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I manage a quick handshake before jerking my hand away and tucking it behind my back, so I don't accidentally touch him again. For the love of Mike. "Uh, Don De Luca. Thank you for coming."
He doesn't offer the use of his first name, and I would never presume to use it otherwise.
I can't read his expression, so I have no idea if he notices my improper reaction to him. Though why should he? It's not like he can just guess my panties are now damp. Can he? I have zero experience with men and sexual attraction.
His dark eyes look like they can see right into my soul. He turns away, showing no more reaction than if he'd shaken the hand of a mannequin. Relief and disappointment war inside me, but my brain reminds my body that relief should win.
Carlotta slides her hand into mine and holds tight. Her body is tense, and her fingers are cold to my touch. She's nervous and no matter how difficult I know this dinner is going to be for me with my newly awakened sexuality, no way am I abandoning her.
I tell my vagina to go back to sleep. It shouldn't be hard. Awake is not its natural state. And I walk with my sister into the drawing room.
Chapter 9
New York City, New York
Five Families
SEVERU
Dinner is excellent and Francesco's family are good hosts, but my mind is occupied with the problem of who is passing mafia information on to the Irish.
Although she never made a lasting impression on me when we have met in the past, my intended is as beautiful as her reputation claims. Demure, with good manners, she does not put herself forward in the conversation. I hope this bodes well for the future.
I have no time for a spoiled wife who will expect to have my constant attention. Despite her beauty, she is not inspiring, but I don't expect her to be the love of my life. I almost smile at the ridiculousness of the thought.
I care for my family and would die to protect them. Though I would rather kill. But love? That is for other people. Not the don. While my future wife can expect the same protection as my family, I have no intention of giving her anything else.
A don cannot afford weakness.
Miceli and the older sister seem to be arguing about something. I tune into their conversation and am surprised. Miceli favors bitcoin for money laundering. He's calling it investments, naturally. We don't talk real business with women present. Catalina thinks the market is too volatile.
The way they bicker back and forth amuses me. I notice, Francesco doesn't look entertained however.
He glares at his daughter. "That is quite enough. Discussing topics beyond your comprehension, much less arguing a point of view you cannot possibly understand is not how I expect a daughter of mine to behave."
It's a harsh reprimand, but Catalina doesn't look cowed. Her face shows no expression at all, but her hazel eyes darken so they appear green.
She sits with her back straight, her head held high and gives her father a steady look. "As you say, Papà."
The words are right. Even the brief dropping of her gaze is exactly what is expected and yet there is something in her tone, the set of her shoulders, something that denies victory to her father.
Miceli frowns at Francesco and then admits grudgingly, "Catalina makes the same argument Domenico does."
Which is why we don't use bitcoin to launder our money. Miceli is underboss, but Domenico is capo with responsibility for all our online money laundering operations. We don't override our capo's decisions without strong motivation. And if it's strong enough to counter their orders, the capo is in serious trouble.
"Is he the investment director for Oscuro Enterprises?" Catalina asks.
"Madonna Catalina!" her father barks. "Our business is none of your concern."
"As you say, Papà." This time Catalina's tone is perfectly neutral, with no subtle undertones, but her shoulders do not slouch. Her head does not bow. "Is there a topic you prefer I discuss?"
"I wouldpreferyou keep your mouth shut."
I know Francesco is a chauvinist. Hell, the world of the mafia is filled with chauvinism, or so my sister informs me. But I do not like the way he is speaking to his oldest daughter. Neither does my brother, if his clenched jaw is any indication.
And Giulia is glaring daggers at my consigliere.
"Come now, Francesco, I am sure you don't mean that," my mother says, surprising me. We do not interfere in the family affairs of others. "I am enjoying visiting with both of your daughters."
