He began pacing again. "There has to be a way, Tom. All the Ferraros together. Sasha. Her brother. We could take them out with an explosion. Something going wrong with their heating system." He tapped his thigh over and over. "I hate them all. They walk around thinking they're all so superior to the rest of us."
Tom shrugged. "A good fire after the explosion. I like fire. It's beautiful and deadly, greedy for anything in its path. I like watching it eat people alive."
James turned and faced the other man. "You're so good at using fire. Maybe you're right. I should listen to you, Tom," he flattered the man. "How would we do that? Start a fire in a place that big so they couldn't get out?"
Deliberately he pulled out a chair and sank into it, leaning toward the other fighter as if eager to learn from him. Tom preened, just as James knew he would. Tom would have to die, of course, he knew too much, but he would have one last use. If he could be the instrument of death to the Ferraros, it would be James's finest coup. His revenge on the fucking rich. He'd been getting rid of his enemies since he was fifteen when he'd killed his rival, leaving his body in a manhole. It hadn't been discovered for months. He'd relived that first kill over and over.
Over the years, he'd been very careful to make certain others were blamed for a death or he made it look as if it was an accident. He'd made the mistake of beating the hell out of his first wife instead of letting her go, watching her and then killing her later when no one would suspect him. She'd taken money from his wallet with the intention of leaving him. He didn't put up with that shit. If she wanted his money, she had ways of earning it. He gave her lots of opportunities, she was just lazy.
Tom droned on and he tuned him out, thinking of his second wife. She'd been a fun one, willing to do anything he wanted, so eager to please him. He'd loved that about her. Then he'd lost a major fight, and she'd had the balls to tell him he drank too much the night before. He'd beat the fuck out of her. She'd left him, and he actually missed her. If he could have, he would have found a way to get her back, but she wouldn't even take his calls.
His last girlfriend had been a joke. He beat the shit out of her on a regular basis, but she liked it. She wanted him beating her so that wasn't any fun. Then, when he split up with her, she wanted to press charges against him. He visited her in the middle of the night and let her know he could have cut her throat and would if she didn't drop the charges. Poof. No charges.
He'd watched Sasha for some time when she was first hired and working the main floor. She was really beautiful and had the kind of figure he preferred. He decided she would be wife three. He'd made the mistake of telling Aaron. Aaron bet him that she would fall for him because he was the better fighter.
Aaron brought Tom in on the bet to make things interesting. That was what he always said, he liked to make things interesting. James wanted to kill the fuck, but that wasn't good enough. He wouldn't suffer enough. And now, Sasha, marrying Giovanni Ferraro, needed to suffer, too. They all did. Every damned one of them.
He'd liked his little game though. It was fun. If he could have, he would have fucked with them a lot more. He thought of them as puppets dancing on his strings. He sighed. The fun had to end sometime, and if he could pull this off, killing every Ferraro, Sasha and her brain-dead brother, all in one final blow, it would be such a thing of beauty.
He leaned back in his chair. Tom had seated himself across the table from him, drawing something on a piece of paper. Tom sat up straight, still talking, but something shimmered in the shadows behind him, distracting James from hearing him. His eyes were deceiving him.
Tom's head was in the shadows, and for a moment a man seemed to step out of the shadows to stand behind him. He wore a pin-striped suit, just like the Ferraro brothers. This one was beautiful. James liked nice clothes. The suit was dark charcoal with the thinnest stripes. The shirt beneath the vest and jacket was lighter charcoal. The tie was a dark charcoal to match the suit.
The man caught Tom's head in his hands. At the same time, James felt hands on his head. The man in the shadows snapped Tom's neck and murmured, "Justice is served." Then James's world went black.
Sasha came to Giovanni on the arm of Stefano. Sandlin couldn't walk her down the aisle, but he was there, standing between Vittorio and Taviano. She couldn't help shooting him a quick glance as she walked past him to her man. Sandlin beamed at her, clearly happy, and that brought her own happiness up a notch.
She noticed the cousins from New York there, all three brothers, handsome in their pin-striped suits. Their suits were dark charcoal with thin lighter charcoal stripes, while Giovanni and his brothers wore gray with black stripes. All of them looked so handsome. Giovanni took her breath away, just that look on his face. Stefano placed her hand in his brother's and leaned in to brush a kiss on her cheek before taking his place beside Francesca.
"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Giovanni whispered. "Thank you for being mine."
She couldn't speak, afraid she'd cry and ruin the makeup Emmanuelle had spent hours on. Emmanuelle had worked hard to pull the wedding off. Of course, money talked, and she'd gotten the planner she wanted. Strangely, Eloisa worked with her, putting together the reception for those at the Hendrick Center as well as the town reception. That was the bigger reception, the one at the hotel where the people the Ferraros had known most of their lives would be guests.
She heard the preacher speaking and then Giovanni was looking into her eyes and she found herself falling like she did when he looked at her like that. She answered in the affirmative when he asked her, just as Giovanni had. His voice had been firm. Hers trembled. She still meant every word, as if the vow was sealed into blood and bone. She would be his. He would be hers. She truly felt as if they'd been born for each other.
Then Giovanni was kissing her, and everyone receded. There was only him. That mouth of his could always command her. Always make her laugh. She was lost there with him until Stefano started the clapping that pulled them back from the edge of that cliff they always seemed to fall over.
Giovanni danced for the third time with his wife. They didn't have too much more time before they would have to leave, but she was having so much fun and he liked watching her have fun. He kept his eye on her brother. Sandlin moved through the crowd a few times and then he retreated, going to his new favorite spot.
His favorite couch had been moved into the larger common room and put in a quiet corner where there was still plenty of light for him to read. He was on the couch now, but he was smiling sweetly like he did, a genuine Sandlin smile--and it was Eloisa beside him. Her body was turned toward Sandlin, her posture and position indicating she was open to him and enjoying the conversation, which made no sense to Giovanni.
His mother abhorred weakness. She had always been hard on Ettore because he'd been born with weaker lungs and had respiratory problems. No amount of her driving him could cure his problem. She'd acted as if she despised him from the time he was born, yet here she sat next to Sandlin acting like what might be considered actually human. On the one hand he was grateful, but on the other, he found himself angry with her that she couldn't have treated her own son with as much compassion.
Henry, the man who oversaw their fleet of vehicles, was dressed in a suit and seated beside Eloisa. His body posture screamed protective. All three were eating small slices of wedding cake and drinking punch. Giovanni had never seen his mother drink punch. She preferred very fine wine or champagne.
"We're going to have to leave, Sasha," Giovanni said, reluctantly. "Emmanuelle has been signaling frantically for the last ten minutes. It's one thing to be fashionably late to our wedding reception, it's something altogether different not to show up at all."
"This is our wedding reception," she pointed out.
Sasha was gorgeous in her wedding gown. It was Emmanuelle who had found the perfect dress for her. The silk slip was a nude, fitted silhouette that clung to every curve. Over the slip was the designer's contrasting translucent
signature elements. Scattered into the embroidery were sequins that shimmered when she walked or moved. The sequins glimmered down the long sleeves and around the neck and tracked down the dress and across the trailing fishtail hem. It was breathtaking. The designer was one of Emmanuelle's favorites.
He knew, because Emmanuelle had told him, that once he was alone with Sasha, he had only to undo a couple of hooks and the silk slip would fall around her ankles, leaving her in the translucent embroidered outer layer. Giovanni couldn't help thinking about that as she'd walked down the aisle toward him and as he'd whirled her around the dance floor. It kept him in a constant state of arousal, which he wasn't certain he would survive until they got home.
He glanced over to Nicoletta. Taviano had leaned down and was whispering to her. She shook her head. A look of impatience crossed his face. He took her hand and pulled her up, gathering her to him for a dance. The two moved across the dance floor in perfect rhythm, but Nicoletta was holding herself--or trying to hold herself--away from his brother.
Giovanni led Sasha to the small couch where Sandlin sat with Eloisa and Henry. "We're going to have to go. We promised Goodman we wouldn't be here more than three hours total. He felt it would be too disruptive to the patients."
"He's getting paid far more than he should have," Eloisa snapped. "He can wait."
"No, Eloisa, he really can't," Giovanni said, exasperated. "He did us a favor, and the crews still have to clean up. That's more time disrupting the patients. You can see that Sandlin is tired."
Eloisa smiled at Sandlin. "I suppose you need to rest now, don't you?"
He nodded. "It was nice to meet you."
"I enjoyed meeting you as well." She stood up, hands on her hips, glaring at her son. "You neglected to tell me that Sasha was capable of producing riders. I noticed her brother's shadow and made certain my shadow connected with his. I was shocked at the strength there, and even more shocked when he recognized my shadow. She comes from a very strong family. Have you looked into her background?"
"Eloisa, Sasha is standing right here. At any time, you could have asked her. Of course, I know her background. I asked her and she told me. Had you waited to be introduced that morning at Stefano's, I'm certain you would have seen her shadow at some point."
She ignored that. "I suppose she must be pregnant. All the gossip columns are speculating. Public relations reps have been asking repeatedly for an answer. I do wish you could have waited, Giovanni, and been just a little more responsible."
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Sasha snapped and whirled away. "I've had enough. Are we going, or what?" Ignoring Eloisa and Giovanni, she reached for her brother's hands. "Sandlin, thank you for coming to my wedding. I'll be back in a few days. Giovanni and I are going on a honeymoon. When I get back, I'll show you pictures and tell you all about it."
Sandlin nodded. "I'd like that. And you can read to me."
"Of course, I'll read to you. I always do, don't I?" She kissed first one cheek and then the other.
Sandlin nodded again. "Yes, you do."
"Emmanuelle said she would come to read to you when I'm gone. You remember Emmanuelle, right?" She pointed out her sister-in-law, whirling around on the floor with a man she didn't recognize.
"Is she good at it, like you?" Sandlin hadn't even looked toward the dance floor.
"Yes, very good," Sasha assured her brother.
"Okay then. You can go with Giovanni." He sounded as if he was giving her a great concession.
Sasha laughed, kissed him again and took her husband's hand.
"Why don't you like him?" Signora Moretti asked Nicoletta as Taviano walked past the table where they sat with Lucia and Amo.
"Like who?" Nicoletta asked, frowning.
"Oh, stop that, girl," Agnese Moretti scolded. "You're not very good at covering your expressions. I've been working with you for a long time now and I can tell when you don't like someone. The Ferraros are paying for your education, they make it clear that you're under their protection and they're giving you lessons in self-defense, which I don't agree a young girl should be doing. Not until you're older. Instead of appreciating them, you make it clear you don't want anything to do with the family."
"That's not true, Signora Moretti," Nicoletta denied.
"Of course it is," Agnese persisted. "My understanding is that Stefano served with your father, and when your parents were killed, he brought you here. Isn't that true? Did the family do something to offend you? Take you from another relative you preferred?"
A small shudder went through Nicoletta's body and she stood abruptly, as if the fight-or-flight response had kicked in. At once, the members of the Ferraro family turned their heads.
It was Vittorio who got there first. He held out his hand to the girl. "Dance with me." There was pure command in his voice, but his touch was gentle as he pulled her into his body and swung them onto the dance floor.
He was quiet for a few moments, holding her close as if absorbing whatever it was that had upset her. When she quieted, he allowed space between them. "Is she prying? Upsetting you? You have only to ask and we'll find you another tutor."
Nicoletta moistened her bottom lip with her tongue. "No. Signora Moretti has been really good to me. She takes getting used to, but she really brought my studies up and helped me finish the grades I needed fast in order to graduate. She makes every subject easy to understand. I'm going to graduate in another week or so." She paused. "I like the training in the gym your family has given me. I hope to continue that."
"You'll have more time once you finish school," Vittorio pointed out.
"Yes. I told Lucia and Amo I would stay, but I want to pay them rent. I'm working at the restaurant now, and once I'm full-time, I'll be able to pay them."
"Nicoletta, you know Stefano pays for your rent and clothes. If we could have taken you in ourselves, we would have, but Lucia and Amo were far better equipped. Still, you're part of our family."
She shook her head and almost pulled out of his arms. He just tightened his hold and locked his arm like a bar across her back. "Settle down. Don't you think it's time you got over the fact that we know about your past? You're punishing our family because we got you out of a horrendous situation."
"Is that what you call it? A horrendous situation?" There was a cross between a sneer and a sob in her voice. "I call it something else. Maybe you've never lived in hell, Vittorio. Maybe you've never had to hide from others how ashamed you are. How dirty."
His hand caught her chin and yanked her head up so her eyes were forced to meet his. "Don't you ever let me hear you call yourself that. Never. It is so far from the truth, I want to put you over my knee and paddle that right out of you. Don't let something like that into your brain. They did that. Not you. You're bright and beautiful and so far above them they wanted to break you. They wanted to bring you down into the muck with them. They can't take that you shine, and you do. You are not dirty. That is not you, Nicoletta."
She stared into his eyes for a long time and then she swallowed. Nodded. The music ended and instead of Vittorio taking her back to the table where Signora Moretti watched over her with Lucia and Amo, he took her over to Stefano. Stefano immediately whirled her into his arms. Stefano intimidated her. There was no other word for it. She realized, now that she was eighteen, the Ferraro family wasn't going to back off. They were determined that she stay in their territory where they could look out for her.
Giovanni lifted his hand as he guided Sasha around them. "Save me a dance, Nicoletta."
Sasha smiled at the girl. "She's really beautiful, Giovanni."
"She is. She doesn't realize it. She's hell on wheels in the training hall. You should see that girl move. She's fast. She doesn't realize that, either, because Emmanuelle and Mariko, the two working with her right now, have trained all of their lives, but all of us are astounded. Her reflexes are incredible."
"Why aren't any of you men training her?"
His woman sounded a little snippy, a
s if she was going to take him to task because, at the moment, they were leaving Nicoletta's self-defense training to the females. "She's very leery around us, sweetheart. We'll be training her eventually, but right now, she's more apt to show up if she's working with Emme or Mariko. We'd have to put our hands on her and she's not ready for that. In any case, Mariko has developed a very good relationship with her, and we want to encourage that. You can see she's very intimidated by us. She doesn't like us touching her, or even standing too close."
"She likes him."
Giovanni's head came up sharply. "Likes who?" Because that "who" was going to have his head removed if he was making a move on Nicoletta.
"Taviano. Sheesh, Giovanni, you're kind of a hothead."
He threw back his head and laughed. "Baby. You're just beginning to notice? Why aren't you intimidated?"
"Because I'm better with a rope than you are. I think I proved that the other night."
He rested his lips against her ear. His tongue did a brief foray, and he felt the answering shiver of her body. "Dio, but I love you," he whispered.
Benito Petrov danced past them with Angelina Laconi in his arms. Petrov owned the pizzeria with his son, Tito. A widower, no one thought he would ever date again, but it looked to Giovanni as if he was very comfortable with Angelina, although she was several years younger.
"You aren't even going to protest the rope thing?"
"Because it's too absurd to bother protesting. You just brought it up because Mariko told you about that rope thing Ricco does with her that totally turns her on."
She pulled back and scowled up at him. "What rope thing? Mariko told you about a rope thing your brother does?"
"Mariko would never talk to me. I thought she talked to you." He pretended to give it some thought. "Where did I hear about that technique?"
She burst out laughing, just as he knew she would. He loved that sound. He knew he wanted to hear it for the rest of his life.
"You made that up."
"I did," he admitted and then put his mouth over her ear again. "But you're thinking about it, and your panties are damp for me, aren't they?"
"Silly man. My panties are always damp for you, haven't you figured that out yet?"