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“Remember we’re a team.”
“We’re a team,” I repeated his words.
Concern filled his green eyes. “I love you.”
“Franco, I love you, too.” I pressed my lips against his.
“Kennedy, it’s showtime.”
It was time for my father to pay for his sins.
***P***
My heart slammed against my ribcage as I turned my key in the lock. I pushed the huge mahogany double doors open to the mansion I grew up in.
Franco and I walked inside. Clip and Saro stalked in behind us. Our other guards stood outside the SUVs lining the circular drive. My heart now clogged my throat as we strolled deeper into the house passed the stony faces of the four guards gripping assault rifles in the atrium. Franco’s hand possessively rested on the small of my back, sending goosebumps up my spine.
Wiggling my nose in the air, I inhaled. A smile brightened my face. Lemon pepper seasoning wafted through the air. “Quinn’s cooking,” I muttered.
“Kennedy.” Dad clapped his hands as he approached from the backyard.
His tall imposing frame halted, then he pulled me into his arms. “It’s so good to see you, baby.”
“Hello, Daddy.” His signature cologne crept up my nose, stirring up good and bad memories.
“That white boy better be a friend,” he hissed.
“Dad,” I growled.
“Kennedy, tell me you didn’t bring a white boy home,” he barked in my ear.
I almost reverted to a little girl in his presence.
Taking a step back, I held my head high and swallowed passed the bundle of nerves in my throat. I squeezed Franco’s arm. “Dad, I’d like you to meet Franco DeLuca...”
Franco stepped forward and shook Dad’s hand. “...Kennedy’s husband,” he finished for me. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Carter.”
Dad’s angry eyes bounced from Franco to me. My father could burn this house down with a single glare when he was upset.
Dad reluctantly released Franco’s hand as his narrowed eyes met mine. “Not only did you marry a white boy. He’s Italian,” Dad roared.
“Mr. Carter, race shouldn’t be a factor when it comes to love.” He ran a hand over his gray blazer. “I’m head over heels in love with your daughter.”
He looked Franco up and down like he was a homeless man stinking up his house. “You didn’t bother to ask for my daughter’s hand in marriage.”
“You’re right. From our introduction, it doesn’t appear you would’ve blessed our marriage. Kennedy said yes, she’d marry me. I’m only concerned with what she wants. Besides, she’s free to make her own decisions.” Franco stressed the word own.
“I’m honored to have this beautiful woman as my wife.” Franco brought my hand up, pressing a kiss against the soft skin on the back of my hand. The diamond sparkled under the enormous crystal chandelier.
He turned back to my father, possessively threading our fingers. “Mr. Carter, you don’t have to worry about your daughter’s wellbeing. I’m more than financially capable of taking care of her. I’m a Capo for the DeLuca Mafia Crime Family in Portland, Oregon. Are you familiar with my family?”
“I am. In my line of work, it’s impossible not to be.”
Dad snickered like he just remembered something. He waved his index finger at me. The huge diamond clustered nugget on his right middle finger sparkled under the light. “Still have a thing for bad boys, I see. Too bad Reggie isn’t with us anymore. If he was...” His heated gaze landed on Franco again. “...the two of you would’ve gotten married. That’s the way it was supposed to be.”
My heart hit the floor so hard, I was sure all of San Antonio heard it.
Franco’s fingers squeezed mine. His fake smile remained intact. If Franco wasn’t careful, his perfect white teeth would crumble into granite stone.
