Page 194 of Made in Love and Blood

“You’re right, though, they do make a good pair.”

“I know—I told you.”

“Should have told me months ago. Here he sat at my table telling me week after week they weren’t serious.”

“Serious is a matter of opinion, not heart,” Salvatore returned easily. “Sometimes that changes before we even realize ourselves.”

“Hmm. Well, when is the date?”

Nico breathed a little easier. Frankie glared at the man in the chair but fixed her attitude when he squeezed her side again.

“They haven’t picked one yet,” Salvatore informed.

Giorgio nodded, and his attention came back to his son and Frankie. “You’ll have to let Carmen know. She likes this one a lot, Nico. Never shuts up about her.”

“Tell me what? I just went to the bathroom, what did I miss!”

The sudden shout from behind Nico was just the distraction they all needed. Carmen had a way of saving the day without even knowing she’d done so. As he turned around to drop to one knee and catch his little sister in a hug that swallowed her whole, he realized Vanna stood a couple of feet behind her. As usual, the two wore coordinating colors for their gowns, a deep velvet green.

“Are we celebrating something?” Vanna asked them.

“Yes, they’re engaged,” replied his father. “Apparently.”

He still sounded...too curious.

Nico tried to ignore what that might mean.

“Does that mean you’re getting married?” Carmen demanded, pulling at Nico’s lapels hard enough to nearly make him lose his balance. “Does it?”

“It does,” Frankie laughed out. “I think we might need a flower girl.”

Carmen, still holding her brother, stared up at Frankie with her wide green eyes sparkling. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Nico agreed, “she really is, huh?”

25. — you’re mine, homicide...

––––––––

Staten Island, New York

Salvatore, Russo Estate

––––––––

“They’re young,” Giorgio mused.

Still standing at the boss’s side, where Salvatore would unfortunately remain unless and until dismissed, he took note of the man’s attention that continued lingering on the couple of the hour as time passed. A good three hours into the Christmas party, and Giorgio wouldn’t let it go.

A leg crossed over his knee; his thumb and finger pressed to his cheek as he observed Nico and Frankie dancing a room over from their current spot near the decorated fireplace crackling in the sitting room. Giorgio only moved to watch them.

“Too young, I think,” the boss continued. “Eighteen and nineteen, that’s too young.”

“Weren’t you barely twenty when you married your first wife?”

“We’re not discussing me,” Giorgio snarled under his breath. “I do what I want to do—I am the boss.”

He wasn’t when he married her.