“No. Just guns.”
“Hand-to-hand combat?”
I shook my head.
He gave a sigh. “Alright, we’re going to fix that.”
“Why do I need to learn how to fight hand-to-hand and stab someone when I have a gun? There are guns all over the house.”
“Don’t be arrogant enough to believe that the setting is in your control,” he snapped. “It may not be. What if someone snatches you and takes you to a new location, and all you have are your bare fucking hands?”
I didn’t even want to entertain that thought.
His eyes shifted back and forth between mine as he stared me down. “I’m not trying to scare you. If something happened to you, know that I’ll get you back—and I’ll cut off everyone’s fucking heads when I get there. But I need you to defend yourself until I arrive. So are you prepared to take this seriously or not?”
“Yes.”
“I would be doing you a disservice if I didn’t teach you everything I know. If you’re going to be my woman and we’re going to have this life together, then I need you to be tough. A tough fucking bitch. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
He stepped closer to me and raised his voice. “I didn’t fucking hear you.”
“Yes.”
“Attagirl. Let’s fucking do this.”
25
FRANCESCA
It wasn’t until the afternoon that I ran into Wolfe at the winery.
My father was having lunch with him, Elio, Leo, and Andre on the terrace. It was a warm day, and they sat in the shade of one of the umbrellas. They seemed to have finished their entrees and were now having their coffee with a basket of freshly baked biscotti in the center of the table.
I was wearing a short-sleeved white dress with platform sandals, always dressing nicely for work because I worked with the vendors that sold our wine in stores and restaurants throughout Italy, so I had meetings in person and online pretty much every day. And all those vendors were completely separate from my father’s work. They had no idea that we distributed more than wine.
I wasn’t sure exactly how my father felt about Wolfe because there’d been no more meetings to discuss his character. I took that as a good sign that he had nothing to say. It was strange to see Wolfe sitting there, easily the biggest and tallest guy at that table, lethally handsome…and just lethal in general.
I couldn’t believe he was mine sometimes.
Every day, really.
I walked up and joined their table. “Dad, I wanted to bring this to you.” I handed him the manila folder with the paperwork inside.
Wolfe eye-fucked me right on the spot, his eyes slowly dragging over my tight white dress like he didn’t give a damn who saw.
Guess I shouldn’t have worn this today.
My father was oblivious to Wolfe’s possessive stare, and he opened the folder and checked the contents quickly.
Elio continued to smoke his cigar.
I hated cigars, but I never complained when the men smoked. I noticed Wolfe never smoked around me. I’d never seen him with a cigar in his mouth, but I had a feeling he had the same disgusting habit. He just kept it away from me because he was a gentleman in some ways.
My father finished reading the paperwork before he returned it to the envelope and handed it back. “Twenty percent—take it or leave it. And if he doesn’t accept it now, it goes up to twenty-five.”
“Alright.”
