Stefano sighed. “Damn Dario and Valentino for stealing her right out from under us. Brielle’s brilliant at what she does. Clearly, she has a gift. I’ve asked Renato and Romano, two of my investigators, to send me their report encoded.”
“Beniamino, one of our investigators, is on his way with our report. He should be here any minute,” Lucca said, glancing at his watch.
“Marcu, Vicenzu, I expect the two of you are tired. Has anyone shown you where you can sleep?” Geno asked. He wasn’t really asking so much as telling them that they were to retire to the guest suites. The meeting was private. The bodyguards were fairly new to the family and not quite trusted fully. “Dario is safe enough with all of us.”
“I’ll take you to the guest suites and show you where Dario always stays when he’s here,” Lucca volunteered.
“Might not be the best idea after Emmanuelle just read us the riot act for not staying on top of Dario,” Vicenzu ventured.
“Text her,” Geno ordered. He tried not to sound like it was an order, but he knew it came out like one. These men were guarding Dario Bosco, the man running a huge territory, a well-respected crime boss. They weren’t used to taking orders from anyone. People were mostly afraid of them. Terrified, in fact. They didn’t understand the relationship with the Ferraro family or the deference given to them.
Marcu took out his phone and texted not only Emmanuelle, but also Dario. Geno could see he made certain to include both.
The answer came immediately. Marcu turned to Lucca with a nod. “We’ll take you up on the beds. Haven’t had much sleep in days.”
That alarmed Geno. Was Dario spiraling out of control? He glanced at Valentino but refrained from asking until the two men were in the elevator and heading down to the floor below them with Lucca.
“Just how bad has this thing with Dario gotten?” Geno asked Stefano as he made Amaranthe a café au lait. He handed it to her and then made himself a latte.
“Emmanuelle says he isn’t sleeping at night. At first, he’d go running on his property and afterward work out on the heavy bags or with Marcu and Vicenzu. She said it was fairly vicious, but they’d go inside and he’d make them breakfast. After weeks of that, he began going to his club. In the beginning, she didn’t follow, but she began to worry when his behavior during the day became more and more erratic. He didn’t seem to give a damn whether he was confrontational when his life was clearly in danger. He’d step away from his personal protectors and put his life at risk.
“Emmanuelle followed him to the club in the middle of the night and was horrified at the nonstop sexual behavior,which never seemed to satisfy Dario. It didn’t seem to matter how many women he was with, what he did or who he shared them with, he sought out others. He clearly cared nothing for them. The woman fell all over him, followed him around, begged and pleaded for the honor of having him abuse them—at least she considered his brand of sex abusive.
“He left without looking back. She was certain he didn’t know the names of the women he used. The next night they were waiting, eager for his attention. She told Valentino, who hated that Dario became colder and even more disconnected from the women he was with. There was no love lost between them. There wasn’t friendship. There was no emotion whatsoever unless it was contempt.”
“He’s looking at the difference between the women he sees and loves, Emme, Francesca, the others in the family,” Stefano continued, “and the ones he carries out these acts with he seems to need.” He glanced at Elie but refrained from continuing.
Elie shrugged. “I like to play in the bedroom, but I don’t do the kinds of things Dario does, nor would I ever share my woman with other men. Dario is driven to be very sadistic. I think he’s tried to stop but has never succeeded. Seeing Val and all of us happy has just proved to him it’s impossible for him to ever have a decent life.”
Geno swore under his breath. “These men from his childhood, Marcu and Vicenzu, are they the same way? Are they reinforcing those needs in him?”
There was silence again. Valentino wandered over to the chair beside the fireplace. “I fucking hate watching him spiral. His life has been shit from the moment he was born. He’s saved my life so many times. And he’s the most loyal man I know. If anyone deserves better, it’s Dario, and I’ve never been able to think of a way to give him better.”
“You gave him Emme,” Amaranthe said unexpectedly. “She’s that beacon of hope for him. You think she isn’t, that she represents the beginning of the end—all of you do, butit’s really the opposite. He can choose not to grow as a person...”
“Honey,” Valentino interrupted. “He’s a sadist. There’s no growing out of that.”
“That doesn’t mean he can’t grow as a person. He can find ways to be a better person, so that if he finds a woman, he can balance his needs with being a good man,” Amaranthe said. “Everyone should continue to grow. Aren’t we all trying to be better people?”
“That’s the hope,” Valentino said.
Amaranthe curled up in the love seat, giving Geno plenty of room to sit beside her. He set their drinks on the little table close to their chair. “The sun is coming up. I guess it wasn’t as early as it seemed.”
We didn’t get much sleep last night, did we?He couldn’t help giving her a faint grin, remembering the long night of making love to her. Or Amaranthe making love to him.
When her eyes met his, there was a curious melting sensation in the region of his heart. It was pathetic, and he wasn’t about to admit that to anyone—unless it was her. One shouldn’t have such physical reactions just by looking at a woman and seeing love in her eyes—but he did.
We didn’t need to sleep.
Amaranthe smiled at him, and his breath caught in his lungs. She was right. He would give up sleeping every night to spend the time just watching her dance for him, let alone making love to her. Or even just lying next to her watching her sleep.
Emmanuelle and Dario entered the room side by side. It was impossible to see beyond Dario’s mask, but Emmanuelle looked tired. She went straight to her husband and buried her face against his chest. He wrapped his arm around her, his eyes meeting Dario’s over her head.
“We’re good,” Dario confirmed.
“I don’t know why Geno didn’t shoot him.” Emmanuelle’s voice was muffled by Valentino’s shirt. She didn’t lifther head. “Geno usually shoots first and asks questions later.”
“I smelled lavender,” Geno said with a straight face.
