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“My father put his hand on my shoulder and told me how proud he was. I’d killed my first man and became a soldier for the mafia. From that day forward, my father referred to me as The Enforcer. Soon even the capos called me The Enforcer. But the only other person who knew what happened in that room was buried today.”
“How did it make you feel? To kill a man?”
A knock sounded on the door.
“They’re waiting for you,” he said.
“Next time we talk, I’ll trust you with my secrets, Marco.”
“Ally, remember who you are wearing the dress for. I want the woman who was in my bed. You’re my wife, not your mother’s daughter.”
“There won’t be an inch of tulle on the dress.” I smiled even though he couldn’t see me. “But it has to hide my knife.”
Marco
People stayed. Food filled the tables. Another bottle of wine. Another story about don Bruno. Cigars were smoked. Anna nursed another Aperol spritz.
Our family owned vineyards, but Anna preferred grapes to be made into jelly until she discovered the Prosecco andAperol orange cocktail.
As she moved through the room, she accepted condolences with grace. Brilliant and beautiful but sheltered with wings clipped by a father who wouldn’t let her fly.
Orlando sat across from me. He looked like he’d been tumbled through the dryer. His suit was wrinkled, his tie askew, and his half-lidded eyes couldn’t focus. I wasn’t sure what he’d taken, but he was high as shit.
“Don’t leave him tonight,” I said to Emilio. “What the fuck did he take?”
“It’s just weed,” he said.
“Good weed.” Orlando cracked the first smile I’d seen today. He sat up and leaned forward. “Emilio and I want to go back to the States.”
I groaned and leaned my head back. They weren’t the only ones. “I’m working on it.”
Giada approached. She slid her palm along my suit sleeve, ghosting her fingers over my hand.
A shiver ripped along the back of my neck.
“What do you want?”
She took the glass from my fingers. “I’ll get you another drink.”
A black skirt molded to her ass and hips as she crossed to the bar. Her lashes lowered as she poured two fingers of whiskey into my glass. She stirred the ice with her finger, then sucked it into her mouth.
“Does she think you’re going to fuck her?” Emilio asked.
“He has before.” Orlando closed his eyes, his head lolling to the side.
“Get him out of here,” I said and surged to my feet.
Emilio wedged an arm under Orlando’s. With a tug, he stumbled to his feet. “Sorry,” Emilio said to me. “I should’ve stopped him.”
“Don’t apologize for him. He needs to grow up and realize he has responsibilities. He needs to get his hands a little dirty.”
Emilio nodded.
“If this was your fucking idea of showing Marco we should be back in the States,” Emilio said to Orlando, “you need to know it was shit. Maybe let me come up with the plan next time.”
Emilio was good for Orlando, but Orlando needed to show leadership. He was supposed to be the one in control of his crew. Emilio was his second.
Giada stepped in front of me.
