“I don’t know,” he said. “But his opinion of me is none of my business.”
“He wouldn’t initiate you into the family if he didn’t like you.”
“In this line of business, there’s no such thing as liking someone. You either trust someone to have your back or you don’t. That’s all it means. Because in most families, people can’t stand each other. They’re together because they have to be. The same idea applies here. Your father may trust me to die for him, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys my company. It doesn’t mean he agrees with the way I handle things. Maybe he thinks I’m a great addition to the crew but I’m not right for you.”
“Well, he’s wrong.”
He stared at me for a hard second before a hint of a smile entered his gaze.
“I’m scared how this is going to play out.”
“Regardless of how it unfolds, it’s still going to be you and me in the end.”
Leo banged on the front door. “Hurry the fuck up, Frankie!”
“I’m coming!” I yelled across the room as I reached for my purse on the table.
“You know Dad doesn’t like to be late,” he said through the closed door.
“Shut up, I’m coming!” I made it to the door and tugged it open. “Cristo, calm down.”
“You’re always late?—”
“I’mneverlate.”
Dad had his arm hanging out of the passenger window. “Both of you, shut up and get in the car.”
I walked around to the other side of the Range Rover and got in behind the driver’s seat. When I glanced in the rearview mirror, I saw Wolfe’s eyes in the reflection—and they smiled. Leo got into the seat beside me and buckled his safety belt.
Wolfe drove us down the dirt road until we reached one of the main roads, and then he took off and headed toward Taormina, where the wedding was being held. The ceremony would be in the church, and then the reception was on the bluff of one of the hotels.
I wore a sage green dress with little straps over the shoulders and nude heels. A gold necklace hung around my throat, and Icarried a nude clutch that held my phone and other essentials. I looked out the window and admired the rolling hills of Sicily, but then I would feel the white-hot stare I could recognize anywhere.
I glanced at the side-view mirror and saw Wolfe staring at me—and then that smirk moved over his lips.
I smirked back before I averted my eyes. I played with fire when I did this dance with him, right under my father’s nose in the passenger seat. If I weren’t terrified of the fallout of this affair, it might actually be fun to sneak around.
Behind us was another SUV full of my father’s men following us. It probably contained Andre and Elio and Salvatore. My father never went out unaccompanied by his entourage, even if it was a wedding or a funeral. If anyone knew where he was going to be, it would be the perfect opportunity to take him out.
“I hope the ceremony is short,” Leo said. “I’m starving.”
“Why didn’t you eat before we left?” I asked.
“I did.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s a Catholic wedding, so you know it’s going to be long.”
“When I get married, every time we do a Hail Mary, we’re going to do a shot,” Leo said.
Wolfe released a quiet chuckle.
Dad didn’t say anything, just subtly shook his head like he didn’t have the energy to deal with Leo’s bullshit today.
It took us almost an hour to arrive in Taormina. It was a little town with streets made for pedestrians instead of cars, so Wolfe dropped us off before he left to park his car. The other guys gotout of the second car and escorted us to the church in the town square.
It was a beautiful summer day, and unfortunately, that meant the place was overrun with tourists. You couldn’t squeeze down a single street or alley without bumping into someone’s shoulders. It was a mistake wearing these nude heels on such uneven pavement, but my father offered his arm for balance so I could make it the rest of the way there.
We arrived at the church and took our seats just before the ceremony began, and right when the room went quiet, Leo’s stomach rumbled loudly. It was loud enough to attract the attention of the row in front of us because some people turned around to look straight at my brother—as if they knew he was the culprit.
