Watching his woman work behind the scenes so that everything ran smoothly for their guests was an eye-opener. Grace didn’t miss a beat. She was always polite. Always. She started with a smile, but when things didn’t go exactly as she had specified, things quickly got done under her watchful eye. She orchestrated dozens of things for the guests, making certain their names were at the right table and they were seated beside those they particularly liked. She made certain enemies were tables apart. She had an eye for developing trouble and stopped it before it got out of hand.
“I’ve checked with Stefano numerous times,” Emilio continued their conversation. “He says he’s fine. He claims he doesn’t believe Phillips made it into his home.” There was a note of worry in his voice, something unusual for Emilio. “I personally went over the security measures at the hotel. If he did get in there, and the photograph was clearly of Stefano’s foyer, he’s much cleverer than I am. I couldn’t figure out how he did it.”
“They are being especially careful of anything Phillips might put in the vents that they could breathe in,” Vittorio responded. His gaze remained on Grace as she talked animatedly with the caterer. Twice she clapped a hand on his shoulder and laughed, the sound even prettier to him than the music playing. “He thinks Phillips bribed one of the hotel maids into taking a picture of the foyer. Stefano is still investigating, but it sounds plausible, given all the security measures we put in place.”
“This is the perfect place for Phillips to hit, far less risk. I wouldn’t put it past him to go at Stefano and Francesca in the penthouse, but it is far riskier, especially now that he warned us. And why would he warn us?” Emilio asked. “He’s tipping his hand. Why? Just to be able to thumb his nose at us? To show us how smart he is? Uh-uh, the slimy bastard is up to something.”
“I think so, too,” Vittorio said, frowning as Grace shifted closer to the caterer. It was very obvious she knew him well. He wasn’t used to sharing her company with anyone, let alone other men. He’d never been a jealous man. He didn’t think it was an attractive trait. To him, jealousy said one didn’t trust one’s partner. It also said the person feeling that emotion had little confidence. He was a confident man, but honestly? He didn’t like the close proximity his woman was sharing with the man who had brought the food and beverages.
Vittorio began drifting toward Grace and the caterer. “Haydon Phillips is an intelligent man. He’s astute and calculating as well. He wouldn’t taunt us without a reason. He left that picture for us, not the cops.”
“How did he expect you to see the photograph immediately? The cops might have played it close to their chests and not even showed you right away,” Emilio pointed out. “Why would he think you’d get the message, whatever he was trying to tell you?”
“He called the murder in anonymously. He even reported a strange car in the neighborhood and gave the license plate of Raimondo’s truck. Luckily, Raimondo had a real reason for being there. His mother knew one of the women living in that gated community and she’d called to ask if our family knew anyone willing to do some yard work. She couldn’t afford the price the gardener was asking and her yard needed work. Raimondo said the gardener was price gouging the elderly in the community.”
A muscle ticked in Vittorio’s jaw. He detested when anyone took advantage of the elderly. “I’ll make certain the gardener knows not to do that again.” He would pay the man a visit personally and the interview would be quite pleasant the first time. He would make it clear if he had to come back, it wouldn’t be so pleasant the second time.
He studied the dancers as they whirled past him. He knew them all and nodded several times as he made his way to Grace’s side. The moment he was there, he swept one arm around her waist, pulling her beneath his shoulder, even as he turned her to take her mouth with his. It didn’t matter that she had perfect makeup and lipstick. He kissed her like he owned her. Hard. Hot. Possessive. She didn’t fight him. She surrendered. The instant she did, he found himself caught in her spell and he gentled the kiss.
When he finally lifted his head, he didn’t know who was more bemused, Grace or him. Either way, the kiss had done the trick. Those who witnessed it knew he was staking a claim on her. He wasn’t the type of man to act in any way possessive toward a woman, not the way he was acting with Grace.