Chapter 5
Tommaso
The air is stolen from my lungs the minute Gina walks into the room.
She’s beautiful, but it isn’t the clothes, how her hair is styled, or the make-up she’s put on.
It’s her entire being, her light. She radiates, even when she showed up tired and travel-weary in her sweatpants and ponytail.
But right now, with her quiet confidence and the spine of steel I suspect she has, she gracefully walks into the room and greets her parents’ guests.
Davide’s eyes are on her from the doorway, and I stiffen, not liking the look of desire on his face. I may just end up killing him after all. He notices me looking at him, or glaring at him, and he acknowledges me with a quick nod, then takes his leave.
“What’s going on with you, brother?” Silvio asks me quietly. Then he tracks where I’m looking—at Vincenzo kissing Gina’s hand—and can likely feel the possessive anger that is rapidly turning to fury as I keep my features unreadable. “Oh, damn. Is this going to get interesting, Tommaso?”
“Do you know the Caruso girl?” Marco asks from my other side.
“She’s not a girl.”
“No, she definitely is not.” Silvio whistles quietly through his teeth. “That one is all woman. Isn’t that right, T?”
I know that he’s taunting and testing me, pushing me to see what I’ll do, but dammit, it’s hard not to punch him in the face.
Guila talks to Emanuele and Vincenzo while Caruso grips Gina’s elbow and walks her toward us. I make sure the skin on her arm isn’t pressed in, indicating he’s gripping it too hard. Luckily for him, he isn’t.
He smiles, trying to hide his unease and fear of me. “Let’s finish introductions, then we’ll eat.” He laughs to break the tension.
I remain stoic and cold as I look at him, but as soon as my gaze turns to Gina, everything inside me eases.
Without a thought, I lift my hand and gently run it over her cheek where Caruso had struck her. “How is your cheek?”
Her face flushes, and the heat spreads down the long, graceful column of her neck and toward the gentle swell of her breasts under the fitted bodice of her dress.
Fascinating.
“Fine.” Her throat moves as she swallows, and I fight the overwhelming urge to sink my teeth into her flesh and mark her.
A throat clears beside me; it’s Marco reminding me where we are and that I’m acting inappropriately. Especially since I’m soon to be married to another woman.
Dropping my hand, I make introductions. “Gina, I’d like to introduce you to my brother, Marco, and Silvio Romani.”
“Tommaso’s right-hand man, of course.” Silvio takes her hand and kisses it like Vincenzo had, making me grind my teeth. “He can’t wipe his ass without me, you know.”
Marco makes a sound of disapproval, and Caruso’s eyes bug out, never having heard Silvio joke before.
Gina laughs, and it’s such a light, carefree sound, I want to hear it every day of my life. “Being Tommaso’s right-hand man doesn’t sound like a very pleasant job,” she teasingly taunts.
And I love it. Normally, the women in our world are trophies and ornaments, or cunning vipers who hide behind demure smiles, but Gina is unapologetically different.
Caruso looks like he’s going to have a stroke as his face turns beet red and he scowls at her.
Vincenzo steps up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder, and my hand instinctively moves toward the gun in the holster under my suit jacket.
Silvio grips my wrist and pulls my hand back down to my side, all while Vincenzo remains completely unaware of how close he just came to death as he gazes down at Gina.
“Come sit beside me during dinner,” he says. “I’d love to hear about your time at Santa Elisabetta.”
Her smile sours slightly. “Not much to tell.”
There’s no way I want her sitting beside him during dinner. So I do the only thing I can.
I subtly push Marco, because he’s closest, into Vincenzo, who then sloshes his red wine onto his suit jacket. Guila almost dies, fluttering her hands and pulling him aside to dab at his jacket.
“Smooth,” Silvio says in my ear. “But what the hell are you doing, Tommaso?”
I don’t answer. Instead, I offer my elbow to Gina, watching as her small hand slips into the crook of my arm and feeling like a missing piece of myself slots into place. Then I lead her to the table, pull out the chair for her, and sit beside her as the others join us.
Vincenzo smiles at me, but I can tell he’s pissed off. Good, and fuck him.
Caruso takes the seat at the head of the table and flicks his hand at the serving staff.
Conversation picks up around the table as the staff brings out the antipasto to start the meal of bruschetta, dried meat, cheese, and salad.
Guila picks at her food like a bird, while Gina has no hesitation.
I smile at her as she wipes a bit of oil from the corner of her mouth with her fingertip.
Then she rolls her eyes and holds up her linen napkin. “I’m supposed to use this.”
“A fingertip,” I lift mine and wipe the last bit that she missed, “is much more practical.”
Her dark brown eyes widen in surprise, and dare I say, interest.
I can feel everyone’s eyes boring into me, and I turn back to my food.
“Tell us, Tommaso, how do you propose to deal with the Triads, along with pressure from the other factions in the city?” Emanuele asks, then coughs, holding his big hand over his heart.
“Worried your portion of our profits will diminish?” I hike my brow. He doesn’t control the other families within our syndicate; however, we all tithe a portion of our profits to him.
“I’m curious to know as well,” Vincenzo pipes in as the first course is cleared, and the risotto is served.
Like hell I’m divulging our plans so openly. Neither would Emanuele nor Vincenzo, so I’m not sure why they’re asking. But before I challenge them on it, Gina speaks.
“Wouldn’t peace be more profitable?” she asks me, lifting a forkful of creamy risotto, and it’s a struggle not to fall into dirty visions of her perfect lips wrapping around my shaft.
“Yes,” I answer in surprise at her question.
Guila’s face is pinched that Gina isn’t remaining quiet. Caruso flashes his daughter a warning look, which she ignores, and lifts her chin, staring at me.
My hand slips inside the pocket of my suit jacket, where a bullet on a strip of leather sits—the first bullet I was shot with.
I always keep it with me to remind myself that life is fragile and that all life has value.
When I make the decision about someone’s fate, it’s not done lightly.
“War is costly, both to human life and profits.”
“Then what would it take for a ceasefire and peace?” she asks.
Vincenzo chuckles, eyeing her from across the table. “That’s a bit na?ve, princess.”
Her head snaps to him, and she glares. “I’m no princess.”
Guila’s mouth gapes. Caruso looks furious, but both Vincenzo and me chuckling makes him relax.
Vincenzo holds up his hands. “My apologies, beautiful. I meant no insult.”
Gina grumbles under her breath, “What is it with the nicknames tonight?” Then she looks back at me. “What would it take for a ceasefire and peace?”
My hand toys with my fork as I consider. “An alliance of some kind.” My stomach twists thinking of the future Santoro-Altera alliance that I’ll be the pawn for making. “All parties involved collectively benefiting from the peace.”
“Stronger together rather than fighting each other, don’t you think?” She arches a brow.
“You’ve definitely given me some things to think about.”
Pride flashes through her eyes before she lowers them and resumes eating. After the third course is served, I see her stifling a yawn.
“How long have you been up?” I ask.
Her brows furrow as she calculates the length with the time change. “More than twenty-nine hours, I think.”
“What are your plans tomorrow, Gina?” Vincenzo asks, pulling her attention away from me. “I’d love to tour the city with you.”
“She doesn’t know San Francisco, Vincenzo.” I instantly hate the idea of him spending time with her.
Silvio kicks me under the table, and Marco presses his lips together, giving me a ‘what the hell are you doing?’ look.
“I think that would be lovely,” Emanuele says, cutting into his fish. “Tommaso and I can catch up on Don-related things.”
My back molars grind.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Caruso chimes in.
Gina leans forward to look down the table at him. “I have no idea what sites to see or where to go, Father. This is the first time I’ve been in this city.”
He tuts, dismissing her, and I’m rigid with anger at him disrespecting her and for putting her in an uncomfortable position.
“I’m happy to accompany you two,” Silvio, bless his soul, cuts in before I erupt and raise more questions for my strange behavior tonight.
“We don’t need a chaperone.” Vincenzo smiles, but there’s a tightness to it. “We’ll be fine.”
“Actually, that would be great, Silvio,” Gina says at the same time.
“I’ll take you two to all the tourist favorites,” he promises.
And I’ll make sure I take Gina to all my favorites that are less known or less frequented by tourists, like the family-run restaurants around Baker Beach, the best Italian bakery in the city, and the ruins of the Sutro Baths, to experience them at night under the moonlight.
Silvio sips his drink and smiles. “And I’ll protect you while we do.”
Vincenzo bristles. “We’ll have my men with me.”
“But you and your men won’t know which areas you shouldn’t venture into, now will you?” I challenge.
He can’t argue with that, especially with the conflicts and tension growing between the five strongest factions within the city.
Gina looks uneasily around the table and asks me, “Will I be in danger?”
“It’s known that your father is part of the Santoro family,” Marco cuts in, “so you need to be as careful as you’ve always been.”
Her lips press together and twist slightly, but she nods.
Vincenzo puffs his chest. “As I said, my men will be with us and are able to protect us.”
“But not you?” I can’t help but challenge him again.
His eyes snap to me. He’s about to say something, but Emanuele chuckles softly. “Put your peacock feathers down, boy, and eat.”
Vincenzo’s face turns red. His look aimed at his father’s bowed head is murderous, but for only a moment before his mask is back in place.
The rest of the meal passes in polite, if not tense, conversation. Gina, who hadn’t held her tongue earlier, is mostly quiet, and I can’t tell if it’s from exhaustion or something else.
Afterward, the Pisanis don’t seem to have any plans of leaving, and Gina is basically swaying on her feet, trying not to blink sleepily. It’s clear she’s exhausted, but Caruso refuses to allow her to go to bed. And if Vincenzo and Emanuele are staying, then I’m not fucking leaving.
I still don’t know their business with Caruso, and when I finally get Emanuele alone, I challenge him on it because Caruso is part of the Santoro mafia and in my territory.
Emanuele claims there is no business; they were only in the city and Caruso offered to host. When I demand to know why I hadn’t been given the heads-up that he was entering my territory, as per proper protocol, he pats my shoulder and tells me that my father knew and approved. And I can’t say anything further.
But when one of my men reports that the Triads bombed a cargo ship carrying a massive shipment of weapons, Silvio, Marco, and I need to leave.
I gladly leave Caruso and his wife, but I reluctantly leave Gina. I can sense Vincenzo is a shark circling her, waiting for his moment to attack. He wants her, that much is clear.
And I’m determined that he won’t fucking have her.
After saying goodnight, and we’re outside heading to our vehicles, Marco pushes me up against my Maserati. “What the hell is wrong with you? What were you trying to accomplish in there?” He points at the house while Silvio watches, wondering the same thing.
I shove him back, knowing he’s right because what I did tonight was idiotic. I had let my impulsive and unhinged side peek out when I needed to remain calm and in control.
“Not now,” I say through clenched teeth. “We need to get to the port.”
He huffs in anger but moves around to the passenger side of my car.
“Ride with Silvio,” I order, even though my brother rode with me here. “I need to think.”
“Fucking right you need to think,” he mutters, storming toward Silvio’s Ferrari.
I climb in, slamming my door, and fire up the powerful engine. Then gravel flies as I speed toward the front gate and disappear into my world of darkness, leaving behind the light—the sun—and my instincts warn that I’m not going to be able to live without her.