Page 87 of Born into Mayhem
“I guess he was just waiting for me.” She looks up at me, and I’m not buying the innocent look she’s giving me for a second. In a sweetvoice, she says, “I mean, when you were busy dodging women and refusing to be tied down, I was what? Three? Four?”
Francesco nearly chokes on the drink he just took while I slide my hand down, smacking her ass hard enough to draw attention before palming the stinging cheek. Her eyes flare and her bottom lip lightly parts from the top. Her face is a perfect mixture of shock and arousal.
“She keeps me on my toes,” I say, giving her a wink.
Francesco laughs and raises his glass. “To beautiful, feisty women. The world would be a much sadder place without them.”
“Amen to that,” Sandro says, cutting in with a grin. He sets his empty wine glass down when a waiter walks by holding a tray and then looks over at me. “Don Esposito would like a word. He’s sitting near the godawful oil painting of our host. Excuse me, I mean the painting ofApollo.”
Francesco laughs at my brother’s sarcasm while I look over and give Carlo a nod, letting him know I’ll be right over.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she’s safe,” Sandro says, already taking Mia’s hand and leading her toward the dance floor. I lean down and give her a quick kiss.
“Don’t leave his side,amore mio,” I tell her.
“I won’t,” she promises right before Sandro pulls her away from me.
I know she’s safe. I know my brother would give his life to protect her and that Sasha is watching every second of this from some hidden corner, but I still wait a couple of seconds, watching until she and my brother are on the floor, and he’s spinning her around and making her laugh.
“Damn, you’ve got it bad,” Francesco says. “I honestly never thought I’d see the day.”
“Me either, but you’re right. I do have it bad.” If he’s surprised by how easily I’ve admitted to it, he hides it well. Most men in our line of work don’t marry for love, and they sure as fuck don’t remain faithful after they’ve saidI do, but I never wanted that. It’s part of the reason why I never wanted to marry. I can’t stand cheating, and before Mia, I never wanted to commit myself to just one woman forthe rest of my life, but now I can’t imagine ever being with anyone else.
I excuse myself from Francesco and make my way over to where Carlo is waiting. He gestures for me to take the seat beside him, and when I’m sitting, he says, “I see your brother is still the same.”
There’s an amused tone to his voice as he watches Sandro spin my wife around the dance floor. The classical music that’s playing isn’t really conducive to it, but he’s making it work, and it’s making Mia laugh, which is all I care about.
“He is,” I agree, watching him give her a gentle dip that accentuates the lines of her body in a way that makes it difficult to think about anything other than how badly I need to be inside her again.
After a few seconds, Carlo says, “I won’t keep you long. With a wife as beautiful as that, I know you’re a busy man, but I wanted you to hear it from my own mouth that I had nothing to do with the hits on your men.”
I turn my head and meet the old man’s eyes. They’re just as sharp and cunning as they ever were, but there’s no deceit in them. I watch as he scans the room, stopping when he finds Leonardo.
“His father would be appalled,” is all he says before he looks back at me. “My family will stand with your family. You have my word on that.”
“Thank you, Don Esposito. Dominic will be happy to hear it,” I tell him.
“Dominic’s a good man. His father would be proud to see what his son has accomplished. Antonio was a good man, and I considered him a friend.”
“I know my uncle felt the same about you. He had a lot of respect for you, Don Esposito,” I say.
He reaches out and pats my forearm. “You’re a good man, Dario. I know you’ll handle this the right way.”
I’m confident we’re on the same page and that we both agree theright waymeans Leonardo ends up rotting six feet under, but Carlo confirms it when he says, “His younger brother always hada better head for business anyway. Paulo should’ve made sure everything was handed down to Franco instead of his older brother.”
“Leonardo would’ve really loved that,” I say, making Carlo smile.
“I would’ve paid good money to see the look on that little fucker’s face.” He sighs and takes a drink of wine before saying, “We can’t all have sons that make us proud.”
I have no idea what to say about the son who continually disgraces Carlo and loses a small fortune every year from a gambling habit that he refuses to get help for, so I don’t say anything. He and I sit in silence for a few minutes, both of us watching Mia and Sandro, and when she gives me a cutesy wave, Carlo gives a soft laugh.
“You’re a lucky bastard,” he says.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I tell him.
“Go have fun with your wife, Dario.” He’s still staring at her when he adds, “And know that every man here would give his left nut to switch places with you.”
I look over at him, unsure if I should be flattered or pissed. He must see my inner debate because he grins and pats my forearm again.
