Chapter 4
NICO
With the symphony over, I offered my arm to Emilia, and we followed her parents out of the private box.
Her touch was gentle, almost like she didn't want to be touching me at all.
Her fingers barely grazed the fabric of my jacket, hovering rather than gripping.
I was surprised she'd taken it at all, but if she truly was the well-trained princess I thought she was, I knew she wouldn't cause a scene.
Not here, surrounded by Chicago's elite, where appearances were everything.
The hallway was filling with people, and the chatter was making the volume rise tenfold.
Voices bounced off the ornate walls, conversations overlapping until it became a dull roar.
Most were just high rollers from the city, businessmen and their wives dressed in designer gowns and dripping with jewelry, but I recognized one of the Irish families leaving a box a few doors down.
The O'Donals, with their distinctive red hair and pale complexions.
It wouldn't be unnoticed that I was leaving the Carminatti box with Emilia on my arm.
The only thing that would be better would be if the lighting caught her ring and made them notice.
I walked more slowly, deliberately positioning us under the crystal chandeliers that lined the corridor, and I saw the exact moment the ring was seen.
Liam O'Donal's eyes widened, then narrowed with calculation.
"Are you purposely trying to aggravate the Irish?" She leaned over and whispered in my ear, her breath warm against my skin. To anyone else, it would look like lovers sharing something intimate; in this case, it was the most she'd spoken to me in an hour.
"They need to know," I said, smiling at her, letting my hand cover hers where it rested on my arm.
I focused my gaze, and to the most basic onlooker, I would appear absolutely in love and enthralled by the woman beside me.
Nobody else knew that she was single-handedly running one of the families in the mafia, and her power had just shifted to me. The knowledge was intoxicating.
"Niccolò." Liam O'Donal nodded as he walked up to us, his wife trailing behind him in emerald, green silk. "It looks like congratulations are in order." He let his eyes fall to where Emilia had her left hand draped on my arm, the diamond impossible to miss.
"Yes, it just happened this evening, actually." I smiled, gripping her arm tighter against me, making sure she stayed put.
"Well, let me be the first to offer my congratulations. It's an advantageous union." He arched his brow and smirked, the expression knowing and slightly mocking.
"Advantageous to some, but love to us." Emilia beamed as she turned her head to look at me.
Her eyes were soft, and she gazed at me like I was the only man in the world.
The transformation was remarkable, the cold killer replaced by a lovestruck bride.
She took a step closer to me. I dropped my arm and wrapped it low around her waist so she had no option other than being pressed against me, and she brought her hand up to rest on my chest. Her palm was fiery hot through my shirt.
The ice queen wasn't as cold as she wanted people to believe.
I could feel her heart racing under the performance.
"Well, congratulations. I didn't see the Esposito family here tonight.
" Liam said, looking from me back to Emilia, the question hanging in the air like smoke.
If she hadn't been pressed up against me, I would have missed the slight tension that just ran through her body.
A barely perceptible stiffening of her spine.
"I'm sure they are just on the opposite side of the theatre.
I'd heard Fredrico couldn't secure his usual box.
But Liam, I really would like to take my fiancé home, we have celebrating to do.
I'd be happy to catch up another time." I held out my hand, and he shook it, his grip firm and measuring, all the while Emilia kept a beautiful smile plastered on her face.
The small man walked away, and I felt her relax against me, the tension draining from her muscles.
"So, you're fine taking out a family, but you're nervous about getting caught?" I whispered in her ear, low enough that only she could hear. Her smile faltered for just a fraction of a second, and she turned and looked at me.
"But I'm already caught, aren't I?" Her dark eyes locked on mine, and the corners of her mouth turned up into a slight, insincere smile. The expression didn't reach her eyes.
"Yes, you are," I growled, the words coming out rougher than intended.
The cold air filtered through the open doors of the symphony hall, and I wrapped my arm around Emilia's waist. December wind whipped through the entrance, carrying snow and the city's sounds.
"I should find my family." She said quietly, not trying to pull away from me but scanning the crowd for familiar faces.
People milled about us, and I nodded at people I'd recognized as they passed us: business associates, rival family members, politicians whose palms I'd greased.
Moving my hand to her lower back, I guided her down the stairs and over to where my car waited. The black SUV idled at the curb, exhaust creating clouds in the cold air. "They are already gone. You'll ride home with me."
"You mean you'll take me home?" She said matter-of-factly as she looked over at me without turning her head, her jaw tight. We arrived at the car, and one of my men opened the door. She slid in across the leather seats, her dress rustling with the movement.
"No, I'm taking you to my home."
"You're kidnapping me?" Her voice rose, and I thought her eyes might bug right out of her head. The composure she'd maintained all evening finally cracked.
"Kidnapping would imply nobody knows where you are, your family knows exactly what the plan is." I settled into the seat across from her, stretching out my legs.
"So, you're holding me against my will?” Her voice is less stressed and now more irritated, sharpening with anger.
"No, I'm ensuring you show up for our wedding.
I don't have any illusions that this is something you want, so I am just making sure you don't become one of those runaway brides.
" I sat across from her and watched her in the dimly lit car, the city lights streaming past the tinted windows.
She glanced at the door handle, and for one brief second, I watched her consider jumping out, her fingers twitching toward it, but she knew that wouldn't solve her problems. We were moving too fast, and even if she survived the fall, where would she run?
Emilia bit the corner of her mouth, and I was sure she was considering the possibilities of killing me in the back of this car before my men could stop.
Her eyes darted to my throat, my chest, calculating vulnerabilities.
The frustrated sigh she let out made me chuckle.
Her eyes locked on me, and she arched her brow, the expression haughty and defiant.
"Have you decided that there's no way out for you?
" I leaned back on the seat and stuck my feet out in front of me and crossed them.
Limousines were cliché in this life, but I appreciated the legroom in them.
"Emilia, if you do decide to run, please be aware that your entire family will die together at the bottom of Lake Michigan before you've even gotten out of Chicago.
" Letting my head fall back against the seat, I sighed contentedly, like I was discussing the weather rather than mass murder.
I wasn't really a bastard, but I didn't mind letting people think it.
The reputation served me well in this world.
Killing an entire family wasn't above me; it was just something I'd rather not have to do.
Too messy, too many loose ends. That's not to say I wouldn't mind disposing of Vincent Carminatti, but his innocent daughters shouldn't be consigned to a watery grave just because of who their father is. They were pawns, nothing more.
Emilia Carminatti wasn't one of the innocent daughters, though; she had blood on her hands, and I was much happier having her on the Venosa side of the line than her father's.
She would come in handy. Her strategic mind, her ruthlessness, her ability to operate in shadows while maintaining a pristine public image, all of it would serve my purposes perfectly.
Forty-five minutes later, we arrived at the house, the SUV pulling through the iron gates and up the long, curved driveway.
She avoided looking at me, staring out the window at the sprawling estate, and I couldn't blame her.
The door opened, and I stepped out of the car and reached in for her hand.
Emilia avoided taking it and walked ahead of me to the door, head held high, and I couldn't help but smile.
This was going to be an interesting marriage.
Most women would be crying by now, begging. Not her.
I'd been single for much longer than anyone in the Cosa Nostra liked.
There'd been constant rumors about me seeing any number of women, and sometimes more than one at a time: models, socialites, the occasional actress.
I couldn't deny any of this, but I didn't want a princess.
They annoyed me with their obedience and parties.
There was much more to this life than most women knew.
My mother stood alongside my father, and when I decided to take a wife, I wanted one who would be as strong. A partner, not a decoration.
Emilia Carminatti was that person.