Page 38 of Bianchi

Inclining his head, Daniele responds, “Yes, boss.”

Aurora’s chin drops a fraction, her gaze moving to the garden beyond the window. Her dismissal of me irks more than I care to admit. I know her body in the most intimate of ways, and yet, I don’t command her attention the way she does mine.

Frustration bubbles beneath the surface and my tone is curt and demanding when I continue past her and snap over my shoulder, “Now.”

Maria holds the front door open as I step into the lobby. She offers up a polite smile as I approach, but I don’t return it. My face is no doubt covered by a mask of indifference, despite the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Through the door, I see Massimo on the stoop, his phone glued to his ear as he talks in hushed tones. When I cross the threshold, he nods before walking to the other end of the veranda. My brows furrow before I release them and reassure myself that Massimo isn’t the enemy. We’ll meet him tonight.

Coming to a stop at the top of the steps, I slot my hands into the pockets of my slacks, lifting my face to the sky. A light breeze blows through the air, bringing with it the smell of freshly mown lawns. Over the past week, there have been more days filled with sunshine and less with rain. It makes me hopeful that things might start going in the right direction for us.

The subtle hint of jasmine envelops me, alerting me to her presence along with the hairs on the back of my neck that stand to attention. I clench my hands in the confines of my pockets as she passes, heading toward the three black SUVs that line the driveway.

She keeps her attention on the stone steps, lifting the hem of her dress as she descends them. Six-inch black strappy stilettos adorn her feet and I’m assaulted with an image of her bent over the bed with nothing but her shoes on as I pound into her. The visual makes my cock twitch with excitement.

I track her as she moves across the gravel driveway toward the front car. With one hand out for balance and another lifting her dress, her hips sway in a slow and hypnotic rhythm. Daniele must have told her which one we were traveling in. The muscle in my jaw ticks when Nico holds the door open for her, his eyes lingering a moment too long.

I’m vaguely aware of Daniele coming to stand beside me, but it’s not until his hand lands on my shoulder that I realize I’ve traveled down the first two steps. Pulled from the red mist, I look back, first at his hand and then to his face.

He removes it quickly, his face void of any emotion. “Massimo has an update for us, boss.”

Inhaling sharply, I nod, returning to the top step. I need to focus. My attention can’t be on the temptress that I’m going to have to spend the evening keeping up appearances with. What matters most is la mia famiglia and Aurora Costa is not part of that. Nor will she ever be.

Massimo’s fingers fly across his phone screen before he pockets it and joins us. “That was Dante. They’ve swept the venue. There doesn’t appear to be anything suspicious, but we know that doesn’t really mean much.”

Leonardo comes to stand with us, holstering his gun. We’re all armed, as always. Tonight, we might be surrounded by civilians, but based on what happened at the restaurant last week, we know that Francesco has no qualms with taking out anyone who gets in his way.

Running a finger under the collar of my shirt, I straighten my bow tie and reply, “It doesn’t. But we do want there to be something. Ideally, Francesco. Without him, we have no leads.” I pause, looking each man in the eye before I continue, “I know I don’t need to say this, but I’m going to anyway. Be alert. If the slightest thing looks out of place or someone looks like they might be up to something, I want it looked into. I don’t care if it’s the next president, I want fucking answers. Capire?”

A cocky smirk lifts the corner of Massimo’s mouth and he inclines his head toward the car behind me. “No distractions, eh?”

This fucker. He was the one insistent that I bring her. It was his housekeeper that picked out that fucking dress. But it was me that took her.

Gritting my teeth, I spit, “I’ve never let a woman, much less one who’s my captive, distract me from protecting this family, Massimo. I’m not about to start now over a pretty cunt.” The word tastes like venom on my tongue because she’s so much more, but admitting that is a sign of weakness that I’m unwilling to show.

Holding his hands up, Massimo shrugs. “If you say so, Rome.”

With a chuckle and a shake of his head, he takes off down the stairs, closely followed by Leonardo. They jump into the second car, shutting the door behind them.

Tonight is going to be exhausting.

Chapter 22

Aurora

We arrived three hours ago, and after situating me at our table with a stony-faced giant called Angelo, Romeo left me. He’s currently standing on the other side of the room, a handsome grin splitting his face as he talks to an older couple, who, I’m pretty sure, own the Mets.

I’ve stewed in my annoyance, drinking champagne and watching him like a stalker, unable to drag my eyes away. He hasn’t looked in my direction once. As the hours have ticked by, he’s moved around the room with a confidence most men lack, as a stiffness has crept into my neck and jaw with each passing minute.

It was naïve of me to think he’d want to keep me by his side. I thought I looked good in my dress and I’d taken the makeup Maria bought me and used every skill in my arsenal to make myself look beautiful. And yet, he’s not spared me a single glance.

A woman in a gold dress, that probably cost more than my apartment, sidles up to him. She strokes her hand down his chest, leaning into his space. I wait for him to push her away, to take a step back, but he rests his hand on her lower back as he listens to whatever she’s whispering to him. Fury envelops me, and I throw my drink back, the bubbles hitting the back of my throat before the alcohol seeps into my system.

I thought these things were supposed to have food served at them. There hasn’t been a mention of dinner, and the sandwich I nibbled on earlier is the only food I’ve had since lunchtime. Drinking four glasses of champagne hasn’t helped to calm the jealousy coursing through my veins and it does little to ease the ache in my chest now as I watch him with her.

Standing on unsteady legs, my chair scrapes across the wooden floor as it pushes back. The loud, brash sound is drowned out by the tinkling chatter of guests milling around the room. My eyes are fixed on them, boring a hole into the place where his hand touches her. I feel Angelo step up behind me, and I roll my eyes. Right, mustn’t forget that I need to be chaperoned everywhere.

My strides are purposeful as I move across the room, my target in sight. It’s not until I’m in the middle of the dancefloor, bodies swaying to a classical song and blocking my view that I come to a stop. What am I thinking? Am I really about to storm over there and demand he pay attention to me? Like some jealous lover? Shaking my head, I divert toward the bathroom, needing a moment to gather my disoriented thoughts. I’m not his. I have no right to be feeling this… possessive of him.

A hand reaches out of the crowd, snagging hold of my wrist and forcing me to stop. I look down at the fingers loosely gripping me before lifting my eyes to a set of cold, familiar brown ones. Massimo lifts the corner of his mouth. It’s not really a smile, but more of a snarl, and when I try to pull my arm back, he tightens his hold enough for me to know he’s not letting me go.

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