“Princess, who is the head of your famiglia? Who raised you? If I am to get consent to marry you, I ask permission from the head of your family. It is tradition. Stefano is the head of your family.”
“And if he’d said no?”
“Then we would have eloped. He knew that. He knew I had already compromised you.”
She came out of the master bath, her expression murderous. “Compromised me? What century are we living in, Valentino?”
He burst out laughing as he gingerly stepped into the trousers of the suit he’d hung in her closet. “Not sexually compromised, you little hellcat. I compromised your shadow. Get ready before you make me so hard, I can’t zip up my pants and you have to take care of my cock all over again.”
Her gaze swept down his chest to his groin and stayed there, a dark, hungry mixture of lust and desire in her expression. Her tongue moistened her lips. “It’s not like they’ll put the plane in the air without us.”
His cock jerked hard. Throbbed. Burned. “Emmanuelle.” He poured a warning into his voice.
She raised her gaze to his. There was amusement there, daring him to share laughter with her at their predicament. The way they were with each other every time they got close.
“Get out of my sight, Princess.” He put a growl in his voice.
She burst out laughing as she disappeared back into the bathroom. He couldn’t help but join her, even though he was as hard as a rock. It didn’t matter. Emmanuelle Ferraro had agreed to become his wife. That was what truly mattered to him. He loved her with every breath he drew.
Surrounded by the enemy.
Val glanced down at Dario’s text and smirked. The Ferraro family had shown up in force for Emmanuelle. He was happy they had. At first, not so much. Thinking about it, though, the way she’d been treated all of her life by her bitch of a mother, having her brothers and their women show Emme they loved her and wanted to see her happy mattered.
She had her hand firmly in his, and she’d leaned into him to read the text. He hadn’t shielded the screen from her. Dario knew she could see it. She took the phone.
Allies now, you dolt.
Val looked around the plane. Stefano had his woman with him. Francesca seemed to be the center of the Ferraro family, just as Stefano was the leader. The others all looked at her with tremendous love and respect. Emmanuelle treated her as if she were the greatest treasure on earth.
Valentino was an observer. He rarely missed a single small detail. That was what allowed him to find strengths and weaknesses among all the capos his father worked with. It had allowed him to see through lies and to know who stole from them within their organization. He read men’s characters. He saw into women’s motivations. He needed to do the same with the Ferraros, and this was one of the best opportunities he would ever have. Stefano was a born leader, and not one of his brothers, all true alphas, all dominant men, challenged a single decision. That said a tremendous amount about his leadership and the respect they had for him.
Stefano clearly loved his wife. He didn’t try to hide the way he felt about her. He was protective, concerned, relaxed in her company, laughed more, and was very attentive to her needs. He clearly watched her, even when he was engaged in a conversation with his brothers. If she needed anything at all, he would break off in the middle of a sentence and order it for her.
Ricco was much quieter than the rest of his brothers and appeared more dominant, but only because his wife, Mariko, appeared to be submissive. She was blonde, although part Asian, a gorgeous woman who sat close to her man and spoke in a low, sultry voice. Val knew Ricco was considered a true rope master, one of the few who could make that claim, studying under Master Kin Akahoshi for years both in Japan and then the United States. Val knew the two men still worked closely together.
Ricco and Mariko seemed very in tune with each other, moving as if a coordinated team. When Mariko would get up to do anything at all, Ricco’s gaze was on her. Val found himself studying the woman. It didn’t take long to come to the conclusion that unlike Francesca, whom they all guarded and watched over carefully, including Mariko and Emme, this woman was a warrior. She was part of the guard. She might have looked totally feminine, but looks were deceiving in the Ferraro family. Mariko Ferraro could strike one down as easily as one of the men. She went into the shadows and was an assassin as surely as Emmanuelle was.
His phone vibrated. Emmanuelle laughed.
Since I can’t ever go to sleep now that Val’s got you back in his life because I expect you to cut my throat the first chance you get, I suspect I am on your family’s most wanted list.
Valentino loved the sound of her laugh. He glanced over at Dario, who was in the seat next to Emilio. Evidently, most of those on the plane, including Dario, loved Emme’s laugh. They all glanced up and smiled. She had that kind of infectious laugh. It was melodic. Dario rarely smiled about anything. Val had never been certain if he could smile, but once in a while, something Emmanuelle did would bring that little half smirk onto Dario’s face, and Val would want to kiss Emme for it.
We not only have a list in Stefano’s study but all the faces are up on the board above their names. Yours was #2 but I think it was moved to the #1 spot now that Val is marrying me.
Emilio snorted and coughed. Enzo pounded his back helpfully. Dario shook his head as he studied the text. He didn’t look across the aisle of the luxury plane at Emme.
Val took his eyes off his cousin to study the next Ferraro pair, Giovanni and Sasha. Giovanni was notorious for his temper. He was quiet one moment, burned hot, out of control and then it was over in a flash. Brilliant, quick-witted, funny, he was crazy about his wife, Sasha. She was a little bit of an enigma. She moved like she could handle herself. He knew quite a bit about her, because he made it a point to always know everything he could about his enemies, and in this case, Emmanuelle’s family. She was from Wyoming and had grown up on a cattle ranch with her parents and older brother, Sandlin. Blue-eyed with curly blonde hair, she’d come to Chicago because Sandlin had suffered a traumatic brain injury in a car accident that killed their parents. The Hendrick Center was reputed to be one of the best places to treat brain injuries. She also looked as if she could handle herself, but Val honestly couldn’t tell if she was at the same level of lethalness as Mariko was.
Then there were Vittorio and Grace. Vittorio had always appeared to be the peacemaker, the quiet, soft-spoken Ferraro. He was the tallest of the brothers and broad-shouldered. Although soft-spoken, his voice was very compelling. His eyes were an intense green, and Val knew from experience that he packed a hell of a hard punch. He was like a damn oak tree. He designed race car engines and played the piano. It was difficult to define him.
Grace, Vittorio’s wife, was a partner in an extremely successful event planning business. A couple of years earlier, she had taken a bullet in her shoulder and had since had several surgeries to repair it. Val had made it his business to find out and knew the surgeries hadn’t been nearly as successful as anyone would have liked. She had suffered through infections, and the last surgery had been a complete replacement shoulder, in the hopes that her body wouldn’t reject that.
He understood why not only Vittorio, but the rest of the family, was protective of her. She was a very sweet woman, gentle and kind. She didn’t seem to ever complain. Emmanuelle clearly thought the world of her. Where Mariko and Sasha were reserved around him, which Val didn’t blame them for, and Francesca was open but wary, Grace was friendly and willing to like him because he was Emme’s choice. She was an unusual, rare woman.