“He’s not just rich. He’s ... complicated.” I frowned, not sure how to explain Max in a way that didn’t make me sound foolish. “And protective. He leaves someone at the house with me every day.”
“I hate to break it to you, but you’re dating a mobster,” she chuckled, holding a straight pin between her teeth as she worked. “If he wasn’t protective, I’d be a little more concerned. Those guys aren’t exactly known for their flexible, laid-back attitudes. They’re a package deal: money, suits, and a guy lurking around every corner.”
I rolled my eyes. “How lovely. Next thing you know, he’ll be installing a GPS tracker on me.”
She laughed. “I’m shocked you don’t have one already.”
CHAPTER 33
MAX
Iclutched my phone tight as I pressed it to my ear, my patience wearing thin. “What part of ‘stay with her’ didn’t you understand?” I demanded, my voice sharp with frustration.
I knew where Rosalie was. I had to. What I didn’t know was that she’d been left without anyone by her side. The very thought made my blood boil. Rosalie was too precious, too important, and most importantly, too vulnerable in our line of work. She was my weakness, and everyone knew it.
On the other end of the line, Lev stammered, his voice shaky. “She told me she was with her family! Something about dress shopping. Her grandma owns the place—I thought she was fine.”
I let out a bitter laugh, the sound echoing through the empty warehouse. “You thought she was fine? Lev, do you think any of those women carry a gun with them? God damn it.”
My patience was beyond thin. I was done trusting Mikhail’s half-witted men. They were liabilities, every single one of them. I’d considered staying home myself and giving up the marina temporarily. At least then I could keep an eye on things personally.
“Lev, listen to me very carefully. Rosalie is not to be left alone. There are too many people who want me dead, and they’deasily use her against me. If there is so much as a hair on her head missing or out of place, it’s your head I’ll be taking. Do you understand me?” My voice was a low growl—the kind that promised to stay true to my threats.
Giovanni glanced up from the table, where he was counting the latest take. “Everything okay?”
I shook my head, ending the call. “Dealing with some ... incompetence,” I muttered. The word tasted bitter on my tongue. “It seems some of our men don’t understand the meaning of loyalty or basic instruction.”
“Do you need me to take care of it?”
I considered the offer for a moment. Giovanni was one of the few I could trust implicitly. He was efficient, ruthless when necessary, and most importantly, he understood the stakes in our family. But this was something I had to handle myself.
“Nah, I’ve got it. But keep an eye on things here. I don’t want any more surprises with Mason.”
Giovanni nodded, his gaze returning to the table. “Got it. Just say the word if you need help.”
Lifting myself from the seat, I made my way to the door, ready to keep an eye on Rosalie while I waited for Sean to show up. He and Enzo were the only two I knew who would put their lives on the line for her. They knew Rosalie wasn’t just another asset. She was everything, and if anything ever happened to her, there wouldn’t be a safe place on this earth for those responsible.
Finally, I reached the shop her family owned. It was the entrance to heaven, right here in New York. The second I stepped inside, I felt out of place, surrounded by women. The shop was a sea of white dresses that seemed to never end. How did they even shop for dresses? How could anyone tell the difference? They were all the same.
A saleswoman approached me, her expression curious. “Can I help you, sir?”
“I’m looking for Rosalie.”
The woman’s eyes widened slightly, and she nodded. “She’s in the back with her sister, trying on dresses,” she replied, gesturing toward a set of double doors at the rear of the shop.
“Thank you,” I said, making my way through the shop. As I walked, I caught snippets of conversations—women discussing lace, silk, and tulle, comparing various styles and cuts. I didn’t understand a single word.
Pushing open the double doors, I found myself in a smaller, more private area of the shop. Rosalie stood on a platform in the center of the room with her back to me. She was wearing a wedding dress, her figure framed by the soft, flowing fabric.
Christ, she was beautiful.
It was a truth that punched me in the gut each time I found myself near her. Men used to go to war for women who looked like her. And I had. I’d pitted myself against not only her family but my own, and I’d gladly do it again.
Her gaze found mine. At first glance, it looked like she was refraining from rolling her eyes, which wasn’t beyond her. Rosalie was the most dramatic woman I’d ever met. She also happened to be the most beautiful.
She didn’t waste any time in asking everyone else in the room to give us some privacy.
Her sister didn’t listen immediately. Instead she stepped directly in front of me, holding out her hand.
