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Everyone else along the table accepted Chianti, except Sabrina and Serafino. Sabrina asked for water while Serafino accepted a glass of whiskey from the waiter, who seemed to know his preferred taste in drink.
“You’re not a wine drinker?” I asked Sabrina.
She smiled. “I love the stuff.” She patted her stomach. “But I can’t say the same for the baby inside of me.”
“You’re pregnant!” I gasped. She couldn’t be too far along; I barely noticed the tiny bump under her dress. I touched her shoulder and squeezed, then added warmly, “Congratulations.”
Her smile widened, her eyes sparkling. “Thank you. We can’t wait to be parents.”
Ethan put his hand on her knee and kept it there while he continued eating. He didn’t need to voice his happiness, it was written all over his face and in the tender gestures he showed his wife.
His affection toward Sabrina almost undone me.
How had such violent criminals turned so soft for their women? I hadn’t witnessed that kind of devotion from any of the men in the Irish mafia. Most had beaten up their wives for the smallest transgression. That Sean had encouraged them to ‘keep their women in check’ had only exacerbated their savagery.
“Are you all right?” Valentino asked.
I nodded, though I had to force a bright smile his way. “Of course.”
I fiddled with my fork, but I couldn’t eat even one more mouthful. I was impressed that Sabrina and Isabella ate all of theirs.
“Tiramisu anyone?” Serafino asked.
“Yes, please,” Isabella said. “As long as it comes with coffee.”
“Obviously,” her brother said with a small smile.
Serafino really was a man of few words.
Carlo leaned back in his chair, the striped shirt beneath his jacket straining across his belly, his congenial mood long gone as he glanced around the table. “Is anyone going to ask why Valentino went against a direct order?” A hush fell around the table before he continued, “Because no one, absolutely no one defies our don.”
Sabrina bristled. “Chantilly isn’t a threat.”
Ethan continued eating in a slower, more methodical motion. I had no doubt his mind was laser sharp and focused.
Isabella sucked in a breath. “Why would anyone want Valentino to have the blood of an innocent woman on his hands?”
Carlo glowered. “It wouldn’t be the first time. The only reason this woman is still alive is thanks to her looks. Valentino was thinking with his dick.”
Valentino said nothing, though I sensed the anger brewing inside of him.
“Enough.” Ethan put down his cutlery and stared at his consigliere. “This is a family meal; I do not want it spoiled by conjecture or hostility.” He turned to look at me, his expression softening a little. “Now that Sean is dead you’re safe here, Chantilly.”
Carlo’s nostrils flared, his outrage overtaking common sense. “By killing Sean a war is now inevitable. I would have advised against such madness!”
Bang. Bang.
Isabella screamed and I followed her stare. The soldiers who’d stood guard outside were now crumpled on the balcony floor with blood pooling around their bodies. One of them was clearly dead, the other groaning and reaching helplessly for his gun.
Valentino was already on his feet, his revolver drawn and his eyes hard. “Get under the table and stay down,” he growled at me. Ethan and Salvatore commanded their wives to do the same before all the men raced toward the balcony and took position before returning fire.
It was too late. Tires squealed as the perpetrators burned rubber getting away. I had no doubt the Irish mafia had paid their rivals a visit. The timing couldn’t have been worse.
I was numb, in self-protection mode by the time Valentino checked for anymore threats before he reholstered his gun. Bending low, he checked the pulse of each of the soldiers. “They’re both gone,” he said in a detached voice.
Carlo reholstered his gun. “Two good men dead because you listened to your dick.”
Valentino stiffened, his mask slipping as he stepped toward the other man. “This war was inevitable, and you know it.”
