Page 176 of The Temptation
Nonnosurfaced for all of five minutes, looking a little worse for wear. My grandmother managed to get a cup of tea into him before he shuffled back to bed. A greasy breakfast should go a long way towards soaking up the alcohol still lingering in his system.
We’re in my Range Rover. I’m driving, Dante is riding shotgun, and Alexander and Dominic are in the back seat.
“I got some intel on the waitress from La Riviera,” Dante says, glancing back at Dominic.
My eyes flicker to the rear-view mirror just in time to catch Dominic sitting up straighter in his seat. “Yeah? What’d you find out?”
He’s clearly more invested in this than just concern for her safety, and it makes me wonder what else is going on.
“You were right about the biker,” Dante says. “She’s shacking up with one of those slimy Steel Reapers motherfuckers.”
The Steel Reapers aren’t a big motorcycle gang, but their sergeant-at-arms is impulsive and unhinged enough to be dangerous.
Dominic leans forward between the seats, his voice low. “Do you know if it’s him? The one hurting her?”
Dante doesn’t answer right away. He stares out the front windshield, but I don’t miss the tic in his jaw.
“I asked one of the cops on our books to look into it,” he finally says. “The guy she’s living with is the VP of the club, Michael Bucannon. Goes by the name Muzzle. The bloke’s got a rap sheet as long as my arm. Assault, weapons, intimidation, possession. He went to juvie at the tender age of eleven for beating his stepmother with a baseball bat, so it’s not a stretch to make that assumption.”
Dominic doesn’t reply, but the shift in his expression says enough. Something in him just snapped.
He nods once, slow and deliberate, before turning his head to stare out the side window. His mouth is set into a hard line, and his eyes are distant. Whatever he’s thinking, it’s nothing peaceful.
“I’ve got a home address for her,” Dante adds, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to him. “If you decide totake matters into your own hands, make sure you run it past me first. I don’t want you doing anything that’s going to come back on theFamigliawithout my knowledge.”
Dominic leans forward, takes the slip of paper, and drops back into his seat without a word.
The air in the car shifts, and I have a sinking feeling we’re about to go to war with the local MC.
We’re all gathered around the long wooden table I built out on the back veranda, overlooking the property—getting ready to eat the breakfast the men cooked on the barbecue—when Chloe brings up that wretched dress my poor boy was forced to wear yesterday.
“Gabe’s Christening gown was absolutely adorable.” I hear Dante snicker beside me. “I believe it’s a family heirloom? So much fine detail. Did you make it yourself?” she asks my grandmother.
A sweet smile curves myNonno’slips, and I feel like an arsehole for hating on that fucking dress so much.
“My mother made it for Gabriel … Romeo’s father,” she says softly as her eyes briefly move to me. “It was such an honour to see my great-grandson wearing it. She would’ve been thrilled to know that.” When she dabs at the corner of her eye, I feel even shittier. “She was a seamstress when she was alive. She also made my wedding dress.”
The weight of her words settle heavily over me, because I now know that stitched into every thread of that gown is a piece of a woman I never met. A legacy you can touch.
When Dante clears his throat, my eyes dart to him, thinking maybe he was affected by my grandmother’s words as much as I was. But when I see him holding the napkin over his mouth to hide his smile, I know better.
It instantly gets my back up.
“Dante and Arabella are expecting their second child,Nonna, and he mentioned he’d love to be part of the tradition,” I lie, trying hard to keep a straight face when my best friend punches my thigh under the table.
“What the fuck,” he mutters under his breath. At the same time,Nonnabeams and says, “Oh, how wonderful!”
A moment later, my phone buzzes with a text message.
When I slide it out of my pocket and glance down at the screen, I have to hold back a laugh when I see it’s from Dante.
Dante: Keep running your mouth, and I’ll have your kneecaps ‘retired’ permanently. Capire.
I snort into my coffee and glance over at him. He’s buttering a slice of toast like he didn’t just threaten a mob-style maiming before breakfast.
I feel a hand rest on my leg, and when I turn my attention to my wife, who sits on the other side of me, she’s scowling at her brother-in-law. She obviously just read his text as well.
He’s completely oblivious to the death stare he’s currently getting, so Lucia snatches my phone out of my hands.
