Page 51 of Not Mine to Keep

Callie was somewhere upstairs getting dressed, and we were due at the church in thirty minutes, but it was only a five-minute drive from the egg castle, or whatever it was called.

From a quick online search performed by Izzy on our ride to the castle, she’d discovered the cathedral where we were to be wed had been built in 1197. It’d been destroyed by an earthquake in 1908 and rebuilt. Not that it mattered, but it was one of Sicily’s most famous churches. With any luck, when Armani stepped inside, someone would stab his vampire ass in the heart, and he’d turn to dust.

I grabbed my phone from my inside jacket pocket, anxious to get the terms and conditions about the wedding over with. Whatever magical concoction Mom had provided Izzy, along with a cold shower, had me feeling at 90 percent now, which was far better than I’d been earlier.

I opened up my last message to Callie and reread her texts, followed by my unanswered ones.

Callie:Tell me you’re okay.

Callie:I’m worried. I know Esposito is dead. But I also heard Rocco’s in Rome. Please, please tell me you’re okay.

I’d been unable to answer her last night, but I’d still felt like a dick for making her worry, and after my shower, I’d sent her an apology.

Me:I’m sorry about last night. (This morning?) I just woke up if you can believe that.

After no response, I’d texted again.

Me:Of course, why would you believe me? You don’t really know me.

Me:I’ll be over soon.

Ten minutes later and two calls straight to voicemail, my nerves had gotten the best of me.

Me:Still no answer from you. I’m concerned. I’m reaching out to Gabriel to see if you’re pissed and ignoring me or something else is up.

I’d phoned Gabriel for answers after that. Apparently, Marcello the dick had made a comeback, and he’d taken her phone in the morning, despite Gabriel’s insistence it wasn’t necessary.

“I was beginning to think you might stand up my daughter today.” At Armani’s words, I switched my phone to silent, pocketed it, then faced my future father-in-law. “Too bad your parents can’t make it to the ceremony.” The asshole actually sounded genuine. “I assume your brothers and sister will be at the church?”

Unfortunately.Of course, it was probably a good idea to have them there in case Rocco managed to slip The League’s overwatch and make a surprise debut to object to our nuptials. “We need to iron out a few details before we leave.”

Armani went over to his bar, which took up the entire length of one wall, and poured two drinks. “Grappa. My mother’s homemade recipe.”

Drinking was the last thing I wanted to do after my fucked-up night, but I accepted the glass and swished the liquid around, buying myself time to feel the familiar burn of grappa warming my chest post-drink.

A few of Armani’s guards hung back by the doorway, but far enough away they’d need to strain their ears to hear our conversation. So he clearly wanted our talk to be mano a mano.

“There are many details we need to discuss.” He sipped his drink, appearing satisfied with the taste. “I spoke with Emilia Calibrisi last night and your father today. We’re in agreement this union will work favorably for us all.”

I’d only found out about the recent conversation with my dad on the ride over to the estate. I wasn’t thrilled they’d spoken, but Dad was playing ball to help us succeed with the op, so I supposed I ought to be grateful. He could’ve stopped the whole mission in its tracks had he not garnered Emilia’s support.

“I suppose you have terms you’d like to present?” Armani looked my way, keeping his distance from me to just beyond a choke hold reach.

Smart bastard.“I need six months in New York with Callie before we move to Sicily.” I lowered the glass to my side. “I have business there. Deals I need to wrap up. A life. But more importantly, you need to clean house before I allow my wife near your associates. I’m not happy you let Marcello back under your roof, either.”

He quietly studied me, only a subtle change in his expression to indicate my words made it to his damn ears.

“I don’t believe Esposito is the only one who wants Callie gone. And if one of your trusted guards could be turned, I have concerns you have more traitors”—I pointed to the ceiling—“here as well.”

“You think you can protect my daughter in New York?”

“My family is off-limits in that city. Untouchable. And after the wedding tonight, we’ll have the backing of The League. She’ll be safe as long as she’s with me.” I lowered my hand and shoved it into my pocket. “But here, I won’t be able to sleep with both eyes closed, worried someone willtryand sneak in at night and slit our throats.”

He tossed back the rest of his grappa and headed to the bar to add more to his glass.

When he began speaking in Italian, I demanded, “English,” not in the mood to cater to him or his preferences.

“Let’s say I may agree on the fact that some may want Calliope dead,” he said, switching to English without pushback. “Power does mess with a man’s head. But I can’t give you six months. I want my daughter back home before summer’s end. And, preferably, pregnant by then, one way or another.”

---