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I lean in, brushing my lips against Elsa’s cheek. “Excuse me, I have to go check on something,” I tell her and pull away, adjusting my hat.

Dom nods to the back doors, and I head there. I already know where she is. I saw her and her father go outside a few minutes ago.

I push through the doors, but stop at the second set, waiting by the window. I pause, my fists clenching as her father steps into her space.

Her face pales. She stares at the ground. She shrinks herself near him.

And like that, he’s storming back towards the door. I open it for him with a smile, and he stops in his tracks. Gianna now has her back to us, cigarette smoke pooling above her head.

“Everything alright?” I ask, glaring at him.

“Never better. Gianna is heading home to get changed. She knows better than to dress like that in public. I apologize for her,” he mutters.

That ignites a rage deep inside of me that I didn’t know existed. This wave of possessiveness I cannot stop.

I step into his space, not disguising the rage he’s triggered. “Excuse me?”

“My daughter doesn’t dress like a whore. I won’t allow her to strut around here soiling our family name.”

I laugh, a deep-bellied laugh. And he mistakenly joins in. So I stop abruptly.

Gianna looks incredible.

“You’re forgetting a very important fact here, Vito,” I say.

He cocks his head.

“Gianna no longer represents your family name. She is a Sterling. And we like our women to express who they really are. You see, we live in the current century where we believe women are as powerful as men.” I pause, letting the words digest in his small brain. “So, Mr. Milano… if you could refrain from commenting on what my wife wears, otherwise there will be consequences to pay. Remember?”

He shakes his head. “She will always be my daughter, regardless of last name,” he seethes.

I grin, running my tongue along my bottom lip. “I don’t believe Gianna belongs to anyone.”

“Then you don’t know her.”

I step to the side, letting him pass. “I think it’s best if you and your family leave, Vito. I promised my brother I wouldn’t shoot any of you today.”

“Likewise,” he mutters, strolling past me.

This is going well, the exact conversation a man envisions with his father-in-law on his wedding day.

I step through the door, keeping my footsteps light as I approach my wife.

She turns before I reach her, a smirk on her face, cigarette by her lips. I can’t help my eyes dragging down her figure. The way it pinches in at the waist, the curves of her hips. Her breasts that perfectly fill her dress. Fuck.

I hate that she’s this attractive. I hate that I can’t stop staring.

“Can I help you?” she says, flicking ash right on my boot.

“I’m making sure my new wife isn’t bleeding out in the parking lot.”

She scoffs. “Why? Who has the balls in there to murder me?”

I roll my shoulders. “Probably a few.”

“Cool. I do have some anger I need to release. Send them out,” she says, nodding to the door.

“What did your father say to you?” I ask, ignoring her statement.