Grandfather must be pleased with himself that I’m working for him and against the Michelis. He even planted the seeds that I infiltrate them. In time, he will want more information on them so he can ruin them. I see where he’s going with this.
In the end, Grandfather blew into town to retrieve the book from Dante and Marchello, who are now tied to us as Prende is Argon’s only child. In the deal, we allowed her to marry Marchello and we no longer launder money through her flower shop, but I see it as a small price to pay to keep the peace. I’m sure she didn’t want to marry the man that was chosen for her. I can’t blame her on that. She’s far too innocent, and sensitive for the life she’s have with him and I suspect Marchello is the lateral move. As long as secretes are kept, it’s easier to appease her. If she loses her shop, we’ll buy it and run it ourselves. In the meantime, we’ve avoided making an enemy.
I remind Grandfather and my lieutenants that the book was the objective, not trying to control Prende. She was never really connected to the mafia and turned out to be oblivious to her father’s dealings. Besnik always claimed this to us and I believe him.
With that wrapped up, Grandfather still wants to know who killed Argon, and I know it’s because he’s anxious for a justification to retaliate against the Michelis. The family must have been a thorn in his side all these years as he bided his time for retribution over one of them sullying his daughter’s reputation. That can’t be forgiven.
Aldo might be dead, but Grandfather would have no qualms using Dante to gain more legitimate business with the government and laugh at the irony of it. Knowing what I do now, I have one up on Grandfather. I don’t want a war between our families unless one is warranted so I need to get to the bottom of who killed Argon as quickly as possible.
I’m drivingto the wedding reception in my sports car, dressed in a suit that will raise some eyebrows because of the limited funds I make working for the Michelis, but I don’t care. I will make a good impression on Valentina and let her get to know me before the news is sprung on her that I’m the one she’ll wed.
I hand over my keys to the valet a the hotel before meeting up with Tommaso inside.
“You look great.”
“Thank you, so do you,” I say, ignoring the fact that his suit doesn’t fit him as well as it should. It’s loud with Italian flags on it and red suspenders. His wife is wearing a low-cut dress more appropriate at a disco than a wedding reception.
Orchestra music provides a fitting backdrop for the meeting of an untold number of dons and bosses that must be here. TheGodfathertheme song would be more appropriate. Tommaso doesn’t know I’m biding my time as I look towards the door numerous times, waiting for my fiancée to show up.
I sense a ruckus and turn to see Valentina. She’s in a black taffeta dress that’s fitted at her tiny waist before flowing out in pleats. The deep-cut neckline shows off her porcelain skin, a perfect canvas for the necklace with its dark blue sapphires. The precious stones are eye-catching but nothing is more beautiful than her.
Heads turn as she breezes into the room on her father’s arm. Her walk in her four-inch heels. . . flawless. Perhaps I’m biased. I cough in mid-sentence to cover up my surprise. I can’t give myself away. If Tommaso catches me looking at her, he’ll know something is up as I’m sure I’m close to gawking.
She’s mine. I’m not ready to share her with anyone. However, she must have learned a few things while she was at the best college in the world. She’s spent her earlier years living around some of the wealthiest kids from around the world while in Switzerland.
Her eyes scan the room, no doubt playing hide and seek with mine. I have nowhere I’d rather be than beside her. She approaches, and I take in the blue eyes that have haunted me. Someone distracts her and she turns, bumping into me.
“Scusi,” she murmurs with a tweak of cuteness. There’s no need for an apology, any man worth his salt would be thankful for the physical contact.
As she turns back, our eyes lock.
“Ah, no problem. Massimo,” I introduce myself, extending a hand.
“Valentina.” She slips her small, delicate hand in mine, and I raise it to my lips, giving it a quick brush of my lips before relinquishing it. “Do I know you?”
Blood pounds in my ears. My thoughts are scrambled like eggs.
“Possibly. Are you with the bride or groom?” I know she’ll remember meeting men soon. Unless the trauma of the night jarred her recollection.
“Groom’s side.” I manage a small smile. Is she always so inquisitive?
“You?” I’m a bastard for asking because I already know the answer. In fact, I know everything about her except what she looks like naked. I can’t wait to find out but deter more primal thoughts as my cock hardens against the lined pants.
“Hmm. Business, just a guest,” she answers.
I shrug it off, snagging two champagnes from a passing tray and handing her one.
“To the bride and groom,” I toast, clinking our glasses together.
“Good fortune to them both.” Her sweet voice floats to my sensitive ears and I revel in the moment. These life events are few and far between for me.
We both take a sip as I raise my glass.
“May they be so lucky to have a life of happiness.”
“I’m sure they will. Dante’s quite the catch. It’s in all the newspapers.” I take in my half-brother as he is all smiles and networks around the room like the gracious host he is.
“I wish I believed in love.” She sighs.