"You're not my type," Carlo quips, and I can't help laughing.
Rocco glowers at us both. "I meant I want to dance with my pretty cousin."
“No, now fuck off."
Carlo pulls me closer, pushing the envelope of what's proper before he gracefully whirls me away. "You made him angry," I say.
“I'm terrified," he deadpans.
"No, you're not, butIlive with him."
"Has he ever threatened you, Francesca?"
His fierce, predatory expression has me quickly shaking my head. "No, no! He's just… annoying." Even if it's more than that, it's not Carlo's problem. “We should stop dancing now. People are staring.”
He shakes his head, drawing his face dangerously close to mine.“Let. Them. Stare.”
I shiver in response. He’s a spellcaster, nothing but trouble, and so much more than I’m equipped to handle. I should flee while I still can.
But before I get the chance, the ballroom erupts with gunfire.
6
Francesca
Screams ring out as armed men race into the reception, and the world turns upside down. Carlo has thrown me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "What's happening?!" I screech, trying to lift my head.
"Bratva. Stop moving, goddammit." Blood rushes to my face, and I can't say if it's because of my position or the fact Carlo's hand is on my ass. My topsy-turvy view bounces erratically as he runs before I'm suddenly upright again and being shoved under a table. "Stay put or I really will spank you later, Francesca,” he barks, pulling his gun and then storming toward the danger.
One of the politicians Uncle Enzo is always schmoozing cowers under the table beside me in a puddle of his own making. I can’t blame him, but I take pride in how fearlessly our men fight back. And Carlo… God, he’s magnificent, shouting out orders while picking off men holding high-powered automatic weapons with only his handgun. Considering the imbalance of firepower, we might be screwed, but Carlo’s fearsome glare never gives me a moment’s doubt that the Trio men will prevail.
Just as I’m resigned to hiding until our fates are decided, I see Valdo darting from one feeble bit of cover to another with a small knife in his hand. Instead of retreating from the worst of the fighting, he appears to be heading toward it. What the hell does he think he’s doing? He’snine.
“Valdo, come here!” I shout.
With his dark blond hair clinging to his sweaty brow, the boy gives me a dismissive shake of his head and grips his knife tighter.
Fear nearly chokes me, but something terrible happening to my little cousin is unthinkable. I glance back at Carlo once more before crawling out from under my refuge and rushing toward the child.
***
The Bratva attack on the reception dominates conversation the following night when Gia, Caterina and I gather in Sofia's bedroom. Nico Morelli’s wife was killed during the shootout, along with a dozen others, a tragic day that will haunt the Trio for years to come, but the doctors safely delivered Margareta's twins via caesarean at least. And every Russian who thought to take on the Trio when the Three-Headed Wolf’s Capos and their heirs were all under one roof lost their life instead. I’m sure that’s just the beginning of the vengeance our men will seek.
“Carlo was so brave,” Sofia gushes. He was, and I can't blame her for clinging to him like a barnacle once the fighting was done as he checked on me and Valdo. “It was gallant of him to dance with you before the trouble started, too, Frankie,” Sofia adds. “I know how unkind Piera can be, but he doesn't care what others think.”
Gia cringes as we exchange a private look. Sofia means well, but she doesn’t always realize how she comes across. She’s been admired and protected all her life. It’s easy to take some things for granted.
“Your singing was so beautiful yesterday, Frankie. You’re going to stun them at your audition next month,” Cat says to smooth things over.
I nod and smile, but my mind keeps returning to Carlo. He confuses me, makes me question things I shouldn't. Thank God, I won't have to see much more of him after his and Sofia’s wedding.
If you move to New York, do you really believe you can escape the Trio there?
Deep down, I know better. Juilliard is a dream I’ve been pushing myself toward for over a year now but, lately, it feels more like a puff of smoke ready to disappear the second I get too close.
Even after the adrenaline bled off last night, it was hard to sleep. I suppose I can be grateful I wasn’t in Cat’s shoes. Having sex for the first time with a man who pulls out teeth and gouges out eyeballs for the fun of it to top off the decade’s most traumatic wedding day sounds like total nightmare fuel to me.
“Last night was okay but, uh… something happened this morning I’d rather forget forever,” she says, failing utterly at hiding her blush.
