Strangely enough, I felt relieved. Lying to Greta had felt…wrong.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly because I didn’t. I’d lied without thinking because every second since I’d met Greta I’d wished I wasn’t engaged, so much stronger than I’d ever felt it before.
Greta searched my eyes then nodded as if she believed me. “Us sitting here together, is it wrong?”
Was she asking me for moral guidance? I was the wrong person to ask for many reasons. “We’re not doing anything.”
Greta tilted her head so she was peering down at her dog once more. “It doesn’t feel like that.”
“I know,” I admitted. My eyes rested on Greta’s face, on the thoughtful tilt of her lips.
Something cold touched my neck. I tensed, my hand flying to the gun in my holster.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, asshole, or I’ll ram a hole in your skull,” said Alessio.
“You better lower that fucking knife,” I growled, half tempted to pull my gun and see if his reflexes were quicker than my own.
Greta rose to her feet and her dog growled in a low and threatening way. “Stop it, Alessio. Amo caught Momo for me.”
“What a lucky coincidence that he’s around every time Momo runs off. What a hero,” Alessio muttered but he lowered the knife. I stood and turned around to him, wanting to have him in view.
Greta reached for Alessio’s arm. “Don’t tell Nevio.”
He frowned at her hand then narrowed his eyes at her. “Tell him what exactly, Greta? Because I really don’t know what it is I’m seeing here.”
She bit her lip and her eyes were drawn up to mine.
Alessio leaned toward her. “We’ll have to talk later.” He straightened and turned to me. His expression was cold and calculating. From all the Falcone men he had been the best option to catch us. Most of the rest would have punctuated my skull with their blade. “Let’s go back before someone comes looking for us.”
I hesitated, wondering when and if I’d see Greta again. Tomorrow Dad and I were flying back to New York. We wouldn’t be returning to Las Vegas any time soon and the next time the Falcone clan was supposed to visit was for my wedding. I sure as fuck didn’t want Greta to be at my wedding with Cressida.
“Vitiello, I swear I’ll call Nevio and deal with the shitshow later.”
I nodded at Greta and turned. I needed to stop this, whatever it was. I could never see Greta again.
Alessio and I walked in silence back to the house but shortly before we reached the office, he turned to me. “Listen, maybe you think being Amo fucking Vitiello gives you a carte blanche for being an asshole, but Greta is the kindest girl you’ll ever meet. If you’re looking for another fling before you get married, then look somewhere else.”
A silent or else swung in his voice. I smiled harshly but didn’t say anything.
“Greta isn’t like other girls, or most other people.”
“She has a very direct manner.”
Alessio narrowed his eyes in contemplation. “Greta’s always been this way. She’s like my father in that regard.”
“Minus the murderous sociopath bit.”
“Minus that, yes. Greta hates violence in any shape and form. She’s not your type, Vitiello, so forget you ever saw her.”
I didn’t react to his words and stepped into the office. I didn’t owe Alessio an explanation, but his words had the intended effect.
Dad, Remo and Nino looked up when we entered.
“What took you so long?” Remo snarled.
“I needed a smoke and Amo joined me in the backyard.”
Nino shook his head with obvious disapproval.