I sprint to the end of the room, looking for a way out as anxiety wells in my chest.
“You won’t get far Valentina,” his calm voice stops me in my tracks. He’s not a man to mess around with but more than that. . .
His voice. I know that voice now that I’m not looking at him, and the pineapple smell jogs my memory. The hair on the nape of my neck stands up like a cat cornered by a dog.
I turn, facing the one man I’ve been longing to meet, the man with the sword tattoo. The tattoo on Massimo’s hand looks like the one on the man who rescued me in the garden from the few details I managed to observe before he fled.
I lift my eyes slowly. This is the man I owe a debt to. This is the man who slit someone’s throat to save me. This is the man who kissed my lips and left me thinking about him for months.
“You.” I can barely say the word as I take in his face, his dark eyes. I remember them, they reflected the same loneliness I see in mine.
He saved me again tonight. His hands are a contradiction in motion, capable of saving a life or taking one. All mafia men are able to kill, but this one strikes me as being exceptionally competent.
“How did you know? That night in the garden?” My voice quivers as I get closer to answers.
“After meeting your father and Giovi, I noticed you missing. I figured you went out for some air, and thank God I did, or you wouldn’t be here,” he says, almost bragging.
“Do you know who was sent to kill me?”
“No, but the two men there that night are dead, so they aren’t a threat anymore.”
“There was more than one?” I ask, it’s incredulous that two men were out to harm me.”
“Two.” He puts up his fingers as if I need a visual aid.
“I helped him get away without being noticed,” Savio pipes up, definitely bragging.
I turn my gaze, observing him for the first time. He’s clean cut, dark hair, darker eyes and almost as tall as Massimo as he stands to stretch his long legs.
I move quickly back to my purse to pull out my phone. I have the number of the man who sent me the necklace. I fidget with the phone.
“Don’t bother calling the police.” Massimo reaches to take my phone.
I pull it back.
“I’m not. You think I’m an idiot?” I press the number on the phone. Massimo’s pants buzz. His phone must be on vibrate.
“You, you are the man who sent me the necklace.” My hand goes my neck, the tips of my fingers caress the precious stones.
“Yes.” He bows his head slightly to confirm my guess.
Facts, yes, this is good.
“You are my fiancé?”
“Yes. I never dreamed we’d meet under such circumstances.” He spreads his arms out apologetically.
“So, Ridolfo knew the wedding was the place for you to accept delivery of me?”
“Yes, don’t blame him, he did his job. As did your father.”
“Why? You could have anyone you want. Why me?”
“Why not you?”
Why not?I was going to go to someone. I should have been married off already. So why did Papa wait?
Massimo is a fine specimen of a man to be shackled to and I’m safe with him. I’m not blind to the fact he’s a trained killer. He took out not just one, but two men that night! I’m impressed.