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“This is very real,” he said quietly, and I hesitated, not having realized I’d spoken that thought aloud. “And you are much too delicious to be allowed out of my sight.”
“But we’re already married,” I argued, determined to ignore his flattery, acknowledging our wedding for maybe the first time. My pulse sped up and he made a noise in the back of his throat, all the while his thumb stroked leisurely across my wrist.
“And so this is nothing, then,” Dario seemed to agree. “There is no need for nerves. This is for your mamma. This is for revenge.”
“Don’t you meanyourrevenge?” I challenged, lifting my chin. He chuckled, then groaned.
“You test my patience,amore mio. Perhaps the real reason husbands shouldn’t see their intended before the wedding is because they can’t keep their hands off them.” His hand slid to my waist, his touch almost burning, and I shivered. He bent hishead, his lips hovering near mine, but at the last minute even as I held my breath, closing my eyes in anticipation, he turned a fraction and brushed my cheek.
I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. But the burning from his touch had succeeded in igniting a flame in other places. When I opened my eyes, he was staring at me. He brought my hand to his lips. “I want nothing more,” he whispered, his words sending another bolt of fire to my groin. Crap, the jacket wouldn’t hide everything.
His eyes flared and for a heart-stopping moment I wondered if I’d said that out loud as well, but then we both heard a cough and turned to see Gianni. “Alessandro can be fashionably late, but not you.” He turned to me and bowed. “Are you ready,fratello.”
I smiled. To be honest, despite Clarice’s comments and my own insecurity, unless Dario was the best actor in the world, his desire made me feel better than I ever had.
Dario arched an eyebrow. “They can wait.” He gazed at his brother, and I watched as unspoken words seemed to pass between them, and Gianni nodded. Dario held out his arm and I slipped mine under his, glad that I had someone to hold on to.
We moved to the private elevator which opened onto an empty corridor. I could hear the sounds of music and the noise of slot machines, but as if they were far away. “This is a private entrance,” Dario explained. “The parking lot is secure, and a limousine is leaving from there as we speak.”
“A decoy?” I squeezed his arm involuntarily, remembering the sound of gunfire, and then the feeling of safety as his body covered mine. Although that was probably simple light-headedness caused by the great oaf squashing me. A lack of oxygen could count for so much.
I was easily helped into the large black car complete with tinted windows and probably bullet-proof glass. Lucio drove,and Gianni sat in front next to him. Another two cars left as well, including the one carrying Nonna, Renaldo, Clarice, and Imelda.
As Lucio drove, Dario held my hand. I pretended not to be conscious of it, but the way his thumb constantly stroked my knuckles and my wrist, made me constantly aware of him.
No, I admitted crossly. He could be sitting in front with a paper bag over his head and I’d still know he was there.
We didn’t arrive at the front of the church, and I looked back in surprise as we passed it and drove around the side to pull into the driveway of a modest house. I glanced at Dario as Lucio stopped. Both the other cars had parked outside the church.
“The cathedral was built in 1870,” Dario murmured. “What isn’t widely known is that there are tunnels connecting the church and the rectory. We can access the rectory out of sight from here.”
I glanced down at my dress pants, and Dario laughed, Gianni joining in. “Ignore him,” Gianni reproved, getting out and scanning the area. “There are tunnels, but unless you are able to crawl through and still keep as clean, we will just access the back door of the rectory and go through to the cathedral.”
In less than five minutes I was standing in a small room at the back of the church and Dario yanked me close. Ignoring both Imelda and Clarice, he pressed his lips to mine and quite frankly mauled them. Well, me. He mauled me. And for once, all the things that seemed to make worry too heavy a load to haul around constantly seemed to melt away. All I felt was the slight scratch of his stubble, the pleasant tang of his breath, and the fire that rocketed through me once more, burning away every protest on its path.
He let me go abruptly then smiled his sinful smile. “I believe Imelda may have something to do. I’m so pleased to keep people gainfully employed.” And with a smirk, both he and Gianni left. Imelda giggled, hand to her heart, and got out her makeup. I wastoo stunned to do anything other than to open and close my eyes and my mouth when instructed as she added a little powder. Clarice stayed disapprovingly silent while all this was going on, but all three of us heard the organ music start and I knew it was time.
I twisted my hands together as both Imelda and Clarice walked to the door. Clarice looked down at my pants, and then swore. “The hem,” she snarled as if it had personally offended her and waived Imelda away. “Go tell Renaldo. Tell them it will take a moment.”
I sighed but stood still as Clarice put the basket she carried on the floor and pulled out an already threaded needle.
Well, this wasn’t awkward at all. I knew Clarice didn’t like me for either being too short or possibly too poor, but I didn’t really care. It took a moment, and then I relaxed as she packed away her things. She eyed me carefully, then made a circular motion with her finger in the universal gesture to turn around. Gritting my teeth, I obeyed.
I had a second’s warning. A mere instinctual raising of the hairs on the back of my neck, but not fast enough of one to do anything about the small silver pistol now pressed against the back of my head. My breath caught, but in an almost fatalistic way. I’d expected every day of the last five years to be my last, so it shouldn’t come as a shock. The door opened and a man slid in. I had a moment of sheer relief as I recognized one of Dario’s men, until I saw what was in his eyes. Of course, Drusilla couldn’t fire a gun here. I opened my mouth to scream as the man lunged toward me with what looked like a pen, no a needle. Uncaring of the gun, I struggled but Clarice was stronger than I expected, and her hand clamped over my mouth just as the door opened a second time.
The shot rang in my ears at the same time as I felt the sting in my neck. I remember wondering if everyone heard the bullet that claimed their life or if I was just that unlucky.
9
Dario
Everyone heard the gunshots, but I was running to the back of the church before I’d even registered what the noise was. I burst through the small chamber with Gianni on my heels to see Lucio lowering a gun and Clarice lying on the floor, a bullet hole in her temple, but it was Alessandro’s prone body that made my heart stop.
I stepped over Hugo, who was screaming at the bullet wound in his leg and the one that seemed to have shot off most of his hand, and heart in my mouth, I bent down, lifting and cradling Alessandro to my chest. I wasn’t a praying man, but right then I would have taken holy orders. At the very second I registered his breathing, Lucio snapped out, gesturing to Hugo. “We need a doctor. I got in here just as this fucker was sticking him with a needle.”
I barely cared why the designer had a bullet hole in her temple and, I was sure, most of her brains splattered on the wall behind. All my attention was on Alessandro’s deathly pale face, but I heard footsteps running, and Gianni drew his gun justas Marcus, another of my men, ran into the room, practically dragging Signor Marchese with him. The older man immediately bent down to Hugo.
“No, my husband,” I snapped out. His eyes widened but he nodded and gestured to the floor. “I need to examine him.” Gianni quickly removed his suit jacket and draped it on the floor for me to put Alessandro on. The doctor bent, rummaging in the bag which was his constant companion, and tossed a couple of packs back to Lucio. “Stop him bleeding out before I get a chance to see to him.” Lucio sprang to action not, as I knew, because he cared about Hugo dying, but because he knew I would want him alive long enough to question the fucker.
