Page 54 of Protected By the Mafia

Romeo started to make a sound, but he cut himself off as Felicity’s attention was drawn to the man she hadn’t been able to see as clearly. He stood from a seat between Romeo’s and Mikey’s, eyeing her with an unreadable expression as he walked around his seated brother until he stood before them directly. He wore pressed black slacks, a matching suit coat that hung open, and a nice button-up that was undone just enough for his trademark dragon tattoo to peak through at the neck. But Felicity barely noticed that, because up close, those cool blue eyes she couldn’t read had made her mouth go dry. He was a couple of inches shorter than Cristiano, a bit leaner, and yet there was no denying this was the man who commanded the room.

She watched the Dragon’s stare drop to where her hand rested in Cristiano’s unwavering grip.

“Is that Aunt Margaret’s ring?” He asked the question so quietly Felicity almost cried. Not from fear, or relief, but rather from whatever unnamable tender emotion she imagined she heard in his tone. Or, maybe, it was because out of all the first words she had thought she might hear in this situation, those hadn’t been anywhere on the list.

“It is,” Cristiano replied. His voice was calm. A complete contradiction to the tension she felt in him.

The Dragon drew a breath, his chest inflating, and then something that had to be a smile lifted his lips. “Well, damn. I never thought I’d be happy about being so blatantly disobeyed.” He reached out and pressed a finger into Cristiano’s chest. “You are going to explain that, though. We’re talking about everything, is that clear?”

Felicity pulled her lips between her teeth. She’d expected to have to have more difficult conversations in order to get past this, of course—they had both expected his cousin’s response to be rather challenging in itself—but that didn’t mean she was looking forward to it.

“I understand,” Cristiano said.

The man across from her shifted his attention from Cristiano, suddenly staring at her as his arm fell back to his side. “Any woman worthy of that ring is welcome in my family,” he said. “I’m sure you know our names. You can call me Dante so long as you stand loyal at my brother’s side.” He held out his hand in greeting, as if this wasn’t one of the most impactful conversations of her life.

Felicity resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her dress first, telling herself her palm surely was not sweaty. It was kind of strange, she noted, to shake one man’s hand while still holding the hand of another. But Cristiano didn’t let go or readjust, and she made no move to try and prompt him to. She did, however, finally unstick her lips and push out a few words—even without croaking. “Felicity. Please call me Felicity.”

Dante nodded once and indicated the chairs beside them. “Let’s talk, then. That is why we’re here.” He turned to return to his seat, but stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. “And Cris?” His voice hardened just enough to add a chill to the air. “Whether I’m happy for you or not, once we’ve cleared the air, I will rip you a new asshole for lying to me and failing to trust me from the start. I hope you’re prepared for that.”

Felicity felt her eyes widen.

Cristiano reached around her and pulled out the chair three seats removed from Romeo’s. “Sounds fun.” He moved his hand to her hip and gave her a gentle nudge, indicating for her to sit there.

Felicity complied, heat rushing to her face as she felt the attention in the room lingering on her. Of course it would. She was the unexpected twist in the evening’s plan.

Cristiano lowered into the seat at her side, keeping one between himself and Romeo.

She inhaled. I belong here. She rubbed her thumb along the underside of her engagement ring. Cristiano had chosen her, had been willing to put himself at odds with the family he loved for her sake, and left it entirely up to her whether or not she entered into this conversation. He owned the damn building, for crying out loud. I belong here.

Cristiano settled his hand over her thigh, beneath the table, and squeezed.

“So, since we’re already on the subject, let’s start with the good news,” Dante said, seated in a chair exactly one removed from both Romeo and Mikey. It seemed the men liked to spread themselves out when they took over the conference room. He leaned back, arms out of sight beneath the tabletop. “Congratulations on your engagement, Cristiano. Mother will be delighted with the news. How long have you been keeping this little secret?”

“We’ve only been officially engaged since yesterday,” Cristiano replied.

“Well, congratulations, then,” Mikey said, a little quieter.

Romeo let out a loud sigh. “I’m so torn,” he said. “I want to be happy for you, bro, but…” He leaned forward enough to look around Cristiano, aiming his stare at Felicity. “Are you really okay with this? You do know what we’ve done to your family, right? He told you? Because you should definitely know.”

Felicity saw Dante narrow his eyes at his brother, but she answered anyway. “Yes. Cristiano told me what Tristán did, or has been doing I guess, and I know that’s how the rest of us ended up on some kind of hit list.” She let herself pause. She’d had a strange series of reactions in the days following her biological family’s deaths. Most of them felt like a sadness for herself, but she was learning not to feel horrified about that. “I know he’s the only one left.”

“How do you feel about that?” Dante asked, his voice entirely neutral.

It was harder to look him in the eyes, but she made herself do it. “I’ve never actively wished death on someone, but the world is better off without them. I’m better off without them.” She drew a breath, wanting to be honest and straightforward in the hopes that these dangerous men who were basically her new family could see the truth, and suddenly tears dripped from her eyes. “I will be so … so much happier … when that monster leaves this world.”

It was the harshest truth she’d ever spoken out loud. For as much as it hurt her heart to say, the pain felt like relief.

Cristiano moved his hand to the nape of her neck and leaned over, pressing a kiss into her hair. “It’s all right now, baby,” he murmured over her ear.

The brothers were silent for several seconds, seemingly letting her compose herself.

Dante broke the silence in a lowered tone, his voice almost respectfully hushed. “Forgive me for asking, Felicity, but that’s a very strong sentiment to have about your own brother. Has he hurt you?”

She tensed. It was a question she’d expected, arguably been trying to brace for, but would never be ready for. She wiped self-consciously at her face one more time, did her best to will away any more tears, and reached for the anger. It would make articulating easier. “Tristán is my half-brother,” she said, “and yes, he’s hurt me.” She managed not to laugh hysterically. “They’ve all hurt me, but he’s been the worst. He thought he owned me, and that he had—” Her throat constricted. She did so hate telling this story. “Rights to me.”

Three pairs of differently hued blue eyes widened for a split-second before a round of curses circled the table. All three brothers looked away as they processed her meaning. Romeo curled a hand into a tight fist and Dante folded his arms across his chest, a scowl building on his lips.

Felicity pushed down as many of her roiling emotions as she could. “We don’t know each other right now, so all I ask is that you please not lump me in with him.”

---