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Chapter Fourteen
Emilio glanced up atthe knock on his office door and grinned at the tall, thin man with the neatly cropped silver hair and kind eyes. “Father Russo. What a pleasure to see you.”
“Emilio. I was hoping we could have a few minutes to talk before the ceremony.”
“Of course.” Emilio waved to the comfortable couch along the wall. “Whiskey?” he asked as Father Russo settled into the plush leather.
Holding up two fingers, Father Russo offered a grin of his own. “And none of the cheap stuff. You know I can tell the difference.”
“Yes, the priest with an expert palate.” Emilio poured the drinks and carried them to the couch. Joining Father Russo on the couch, he passed off one of the tumblers to the priest and held up his own. “To my Amara, and a long, happy marriage.”
“Indeed.” Father Russo sipped the amber-colored liquid and closed his eyes, an expression of pure bliss on his weathered face. “Delicious.” He took another long sip before opening his eyes again and turning to Emilio. “About this wedding. What’s the rush? Is the girl... in the family way?”
“No. And nobody uses that phrase anymore, Father.” Though the idea of Amara, heavy with his child, was incredibly appealing. They’d have to get to work on making his vision a reality as quickly as possible. God knew they’d enjoy the process. “There are business reasons that have forced my hand.”
“Business reasons?”
Frowning into the crystal, Emilio swirled the whiskey inside. “This is confidential?”
“Always.”
“Giorgio Vitali has been dabbling in the sex slave industry.”
Father Russo’s voice was un-customarily cold and hard when he spoke. “That is a problem, isn’t it?”
“Indeed. I’ve already had meetings this morning with the heads of the Bianchi and Romero families. We’re taking care of the business aspect. Amara wishes to take her place as head of the Vitali family. But Gio’s, ah,removalwill cause some waves. She won’t stand a chance.”
“Unless she’s married,” Father Russo supplied.
Emilio inclined his head. It was certainly helpful having clergy who understood the complex politics of their world. “Exactly. And it helps that I’m rather hopelessly in love with her.”
A warm, genuine smile split Father Russo’s face. “That’s what I was hoping to hear. She feels the same?”
“I think so. She has some reservations, but they seem to center mostly around her not wanting to believe the worst about Gio. Which I can’t exactly blame her for.”
“No, not at all. Would you like me to speak with her?”
“I think that would go a long way toward easing her mind.” He stood and crossed the room. Opening the door to his office, he spoke to the man standing guard. “Would you have Benny bring Miss Vitali downstairs, please?”
Alex nodded and headed for the stairs, and Emilio returned to the couch with Father Russo. They’d nearly finished their drinks when the door swung open again and Benny came barreling in, his face set in grim lines. “She’s gone.”
