In fact, my plan was to try to sneak down, grab a plate, then sneak right back up without Primo noticing.
Was it a flawed plan from the beginning? Of course. But I figured it was worth a try. And since I didn’t know if they were the ‘cut things off by ten’ or ‘party until dawn’ sort of people, I didn’t want to risk being starving all night.
Taking a steadying breath, I peeked out the door.
Not seeing Primo anywhere facing me, I rushed down the stairs, trying to avoid drawing attention to myself. It wasn’t a huge crowd. Maybe twenty people or so, all in all. But I was a clear outsider and curious gazes slid in my direction.
Primo ran a relatively young organization, I realized.
When you thought of the mafia, you tended to think about what TV shows you’d seen with mostly middle-aged men with round bellies and nagging wives at home. But Primo turned that stereotype on its head. Because if these were his capos, there didn’t seem to be anyone over thirty-five. And, somehow, pretty much all of them were attractive.
I ducked my head, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone and invite their conversation. I just wanted food. Then to get back to the relative safety of the bedroom.
“And who are you?” a voice asked, making me pull to a stop, my stomach dropping.
I barely managed to suppress the grumble that grew inside me as my head lifted.
And there was another of those stupidly attractive guys.
Tall, fit, dark-haired, tan-skinned man, with a nice, sharp jawline, tattoos that snaked up his neck and covered his hands, black hair, and stormy blue eyes.
“Nobody,” I said, trying to scoot past him, but he sidestepped right in front of me.
“Oh, come on now. You don’t look like a nobody to me.”
“Strange, because that’s exactly what I am,” I said, feinting to the left so I could rush past his right.
“Hey, Primo,” the man called, making me realize I was walking right toward him as this random guy rushed past me to confront my… husband. “I’m gonna need you to introduce me to this pretty lady over here,” he demanded.
I didn’t even think Primo had seen me.
But suddenly his arm flew out, grabbing me around the waist, and pulling me into his side, then holding me there.
“I’m not dressed for this,” I hissed in a whisper to him so no one else could hear. But Primo went right ahead and ignored me.
“Vissi,” he said, addressing the man who’d been chasing me as well as the couple standing there already, “Anthony, Claudia, this is Isabella, my wife,” he added.
I watched as the couple nodded and gave me warm smiles, clearly already having heard the news.
But Vissi, whoever he was, clearly was out of the loop. I swear he was gape-mouthed as if Primo just told him I was an alien who’d landed my spaceship on his roof and then ensnared him with my special sci-fi vagina.
“What?” Vissi asked, shaking his head.
“Nice meeting you, Isabella,” Claudia said as her husband turned her to walk away, sensing that Vissi and Primo needed a private moment.
“Yeah, I think I will give you two a moment as well,” I said, trying to step away, but it only made Primo hold me tighter, leaving me crushed against him.
His other hand reached for my wrist drawing it up to show Vissi my rings.
“My wife,” Primo said as Vissi’s gaze slid to my finger, looking no less confused by the evidence of our marriage situated there.
“Who are you?” he asked, tone accusing as his stormy blue eyes met mine again.
“Isabella… Costa,” I added.
“Esposito. Isabella Esposito,” Primo insisted, his fingers digging into my hip a bit, and the gesture felt possessive once again.
“Yeah, I think he got that part,” I said, rolling my eyes. “That wasn’t what he was asking.”
“You married a fucking Costa?” Vissi asked, tone implying we were practically harbingers of viral plague. “And you married an Esposito?” he asked.
“We’re not exactly Romeo & Juliet here. I didn’t have a choice in the matter,” I said, chin jerking up.
“You didn’t… what?” he asked, looking up at Primo.
“Vissi has been in Italy for a long time. He doesn’t know the things that have been going on with our Families.”
“Oh, like you kidnapping Alessa and me?”
“Alessa Morelli? The fuck has been going on since I left?”
“Alessa’s brother turned out to be the one who killed Due. It was Commission approved. And, as it turned out, deserved. But the marriage was a way to put an end to the distrust and fighting between us and the Costas, Morellis, and D’Onofrios.”
“What about the Lombardis?” Vissi asked. “They’re on board with this?”
“Who knows what those crazy fucks think about anything,” Primo said, catching my attention.
“How crazy does someone have to be for your psychotic ass to call them that?” I grumbled, getting a surprised laugh out of Vissi. And it looked like an almost undetectable lip twitch from Primo. If I hadn’t been so close, I would have missed it.
“Crazy. You’re going to stay the fuck away from them,” Primo told me, tone serious.
“Are all the Costa women as pretty as you?” Vissi asked, clearly the playboy type.
“No. They’re all hideously unattractive, covered in warts, buck-toothed, with glandular conditions and terrible hygiene.”
“Aw, come on, sweetheart, you don’t want to introduce me to your sisters or cousins?”
“I wouldn’t let another one of you touch another one of us with a ten-foot pole,” I told him.
“Oh, we’re not all as bad as the boss man here,” Vissi insisted.
“No, you’re right. Dawson and Dulles aren’t so bad,” I said, getting a charming smile out of Vissi.
“How long have you two been married?”
“Forever,” I grumbled at the same time Primo told him about three days.
“Well, happy nuptials,” Vissi declared, pressing a hand to his heart. “Even though I am quite put out that you didn’t have me as the best man. I expect to be the kids’ godfather when the time comes.”
“Don’t hold your breath on that one,” I said, pretending not to notice the way Primo’s gaze looked down at me with that damn brow raised again.
I knew the deal I made.
I wasn’t going to go back on it.
Not because of him per se, but because I’d always wanted to be a mother. And this was now going to be my only way.
I figured when I was mentally and emotionally ready, I would track my fertility for a while, get damn near blackout drunk, and let him get the job done.
Not romantic, no, but that was the only way it was going to happen.
And I was just going to completely ignore the strange little flutter between my thighs at the idea of him above me, inside me.
That was just my tiredness and hunger signals getting misdirected or something.
That was the only logical explanation.
“I just came down for food,” I admitted. “I haven’t eaten,” I added. “I just want to grab a plate and go back upstairs before anyone else makes fun of me.”
“No one will make fun of you,” Primo said, voice fierce.