KIARA
I got up when Nino disappeared in the bathroom to change into his swim trunks. Every morning since I’d moved in three weeks ago, he followed the same ritual. I had occasionally watched him from the window in the beginning until I’d found the courage to follow him outside one day a week ago. Now he always waited for me.
He raised his eyebrows when he saw me putting on my bathrobe and grabbing a book. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
I followed him downstairs, my eyes darting to his body. He looked good in his swim trunks. In the last few days, I’d often caught myself staring at him. His body fascinated me, I could admit that, and touching his scar hadn’t summoned past demons as I’d feared. His scars and tattoos made me want to find out the story behind each of them. Nino’s story.
Stretching out on one of the sun chairs, I watched as Nino made his way toward the edge of the pool and jumped in elegantly. He always followed the same routine. Two rounds of the butterfly stroke, two rounds of the backstroke, and two rounds of the crawl. Then he repeated everything from the start. He never faltered in his movements throughout the thirty minutes that he swam, and I didn’t read a single word. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, off the muscles in his arms and back as they flexed. It was mesmerizing and beautiful, graceful.
May mornings in Las Vegas were surprisingly warm, and I relished the feel of the sun on my skin as my eyes rested on my husband.
My husband. It didn’t feel real yet. He had kept his word, had never made a move to touch me, and sometimes I caught myself wondering how it would be if he did touch me … if were closer. I knew it wasn’t a possibility I should bother entertaining.
When he swam toward the ladder, I quickly lifted my book and returned my gaze to the page, but above the edge of the book, I watched Nino getting out and a small shiver trailed up my spine.
After a moment of Nino soaking in the sun—a sight that always halted my breath in my throat and sent spears of heat through my body—he headed my way, dripping water. I handed him the towel he’d put down on the sun chair beside mine and tried not to act like I had been secretly watching him the entire time.
“Thanks,” he said and began drying himself. “You can use the pool as well, you know.”
“I haven’t swam in many years, and I was never very good,” I admitted, having a hard time focusing on his face. For some reason, Nino’s presence was even more overwhelming when he stood right in front of me, soaking wet.
“I can teach you if you want,” Nino drawled.
“Maybe in a few weeks or so,” I said quickly because I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be in only swimwear around Nino, even if he had already seen me naked on our wedding night. That day seemed like a lifetime ago.
“I have to take out your stitches today. If I hadn’t been busy these last few days gathering information on Outfit buildings, I would have done it before. Why don’t we do it right away and have breakfast afterward?”
I smiled. “That sounds good.” Then added quickly, “Not the part about the stitches but the breakfast part.”
He held out his hand. My stomach flopped strangely when his warm fingers closed over my skin and he tugged me to my feet. His brows pulled together when his finger brushed my wrist, but then he released me.
“What kind of information did you gather?” I asked as we walked back to the house.
“Remo is planning an attack on Chicago. We assume Fabiano’s father was the driving force behind the attack on our territory. He has powerful supporters in the Outfit, one of them is Fiore Cavallaro, and as long as the old man lives, Dante probably won’t get rid of Scuderi.”
“But Scuderi is Fabiano’s father. Why would he try to kill his own son?”
“He tried to kill him before when Fabiano was a kid. Remo found him shortly after, and Fabiano’s been part of our family ever since. Scuderi holds a grudge against his children. I’m sure you know the story of why war broke out between the Outfit and the Famiglia.”
“Of course. Fabiano’s sister Liliana killed her husband with the help of a Famiglia soldier and ran off.”
“Scuderi wants to salvage his honor, if Fabiano is to be believed.”
I frowned. “But what does that have to do with you gathering information?”
“As I said, we intend to run an attack in summer. It’s our goal to extract Scuderi so Fabiano can kill him and we can send his remains back to Cavallaro as a present.”
That sounded like an insane plan. Kidnapping the Outfit’s Consigliere was an impossible task. Men like that were always surrounded by soldiers and guards. We arrived in our bathroom, and I stood awkwardly beside the sink as Nino took out the instruments he needed to pull out my stitches. “Where do I sit?”
“I’ll lift you onto the counter. That way I don’t have to bend too low.”
Nino stepped up close and his clean, manly scent flooded my nose. My cheeks heated, and I jumped when his strong hands touched my waist as he lifted me up onto the wash table as if I weighed nothing. I opened my bathrobe and waited nervously.
Nino touched my knees, and I became very still. His touch was light, purposeful—not at all sexual but a mix of fear and excitement shot through me anyway. The latter caught me by surprise, but Nino didn’t give me much time to consider this because he nudged my legs apart. My body’s natural reaction to clamp shut lasted only a moment. Then I allowed him to part my thighs so he could take a look at my wound.
My cheeks turned hot when he crouched before me and pushed my nightgown up, giving him a clear view of my panties. It was a vulnerable position, but despite the nerves coursing through me, my fear was only a distant voice in the back of my mind, where I’d buried my most hurtful memories.
Nino’s fingers were gentle and clinical as he felt my wound. “Does it still hurt?”
I shook my head, startled by the light tingling his touch caused. I hoped Nino didn’t realize how my body reacted to him.
He was very careful when he pulled out the stitches, so it only stung the slightest bit. When Nino had pulled the last stitch, his eyes took in the small scar, and he brushed his thumb over it. My breath got stuck in my throat from the sensation that traveled all the way to my center. I’d never experienced anything like it.
Nino straightened. “All done. The small scar will fade.”
“It’s not like anyone but you will ever see it,” I said, and his expression became strangely intent.
“That’s true.”
He gripped my waist again and set me down. This time his hands lingered on my waist a moment longer, and I swallowed, my stomach fluttering again. But Nino dropped his hands. He motioned toward the shower. “I’m going to shower now. After that, we can make breakfast.”
I left but listened to the sound of the running water, confused by my reaction to Nino’s body and his close proximity to me. He was still intimidating because of his strength, coldness, and reputation, but part of me had come to trust him a little. Nino had never done anything that had unsettled me.
When he emerged with only a towel wrapped around his waist, the overwhelming feeling of his mere presence resurfaced. “While you take a shower, I’ll head into the kitchen and see what I can do.”
I nodded silently and quickly disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
When I walked into the kitchen thirty minutes later, Nino was chopping onions and occasionally checking his iPad, which was propped up on the counter.
“You can cook?” I asked in surprise.
“I wouldn’t say I can cook. But it’s not very difficult as long as you follow instructions.”
I stopped beside him. A recipe for a cheese omelet was open on his iPad and hash browns were cooking in a pan on the stove. It smelled delicious and the onions were chopped with the precision of a chef. “Can I help you with anything?”
“Why don’t you make another pot of coffee. My brothers will probably be coming down soon like hungry wolves. The smell of bacon will draw them out of their hibernation.”
As if on cue, the door swung open and Savio stumbled in, yawning, wearing only sweatpants. He didn’t greet us. Instead he sank down in a chair, rubbing the back of his head. He glanced between Nino and me. “You two cook together now? Nino’s been the only cook around here.”
“I’m not a good cook,” I said.
The door opened again, and Remo entered, dressed in only briefs, revealing those steely muscles and unsettling scars. He had an erratic air about him, which set alarms off in my body. “I need to have a talk with you two,” he said to Nino and Savio, grinning in a way that didn’t bode well.
My interactions with the scary Capo had been limited to dinners and the occasional breakfast.
“About what?” Nino asked as he flipped the omelet.
“Nothing I’m supposed to discuss in front of Kiara if I remember your lecture,” he bit out, dark eyes settling on me.
“I can go,” I said.
Nino shook his head. “It can wait until after breakfast.”
Remo’s expression made it clear that he disagreed, but as usual, he held back when I was around. I quickly ate my omelet before I excused myself to tinker with a new song.
NINO
Remo was unusually excited, even by his standards. He leaned back in his chair, lips pulling wide in a very dangerous way.
Savio raised an eyebrow, but I shook my head. I didn’t know what was going on.
“Kiara is gone. You can talk now,” I said.
Remo glanced down at his phone. “Wait a sec.”
Sometimes my brother drove me up the wall with his antics. Steps sounded in the corridor. A man. Adamo was in school, but given Remo’s relaxed stance, it could only be Fabiano.
The blond man shoved open the door and strode in, looking less than pleased about being here. “I have a full schedule of kicking debtors’ asses, Remo.” He nodded at us before he took the chair beside Savio. “What’s going on?” His eyes moved over to me.
I shook my head. “Remo hasn’t revealed anything yet.”
“I changed my mind about our plans,” Remo said.
“Regarding the Outfit attack?” I asked. I’d spend days trying to gather useful information about Scuderi’s weekly habits, upcoming social events he might have to attend. Now Remo decided to change our plans.
Fabiano propped himself up on his forearms, frowning.
Remo nodded with a wide grin. “Dante is a man of logic, like you Nino. He will expect us to target him, or Scuderi, or one of the other men in his family. But I won’t do it because history has proven that there’s no better way to demoralize your enemy than to target the people they are supposed to protect.” He paused, excitement flashing across his face. “Their women.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Dante will have put every possible protection in place to make sure we don’t get anywhere near his wife or their children.”
He made a dismissive gesture and took out his phone then showed it to us.
On the screen was a young woman with blond hair and blue eyes, standing beside Dante Cavallaro. She had the same aloof expression on her face.
“Do you know her?”
“That’s Serafina,” Fabiano said slowly. “She’s Cavallaro’s niece.”
“You met her?”
“I used to play with her and her twin brother when we were little,” he said, his expression turning wary. “What’s your plan?”
Remo looked down on the screen with a twisted grin. “Her wedding to the Underboss of Indianapolis is scheduled for August first. I’ve always wanted to crash a wedding.”
Fabiano shook his head. “You want to waltz into Chicago and attack a wedding celebration? All the Captains and Underbosses will be there. Maybe we get in, but we won’t get out. Trust me on that, Remo.”
Remo chuckled. “No, we will attack the day before. The future bride will spend the night before her wedding in a hotel in Indianapolis with the women of her family. The men of the family will be at stag night. There will be only the usual guards.”
“Are you sure there won’t be additional safety measures in place?” I asked.
Remo raised his eyebrows at Fabiano, who shrugged.
“They won’t expect an attack like that. It’s never been done before. To disturb a wedding is regarded as somewhat sacrilegious by most members of the Outfit.”
Remo snorted. “Sacrilegious,” he said. “Dante attacked my territory. I will show them my version of sacrilegious. Don’t worry.”
“I told you before, it was my father’s doing,” Fabiano muttered. “We should try to get our hands on him and not a woman.”
Remo’s grin turned dangerous. “You will get him. I’m sure Dante will see reason and exchange him for his niece … eventually. I will show him just how sacrilegious we are in Las Vegas.”
Fabiano grimaced. It was obvious that he didn’t like the idea, but he knew better than to argue with Remo when my brother was this excited about an idea.
“This is genius or insanity,” Savio said with a laugh. “Given that it’s your plan, Remo, it’s probably insanity.”
“I think I have a better plan,” I began. “It’ll send a more symbolic message. The bride will probably be taken to church from the hotel in a limousine. There will be even less people around. She will have her mother in the car with her, a bodyguard, and the driver, and perhaps one or two cars as a convoy. We can attack then. It would be absolutely dishonorable to do so, but we have always had our own interpretation of honor.”
Remo laughed darkly. “Nino, you are a fucking genius. The girl will already be in her wedding dress. We will steal a bride from under their noses, right before her wedding night. No better symbol than that.”
Fabiano shot me a look, but if he thought I had the power to stop Remo at this point, he hadn’t seen the way Remo looked at Cavallaro’s niece. Remo got up, obviously unable to sit still any longer.
“I’d prefer if we could keep that plan from my wife. It might trigger some images from her past that I don’t want to resurface.”
Remo waved me off, pacing the room like a caged tiger. His eyes focused on the image on his phone screen.
“If we attack Dante’s family, he will take war to a new level,” Fabiano said.
“I hope he does,” Remo murmured.
Two hours later, I found Kiara at the piano, her eyes closed, head tilted to the side as she played a melody she had been working on since she moved here. She never talked about her music, but I had a good ear. “I made time for gun training today,” I said.
She jerked upright, her dazed eyes zeroing in on me. Slowly, she stood. She wore one of her modest dresses that reached her knees, but even those clothes did nothing to hide the enticing swell of her breasts, her narrow waist, or soft curve of her hips.
“Where?” she asked curiously as she padded toward me on bare feet. To my surprise, her toes were painted red. It was a color I’d favor in her clothes as well.
“I set up a target in the garden.” I gestured at my gun holster. “And you have a selection of these guns or we could go down into the basement to our weapon room.”
She laughed then bit her lip. “I think one of your guns will do.”
I led her outside to the west side of the gardens, and we stopped close to the target. “Have you ever held a gun?”
“No,” she admitted.
I shook my head. Growing up in the mafia, girls should learn how to handle guns from a young age. They were smaller and less muscular than men. Why add the disadvantage of being inept at using a gun? I handed Kiara my semi-automatic. It was easy to handle. She took it carefully, but her grip was all wrong. I moved around her and positioned myself behind her back. Her sweet perfume wafted into my nose. I’d never thought I’d like it, but Kiara obviously used a brand my senses favored. She glanced over her shoulder with a hint of shyness. I was glad that her facial expressions were slowly becoming less of a mystery to me. It made my life and her life indefinitely easier.
“Lift your arms and aim at the target.”
She did, but we had work to do. “I will adjust your hold and stance,” I explained. I touched her hips, and she stiffened, but I angled her the way I wanted her then moved on to her arms and pushed them down a couple of inches. I faced her again and corrected her fingers on the gun. “I’m not sure if it’s a good idea for you to stand in front of the barrel. What if I shoot you by accident?”
“You’d have to release the safety first. That would give me time to get out of the way.”
She drew her lower lip between her teeth again. It was awfully distracting. “I’m so clueless.”
“That’s why I’m here, to teach you all you need to know.” A delicate blush spread on her cheeks, but I couldn’t link an emotion to it.
I guided her hand for her first few shots to let her get accustomed to the recoil. She jumped every time the shot sounded, but eventually she seemed to enjoy herself and even laughed when she managed to hit the target without my help. It was satisfying to see her gain confidence.
