CHAPTER NINETEEN
Marco Messina couldn’t possibly be the brains behind such an organized and extensive network of human trafficking as you’ve uncovered,” Geno Ferraro announced.
They had arrived in New York in the private luxury jet. Emmanuelle, Valentino, Dario and a host of bodyguards, as well as Stefano and several of her brothers. Taviano and Nicoletta hadn’t made the trip, but Ricco and Mariko were there. The paparazzi had followed them from the airport to Geno Ferraro’s enormous condo, with its private garage and security elevator.
Valentino and Emmanuelle were keeping up appearances as a newlywed couple, jetting with the family to New York to visit her cousins. The Ferraros were notoriously close, and it would be expected that the couple would be seen out with her cousins if the family accepted her husband. They wanted it to be known that he was accepted.
“Marco is the youngest of the Messina brothers. He has a good head for numbers and runs the family’s legit businesses. He makes damn good money doing it. In fact, so much so, that his father is always threatening to retire and make him head of the famiglia. That is the last thing Marco wants, by the way,” Geno continued with his report, delivering the news to the others in his direct way, with a slight New York accent.
He was a big man, with wide shoulders. Valentino could see why he was often described as intimidating by every reporter writing articles about the infamous Ferraro family. This man was the head of the New York Ferraro family. He was soft-spoken, but his voice carried complete authority. With his cousins he seemed as relaxed as perhaps he would ever get—which wasn’t much.
Geno snagged a handful of peanuts from a bowl on the table and ate them, narrowing his eyes at Emmanuelle. “The least you could have done was learn to cook like Francesca.”
“If I had skills, you barbarian, I wouldn’t waste them on you. You’re bossy, and I already have too many bosses.” She turned and included Levi and Axel in her glare.
They were playing cards with Lando and Pace at a smaller table behind them, seemingly not paying attention, but Levi smirked.
“You want to eat, we should go to that Italian place just down from your condo. The one that serves those little salty breads that look like the middle of a doughnut,” Emmanuelle continued, her voice hopeful.
Valentino settled his fingers around the nape of her neck. He was getting used to her brothers and cousins and the way they were with Emmanuelle. All of them were very protective of her, and he liked that. He wanted them to be. He wanted her to be surrounded by love. To feel that all the time. The more protection she had, the better. They liked to tease her. It was one of the many ways they showed their affection for her.
As days went by and the news of their marriage traveled to the other famiglias in Chicago, as well as whispered rumors of Val’s utter ruthlessness when it came to managing the business, more threats had been made against his wife. He’d known it would happen. He hadn’t realized just how crazy it would make him feel. He’d shared every one of them with Stefano, just as he’d promised her brother he would.
He’d met her three New York cousins in Chicago very briefly, but he hadn’t spent time with them. Geno was much like Stefano, aloof and impossible to read, other than the cold promise that if anyone harmed a single hair on Emmanuelle’s head, he would hunt them and never stop until he found them.
“You are such a heathen, Emme,” Geno said, but he stood. “How do you think you’re going to keep that man happy if you don’t cook for him?”
“Sex, Geno,” she retaliated without even blushing. She didn’t even blink with her brothers and cousins or the bodyguards in the room. “Awesome sex.”
Geno just stood there for a moment, very still, his face an expressionless mask while his gaze swept over her. “Never say the word sex again, Emme. You’re five. You shouldn’t even know that word.”
Laughter swept through the room. Emmanuelle took pity on him. “I can cook, Geno. I was just hoping we could eat out, but let me look and see what you have in the fridge.”
His hard features didn’t exactly soften, but his eyes did. “We’ve got a reservation already. I know it’s your favorite place, and since this is your celebration, you can have anything you want.”
Valentino held out his hand to his wife. The moment she put her hand in his, he pressed his thumb over her rings, rolling them back and forth. He liked the feel of them. Solid. Real. He found, as he followed Geno and Stefano through the condo toward the elevators, he liked Geno far more than he’d thought he would.
Stefano watched over Emmanuelle like a hawk. Her brothers did. Now her cousins. That was all right with him. As far as Val was concerned, there couldn’t be enough eyes on her. He was more than grateful for the army of ex-military men Dario had acquired and trained. Dario had been conscious of keeping the men they could bring into the famiglia Italian so if any of them should ever want to move up in the organization, they could. These men were dedicated and loyal to him—to Dario and to Emmanuelle. The four he had appointed as her bodyguards were extremely detail-oriented, and they didn’t take a lot of shit off his beautiful wife. She teased them, but when she tried to misdirect them, it didn’t work.
“Are you spoiling her?” Vittorio asked as they prepared to leave the condo.
Geno glanced at his watch. “My brothers are meeting us at the restaurant. We have the entire back room to ourselves. They wanted to get there first and do a sweep to make certain we can safely talk. We own the place, but you never know. And no, absolutely not, Vittorio. This was Salvatore’s idea, not mine.”
Valentino didn’t believe him for a minute. Evidently, neither did the bodyguards. They had gathered up their cards and put them away. One of them gave a little snort of derision, but when Geno flicked them a cool gaze, there was no expression on any of their faces.
Emmanuelle rolled her eyes. “See, Geno, no one believes you. You made your first mistake when I was a baby and you let me crawl in your lap and sleep on you at all the family events.”
He rubbed his hand over the top of her hair. “I just did it to annoy your mother. She detested when I picked you up. It was fun watching her get that pinched look on her face. Then she’d have the big dilemma. Did she take you off me? Or let you stay?”
Geno showed Val’s men to the elevators. Valentino liked that Levi and Axel were hesitant to leave Emme’s protection to others. They didn’t step onto the elevator until he gave them a subtle signal. Both he and Dario would ride down with Emmanuelle and her brothers and cousin in the other elevator to the garage and meet them there.
“There was no way she would have taken me off your lap,” Emmanuelle guessed.
“Nope, so I held you until Stefano came and got you,” Geno confirmed. “See, wasn’t being nice or spoiling you. Get in the damn car and stop bothering me.” He leaned down and brushed a kiss on top of her head, ignoring the four bodyguards that had been waiting, and moved a little closer to her, as if he might suddenly decide to shove a knife in her ribs.
Valentino pulled her close to him on the back seat of the town car. Before she could say anything to him, he took her mouth. Kissing Emmanuelle in front of her family was always a risk. It could get out of hand fast. There was no holding back, and fire flared hot and bright the moment they came together. He preferred to do so when they were alone, so whenever he had the opportunity, he didn’t waste it.