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Nico snorts as I give them both a sour look.
“The fuckingmayoris here, in case you two geniuses missed that,” I growl.
“And?”
“And typically, leaders of major cities come with a massive security presence, the members of which tend to frown on gala attendeeswithoutinvitations. Especially when said attendees happen to share a last name with a fairly well-known mafia don.”
Nico grins at me and then glances at his brother. “Yep, nailed it. Dante’s going soft.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine, just don’t come crying to me when the NYPD throws you out on your asses.”
He grins. “I mean, Dante, I know you’re a married man now and everything, but will you open your eyes and look around? Have youseenthe women here? We needed in!”
I smirk, shaking my head. “You do understand, dipshit, that the single women at afiremen’sgala are typically looking for—wait for it—firemen, right?”
Nico sighs and glances at Carmy again. “As if we said a thing about thesinglewomen. Absolutely going soft in his old age. Or maybe it’s a symptom of marriage.”
“Definitely.” Carmy claps me on the shoulder. “Relax, buddy. We’ll make sure not to go near the wives of all your potential investors or spies or informants or whatever the hell you’re fishing for tonight.”
“And they say chivalry is dead,” I mutter dryly.
Carmine chuckles. “Speaking of marriage making you soft in the head, whereisyour lovely bride?”
I frown as I glance past him toward the bar. I spotted Tempest over there a few minutes ago, drinking a glass of wine. But she seems to have disappeared since. Probably found a quiet corner somewhere to hide and avoid this entire evening.
Part of me completely gets that. The other part of me wants to find her and punish her for her bratty attitude—over my knee, for example.
Oronhers.
I push the thought away as my cock throbs and thickens in my tux pants.
This game the two of us have started to play is…dangerous. Mainly because this whole thing is just supposed to be a facade to appease the dons who took exception to my single status.
Second, I don’tdorelationships, not even casual ones. And marriage? As in the real kind? Never once on my radar.
Neither was the concept of having a woman constantly on my mind, invading my every thought.
And yet here we are.
Of course, there’s the other, darker element to all of this: Tempest’s medical condition. If I actually were a soulless, heartless bastard, the situation would be ideal. She wasn’t wrong with her theory about The Commission all but canonizing me after her death. A widower? I’d be untouchable and unimpeachable in my operation of Club Venom.
And yet, despite general public opinion, and my own suspicions, it would appear Idoin fact have a soul, and at least the shadow of a heart.
Maybe more than a shadow. Because the idea of Tempest being taken away from me is…
Intolerable.
Unacceptable.
Enraging, in a way that shocks me.
Perhaps making things physical was a mistake. It would be so easy to put the blame on her, and to chalk this up to me being her first, and her in her naïveté confusing physical lust with emotions and feelings.
But that would be cheap.
And grossly untrue.
Because if Tempest is confusing physical closeness with emotional intimacy?
