesari is concerned, this is neutral ground. Should we cross paths, I will deal with it then.”
I glimpse Mateo’s bowed head out of the corner of my eye as his response and step away from him to follow my wife. As frustrating as the young woman is, I’m starting to find amusement in the spurts of activity that seem to overtake her in random moments—this being one of those moments.
Daisy continues to grab things—now moving on from dresses to blouses and pants and shawls and shoes. I take a seat in one of the few chairs outside the dressing rooms and lift my phone from my pocket to dial Dante.
“Busy, can we talk later?” are his first words to me, his voice tight with strain. He’s breathing heavy.
I relax back into my seat and enjoy the air conditioning of the shop. “I called to invite you to lunch with the Don this afternoon,” I say. “To introduce my new wife.”
“G—fuck, hold on.” To most people, the sound of gunfire on the other side of the line would be worrisome, but to me, it’s of no concern.
I’ve called Dante in worse predicaments, and today, I have the added advantage of knowing exactly where he is and what he’s doing.
If he can’t multitask like this, then he won’t ever make it as his father’s replacement.
The gunfire ceases, and when I next hear Dante’s voice, it’s far more even. “All right, now that that’s settled, what’s this about lunch with my father?”
“Today. One p.m. Madison Park.”
A flurry of movement passes in front of me as Daisy slips into one of the dressing rooms across from me with the saleswoman hot on her heels.
The woman’s face is red, and her arms bulge with a plethora of items. A small hand slips out from behind the dressing room door and grabs a handful of those items before disappearing again.
Breathing heavily, the woman turns and looks at me over the mound still in her arms. In a rush, the clothes tumble to the floor, and she gapes.
“Oh—oh my! Mr. La Rosa, sir. I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there, I—” She glances over her shoulder to the closed dressing room door.
“I-is there something I can do for you? I, erm, just give me one moment. We appear to have a difficult customer. I’ll just ask her to leave so that you may have the store to yourself. ”
I hold up a hand, halting her movement as she goes to step away from the pile of clothes on the floor.
“Dante, one moment,” I say into the phone before addressing the woman.
“There is something you can do for me,” I tell her.
She straightens at my tone, eyes going wide.
“You can treat my wife with the respect she deserves and not as if she’s a criminal about to shoplift in your establishment.
My wife, if she wanted to, could buy out this entire building and reduce it to rubble in a matter of days. ”
Her eyes go to my left hand where a silver band now adorns my ring finger. “I—I’m so sorry, Mr. La Rosa. I had no idea that you were—that she was—”
“I am and she is,” I say, finishing her incomplete sentence.
She swallows, her face going pale when she finally notices Mateo standing by the front doors.
As if just now realizing that she has not one but two of Don Luciani’s men standing in her boutique, the woman glances around for her employees.
Only one remains in the room, standing back behind the checkout counter with wide eyes that nearly take up the entirety of her face.
“Now,” I continue, “if you don’t wish for me to cut off your fingers one by one for the insult of your attitude toward my wife, I suggest you gather the things my wife has taken a liking to and wrap them up for us.” Slipping into my jacket pocket, I withdraw my black card and hand it over.
With shaky arms, the woman reaches for it. When my hand grazes her fingers, she yelps and yanks them out of the way. My smile is feral.
“Y-yes, Mr. La Rosa, and may I say again, I am so sorry for any disrespect I may have in-inadvertently bestowed upon you and y-your wife.”
I wave my fingers at her and turn away, the phone back to my ear now that I’ve made my point. “Will you be there?” I demand, going right back to our earlier conversation.
Dante sighs. “I know you need to introduce her, but must I be there?” he asks. “Father is going to point out that now that you’re married, I should start looking for a wife and giving him grand-bambinos as well.”
“Just because I’m married now doesn’t mean I’ll be having any of those bambinos,” I remind him.
“Yes, well, you can break the old man’s heart and tell him that,” Dante replies testily.
“Lunch,” I repeat. “Be there, or I’ll put everything on your tab.”
“Don’t you fu—” I hang up before he can finish his cursing.
The door to the dressing room opens, and Daisy appears.
The short red dress she’s wearing fits perfectly to her upper body, molding over the generous breasts I caught glimpses of the previous night, before flaring out around her hips.
Daisy steps past me toward the trifold mirror at the end of the short dressing room area.
Turning right and then left, her eyes move over her figure in the reflection. And… what a figure it is. I can’t help but admire the lines of her form: wide hips, a narrow waist, and pale, creamy thighs that barely peek out beneath the skirt.
With a sharp inhalation, I whirl around to where Mateo stands. The man’s eyes are locked on Daisy, polite but with obvious appreciation in them. I try to swallow the snarl that threatens to explode in my throat, but when I speak, it’s not entirely gone.
“Mateo.” The man jerks his head toward me and upon seeing my expression, dips his head submissively. “Go wait outside,” I order. He’s gone out the door in a blink, and I turn back to Daisy as she comes to stand right in front of me.
“Who was that?” she asks, leaning around my body.
Unsure as to why I do it, I step into her line of vision. “A bodyguard,” I answer.
Her eyes move back to my face. Pale eyes, I realize, with hints of blue and green swirling together amid flecks of gold and brown. I dimly recall the word for them—hazel.
“For those safe people in your family-oriented organization?” she asks, lips twitching.
This woman should be terrified of me. A normal woman would be, but even the day before when she walked in to find Isa’s body, she didn’t react as anyone else might.
When I came in, she wasn’t hysterical and my men informed me that other than attempts to talk her way out of their grasp, she hadn’t sobbed or made a general nuisance of herself.
She remained calm. She negotiated for her life. I have to admire that.
“There are other… families,” I say hesitantly, not sure how much information I should give. The more knowledge someone has, the more power they wield. I blow out a breath and finish. “They do not take kindly to ours.”
“Business rivals?” she guesses.
“In many ways,” I agree, lifting a hand to stroke a lock of dark brown hair over her shoulder and tuck it behind her ear.
Color infuses her cheeks, and for a moment, I wonder if she’d blush like that all over if I were to strip her naked and lift one of her legs over my shoulder as I swept my tongue against the sensitive place between her legs.
“Do you like this dress?” I nod down to what she’s wearing.
The idea of her wearing it out of the store makes me violent.
The way Mateo looked at her… I have no doubt that there will be plenty of other men interested in the beauty this woman presents, the carefree air she holds around her like a ray of sunshine that’s constantly following her.
I imagine how warm all that sunshine would feel were it plastered to my chest and then hate myself as my groin tightens.
“It’s nice,” Daisy says, but then frowns down at it. “Do you think it’s appropriate for the place you’re taking me?”
With a body like hers? It’s completely inappropriate for anywhere outside the bedroom. “You look beautiful,” I tell her honestly.
Her head snaps up. “Say that again.”
I stare at her, and for the first time in my life, I follow the command of a civilian. “You look beautiful.”
Her lips pull wide, curling upward as she gives me quite possibly the brightest smile I’ve ever seen.
Genuine and full of warmth, this girl is nothing like my original intended.
Isabela Ariotti had been beautiful like an ice sculpture.
She had known the score, understood what she could and could not expect from me.
Daisy Turner—now La Rosa—is beautiful in a way that melts all the ice inside my chest into water.
“You mean it,” she says, beaming. “I can tell.” Then, before I can say anything, she’s off again. “Okay, I’m getting this dress, then. Will you tell the sales lady if you see her that she can put the rest back?”
My jaw drops as Daisy bounces toward the back of the small boutique where the employee from earlier is still standing, hands latched on to the edge of the counter with a white-knuckled grip.
It’s not the employee who captures my attention though.
It’s my fucking wife. More importantly, it’s the back of her skirt that flies up to reveal more skin.
Those fucking thighs are going to be the death of me.