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“They should be back any minute.”
“Good. Then we can have a nice little chat and catch up while Lucrezia makes herself comfortable.” Smiling at me she says, “Would you like a martini, too, darling, or shall I get the nice help to fix you something else?”
“I’d like a gin and tonic.”
“Splendid, darling.”
I head up to my old room to freshen up, since I know where everything is.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
When I come down for dinner, Carlo, Bruno, and Alessio are in the library swirling tumblers of whiskey. They all look like the mafia kings they were born to be. My heart jumps to see them but I hold myself back, and not one of them makes a move.
Their eyes drink in my soft curves under the cream silky blouse, the flattering of my Armani wrap-around skirt draws appreciation, and the sapphire earnings and necklace don’t go to waste, as they highlight the color of my eyes. But I don’t allow myself to be too encouraged.
These men are ultra-alphas. The fact that they all obviously want to fuck me means nothing. It wouldn’t get in the way of them killing me, if that was their purpose. All it would mean is some entertainment at my expense, ahead of the main event.
Bruno is first to break the ice. “After you left, the don made us block you on all of our phones.”
Alessio says, “He kept on with the idea that the raid on the ball and the Crespi killings were part of the same thing.”
“And that you were behind both things,” Bruno adds.
I look from one to the next. They’re all looking at me, waiting for my reaction. But they haven’t told me anything new yet.
Since nobody offered to do it for me, I fix myself a Scotch with a splash of water.
“Did you see Armando?”
“Yeah.” Carlo gives me a sly look from under his eyebrow.
“Armando told us that a crack special forces team came in and took out his daddy and his older brother.”
I nod. “Figures.”
Bruno says, “Carlo knew he was lying. He gave it up in the end.”
“Got to say,” Alessio nods at me and lifts his glass. “Due respect.”
Bruno shifts his weight. “We may have over-reacted, principessa. Well, I might have. I won’t speak for the prince here.”
Alessio gives him a frown before he turns to me. “We all did.” Just the low boom of his voice is enough to make me hot and flustered.
Carlo says, “You all did.” His voice is still flat.
Alessio tells him, “You didn’t do much to make things better.” Alessio turns back to me. “Dad had been in our ears non-stop about how you were this and you were that, bad things from dawn until dusk.”
Bruno says, “So when you started about the houses on Wood Street?—”
Alessio shakes his head. “We misjudged. I did. It made me think the don could have been right. That you were here to, I don’t know, to destabilize us or something.”
Quietly I say, “When I got here, you didn’t look like jurassic cliffs of stability.”
Alessio straightens. I should have put that better. Family loyalty always runs deep. “You have no idea what?—”
“Alessio. She’s right. Leave it.” Carlo cuts in. “Stop taking his part and standing up for him.”
“Yeah, okay.”
