“Mia leonessa,”he approved, kissing my forehead again.
“How did you know what to do?” I said, exhausted and leaning against his chest.
“My sister Francesca started getting panic attacks after losing her husband,” he said. “I hated watching her suffer.”
“Ekaterina…” I closed my eyes, trying to pull all the bits and pieces of my brain back together, “she said all the women in your family have suffered a great deal of loss.”
“She’s been amazing about drawing the sisters-in-law together,” he said, stroking my hair. “Maybe it’s easier for the men in the family because we work together during the good and the bad. But the wives can feel isolated if they don’t talk to another woman who understands what she's going through.”
“That is remarkably insightful for a mob guy,” I said, enjoying his steady heartbeat.
“Ah, but I am a younger generation mob guy,” he laughed, “we were raised with a broader understanding of complex emotions.”
“Oh.” I wish I could hit him. Scream at him for tricking me. But I’m too tired and his chest is warm and steady. So we sit there for a while, watching the sunset.
Chapter Nineteen
In which we meet the parents. And they completely suck.
Cora…
“Your father just called me.”
I look up from my laptop, alarmed. Dario’s leaning against the doorway of the study, legs crossed, expressionless.
“He called you?” I said, “Wow, he didn’t even bother to pretend he was happy that I’m alive. What did he say?”
“The senator and your mother want to throw us a little reception to celebrate our surprise wedding.”
“Small?” I laughed bitterly, “That means there will be at least two thousand people there.” Dario was still watching me carefully. “This is what you wanted, right?”
Smiling unpleasantly, he nods. “It’s the beginning. I suspect he wants to gauge your response to him; he and your mother want to have dinner with us at the Thornewood Club tonight.”
“Oh, of course,” I groaned, standing up. “His precious country club. You probably have guessed our family founded that testament to excess over a hundred years ago.”
“I’m a member,” he said. “Mafia guys love to golf.”
“The entry fee is over a hundred and fifty thousand!” I said, outraged.
“I know,” he said thoughtfully, “just think what I would have saved by marrying you first.” When my eyes narrowed, he put up a hand. “I understand,Bellissima.Not the time to joke. If it makes you feel better, there are over a hundred of the Thornewood elite who have been approved as members for Deconstructed, where our membership fee is a quarter million.”
“Wow, the reputation of your club in Naples is that strong?”
He loosened his tie and a couple of buttons on his shirt. My gaze went immediately to the tattoo on the visible skin. I’m an animal. This man tricked me into this mess and just two inches of skin has me wanting to paw at him.
“Well, we have five sex clubs, three here in the US, two more in Europe,” he said with a filthy little smile. “Marietta is also doing a very good job of prompting applications by spreading the word about how select the membership process is,” he agreed, relaxing on the couch next to me with a sigh.
“I’m glad it’s going so well,” I said, and I meant it. “Maybe you don’t even need my father.” That’s selfish but I don’t care. If he doesn’t need his crappy senatorial influence, I can slip away sooner without feeling guilty.
“I still need the bastard,” he said sourly, “two of our warehouses got shut down for health code violations, which is bullshit, and the trucking company’s contract with a tri-state shipping system is up for renewal.”
“Oh, okay.” I fake a smile. Just thinking about walking back in the doors of Thornewood is making me nauseous.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay, I’ll be right there with you.” He’s holding my hands, “This is going to be fun, baby. Just think how pissed off your parents are right now. They can’t fuck with you ever again.”
Forcing a weak smile, I nod, “I hope you’re right.”
Racing up the endless drive to the Thornewood Country Club is doing nothing but ratcheting up my nerves. I have hated this place since my trophies for tennis and golf were never good enough, even when I came in first. How my dresses for dinner with Dad’s cronies were somehow inappropriate because my mother would blamemeif they leered at me.
