Page 5 of Blood Money

“H-Hi,” she stuttered. “Can I help you?”

If one’s face could actually be on fire, hers might have been, because I could’ve sworn it got redder. She was truly a captivating young woman.

“No, I’m with my mom. She dragged me with her. Are you one of the authors?” I asked as I tried to be my most charming self. Though I was partial to gingers, she was easily a close second.

“Vittorio! I didn’t bring you with me to flirt! Here,” Mom chided, handing me a large white shopping bag full of this M. Merin lady’s books. I had no idea how we were going to get all these home. At the rate she was going, every square inch of the SUVs would be full of paperbacks.

“Duty calls,” I apologized and gave the brunette a wink.

One of my brothers took a picture of Mom with the author. Then we left for the next table. I almost choked when I saw the book the redhead had shown me.

So this is that author chick, Kristine Allen.

She had dark hair that did that bally-og, or -osh, or whatever thing where it transitioned down to bright red. My gaze made an appreciative sweep over her curves, but a guy with a close-cut salt-and-pepper beard walked up and set a drink behind the displays for her. He cocked his brow at me, and I made note of their wedding rings.

“You’re a very lucky man. She’s quite stunning,” I told him in a soft tone intended for just him. I paired it with an easygoing smile as Kristine began speaking with my mom. They were laughing and intensely involved in whatever they were discussing.

“I like to think so,” he replied with a relaxed grin once he determined I wasn’t a threat.

He and I made small talk while the women chatted. I busted out laughing when he asked if I’d ever modeled before because his wife was always looking for fresh faces.

“No, definitely not. Though someone thought that was me,” I said as I pointed at Colton’s book.

He picked it up and studied both me and the book. “Yeah, I can see that. You sure this isn’t you?”

“Absolutely,” I confirmed with a choked huff.

Mom handed Alessio the newly acquired bag and gestured for me to follow.

“Nice talking with you. What’s your name?” I asked as I held my hand out.

“Marty,” he replied as he took it in a firm grip and looked me in the eye. I appreciated that. “You?”

“Oh, uh, Vic,” I told him. “But I better catch up. My mother isn’t going to be happy until she has our arms popping out of socket.” We both laughed, and I gave him a chin lift, then followed after my dear darling mother.

We spent another two hours at the signing because Mom insisted on stopping to talk to each and every author. Who would’ve known an author event could be that goddamn exhausting? I was never so happy to see my bed.

Unfortunately, unlike my older brother, I went to bed alone that night.

With my eyes closed, I leaned my head back in the seat and sighed. Classical music filled my ears. The plane was climbing, and I planned to catch a nice, long nap on the way back to Chicago.

A nudge had me grumbling as I plucked out my AirPods and turned to my older brother with a scowl. “What?”

“When we get back, I want you to swing by and talk to Mrs. Romano. We need that bakery,” Gabriel insisted in his typical no-nonsense tone.

Christ, I knew I should’ve taken Leo and Alessio up on their offer to fly with them to Vegas instead of going straight home.

“Really? Can you not think about work for ten whole minutes? I’m trying to relax.” The man took everything too seriously. He was a grouchy, driven beast thanks to our grandfather and our father. Not that I hadn’t learned a few lessons from them, but while it had shaped him into a growly bear, I preferred to think of myself as a cunning wolf. There was time enough to work out plans once we got home.

“Not when I have The Family to look out for.” We worded things carefully so anyone around us would think we were simply discussing “business” and “family.” Granted, Pietro and my man, Dario, were sitting behind us to keep an eye out for our safety and to act as a buffer. The seats next to us had two old ladies wearing big diamonds and giggling like schoolgirls as they gossiped. They were already on their second mixed drinks and didn’t seem to be slowing down.

Good for them. I hoped when I was their age that I could enjoy life like that.

“I get it, but Christ, Gabe. It can wait until we get home. There’s nothing we can do about it while we’re thousands of feet in the air. Once we’re home, I’ll go by and talk to her. There are a million places we could buy if this doesn’t work out.”

“Vittorio, I want that bakery—and I always get what I want.”

“Right. And half of the things you want, I’ve been right by your side or in the background making it happen. Quit obsessing over it and chill out. You got your dick wet last night, so you should still be swimming in postcoital bliss. Speaking of which, how was it?”

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