I followed Penelope to the don, who broke away from his conversation to press a firm, possessive kiss on his wife’sforehead. He murmured something in her ear that tipped her lips upward in a secret smile.
Saints! They were so in love.
That was the kind of picture-perfect affection readers desperately turned the pages of stories to enjoy. The smallest knot of jealousy pulsed in my chest. I might not have found it—hell, I wasn’t even looking for it!—but I wanted someone to look at me like that. Who wouldn’t?
“You’re looking lovely as well,” Don Alessandro commented, shifting his gaze over his wife’s head to acknowledge me.
Over the years, we’d come to a friendly understanding. The Mancinis visited North Dakota regularly, which helped erase any awkwardness from jilting this man years ago.
“Thanks,” I gulped.
“Introduce us,” a deep bass commanded.
Wrapped up in my own nerves, I hadn’t spared the man Alessandro was talking to a look. I flicked a glance at him—and froze. Every fiber of my being went on high alert, and instinct screamed to take flight, since there was no fighting this monster.
And monster was the right word. He was as tall as the don, with a similar build. Whereas Don Mancini was polished, wearing his suit like a second skin, this man evoked a far more garish image. His hair fell to his shoulders in messy curls that refused to be tamed by the product he’d liberally applied. Tattoos boldly peeked over his collar, clawing their inky tendrils up his throat. A fresh shiner decorated his right eye, and an angry scar, still red and swollen, curved under his freshly shaven jaw.
Bottomless black eyes were fixed on me. “We haven’t had the pleasure,” the stranger added.
The way his heavily accented tongue curled over the words sent a shiver over my skin.
“Certainly.” Alessandro’s voice was both cold and hard. “Ivan, this is a friend of my wife’s, who’s come to stay with us.”
The man lifted his hand, which was also littered with black and blue ink, reaching for me. Gold rings winked, catching the evening sun on their thick bands. On any other man, they might have looked cheesy. But on this hand, they felt…deadly. Like they were designed to break bone under the guise of decoration.
I placed my clammy mitt in his. The grip swallowed mine and closed around me like a snare. The moment our skin made contact, a cool, crisp rush rattled my heart. I wanted to run.
My voice was unnaturally high. “Hi!”
“Hi.” He smirked. “And do you have a name, friend of Penelope?”
“Poppy,” I gasped.
“Poppy.” He tested the name. “Like the yellow flowers on the Pirin Mountains.”
My brain short-circuited. His heavily accented English did something funny in my belly.
Luckily, Penelope jumped in with her characteristic wit. “Yep, this is my buddy. I finally convinced her to visit, since we built the swimming pool in the backyard.”
The stranger kept hold of my fingers, studying me with a marked attentiveness. The smile made his eyes crinkle at the corners. This was no boy teasing me. He was all man, and he knew what he was doing. “And do you like to swim, Poppy?”
“Yep.” I wanted to smack myself. I cleared my throat. Could I sound any more like a frightened rabbit? “I enjoy it as much as the next person.”
A masculine note of appreciation rumbled in his chest. “Such a good summer for it. Boiling hot.”
Geesh! He even made the weather sound seductive. I tugged my hand, which, after a moment, he released. Air didn’t quite seem to fill my lungs.
“We’re going to go check on dinner,” Penelope announced, looping a protective arm around my shoulders once more. “Sorry to interrupt. You two continue your chat.”
“Apology not necessary,” the stranger murmured.
While at the same time, Alessandro grumbled, “Shepherd has it under control, vespina.”
Penelope waved her husband off and bounded away, tugging me along.
“Sorry about that, little mouse!” she said in a rush. “I was so excited to see Alessio that I didn’t realize he was talking tohim.”
“It’s okay.” I swallowed hard. “He was just intense.”
