The car moves swiftly into another lane as Dante responds. “Honestly?” He blows out a breath. “No. From all I can tell, Emilio and Leonardo are doing things differently than his uncle. They’re ruthless, for sure. They can’t be anything else if they’re going to take over that family, but they’re not as cruel as Vito was.”
I release my nose and let my head sink back against the seat. “We need to consider that there might be an internal war going on with Cesari,” I say.
“Maybe they think taking out a member of Luciani will be proof enough of power and balls to get them a position they want,” Dante agrees. “Who better than a fairly new member with no actual authority?”
“They have to know that no matter who they attempt to kill, any deaths on our side by a member of Cesari would start an all-out war. Even if I didn’t care for Daisy, it would be the principle of the matter.”
A pause and then, “Even if you didn’t care for Daisy?”
Fuck.I can practically hear my brother’s smile in his tone. “Shut it,” I snap. “Stay on track.”
“I’m not judging you for liking the girl, G,” Dante says instead of following my order.Bastard.“I like her, too, and I assure you that if anyone hurts her, I will gut them like a fucking fish. Just as I know you would.”
Shit, I don’t want to do this with him. Not with the reminder of her attacker still on my mind. Yet… “She’s not used to our world,” I hear myself say before I can stop. “It was foolish to force her to marry me to keep her mouth shut about what she saw.”
“Are you—the great Giulio La Rosa, Luciani’s loyal knight and protector—regretting an action you took to take care of the Family?” Dante’s taunting tone makes me want to pound my fists into his face.
“No, that’s not what I—” But is it? Do I regret marrying Daisy? An image of her, naked and spread out across my bed, her hair in disarray on my pillows as her breasts bounce up and down, pretty pink nipples tight and teasing as I fuck her, comes to mind. No, I don’t regret marrying her. If anything, her walking in on Isa’s dead body is one of the best things to come out of Don Luciani’s order to get married. Without her, I would’ve either ended up married to the cold-as-ice Isa or unpromoted without a wife.
A curse leaves me. “Fuck.”
Over the line, Dante chuckles. “If it helps,” he says, “remember her past. Daisy might have aged out of the system, but once a foster kid, always a foster kid—at least until she findsher family. She’s a lot like you. If you give her the chance, I think she’ll be just as loyal to the Family and you as you are to Luciani.”
I can’t stand it, but hope stretches its evil talons through my chest, latching on with little barbs stabbing into my organs and refusing to let go. Before I can muster a response, I hear three telltale beeps. One from my phone, one from Alonzo’s, and a third, slightly garbled one over the other line—from Dante’s phone.
I look down at the message before returning the device to my ear. “Change routes,” I tell Alonzo.
“Where to?” he shoots back, hands steady on the wheel.
“The Luciani Family Estate.”
“Constantin is there,” Dante says.
“I know,” I tell him. “I read the message.”
“That fucking snake is up to something,” Dante growls. “He’s been visiting the Don often lately. I wishPapáwould just send him back to Italy, but I know he won’t.”
“Do you think he could be a mole?” I demand, considering his words. “He seemed surprised at the reception that I was not only married but that it wasn’t Isa.”
Dante is quiet for several long moments. When he speaks, it’s with a deadly tone. “If he’s after Daisy, I’ll find out,” he promises me. “I’ll tag all of his technology—not that the old man has much—but whatever he’s got, even if I have to tear apart his place myself, I’ll find it, G. No one’s going to hurt her.”
“No.” My agreement is sharp and punctuated. “Daisy is mine.”
Even if I have to kill to keep her that way.
22
DAISY
An asshole by any other name still smells like shit.
Call me if you kill anyone. —G
I smile as I read the note Giulio left for me before he went off to work. It shouldn’t be funny, but it is. It shouldn’t be sweet, but it makes me want to jump his bones and ride his face until I come. Life is good.
At least, it is until I enter the automatic glass doors to the Gold Letter Publishing headquarters and remember that even if I’m married to a wealthy criminal, I still need to go through interviews like everyone else. I look up and up and up some more.
Most New York professional buildings have regular floor-by-floor offices, but not Gold Letter Publishing, apparently. The center of the lobby is open what looks to be a solid seven stories up. A giant chandelier hangs, heavy and golden with the letters GL in their traditional logo dangling below it on display. My jaw nearly unhinges and drops away from my skull completely.
