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Tony snorted.
“We can afford a private jet, but he doesn’t need to know that.”
I looked back and forth between them.
“He has no idea how well you are doing, does he?”
Vincent gave me an approving smile.
“Candy’s going to get real bored in the Italian countryside,” Tony said with a smirk. Then he frowned. “Can we steer him away from there? I’d love to take Evie, but I’m not going to be his fetch and carry boy. Plus, he doesn’t deserve to enjoy anything that belonged to Mom. That house is not his.”
Vincent steepled his fingers in that way that old sinister movie stars used to. On him, the effect was menacing, but only because you could see his brilliant mind working.
“Maybe you could go ahead and let him know that the estate needs work. If he goes south, it would be better.”
“What about his guys? Are they in on this yet?”
“They know, but it’s a small group. Dad wants to knock them off.”
Tony shook his head.
“Of course he does. Tell him he can’t. Tell him it’s easier to smuggle all their asses over the southern border. Tell him our friends in the cartel will roll out the welcome mat.”
My eyes got wide. Cartel? What exactly did my husband get up to?
He seemed to read my mind.
“We don’t deal in drugs anymore. But in my dad’s day, we did. He did it all. And we still have those relationships.”
“Only instead of dealing,” Vincent added, “we just turn a blind eye.”
“Not to everything,” my husband said. “We don’t do business with anyone who uses women as a commodity.”
Oh, God. I hadn’t even thought about prostitution.
“The Russians on the East Coast are all over that,” Vincent said with a bit of a growl. He was scary when he was mad, I realized. But the fact that they both wanted to protect women was obvious, and it made me love them both a little bit more.
Love.
I did love my husband, I realized. I’d been fighting it for a while. But there it was.
I even loved his scary big brother, in a completely different way. He’d been looking out for me, too. It was hard to ignore that they treated me as part of the family.
“So, Evie, would you like to go to Italy so we can tell my father how awful it is?”
I bit my lip and nodded.
“I’d love to go to Italy with you.”
“You’d better go pack because I already booked you a flight,” Vincent said, standing to shake Tony’s hand.
“Fuck that,” my husband said, pulling his brother in for a tight hug. Vincent surprised me with a quick kiss on my forehead.
“Look after him.”
“I will,” I promised, looking up at the mercurial older Margarelli brother.
“Work on the old man,” Tony said, slapping his brother’s arm.
“I will.”
Chapter 45
Antonio
The overnight flight had been smooth and easy. Evie had been impressed by the spacious seats and surprisingly good food. Of course, flights to Italy always had better food than you could get on a standard airline. Even the passenger coach ate well, all things considered.
“I’ve never flown First Class before,” my stunning wife had shyly said as I’d handed her a glass of champagne.
“Get used to it, sweetheart. I want to show you the world,” I said, wagging an imaginary cigar and using an old timey voice.
I hadn’t been joking about the private jet. Vince and I were thinking about it. And if we had kids . . . well, it would make a lot more sense for us to travel privately with added security.
I didn’t bother with security when I was in Italy. I never had. There were crime syndicates here, but they knew better than to mess with us. There was mutual respect there. If our idiot father came here, that might change.
The old man had a habit of making enemies wherever he went.
Thankfully, he hadn’t shown an interest in spending time in Italy. Until now.
A car had been waiting to pick us up and drive us the hour into the countryside. My wife had dozed against my shoulder as the sun first appeared on the horizon. And now we were here.
I came a couple of times a year to supervise the restoration. So far, it was going incredibly well. Despite the country’s reputation for slowness, the workers and craftsmen we’d hired were working steadily and with great care. We hadn’t had to wait long for permits, either.
Of course, it didn’t hurt that my mother’s family had been there for centuries. Or that they were the rare wealthy landowners who actually took care of the locals. They built churches and schools and roads. They shared harvests. They hosted parties and festivals. They were good.
That’s why it was so infuriating to think my dad might come and try and take it for himself. I wouldn’t let that happen. If Vince failed to convince him, I’d threaten him. Maybe even kill the old bastard. I didn’t give a fuck anymore.
