The main reason Siena hated the board meetings was because the division she ran was considered the most pointless one of all. By the time her father had deemed her old enough to take control of the newspaper and magazine division, it had been close to having its last rites read. While she’d turned thingsaround by investing in the online versions of their publications, it was still treated by her brothers as insignificant. Tommaso ran the social media side of the business, and the platforms he controlled were going from strength to strength, the same with the news and television division that was ostensibly in Mattia’s hands.
These were all the media divisions that had made Lorenzo Esposito a household name and had allowed him to curate a public persona as a beloved, cuddly, charismatic charmer. Mattia had many strengths, but cuddliness and charisma were not two of them.
He did, however, have a forensic eye for detail, which was what had made the board meetings become so interminably boring. He questionedeverything, a trait that had worsened since they’d been forced to allow Gino Vicario, the nightclub owner their cousin Francesca had fallen in love with, a place on the board.
Siena’s new husband wanted only to be brought into the shadowed side of their world. He’d made no noise about joining the Esposito Group, and it grated that the few hours’ grace she had from him were being spent with her mind focused on him. She couldn’t stop herself from replaying all their conversations, as if her mind was trying to work him out and understand him when she absolutely didn’t care to understand him.
She didn’t want to imagine him, his siblings and his cousin as children. She wanted to think of them as they’d been on her wedding day, firing daggers at her with their adult eyes, not imagine them as children in Carlo’s restaurant with their little legs dangling as they shovelled carbonara into their hungry mouths. She didn’t want to think of his grandmother, a woman who’d died long ago, grieving the loss of her daughter and two sons whilst working her fingers to the bone to keep a roof overher orphaned grandchildren’s heads. She didn’t want to think of Elio’s parents as bones and dust in their graves.
Worse than all that, she didn’t want to feelhim. Didn’t want the constant sensation of his mouth on hers. Didn’t want his taste on her tongue. Didn’t want his scent invading her every inhalation. He wasn’t even in the building, and it felt like he was right there with her.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” her new assistant whispered when Tommaso started arguing with Mattia about something that had gone right over Siena’s head.
Siena reached for Francesca’s hand and squeezed it. Things must be bad if her lovestruck cousin, who had a tendency to just moon over Gino when they were under the same roof, had noticed. But then, Francesca was the only one who’d looked at her with suspicion mingled with compassion when Siena had told the truth about the green lump visible on her forehead.
“I headbutted Elio,” she’d said airily when she’d taken her seat. Her brothers had laughed knowingly. Francesca had looked troubled.
The interminably boring meeting finally came to an end. Siena’s next meeting was on the second floor with the senior staff who managed the individual publications. Her lovestruck cousin shared a goodbye kiss with the equally lovestruck Gino, and as the two women headed towards the stairs, Francesca quietly asked again if Siena was okay.
Knowing her cousin felt huge guilt over Siena’s marriage, she smiled and said the words needed to reassure her. “It’s only been a few days. I’m sure we’ll find a way to make our marriage work once we’ve got to know each other.”
“Did you really headbutt him?” she asked, her tone laced with doubt.
“Yes.” Morbid amusement suddenly danced into her veins. “And I scratched and bit him.”
But instead of sharing her amusement, Francesca only looked more troubled. “Did he…?” She swallowed.
Understanding what her cousin was trying but failing to ask, Siena shook her head. “No. He didn’t rape me.”
“You’re sure?”
“I think I’d know,” she said drily, then stopped walking and placed a hand on her cousin’s cheek. “Chicca, I knew what I was getting myself into by marrying him. He’s an asshole who would happily put a bullet in my brain, but he’s not a rapist, so put that thought from your mind. I can handle him.”
“Great, so I don’t have to worry about him abusing you, just killing you?”
Touched by Francesca’s genuine worry, Siena wrapped her arms around her. “He’s not going to kill me, so please, stop worrying. I told you, I can handle Elio.”
The arms around her squeezed tightly before she heard a muffled giggle. “I suppose the question now then is, can he handle you?”
“He wishes.” Unwrapping her arms, Siena gripped her cousin’s forearms and looked at her sternly. “Now stop worrying about me, and that’s an order.”
“Yes, boss.”
Grinning, she linked arms with Francesca and carried on to the stairs. “Now, onto a much nicer subject, have you and Gino set a date yet?”
That did the trick. Francesca was never happier than when rabbiting on about her wedding plans.
Let her have her happiness, Siena thought. Let her be enveloped in it forever.
Maybe, if she were lucky, some of Francesca’s happiness would rub off on her and infuse into her own spirits.
* * *
Elio finished the identity check and strolled up the stairs to the casino, wondering if his wife had already been alerted to his arrival. He hadn’t told her he was coming.
Going through the double doors, his first thought was thatthiswas a casino. His extensive network of spies meant he knew the layout and everything else about it perfectly, but knowing something intellectually and experiencing it in the flesh were always different.
He’d always avoided going to any of the Esposito-owned casinos for the reason that he didn’t want to raise their suspicions, and also because he didn’t want to give them his money. As his country had very few legitimate casinos, the times he’d chosen to gamble his money had been in underground ones and private members’ clubs. The difference was stark. Even the smell of this place screamed money rather than camaraderie.
