Chapter 2
TWO
Damiano
It's been a long fucking night and though it's only nine a.m., I know it's going to be a trying day.
From the moment Matteo asked me to keep an eye on his woman while she partied at my club without him, my gut told me there would be trouble. There always is where emotions are involved.
It was inevitable I'd have to step in to warn some guy off from the beautiful Giulia. What I hadn't expected was that it would be the man I've been scouring Florence for, Adamo Gianotti.
The little shit has been hanging around the countryside villa where Matteo is currently staying. It seems Gianotti was besotted with a girl who was killed a few weeks ago. Her only crime was standing next to Matteo when some assholes from the Rossi family opened fire at a crowded market.
Though her blood is not on my cousin's hands, Gianotti clearly thinks otherwise. That's why he tried to get close to Giulia. Who knows what he would have done to her if I hadn't stepped in? I don't intend to find out.
Catching a few hours' sleep should probably be my next step, but instead I head for my study. I shrug out of my jacket and toss it over the back of a chair. Then I pour myself a generous measure of Scotch and settle at my desk. There's a weight pressing down on me that I can't seem to shrug off.
It's Violetta's fault.
Her releasing Adamo bothers me more than I can express. She betrayed me and now I have to deal with her. Anyone else would get a bullet to the head, but I can't do that to Violetta.
When she dropped to her knees in my office, the idea of hurting her sickened me. Not knowing how to deal with this woman irritates me more than her betrayal.
I noticed her the moment she started working for me at La Stanza Rossa. Now she's insinuated herself into my world, I can't let her walk away. Not only has she crossed me, but she's also the key to my brother Lorenzo getting his hands on a property he wants.
I look up as Riccardo enters without knocking, as usual. He sits opposite me, casting a critical eye over the glass of Scotch in my hand.
"Bit early," he remarks.
No one else would get away with that comment. Well, perhaps Elio, my consigliere, would. He, along with Riccardo, came with me from Rome to take over the North of Italy. We're a tight-knit group.
"It's late if you've been up all night."
It's not as if I make a habit of drinking in the morning.
Riccardo tilts his head in acknowledgement. “You didn't find Gianotti?"
"The little fucker disappeared. Someone must be helping him." I drain my glass and set it down. "How were things here?"
"I had to sedate her."
That doesn't surprise me. Violetta gave him considerable trouble when he had to drag her out of my office. She's a wildcat when cornered.
"Where is she?"
"The basement."
Fuck. That's not where I wanted her. She was meant to be put in the bedroom next to mine where I can keep a close watch over her. It's my fault for not being specific. Other prisoners don't get the luxury of silk sheets and a garden view
Riccardo obviously sees something in my expression. "Don't worry. I put her in the nice cell."
Nice cell? I shake my head. "Did Olivia see you bringing her in?"
Matteo's sister has been staying with me for the past few weeks. We thought it would be safer for her while Matteo works to eliminate every last Rossi.
"I doubt it. There's no way your cousin would have kept her opinions to herself if she saw me carrying an unconscious woman into the house."
"True." Olivia has never been afraid to make her feelings known, and if she'd seen Violetta, she'd have had strong opinions. "Do you believe Violetta's story about not knowing Gianotti, that she just felt sorry for him?"
"With any other woman, I wouldn't, but Violetta has a soft heart."
"Soft hearts get people killed."
"That they do." Riccardo crosses one leg over the other, apparently settling in for a long conversation. "So, what are you going to do with her?"
"I'm going to marry her."
It fixes two problems, the first being how to keep her close now she's interfered in my business. The second is that her estranged grandfather won't sell his land to Lorenzo unless my brother finds a husband for her. Marrying Violetta is the cleanest solution.
Riccardo watches me for a moment. "That seems pretty drastic."
"The situation requires it."
I pour myself another drink.
"Well," my friend says, "I suppose if you get bored of fucking her you can always slit her throat and dump her in the Arno."
My fingers tighten around my glass as I hold my temper in check. "I thought you liked her."
Riccardo nods. "I do."
"Then God help any woman you don't like."
My cellphone vibrates on the desk. I glance at the screen.
"Matteo," I say as I answer.
"You need to find me a priest. I'm marrying Giulia today."
"Are you sure?" Although Giulia has been his friend since they were children, their relationship only turned romantic a few days ago. This wouldn't be like marrying a woman for some business deal. Giulia already matters to him. If he's forcing this on her, it won't end well.
"Of course I'm fucking sure. It's the only way to keep her safe."
"Debatable." He could simply send her back to New York.
"Damiano," Matteo snarls. "Are you going to help me or not?"
"I'll see what I can do."
I cut the call and take a deep breath.
"Do you still have a priest on speed dial?" I ask Riccardo.
He nods. "My uncle's friend."
"Call him. Matteo has decided to marry Giulia today."
While Riccardo goes to make the call, I pick up my phone and message Elio, instructing him to handle the paperwork. He replies within seconds, telling me it will be handled. I set the phone down and think about Violetta locked in my basement.
Intending to go for a shower and get changed, I get up and head into the corridor. Somehow I find myself walking downstairs instead.
Riccardo said he put Violetta in the better cell, by which I assume he meant the one with the cot to sleep on. I go to the door and look through the window.
Violetta is asleep, still wearing that damned corset that got my blood pumping so hard I couldn't think straight. Her hair has come loose and is spread out on the thin pillow. Lying on her side with her arm twisted behind her, can’t be comfortable, and for a brief second I entertain the idea of going in there and rearranging her position.
I resist the urge, but I do stand there watching her for longer than I intended.
When I finally pull myself away from the door, I go back upstairs, telling myself that I was simply checking she was securely tucked away, that I care nothing for this woman's comfort.
I almost believe the lie.