Her laughter should have elevated his mood, but the knots in his gut began to tighten. To magnify. The music faded and reluctantly he allowed Grace to slip from his arms. He preferred to keep her right at his side, but when it was impossible, he had several of their guards with eyes on her at all times. Nevertheless, he texted them to ensure they took over watching the woman he loved.
He made his way to Emmanuelle and Elie, who were standing on the edge of the dance floor talking in a low tone.
“I hate interrupting,” he said as they both looked up.
“Where’s Grace?” Emmanuelle asked immediately, scanning the room.
Vittorio knew the moment she spotted Val and Dario at the entrance to the ballroom. She flicked them a quick look and then her gaze went straight to her brother’s face. “You’re here because of them.”
“Grace and Katie didn’t know to change the table arrangements.”
Emmanuelle scowled. “I reminded Eloisa.”
“The reminder wasn’t passed on.”
Emmanuelle looked down at her feet. Vittorio willed her to come up with the solution herself. He didn’t want to put her on the spot, not if she really was interested in Elie. He knew if she was, and Vittorio forced Elie to sit with her, she would be stilted and standoffish.
“I’m sorry,” Elie said. “I don’t know what’s going on, but if I could help in any way, I’d be happy to do so. And if you’d rather talk privately . . .” He indicated he would walk away.
Emmanuelle didn’t drop her hand from where it was tucked into the crook of his arm. She looked up at him and took a deep breath. “I know I’m acting like a coward, but I would very much like it if you would sit at our table with me during the meal. I’m sure Emilio would approve. Vittorio can ask him.”
Elie’s gaze didn’t leave Emmanuelle’s face. “The reason?”
Vittorio liked that he didn’t just simply agree. He wasn’t a man to be pushed around. Emmanuelle definitely needed to be with someone strong.
“I’ve been seeing Val Saldi on and off for several years. Recently, I broke up with him after finding out some very disturbing things. They were facts, I don’t listen to gossip. In any case, he’s been trying to explain things to me and I don’t want to hear his explanations. If you would prefer not to get mixed up in my mess, I understand completely.”
Elie was silent a moment, studying Emmanuelle’s face. Vittorio knew what the bodyguard saw. His sister was beautiful. Right now, she looked vulnerable, almost fragile. He couldn’t imagine any man passing up an opportunity to help her.
“It would be a pleasure to have dinner with you, Emmanuelle,” Elie said. “Let’s go find our seats.”CHAPTER NINETEENVittorio seated Grace beside him at the elegant table with its tropical rain forest centerpiece that included the turquoise flowers from the Philippines. Grace was very uncomfortable and had tried to get out of sitting with him several times. It was their first real argument, and, in the end, there was no way to compromise—he wanted Grace by his side at the family table and she complied with his wishes.
He understood. She was working. This was one of KB Events’ largest functions. Grace didn’t sit and eat with the patrons, she worked. She made certain everything ran smoothly behind the scenes. He wanted it understood by her and everyone else that she was with him. She was a Ferraro for all intents and purposes and everyone—especially his mother—needed to give her that respect at all times or they would be dealing with him. No matter the argument she used, he refused to budge when he knew she was in terrible danger. He knew she couldn’t be there long, but even a few minutes would establish in everyone’s mind what he needed. Then, he planned to be at her side when she worked.
He dropped his hand to her thigh beneath the cover of the spun lace tablecloth. She looked up at him, touching the tip of her tongue nervously to her upper lip and then biting down on her lower lip. He leaned down and brushed a reassuring kiss on her mouth. He loved her mouth and was tempted to kiss her the way he wanted, but technically, with her working, he needed to show some restraint.
He rubbed her thigh over the lace and slip, feeling the heat of her skin and the way the muscles beneath the material jumped and quivered. “Nice solution, gattina. Thank you. I want Emmanuelle to enjoy herself as much as possible.”
She had added Elie Archambault to the table seamlessly, his name on the elegant foiled paper as if it had always been there. There were five couples at the table and she’d exchanged Eloisa’s and Henry’s place cards for the end of the table nearest the Saldi table and had given Emmanuelle and Elie the two places across from Vittorio and Grace. Anne and Taviano were across from Sasha and Giovanni.