Chapter 2
DANTE
“She’s a pretty thing, your little bride,” says my younger brother Lorenzo, his dark eyes flicking toward Gina across the ballroom. “You’re lucky the elders saw fit to let an old man like you marry again.”
“You’re lucky as well.”
“Me? How so?”
“If Mary hadn’t slipped on the rocks, Gina could have easily been yours. And according to the contract I signed, she may be still. If something happens to me.”
“Let’s hope not, big brother. I’m in no hurry to end my jet-set bachelor lifestyle. Thanks for making it possible.” He mock-bows.
We turn our attention to Gina. She’s sitting with our gossipy cousin Angie. God knows what they’re talking about.
“Your flown-in fresh California blonde is gorgeous.” Lorenzo shakes his head. “Sweet too, from our short conversation. Naive, though. She knows you kill people for a living?”
“I only ice the jerks who get in my way. Be grateful. It means you sleep at night. You enjoy your models and your Champagne without blood on your conscience.”
Lorenzo laughs and peels away to dance with a black-haired beauty who’s been eye-fucking him all night.
I turn to watch Gina across the room.
She’s laughing at some ridiculous thing Angie must have said. Good. I like women with a sense of humor.
I take her in slowly. The veil is gone now. Her hair is the kind of sun-streaked blonde that looks real, like she spent serious time at a beach.
The dress is some seven-tiered Southern Belle thing her mother probably picked. The bodice is too tight. It pushes her small tits up over the neckline like she’s about to spill out of it.
I let my eyes track down. Narrow waist. Hips a man could span with two hands.
I think about the evening ahead. Her wrists in one of my hands. Her mouth open. The southern belle dress gone.
What she’ll sound like.
What she’ll taste like.
Mary had been tall, fierce, and looked like she could kill a man in heels.
In comparison, Gina looks like a Mattel beach toy.
But I’ve already decided what I’m going to do to her tonight.
And watching her fake-sip Champagne isn’t one of them.
My Uncle Silvio detaches himself from a knot of capos and crosses to her. I watch him take her hand. Kiss it. Hold it a beat too long.
He says something that makes her laugh and she does not pull her hand back.
The muscle in my jaw works.
He’ll need watching. So will she. She has no instinct yet for who in this room wants her dead and who wants her useful.
She’s going to have to learn fast. I’ll teach her some of it.
The rest she’ll have to bleed for.
My youngest brother Luca comes up beside Silvio. He nods at something Gina says and smiles at her with real warmth.
When Silvio and Luca finally drift off, two men slide in to take their places.
I don’t know them. They’re younger. Mid-twenties. Probably capos’ sons. One of them leans in too close to be congratulating her. He says something near her ear. She smiles up at him.
I’m across the room before I’ve decided to move.
“Gina.”
She turns. Startled. Her eyes go wide and her mouth opens slightly, and there’s something in the way she looks up at me.
Like she’s been waiting all night for me to come for her.
The two boys melt back into the crowd without being told.
“Dance with me.”
She accepts my hand without a word.
The floor clears as we step onto it.
Every man in this room knows she’s my wife.
I take her into the standard ballroom hold. My right hand at her waist. My left holding hers. Proper distance between us.
My mother would approve.
The capos and their wives lining the walls nod along.
Satisfied to see that the new Mrs. Ricci is being properly handled. The don is showing his bride to the room.
All is in order.
But under my right hand, through the bodice of the ridiculous dress, I feel the heat of her skin.
And see the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathes.
“You did well tonight,” I say.
She looks up but says nothing. As if waiting for me to continue.
“You smiled at the right people. You let my uncle hold your hand a little too long, but you’ll learn.”
A small line forms between her brows. She tucks her chin slightly, and I feel her shoulders go a fraction lower.
Good. She’s trying to please me.
When the music ends, I guide her off the floor and toward the exit. She doesn’t ask where we’re going.
Her hand stays in mine. Small. Warm. Trusting.
She has no idea what kind of night she’s about to experience.