Chapter 12
FRANCISCO
Edoardo leans over and whispers in my ear. “She’s here.”
I nod slightly, not dropping my poker face. While the rest of the house is full of influential people having a good time, I’m stuck in my office where the real work is being done. The party is just a front, a way to invite all my capos at one time.
It’s like a staff meeting, only on the wrong side of the law. We can’t very well rent out a hotel conference room or a convention center for our business. Instead, I’ve got to piggyback on seemingly innocent events, like this impromptu party for my scatterbrained son.
I started out the night by welcoming guests, acting like the proud father.
But as soon as all the capos and select soldiers were assembled, we moved to the office where we could talk in private.
I don’t want to admit I’ve been waiting for Marlena to arrive, but now that Edoardo’s informed me she’s here, I can’t wait to get out and see her.
“What are we gonna do about Andretti?” one of my capos says.
“Have you broken any kneecaps?” Giovanni asks.
There are a few glances I can read like last Sunday’s newspaper. Nobody wants to start a street war. Diplomacy is needed. That’s why they’re coming to me instead of handling it themselves.
“I’m working on it,” I say. War is bad for everyone, especially if it brings the heat down on our heads. I’ll just have to get creative, and I’m not above busting heads. “If there’s nothing else,” I begin, standing up.
“I was wondering if I could talk to you privately,” one of my soldiers asks, blocking my path to the door.
I raise an eyebrow, wondering what is making him so bold. “You can talk in front of everyone,” I offer.
The man squirms, wringing his hands before finally spitting it out. “My old lady’s gonna lose her home.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, though I don’t really understand what that has to do with me.
“I was wondering if I could talk to the bank manager,” he continues. “Maybe help him see the light.”
“You have my permission,” I say.
“Thanks, boss,” he responds, relaxing.
“I appreciate you asking,” I announce to the room, making sure everyone knows what’s at stake. “You can’t go off half-cocked by yourself following personal vendettas. You understand?”
“Understood,” someone says.
“Understood,” another capo agrees.
Around the room, there’s a chorus of agreement. I nod my head, feeling like we’re at a breaking point. “Excuse me, I’m going to make the rounds.”
Nobody stops me as I ease my way out of the soundproof room. In the rest of the house, people are laughing and drinking, having a good time. I plaster a smile on my face, shaking hands as I go. Everyone wants to see me about something, but there’s only one person I’m looking for.
I don’t see her anywhere. The party’s downstairs, so I’m sure she’s not in any of the rooms on the second floor. I check the patio, the living room, the parlor, and the kitchen. Dozens of people plant themselves in front of me, vying for my attention.
It’s not until I poke my head into the billiard room that I find her. She’s standing next to Frankie, with a glass of champagne in her hand. She looks stunning. I was sure that dress was the one, and seeing it hugging her magnificent curves, I knew I was right.
She doesn’t see me at first, and I take the moment to appreciate the view.
A few of Frankie’s friends circle the table, debating their next shots.
Frankie’s not touching Marlena, but the two of them are standing close together.
I can tell from the stiffness in her spine that she’s uncomfortable.
Maybe I can do something about that, I think, as I move more fully into the room.
Everyone turns as the door swings shut. Frankie nods, and his friends straighten up. They aren’t my employees, but they’re acting as if the boss just stepped into the room. I don’t mind. In fact, I appreciate the respect.
Marlena’s eyes find mine, and she smiles. She looks away almost immediately, but then she does that thing that women do when they’re nervous. She glances down at the floor, her lashes lowered. But she’s keeping track of me as I close in on her.
“You look beautiful,” I say, as if we’re the only two in the room.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “It’s a beautiful dress.”
“No,” I correct her, “It brings out your beauty.”
She blushes, finally meeting my gaze. I feel my heart beating in my throat. This woman turns me inside out. I offer her a hand, and she takes it without even asking where we’re going.
“The band is playing in the ballroom,” I say.
Frankie frowns, as if I’m trying to steal his toy.
I shut him up with a stern look, softening instantly when I return my gaze to Marlena.
She caught the interaction, but doesn’t comment on it.
I guide her out of the billiard room and down the hall to where a string quartet is entertaining the crowd.
I spin her out onto the dance floor, pressing one hand into the small of her back.
She’s so perfectly designed, fitting against me as if we were made for each other.
She touches my shoulder, her hand so light against the fabric of my jacket, I barely feel it.
She turns her head down, showing off that beautiful mane of chocolate brown hair.
I wonder what I’m doing. I’m falling for her.
That much is clear. I’ve been so careful to keep my feelings professional when it comes to women.
Having sex is one thing, but getting attached is dangerous.
If any of my rivals were to see us here tonight, they might get the wrong idea.
I realize I might be in over my head, but I don’t care. There are ways of handling things.
I feel the tension slowly begin to abate from Marlena’s body. She’s allowing herself to respond to the music, to relax against me. I feel a stirring down below and do my best to contain it. She’s so close, she must feel it too, but she doesn’t say anything.
We sway with the music, enjoying each other’s company.
It’s been forever since I’ve allowed myself to enjoy this kind of intimate contact with another person.
I don’t know what it is about Marlena that makes me want to shower her with affection.
I have a desperate desire to appeal to her.
I want her to see past my rough exterior and recognize that I’m a man.
I want her to ignore the wealth and privilege this party represents, to understand that I’m offering something more.
But am I? Do I really want a romantic relationship? I’m not sure.
When the song ends, I’m torn. Should we keep dancing, reveling in the closeness it affords us?
Or should we go our separate ways and pretend that nothing is happening between us?
I look to her for guidance. If she’s not into it, then I can walk away.
I am nothing if not capable of controlling myself.
I’ve made an empire out of ignoring my baser instincts, playing the game the way it’s meant to be played, and greasing all the right palms.
I don’t know what I’m expecting when I reach up to tilt her chin up to look at me, but the raw emotion in her gaze takes my breath away. Not only is she not afraid, but she seems on the verge of saying something important.
I fight the urge to kiss her right there on the dance floor, pulling her close once again.
We continue moving to the rhythm, losing ourselves in the delicate pattern of notes.
I let myself enjoy the moment, not knowing what will come next.
I have a few ideas, but I’m not sure if it’s the right time.
She looks so beautiful, but also a little intimidated.
I have to admit that I would find myself out of sorts if I were the one walking into the Corello family den.
I’m sure she knows what’s going on. She might not have pegged me for any of the specific crimes I’ve committed, but she’s aware that I’m in charge.
With her chest pressed to mine, I feel her little heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings.
I want to soothe her, to make her understand that I’m not a threat to her. But how? My only experience with women has been composed of one serious relationship, and the rest consisted of the professional variety. I’m unsure how to approach someone I genuinely care for.
I put my feelings aside for the time being and just hold her. She feels so good pressed against me. I imagine all kinds of dirty things I’d like to do with her, but there’s an equal number of sweet activities I’d like to engage in, like walking hand in hand and visiting the Italian countryside.
Maybe someday I’ll get my wish. But for the moment, this dance is enough. I press my palm to the back of her head and revel in the silky smoothness of her hair. She’s an angel who’s walked into my life, and there’s no way I’m going to let her go.