Page 57 of The Leader

“I don’t. Most of them have never known hunger a day in their life. Never struggled with anything. Just born and raised with a silver spoon in their mouth. They wouldn’t survive a day on the streets.”

She pondered that for a second. “I’m like them. I mean, I’ve never known hunger in my life. Can’t say I would have survived on the streets either.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You are a survivor,bella. Don’t ever think otherwise. You protect the ones you love. Mary and Carmen are a testament of that.”

I love you.

She froze, only able to relax when she found that she hadn’t spoken the words aloud.

Ever since their confessions, two days ago, something had fundamentally shifted between them. She couldn’t put a name to it, but Gio seemed different; even more protective than he already was. They hadn’t talked about Marco again and somehow, she knew he would never mention him again. As for Marco, after a pit stop at her grandfather’s, he’d apparently made it straight back to Europe. She had a feeling this was because he’d found out who she was married to.

It hadn’t escaped her notice though, that Hector wasn’t her bodyguard anymore, leaving another hulking figure to trail her. From Tess, she had learned that her former bodyguard had left for Europe. Yeah, Gio wasn’t the only one keeping tabs on people.

They were greeted by a hostess who was dressed in some elaborate green dress. “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Detta,” she crooned, shaking their hands. “It’s so wonderful that you two could make it.”

After the exchange of some more pleasantries, a waiter led them to their round table, which they shared with two more couples.

Though Jazzy wasn’t much for haute cuisine—really, those tiny bits couldn’t fill the stomachs of a mouse family—she still appreciated the five-course meal that was served. The plates looked like pieces of art. She wanted to check her makeup before the bidding started, so she excused herself.

In the ladies’ room, she was met by an unpleasant surprise. Lisa; as in, “I give fellatio to married men at a wedding” Lisa. Jazzy had totally forgotten of her existence, or the fact that she orbited anywhere near Gio’s world. After reapplying her lipstick and ignoring the heavy silence between her and the other woman, she left the restroom.

The minute she left the ladies’ room, Jazzy was cornered by a man in a trench coat, who stunk of cigarettes. He looked like a washed-up detective from an eighties movie. Who even dressed like that anymore?

“Mrs. Detta?”

Why was he holding out a phone to her?

“I’m James Harvey with the SF Parole. Would you like to comment on the rumors of your husband’s entanglement with the Russian Bratva?”

Ah, not holding out a phone then, but recording their conversation. Not that she planned on giving him anything to report about.

She tried to pass him, but he stepped in front of her, blocking her way.

“Do you have any comments on your husband’s real estate war with Kristoff Romanov in Pacific Heights?”

“Could you please step aside?”Or I’m going to kick you.Not very ladylike, but surely effective.

Then Harvey turned mean. “Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?”

An unexpected pair of clicking heels came to her rescue. It was their hostess, looking absolutely horrified as she rushed up to her, with security guards in tow.

“I am terribly sorry, Mrs. Detta. I don’t know how he got in.” She snapped her fingers at the guards, who dragged a protesting Harvey away. “I can assure you it will never happen again.”

As she continued to apologize profusely, Gio joined them. Her hand reached out to him, as if on its own accord, needing him close.

The hostess continued apologizing, basically repeating the same words to Gio. His eyes turned hard and, ignoring the hostess, he pulled her away into an abandoned corridor.

Tired from the night, she leaned against the wall.

“I’m beginning to understand why my grandfather never allowed us to go to these kind of events. Gina always berated him for it. I suppose he was just trying to protect us.”

“That. And to possibly protect you from men like me. Had I seen you at a fundraiser before, I would have snatched you up."

She was never sure if he meant it, saying things like this. They didn’t marry out of love. Yet sometimes she felt like it could actually work out between them. Other times, she feared he would put her on the street as soon as the two years had passed. Every day, it became more and more difficult to keep her distance, to maintain an invisible wedge between their passionate nights and her heart. She feared that, one day, her brain was going to malfunction and blurt out that she loved him. And that would be the day he’d look at her with pity because he wouldn’t return her feelings. Because, if nothing else, Giovanni Detta was no liar.

“How do you deal with this? People judging you? Even if they don’t say it to your face, knowing what they think of you?”

He grabbed a nearby chair and sat on it, pulling her onto his lap. “I’m used to it. No matter what I do, some people will always see me as the son of a gangster. In their eyes, I’m guilty by association.”

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