29
A s soon as they made it through the front door of the Rossetti mansion on Sunday, Roman and Alessandra were greeted by an animated Gabriella.
“ Bambina , don't you look beautiful.” She pulled her daughter into a tight hug, the happy glow in her eyes revealing she'd had a few drinks already.
“Hi, Mamma,” Alessandra said with a chuckle.
Gabriella drew back to give Roman a smile. “Roman, I’m glad you could come.”
“Thank you for the invitation,” he said smoothly, keeping one hand in his slacks' pocket. As much as he disliked Nero, he found his wife a lot more tolerable. Besides, he was trying to play nice for Alessandra’s sake.
Gabriella took the gift bag from Alessandra and ushered them toward the patio doors. “Your father is outside. He'll be happy to see you.”
Roman pressed his palm to Alessandra's lower back as they made their way into the garden.
They already knew this wasn't a small get-together by the fleet of cars parked in the driveway, and it still surprised both of them to see just how packed the place was.
People mingled about, switching between the tall tables dressed in white linens as the soft croon of jazz music poured from the speakers set all around the garden.
There was an open bar tended by two young women in pink outfits and a Swedish buffet with all sorts of Italian delicacies.
Nero Rossetti was standing at the other end of the lawn, drinking hard liquor and speaking with his underboss and two other men. Alessandra spotted her father, and she met Roman’s eyes briefly before grabbing his hand and pulling him in that direction.
Nero watched them approach, his dark eyes as opaque and unrevealing as the rest of his face.
“Happy birthday, Papà.” Alessandra gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Your present is in the living room.”
“Thank you, cara .” His gaze moved from her to his son-in-law. “Roman, it's good to see you.”
Roman shook his hand. “Happy birthday.”
“How is your father? I hear our business arrangement has made him a richer man.”
“Both sides have had their profits from this deal, no?”
Nero gave him a cold smile over the rim of the glass he brought to his lips. “Indeed.”
Before the conversation could resume, a girl with platinum-blond hair came squealing at Alessandra, arms raised in greeting and an excited smile on her face. She fired off some rapid Italian Roman couldn’t understand then dragged Alessandra away with an apologetic smile thrown at Nero.
“Isabella, my niece,” he explained, and they all watched as the girls joined a group of about ten women of different ages.
As the men started talking politics, Roman kept quiet, not really caring to join in.
He alternated between watching Alessandra and surveying the other guests, only answering when being asked a direct question.
He had half a mind to head to the open bar, but before he could do that, someone from the wait staff came carrying a tray of drinks.
He picked up a glass of whiskey as everyone else and took a sip, enjoying the burn of the alcohol coating his throat.
He was almost done with his drink when two other men joined their small group. Matteo came to a stop beside him, hands casually tucked into his pockets, though the stiff line of his shoulders betrayed his agitation. Behind him, Luca Morano followed, jaw set and hostile gaze pinned on Roman’s face.
“I believe you remember Matteo,” Nero said, gesturing to his eldest. “And Luca, Vito's son.”
Roman bit the inside of his cheek as he returned the hate-filled stare aimed at him.
Morano didn’t even bother to pretend he didn’t despise his fucking guts.
As luck would have it, the feeling was absolutely mutual, and the memory of the asshole's hands on his wife was still too fresh in Roman’s mind.
A testament to his self-control, he managed to sound calm when he finally opened his mouth. “I remember them well enough.”
Even though the tension suddenly permeating the air was obvious, Nero ignored it, deciding to ask Vito a question instead. As soon as the men got distracted by their conversation, Luca's eyes shifted toward the expanse of the garden, and Roman knew exactly what he was looking for.
Alessandra stood with her back to them, chatting with her cousin. She wore a tight, olive-green dress and silver heels, her long hair falling down her back in soft waves. Her skin glowed with her tan, and with her pert ass on display in that sinful dress, she was a sight to behold.
Luca stared at her like a dehydrated man seeing water for the first time in days. The hard lines on his face softened, and he ran a hand over his mouth in a weak attempt to hide the effect she had on him.
Roman's fingers tightened around his tumbler so hard he actually heard a faint crack. He was going to murder the prick right in front of his father if he didn't tear his gaze away in the next two seconds.
Sensing the hostility aimed at him, Luca finally looked away and met Roman's furious glare. Keeping a blank expression, he stared right back.
Nero's voice drifted off as he caught scent of the growing tension. He looked between the two of them, his brows furrowing.
“Roman, can I have a word with you?” Matteo’s hand came down on his shoulder, and Roman fought the urge to break it.
He didn’t move, but when Matteo’s hold tightened in warning, he gave a stiff nod and followed him to a nearby table.
“Fucking hell,” Matteo muttered under his breath, draining his glass and throwing it on the table carelessly.
He glanced over Roman’s shoulder to where they’d left the other men before scowling at him.
“Look, man, I know you're still pissed about what Luca did, and I don't blame you. But right now, you’re making it pretty fucking obvious to everyone how you feel about him.”
“And?”
“And my father might get suspicious. You really want him to know?”
“I don't give a fuck if he knows.”
Matteo shook his head disapprovingly. “I think you do. He'll get angry and take it out on Alessandra; innocent or not.”
“You know what I think?” Roman said in a lethal voice, taking a step closer. “I think both you and your father forget she's my wife.”
“Trust me, nobody can forget it.”
“You have a problem with me, Matteo?”
“Other than you touching my sister?” the fucker said mockingly. “Nah, we're good.”
Roman managed a smirk despite how pissed he still was. “Don't worry, she loves it when I do.”
Matteo's expression darkened, but before he could open his mouth again, Alessandra walked in their line of vision.
“Hey, Matty,” she said when she was close enough, walking over to give him a hug.
His lips curved up. “Hey, shorty.”
“Really? I'm wearing five-inch heels.”
“You'll always be shorter than me.” He playfully messed up her hair, and she pulled away with an annoyed tsk , quickly smoothing it back down with her fingers.
Alessandra glanced from him to Roman, and she seemed to realize that something was going on. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah, don't worry about it,” her brother was quick to reassure her .
“I thought we were having lunch with just the close family. There's a lot of people here.”
“Yeah, well, you know how Ma is. She wanted a party.”
“Isabella was looking for you. She says she has a friend she wants you to meet.”
That seemed to pique Matteo’s interest immediately. “Yeah?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not like you lack female company. I don’t know why she even bothers when everybody knows you’re going to dump her after a few dates.”
“I don’t date, sis. I fuck them then send them on their merry way.”
“Ew. You’re a pig.”
He just laughed.
Someone called Matteo’s name, and he smiled, raising his hand to salute them.
“You two enjoy yourselves,” he said as he started to leave. “I'll see you later, alright?”
Alessandra turned to watch him walk away, and she suddenly went as white as a sheet.
“What's the matter?” Roman asked, not needing to look to see that she'd spotted Luca. “You look pale.”
She met his eyes with trepidation. “Luca is here.”
“And?”
She paused at his apparent calmness. “You're fine with it?”
“Define fine,” he muttered, giving her an annoyed look. “Of course I'm not fine with it, Alessa. I want to beat the shit out of him.”
She let his words sink in as she sawed her bottom lip. Then she stepped closer and kissed him. “You're doing a great job of not doing it.”
“Very funny.”
She smiled, his acceptance of Luca's proximity seeming to put her at ease. “I really appreciate you coming today. I know it can't be easy to be surrounded by a bunch of mouthy Italians. We're loud, especially when there's so many of us.”
He grabbed her waist with one hand, pulling her closer. “You're the only Italian I like.”
“Yeah? You like me?”
“You know what I'd like even more?”
“Hmm?”
“To fuck you in your father's house while he's out here celebrating.”
“Oh, my God.” She choked on a laugh, pushing against his chest. “That's very rude of you.”
“I'll show you rude if you show me where your old room is.”
Laughing quietly, she looked over his shoulder and her amusement faded. Roman turned around to follow her gaze and saw that Nero was watching them with a pleased expression. Beside him, Luca was fuming silently, his scowl visible from a mile away.
Roman smiled, drained the last of his whiskey, and let his hand drift from Alessandra's waist to her ass.
???
“Cigar?” Nero offered, holding out the wooden box. “Imported straight from Cuba.”
“No, thanks,” Roman refused, making himself comfortable in the leather chair .
Across the desk, Nero sat down and reached for the cigar cutter. He took his time preparing and then lighting his cigar. After blowing out a cloud of thick smoke, he regarded Roman for a long moment, his expression giving nothing away. “I hope you are pleased with my daughter.”
Roman didn’t know why he’d been summoned in here, but he decided to humor the man with an answer anyway. “I am.”
“She's young, but I made sure she was raised right. I believe she makes for a good asset, even more so for a future Pakhan.”
Roman raised his eyebrows, a hint of dry amusement coloring his voice. “Is there a point to this conversation?”
Nero smiled, although it looked cold. “Just wanted to make sure you two get along.”
“We get along just fine.”
“I'm going to be frank with you, Roman. I'm glad things turned out the way they did. My daughter shouldn't settle for anything less than the absolute best. Luca seemed to be the logical choice a few years ago. Now, looking back on it, I know I was wrong. You are much better suited to her needs.”
“How do you know I'm what she needs?”
Nero swirled the whiskey in his tumbler before taking a drink. “Because I know my own flesh and blood. She needs someone with a strong character—a man who is capable of leading a powerful organization like the Bratva.”
Roman smiled indulgently. “Are we still talking about Alessandra?”
“Alessandra, myself; what is the difference? Your marriage benefits all of us.”
“I see you're very invested in your daughter's happiness.”
“She is happy; I can see it on her face.” He paused as if to gather his thoughts. “What I want you to know, Roman, is that when your father decides to step down from his position, you will have all of my support in taking over.”
Ah , so there it was. The reason for this unsolicited tête-à-tête.
“Don't hold your breath for that to happen anytime soon.”
“Oh, you never know. He might decide that he needs a break from all the stress he has to deal with on a daily basis. Didn’t he have a heart attack a couple of years ago?”
The fucking bastard.
Despite being darkly entertained by his father-in-law's motivation for toeing a very delicate line, Roman kept up the disinterested act. “How do you know I'm going to take over his position? There are many capable men in the Bratva.”
“You are his heir, and I can see that you have the potential for it. Vitaly wouldn't want it any other way.”
“Hmm.” Roman rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Is Matteo going to run the Outfit after you're gone?”
By the shadow crossing his face, Nero didn't miss that Roman had referred to his demise instead of a possible retirement.
“I hope so. He still has a long way to go, but we're working on it.” Nero puffed on his cigar contemplatively. “Anyway, Matteo is still young. You, on the other hand, could do it tomorrow if there was a need for it.”
Roman regarded the other man curiously. What game was he was playing at?
“While I appreciate your vote of confidence, my father is still perfectly capable of running the Bratva.”
“Certainly, and I didn't mean to insinuate otherwise. As my son-in-law, I simply wanted you to know that you will have my full support when the transition finally happens.”
Roman nodded, although not entirely convinced of Nero Rossetti's good intentions. If life in the Bratva had taught him anything, it was that men in powerful positions did not make random declarations. His father-in-law was after something, though he couldn't tell what that was exactly.