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Her face falls into a worried frown. “You’re going after Gianni, aren’t you.”
When I don’t answer, she gives a huff of resignation. I lead her to the door, where Gio is waiting. Like the gentleman he is, he offers her his arm, and she takes it.
“Make sure she’s comfortable,” I instruct him.
My brother nods.
“Promise me one thing,” Emilia says as Gio pulls the door open.
I expect her to ask me to show her uncle mercy, something I cannot do, but the words she utters hit me somewhere deep inside.
“Come home safely.”
What the hell have I done to deserve this woman?
“I will,dolcezza.” It’s a vow I have every intention of keeping.
As Gio and Emilia leave the room and the door closes behind them, I turn to the others. “Let’s get this done.”
The sooner it’s over with, the better. I want to get back to my wife.
CHAPTER 20
Emilia
Some people have the ability to immediately put others at ease. Giovanni Volante is one of them. Charming and attentive, he’s softer spoken than his brothers. He’s calmer, gentler than them. He doesn’t have that intense air about him the others do. If he didn’t look like a carbon copy of his siblings, I’d wonder whether he was related to them at all.
As we drive through the city, he chats freely to me, pointing out the various clubs and restaurants his family owns or have owned in the past. I had no idea the Volantes were so heavily involved in the hospitality industry. Alessandro hasn’t really shared details of their business with me, but I guess we haven’t been married very long and we’ve been more focused on other things.
“Do you own any hotels?” I ask hopefully.
“No, it’s not something we’ve got into.”
That’s a pity. Working in my uncle’s hotel gave me such a sense of purpose. I enjoyed the brief glimpses of freedom itafforded me. It was good to feel useful, even if I now know that my relationship with Uncle Gianni was not what I thought it was. I put thoughts of his betrayal out of my mind. No good can come from dwelling on it. Instead, I think about all the roles required in running a restaurant. Being a hostess probably isn’t so different to what I did at my uncle’s hotel. It’s all about welcoming customers, smoothing over problems, keeping people happy. I can do that.
“Do you think Alessandro would let me work in one of the family’s restaurants?”
Gio arches an eyebrow as a skeptical look forms on his face, but he keeps his focus on the road ahead. He’s driving us in his very swanky Porsche Cayenne. A security detail is trailing us just in case we run into trouble.
“You want to wait tables?”
“Not particularly, but I’d like to work.”
Gio grimaces apologetically. “I can’t see it happening. Security would be a nightmare. We couldn’t screen everyone coming in and out of a restaurant. Besides, can you imagine what my brother would do if some asshole customer got handsy with you?”
My guess is there’d be bloodshed, probably of an especially gruesome nature. Damn. The same problems would likely arise wherever I worked. I can’t see Alessandro allowing it. Gio must sense the dip in my mood as he throws me a bone. “But there might be something you can do for the family.”
“Besides keeping Alessandro happy and bearing his children?” I recall Antonio’s words from dinner the other night.
“Tony is not the boss in your marriage,” Gio says firmly. “Tell Sandro you want to work. He’ll hear you out.”
Alessandro has given me no reason to believe that he won’t at least listen to what I want. I guess it’s worth asking. “Thanks, Gio.”
He pulls into the parking lot at our building and stops the car close to the elevator. The place is buzzing with activity. Several men, brazenly carrying guns that look like they belong in a war zone and not on the streets of a civilized city, head toward a couple of black SUVs. The seriousness of what’s happening hits me and a shudder of dread goes through me.
“Where did those men come from?” I ask Gio as he helps me out of the car.
“Most of them live in the building. They all work for us.”
