Chapter 32
Luca
WHILE MOST WEDDINGS were a mix of emotions, tedious speeches, and the painfully drunk relative, the Cabello affair held a different vibe altogether.
A blend of the ultrarich and powerful, New York elitists masquerading with mobsters for the privilege of partnership rather than kneeling for the end of a barrel.
And while everyone appeared relaxed with the heavy pour of champagne, it was a charade.
Deals were brokered and laws were broken.
Still, it was a celebration that went off without a hitch because of my wife.
A little bird who truly knew how to tame savages.
Sofia and Zia Beatrice, especially. Hyenas who wailed and demanded her help over the smallest mishap.
Louder music, softer violins. The ridiculous orders kept Vivienne busy through dinner and now dancing.
I got ahold of her for one song that we made slow enough for her cheek to meet my chest.
Then she disappeared to manage another imagined disaster.
“Disgusting,” I mumbled under my breath and then cringed. Not at the cannoli. That was actually quite good. Beatrice’s laugh, though, was as bombastic as the band’s percussion.
“What’s that?” Dante asked.
Both of his hands were full, one with a tumbler and the other wrapped around his date.
The girl from Piascere was more interested in her chrome nail polish than the guest list. I guess she’d seen them all before, except her gaze went wide when Bennett Michaels and his wife passed by.
The tent was big, and the lights were low, but the U.S.
senator was high-profile enough to recognize anywhere.
His silver hair and perpetually tan face were splashed on the news even before his run for the White House was announced last spring. He was also why my men were on high alert.
Vigo had Simone killed, but he protected his interests like a maximum security prison secured its inmates—electric gates, guns, brawn, and firepower.
Not to mention the nondisclosure agreement tucked into the back of every wedding invitation.
Confidentiality was more than expected. Breach of contract was a death sentence I carried out firsthand.
However, those very real consequences didn’t squelch Sofia from a raucous bouquet toss that a horde of ladies dove for.
“Ridiculous.” I scoffed and shook my head.
Dante’s brow rose.
“Your family.” I pointed out his cousin jumping up and down in her third dress of the night.
“Ah.” He smiled. “Our family.”
“I don’t like her. Sofia uses Vivi as her personal assistant but doesn’t ask her to stand beside her on her wedding day. Instead she has… that.”
Dante and I studied the bleached blonde twerking in celebration of catching the bouquet.
“Gwen Bianchi. Enzo Bianchi’s daughter.” Using his scotch glass, Dante pointed to a guy the size of a refrigerator communing with Vigo at a table near the front.
Then he puffed around the end of a cigar while his girl held a flame to the tip.
A plume of smoke erupted in the aftermath, blurring my view.
“Enzo’s like a brother to my father, and he’s rewarded for his loyalty.
So is Morty, his fratello by blood. The three of them manage a profitable, very high-stakes venture and have maintained discretion for over thirty years.
Vigo spoils their families—Sofia and Gwen especially. ”
“Which shouldn’t negatively affect Vivienne.”
He shrugged. “That’s always been the nature of their relationship. Vivi gives, and Sofia receives.”
I grunted, still reeling from the silky-smooth expanse of Vivienne’s bare skin beneath my fingers that I clenched into a fist. My addiction grew every time I touched her.
She was in my blood at this point. I wanted to crack open my chest and make her a part of me, protecting her from this cruel world and the people in it, like Sofia. Or worse, her father.
My gut churned with an instinct I couldn’t ignore.
I tugged my cell from the inside pocket of my jacket and tapped out Damian’s number. “Report off,” I demanded.
“I did ten minutes ago. Relax.”
“Just do it.”
He sighed. “Metal detectors are online, every guest was patted down, guards are on a constant loop around the perimeter of the property, no one has come in or gone out without a search, and we’ve come up with nothing but some questionable party aids.”
“Stay on top of patrolling the grounds.”
“You’re paranoid.”
“Cautious,” I corrected. “There’s a lot at stake.”
“Capisco. I’ll make a lap myself and give you an update.”
As I ended the call, Vivi rushed in, not five feet away. Wisps of hair fell around her face as she looked from one end of the tent to the other. In her haste, she crashed into the senator, his drink splashing across the pink satin of her dress. She froze, hands in midair.
“Oh, dear.” His wife recovered before mine did, kneeling on the floor with a cocktail napkin and patting Vivi’s dress. “I’m afraid we may have ruined your beautiful gown.”
“It was my mother’s.”
The woman’s movements stalled.
Static filled the air.
A thick tension swelled, eating away at the oxygen.
Something changed the mood. The slight shift of a gunman’s trigger finger. A hunting wolf that caught the fresh scent of a kill.
Michaels smiled, and my blood went cold.
“Vivienne,” he said in a tone too warm for a stranger.
“Mrs. Mancini.” I stepped in, wrapping my arm around Vivi’s waist and pulling her into my side. She blinked away from the senator’s face to mine, her skin taking on a pasty purple hue from the flashing lights.
“I see.” His jaw went sharp, but he recovered with the smarmy, plastic grin politicians used in a crowd. “Congratulations are in order then, as is my plea of forgiveness. Send the dry-cleaning bill to my secretary, won’t you? Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Michaels pulled his wife to her feet, and the two of them walked off as I pressed my mouth against Vivi’s ear. “What’s going on, bird?”
“Nothing. I… I don’t know,” she whispered, watching Michaels’ back disappear in the crowd. “Why did he look at me like that?”
My fingers sank into her hip. “Has he—” I swallowed down the rage seeping up my esophagus. “Has he ever touched you?”
“What?” Her gaze snapped back to mine. “Of course not. I’ve never met him, but…”
“He looks at you like he has.”
Her brow crumbled, but she blinked and scanned the tent for someone or something else.
“What’s going on?” I prodded again, that same instinct churning in my gut. “Why’d you run in?”
“Francesca.” She sighed. “The cooks are in an uproar. The midnight meal is due, and I can’t find her anywhere.”
Three hundred guests mingled, drank, and danced, yet somehow Sofia saw Vivi standing on the tips of her toes, searching the crowd, and beelined to her side.
“You’re not supposed to be here. It’s twelve.
” She tapped an imaginary watch on her wrist. “I shouldn’t have to stop my reception to remind you of the timeline. What are you waiting for?”
“Basta,” I snapped, stepping in front of Vivi.
“It’s okay.” She caught my arm, holding in the rest of my anger. “Just give me a minute, Sofia, and everything will be on track.”
I glared at her cousin while Vivi kissed my cheek.
Then they both retreated in different directions, leaving me with a deep chill in my bones.
As I turned to watch Vivi, Damian cupped my shoulder.
I tracked my wife as far as I could, then caught Rocco’s attention and motioned for him to follow her instead.
He was better with one arm in a sling than most soldiers with two.
My eyes shifted to Dami and then to Dante, who approached him from behind with three men. “What is it?”
“The perimeter was breached.”
A cool rush of anxiety ran through my veins.
My heart thrummed to the tune of two words. Find Vivienne.
A thumping headache settling into my temples said, finish the job you were born to do.
The staccato beat of my pulse chanted, remember your vow, remember them all.
In the end, I had no choice but to reach for my gun and lead the six of them into a night lit by the soft glow of hanging lanterns. Thirty seconds later, we walked into the stark glare of the kitchen and the five guards surrounding a cook. He sobbed against the Glock pressed to his temple.
“I didn’t know,” he cried between hitching breaths, eyes shifting between two of his crew. “Ask them. They saw it and heard the same as me.”
I pushed into the fray, fisting his shirt and pulling him into my line of sight. “Heard what?”
He blabbered in a cadence between two languages with one name common to both.
Francesca.
“Get the boss,” Dante interjected before I could release my hold or ease the panic boiling my blood.
“Portami mia moglie,” Bring me my wife, I demanded of a guard and then turned my attention to the cook. “Where is Francesca now?”
“Gone. She left after I saw her talking to the strangers.”
I loosened my grip. The cook collapsed into a praying heap, and his voice rose as I waved my weapon at three men.
“Metti al sicuro l’ufficio del re.” Secure the king’s office.
Glancing at another, I said, “Gather a team and interview every person on the premises. I don’t care if they’re a hundred years old, pat them down and validate their invitation.
Bring forward anyone not on the registry.
I want updates every five minutes. And you—” I nodded to Damian.
Our eyes locked. “—trova la governante.” Find the housekeeper. “Do not harm her, leave that to me.”
He dipped his chin, then left me to search the storeroom. Shelves were full of everything needed in a kitchen to feed a wedding with three-hundred-plus guests. Rows of baskets held fruits and vegetables, and another, hidden under a red towel, housed a lone bullet cartridge.
“Jesus Christ,” I swore under my breath.
Vigo and Stefano stormed into the kitchen as I exited the pantry. My wife rushed in after them, scraping strands of hair away from her face. Rocco followed close behind.
“Vivienne, come.” I pointed to my side.
“Luca?” She approached with wide eyes and wonder but without hesitation. “What’s going on?”
The fire racing through my veins burned hotter, snuffing out my next breath.
A good fight normally hit me like a can of gasoline on a lit match, but this one smothered the explosion and left a bitter taste behind.
I tucked my gun in my belt and faced Vivienne, taking her cheeks in my hands.
So soft, so sweet, and with my eyes holding hers steady, I watched her innocence bleed from the frost.
“Francesca is the rat.”
The room went quiet.
A heartbeat throbbed in my ears.
She blinked. “No.”
“Uccello.”
“Per favore, no.”
“It’s true.”
She shook her head. I held her steady.
“It’s not. Francesca wouldn’t.” She glanced at her father and her brothers, scanned the entire scene in the kitchen, and finally looked back at me.
“She wouldn’t betray us—she wouldn’t betray me.
She couldn’t. Not after… Mama.” Her voice cracked, and so did my resolve to add another burden to her shoulders that already carried many.
“What evidence do you have for such an accusation, son?”
Vigo’s endearment silenced the room and shook my shoulders. I’d made it into the inner circle of the family but at the expense of il mio bellissimo uccello. The woman I lived and would die for. Yet everyone here left me to divulge the venomous truth and shatter her already broken heart.
“Francesca called off the approved vendors, the waitstaff we had vetted, and then arranged for Angelini’s men to cover their absence. She hid weapons in the pantry, and now they’ve disappeared on the grounds.”
“Stop this,” Vivi cried.
“You know it’s true, bird. When you needed more help, she called in a favor. Who did she ask?”
“But why? Why would she do this?”
“Revenge.” Vigo stepped forward and hefted the cook from the floor.
“Finire il pasto.” Finish the meal. He tugged his jacket sleeve in place and turned to his daughter.
“She’s blamed me for Benny’s death for years.
I shouldn’t have allowed her to stay on and care for the household, but Simone liked her, as did you. ”
The fire in my veins turned to ice. This was a test, and Vivi’s reaction would prove her loyalty or reveal her lie. I rolled my thumb over her bottom lip and prayed she understood his intent from the weight of my stare.
Resignation flashed in her eyes. Black bled into the frost. She straightened her shoulders and pushed away from me to face her father with the defiance that made my pulse race.
“Then make her pay for the betrayal,” she hissed.
Dante took a step back, drawing his gun as he left the kitchen.
Two guards returned with a struggling man in tow.
I tucked Vivienne behind my back as Vigo commanded, “Take him to the cellar.”
The stranger grunted. Veins bulged in his neck. He flexed and shook free of his restraints, then dove for the counter and an eight-inch blade. A guard pulled his weapon. Pop, pop. Shots echoed off the walls, and the intruder crumbled to the tile.
“Idiota,” Stefano barked, kicking the dead man. “Find the second Angelini and keep him alive, or you’ll sit beside this one in hell.” He spat on the floor, then stalked out of the kitchen.
Vigo watched him go before giving Vivi his full attention. “You understand that this is why we take care of our own. La famiglia è dove riponiamo la nostra fede.” Family is where we place our faith. “Francesca will pay for her crime, and we will sleep just as deeply. This is how we work.”
His sharp diamond eyes shifted to mine. “Trovala e non tornare finché non saremo liberi dalla sporcizia.” Find her, and don’t return until we’re free from the filth.
I didn’t wonder why this was my job and not Stefano’s or Dante’s.
He had another son now. An assassin he pledged to his daughter.
Vigo had a problem, and I took care of it.
No questions asked. As a member of his family, I was bound to him tighter than the omertà ever could.
I was tied to him by secrets and blood, and this time it wasn’t my soul that would suffer the consequences.
It was my wife who would never forgive my sin.
I left her to kill the rat.