"What are you talking about?"
"Cara just told me you pulled a gun on Uberto?"
Gianni's lip curls. His eyes darken like they do right before he tortures or kills a man. "Damn straight, I did."
I move him farther down the hall, glancing behind me to make sure Papà doesn't hear, and lower my voice. "Are you crazy?"
"Stay out of my business," he warns.
"When you pull a gun on an Abruzzo, it's my business. It's all of our business," I declare.
"She isn't listening."
"She isn't yours to protect," I roar. If Cara doesn't want him, he needs to let her do what she wants. If she won't listen, that's her fault.
"She'll always be mine to protect," he snarls. "Now, stay out of my business, brother. I didn't interfere with you and Bridget. No matter what you've done, I've always had your back. Do me the same favor." He spins and walks away.
I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes. If Papà finds out what Gianni did, he's going to go apeshit. And my brother keeps doing things that put the family at risk. He needs to let it go with Cara.
I go up to my suite, take a shower, and put my suit on. Then I get back in my car and drive to Ettore's shop. It's in Little Italy. I get there before it opens.
He lets me in and locks the door behind me. "Dante. It's all ready." He goes behind the counter, pulls out a ring box, and sets it down.
I open the lid and smile. It's perfect. The platinum, five-carat, flawless, round halo engagement ring sparkles in the light. Several rows of tiny diamonds circle it. I hold it up, saying, "You did good, Ettore."
He beams. "You picked a good gem."
I put the ring back in the box then shake his hand.
"Good luck," he offers.
"Yeah. Thanks." I leave the jewelers then spend the day trying not to think about my date with Bridget tonight, while I work.
At four, I take another shower, put on my tux, and have my driver take me to her house. When I walk up to the door, the nerves in my stomach escalate. I curse, ordering myself to pull it together, then double-check the ring is in my pocket. Since the guards know me well and I have clearance, I step inside just as Bridget walks down the staircase.
My breath hitches and my heart soars. She's stunning, as always, but tonight she's radiating happiness. Ever since yesterday, when she spoke with the kids, a weight has lifted off her shoulders. I can feel it, and the light I longed to see again is back in her eyes.
When she gets to the bottom of the stairs, I kiss her, then hold her hand in the air and twirl her. She's wearing an emerald-green, form-fitting, silk designer dress. It hits the middle of her calf. Her matching stilettos put her lips a few inches below mine. And she's wearing the sapphire necklace I gave her. My dick twitches, and I say, "You look gorgeous, my dolcezza."
She puts her hand on my shoulder, straightens my tie, and cocks her head. "You always did wear a tux well."
My grin grows. "Glad you approve. Are you wearing a coat?"
"No. It's getting warmer. I'll be okay."
I slide my arm around her waist and lead her toward the door, asking, "Did you tell the kids you won't be back tonight?"
"Yeah."
"Good." I guide her to the car, and once we're inside, she leans into my chest. I kiss the top of her head. "How many of these events have you been in charge of?"
She shrugs. "Enough."
"Well, I'm ready to see you in action." It's true. Bridget's the head of the fundraising committee for a human trafficking nonprofit. It's also something my family stays out of, which isn't typical for organized crime families. It's one of the few things we refuse to touch based on our morals. I've watched her from afar raise money, but this event has grown over the years, and it's because of Bridget's efforts. Now, I finally get to go with her.
She laughs. "I'm sure you'll be bored."
"Watching you run the show? Nope!"