I didn’t miss the way she swallowed.
“Kill list? What the hell did I ever do to him? Wait, have we ever established who your father is?”
I shrugged and turned around from the passenger seat to watch the shit show that was my boys.
“Barone. Angelino Barone. CEO of Barone construction among other well-known subsidiaries and businesses.”
Her look was unchanged, so I went for obvious, although how sheltered was this little girl?
“The Barone family. One of the Vegas underground mafia families.”
This got her attention.
“My parents wanted me to marry into the mafia? What is this, circa 1920?”
I couldn’t hide my amusement anymore. I fucking laughed out loud and maybe that was more shocking to my brothers than her lack of fear. Didn’t care.
I laughed and turned back around, swallowing anymore uncontrolled amusement.
The kid was genuinely unaware and somehow that was refreshing. Still didn’t mean I was team Margaux all the way just yet though.
I ignored them, wanting to get going, but I heard Jett ask her again.
“Marry Ronan and you get all of us. We’ll protect you.”
I tried to glance in the mirror on the sun visor and caught the small nod.
“Okay. But it’s not like a real wedding or anything right?”
Ronan chuckled, but the malice lacing the sound wasn’t good.
“You’ll do whatever Barone says. That means a grand wedding to flaunt the family. Oh and, Margaux, he’ll be expecting a grand kid from us sooner rather than later.”
Ronan turned back around and I turned to watch him.
“Ronan, you have some explaining to do.”
I sighed.
“Margaux, let Jett put the ring on. It’s that or you won’t even be allowed in the Barone mansion. You can ask us all the questions later.”
“Behave, Margaux. This is not the time or the place to disagree with anything we say to you.”
She tried to tug free of Ronan’s hold on her.
“You need his protection, trust me,” I said, leaning in closer.
I didn’t miss the subtle way Ronan’s jaw muscle flexed. He was already pissed off and annoyed we were here, but she wasn’t helping.
“Could have left her at home,” I whispered.
We stood at the door and waited for the butler to answer.
“Left who home? You are a prickly ass, aren’t you?” Margaux asked, but she shut up the second the door opened.
“Welcome, young Master Barone. Mr. Salvo, Mr. Valenti, and Mr. DiAngelo. Forgive me, but we weren’t aware you would be bringing a guest.”
I didn’t know how long the butler had been serving the Barone household, but it was longer than Ronan had lived with the family officially. In all those years, a woman had never made it this far with him, or any of us.