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“You are…untouched?” He murmurs the words quietly into my ear. So quiet I can barely hear him.
I nod, but I’m certain he can feel my trembling. I don’t want anything to start up between these two. Especially not now, when we are smack bang in the middle of Martelli’s territory and surrounded by his people.
“I’m good,” I confirm. “Milk pumped and in that refrigerated bag ready to take home.”
I point at the table, and Rio grimaces a little, but his stance relaxes a touch, and I can tell the underlying anger is abating.
“If you head straight back out to the ballroom, Bianca, there is someone who wishes to speak with you.”
“Oh? But what about—”
“Go,mia cara. Carlos Rossi is waiting.”
My heart sinks. I want to go home, not talk to yet another gangster with a slick and clearly fake surface persona.
“Fine. But is it almost time for us to leave?” My voice comes out smaller than I want.
Rio cradles my cheek. “Soon. And then I believe it will be time to discuss the matter ofcontrol. Who wields it. And who does not. Would you like that?”
Despite the older man’s presence, my insides light up at Rio’s promise. “I would love that,mio caro marito.”
He huffs out a laugh, clearly surprised.
“I asked Angel this morning how to say ‘my beautiful husband.’”
“Did you indeed?” His gaze is warm.
I have pleased him, and I’m shocked at how much that knowledge pleasesme.
“Go, little bird. Danelli will keep an eye on you. I will join you as soon as I can. I must speak with our host.” He spears a look Martelli’s way, but the man simply keeps on puffing.
I do as Rio says, but can’t resist pausing at the door. I almost ask Martelli how his employee Antonio is doing to see if he’ll react to the name, and to give Rio a heads-up about my suspicions.
I only just pull back before the query pops out. That information—and my instincts surrounding it—should be shared privately with Rio. Not used here simply as a possible jibe against an insufferable man.
Instead, I substitute a different rebuke. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Martelli. You have a wonderful home, and I am sure your young daughter will be very happy with the elderly grandfather you have chosen for her to marry.”
20
“You don’t stumble upon your heritage. It’s there, just waiting to be explored and shared.”
Robbie Robertson
Rio
My naughty wifeneeds a damn good spanking, and I will happily deliver one as soon as we are out of here. That last dig was far too much, but even so, I only just manage to hold back a hiss of laughter as she leaves.
Martelli almost chokes on his cigar when she delivers the taunt and flounces away before he can respond.
I have rarely loved Bianca more than in this very moment.
Martelli leans forward and smashes the cigar cherry so hard into the ashtray on the coffee table that the tray breaks in two with a loud crack. He curses in Italian and then swipes his hand in an angry gesture. The pump and refrigerated bag go flying. Seems we will not be bringing home any spare milk for Emilia.
I cross my arms and wait for his temper tantrum to subside, enjoying the lack of control he has just displayed. It is the subtle things that matter in a game of power, and Martelli has just put himself in the weaker position.
At least, for the moment.
He leaves the butt to burn itself out in the mess now strewn across the table. “You should be careful, Agosti. You are losing control—as is evidenced just now. That one will be the death of you if you are not careful, old friend.”
