“I know. But it doesn’t hurt to build as many as possible.”
We stroll down toward the marina, several people passing us on the way. They glance at me, at Dom, and promptly put distance between us and them.
I glance up at him. In the darkness, he looks nothing less than intimidating, the bulk of his shoulders, the muscles beneath his shirt obvious. And then there’s the bruising. His lips quirk up. “Do I have something on my face?”
I look over my shoulder at the couple hurrying away from us. “Most know we still maintain a presence here. They’re wary.”
The Cosa Nostra may not have the power it used to in Sicily, but people have long memories.
He leads me into the marina and take in the rows of yachts bobbing in the water. Most are dark, but he leads me down until we pause outside one of the biggest. “Remind me what they say about compensating?”
He grins, holding out his hand to help me up the gangway. Lights flicker up on the deck, and my ears prick at the low hum of conversation. “Who else is here?”
He doesn’t say anything as we climb on board. The side deck is lit with floodlights as we make our way to the main observation deck on the upper level.
I stop short, my smile stretching.
Luc lounges back in his seat, a glass of wine hanging from his hand. “Did I hear you complaining about the size of my yacht, little crow?”
They’re all here. Seated around the glass dining table, looking remarkably relaxed beneath the strings of lights above them. Gio holds up a beer in greeting. “Good surprise, I hope.”
“It is.” Dom pulls out a chair, and I settle between Gio and Stefan before looking to Dante. Dom slides into the seat beside him. “Where is she?”
He points, and I turn, spotting the playpen, the small bundle inside it. “She’s asleep.”
“She ate most of the food first, though.” Luc pops an olive into his mouth. “But we saved some for you.”
“Good.” I reach out and snag the antipasti platter, dragging it toward me. “I seem to have worked up an appetite.”
The smile playing around Dom’s lips deepens. “I thought you werefull.”
I pick up a piece oftara donne, biting off the edge of the flatbread. “I seem to have space for more.”
Luc points his glass at me. “Tell me why that sounded like something else.”
“Ask Dom.” I settle back in my seat, listening to Luc throw questions at Dom about our date which he refuses to answer. Low music plays around us, the low swish of the waves soothing as I sip at my wine.
Gio waits until I push the platter away before he pulls out the pack of cards. Dante groans. “Not again.”
Gio raises an eyebrow at me. “I’ll be better prepared this time.” Then he looks over at Stefano. “She’s a shark. Just to warn you, since nobody bothered to warnme.”
“So is Luc,” Dante mutters. “I happen to own ninety per cent of Las fucking Vegas. And shestillwiped the floor with us.”
Stefano turns dark eyes on me, considering. “Is that so?”
I shrug nonchalantly. “I’m not bad. And I’m not wearing any underwear, so—,”
I stiffen, my eyes flying to Dom. “Actually, excuse me for a moment.”
But he stands. “Why don’t you stay where you are?”
The flush curls over my skin. “Dom.”
But I stay in place as he heads inside, the others watching with curiosity. My cheeks are burning by the time he comes back outside. He leans in and murmurs in my ear. “Cheek against the table, Caterina. Since I made the mess, it feels only fair that I clean it up.”
My stomach swoops, clenches.
Slowly, I lower myself to the table. Their attention focuses on me, their eyes sending flickers of heat across my skin. “That sounds… acceptable.”
