My mood had marginally improved when I entered our mansion. The moment I spotted Emma coming out of the elevator, my anger evaporated. She wore a copper silk dress with thin spaghetti straps and a plunging neckline. A high slit revealed her slender leg and black pumps. I shut the door and blew out a breath. “Wow.”
Emma blushed and gave me a happy smile. “I wasn’t sure what kind of place this was. Cantina sounded more rustic, and they don’t have a website, but I read a few reviews that it’s become the Italian restaurant of the city, so I wanted to be safe. Better overdressed than underdressed. Right?”
Nerves shone on her face.
I nodded and stalked toward her. “You look beautiful.”
“I was worried you had changed your mind.”
I glanced at my watch. I was fifteen minutes late. “I should have called. I’m not used to someone waiting for me.” My mother had stopped when I’d grown increasingly annoyed over the years.
“You’re here, and I’m excited.” She paused. “And nervous.”
I took her hand. “Why?”
“I know people will talk.”
“They always do. But they better get used to us making public appearances because I intend to show you off more often.”
Emma’s smile widened.
“Come on.”
During the ride to La Cantina, Renato tried to call me twice. When he tried a third time as I parked the car, I turned off the sound and shoved my phone into the inside pocket of my jacket.
“Why do you ignore him? Don’t you think it could be important?”
I glanced at Emma. “He probably only wants to know if I put in a good word for him with Giorgia’s brother yet.”
Emma’s mouth fell open. “He wants to marry her? Giorgia didn’t even like him.”
I chuckled. “Well, that may be, but apparently, they struck a deal.”
Emma shook her head. “Why?”
“I don’t know why Giorgia wants to marry Renato, but he needs a bride from a conservative family by the time he turns thirty, or he’ll lose his position as Captain.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Arranged marriages are like business deals.”
My engagement to Emma had been. A quid pro quo that Emma wouldn’t be fond of if she found out.
Emma bit her lip and nodded slowly. “Will you put in a good word for him?”
“I will.”
“Will he be good to her?”
I looked out of the windshield. “Renato is my friend. He’s not violent toward women. But he won’t be faithful.” I spared her the details of his whore testing ways.
Emma looked down at her lap. “I’ll have to warn Giorgia.”
I nodded. “You should, but it seems they both need that marriage.” I motioned toward the restaurant. “We should go in.”
I just opened the door for Emma when a car pulled up with spinning tires. I pulled my gun but relaxed when I recognized Renato’s car. He got out of the car.
Emma was already inside, glancing over her shoulder at me in confusion as Renato’s grandfather greeted her warmly.
I sent Renato a questioning look.
“Why don’t you answer your fucking phone?” he shouted as he rushed toward me.
I cocked an eyebrow.
“I wanted to warn you—”
“Let me go. I won’t be in the same place with him!”
I stiffened.
“Fuck,” Renato murmured, his eyes locking on mine. My stomach constricted, guilt burning brightly, as I schooled my face into a hard mask.
“And I really hope you find happiness somewhere else because that man won’t ever be happy if there’s a God,” Domenico’s mother told Emma. “You should be ashamed that you parade around like this when my son is dead.”
I moved inside. I stepped between Mrs. Accetta and Emma. I could bear her anger but I didn’t want Emma to be on the receiving end of it. She had done nothing to deserve this.
Domenico’s younger brother who was also a Made Man grabbed his mother’s arm. “Mom, it’s enough. This isn’t the place.”
“It’s been years,” Renato muttered.
“I lost my son! He was tortured to death because of him, because of his whore of a sister, and here he stands with his wife. My Domenico won’t ever marry. He won’t have children.”
Her haunted eyes met mine, and I knew what would come before she even said anything. “That’s why you married her, because He won’t allow you to have kids either.”
“Leave,” I ordered, my voice cold as ice.
Renato and Domenico’s brother led Mrs. Accetta out of the restaurant. Domenico’s brother stopped in front of me. He had Domenico’s light brown eyes. Eyes I saw twisted in agony in many of my nightmares. “I apologize for my mother, Samuel.”
I gave a terse nod, and he left. Emma’s face was ashen as she looked up at me. I could feel the eyes of every guest in the restaurant on us. Most of them were from our world and knew or thought they knew what had happened. For them, it was old news. Made Men died all the time, but they were eager to see how I’d react, how Emma would react.
I sent them the coldest look I was capable of and many averted their eyes. Then my gaze settled on Emma. She swallowed hard. I touched her shoulder. “Come. Our table is over there.”
Surprise filled her eyes, but she nodded and moved toward the table with a view of another one of the city’s lakes. It was the best table in the restaurant and had been decorated with a vase with roses and candles.
I pushed Emma’s wheelchair close to the table, then took my seat across from her. A hush had fallen over the restaurant, but I knew people were whispering about what happened and throwing us discreet looks.
“I’m very sorry,” Renato’s grandfather said as he handed us the menus. “I tried to warn you through Renato.”
“Don’t worry. I can handle it,” I said firmly. I wouldn’t show how much the encounter had shaken me. Fuck. I doubted it wouldn’t ever not kill me inside to see Domenico’s mother and her heartbreak. But today, she attacked Emma as well, and I couldn’t allow that. He nodded, gave Emma another warm smile, then left.
I looked down at the menu even though I knew it by heart. I lifted my gaze when I felt Emma’s eyes on me.
“We could leave if you want, you know?”
I kept my face neutral. “No, it would look like weakness. But we can just have two courses if you prefer to leave quickly.”
Emma slowly shook her head. “It’s okay. I can handle it. I’m used to people’s attention, and their judgment. Not quite this aggressive but still.”
“She shouldn’t have attacked you. It’s my fault her son’s dead. You are innocent. You didn’t even have a choice to marry me.”
Emma moved her hand across the table, then froze, uncertainty filling her eyes. Public displays of affection weren’t something I or anyone from my family were known for, but I put my hand on hers and left it there. People could know that she was mine and that I had no trouble showing it. Emma’s eyes softened. “If you ever want to talk…”
I cleared my throat and looked back down at the menu. “The gnocchi al tartufo and the spaghetti al nero de seppie are particularly good, but everything is delicious.”
“I’ll have the spaghetti then and the scaloppine afterward. I’d really love a dessert too.”
“Take whatever you like.”
I ordered two glasses of prosecco to start and a bottle of white wine to go with the primi. Emma and I clinked glasses. Emma took two small sips while I emptied half the glass. “I’m not used to drinking much so I don’t know how much of the wine I’ll actually drink.”
“Don’t worry. I can hold my liquor.”
EMMA
I was still a bit shaken over the confrontation, but after I’d drank my prosecco, I felt more relaxed. Of course, I still noticed the curious glances being cast our way. I had been prepared for those, but I hadn’t expected an incident from Samuel’s past to be the reason for it. I had been a child when Samuel had tried to save his sister. Domenico must have been with him and had lost his life cruelly. If he’d died because of torture at the hands of the Falcones, it must have been horrible. Had Samuel witnessed his death? Had he been tortured too?
I could tell from Samuel’s closed-off face and from the polite dinner conversation about food and the sights of Minneapolis that he upheld that he wasn’t willing to share anything. Definitely not here under the watchful eyes of so many people.
When we headed back to Samuel’s car after dinner, I felt unease at the idea of Samuel driving us home. He’d drunk a lot. But I couldn’t drive myself. “We could ask Leo to pick us up,” I said carefully.
Samuel shook his head. “I didn’t drink that much. I don’t feel intoxicated.”
He opened the passenger door for me. For him, the topic was obviously over. I knew Made Men drank and drove, but since my accident, I definitely was very aware when someone did it. I didn’t remember anything from the accident, or maybe my reaction would have been even stronger. Still, my heart rate picked up as I slid into the car and waited for Samuel to put my wheelchair in the trunk before he slid in beside me.
My pulse didn’t stop racing during the ride home, but I remained silent, not wanting to get into a fight with Samuel at this early stage of our marriage. I could tell this topic would make him angry if I confronted him more insistently. Nothing happened, but I was still relieved when we arrived at our mansion.
“I told you I’m not drunk,” Samuel said with a hint of annoyance before he got out of the car. He must have sensed my tension throughout the ride.
When he opened my door for me, I quickly gripped the handle of my wheelchair before Samuel could lift me and hoisted myself into it. I was too agitated. We walked up the ramp side by side, and I was trying to choose my words carefully, which proved very difficult. “I’m not sure it’s a good thing that you’re not drunk, considering how much you drank.” A glass of prosecco, a bottle of white wine, a glass of red, and a digestif.
His walk became stiffer, and his face closed off as he opened the front door for me. “You are my wife, not my mother.” His hard eyes met mine. “My word is law in our marriage, and you won’t tell me what to do. You won’t doubt my decisions, especially not in front of others, understood?”
I flinched as if he’d slapped me. Of course, I knew he held the reins in our marriage by tradition but for him to voice it like that. “Understood.”
Before we’d left for the restaurant, I’d been eager to return home and be intimate with Samuel. Now? Not so much. The events of the evening had been unsettling in so many ways, and his words now simply were my tipping point. Nevertheless, I forced my voice to calm. “Would you mind if I tried to call Giorgia? I want to hear her take on the marriage to Renato.”
Samuel removed his jacket and hung it up in the cloakroom, then he turned to me in his form-fitting white shirt and gun holster. “Go ahead. I’ll have to call Renato anyway.”
With a tight smile, I moved toward the living room while Samuel disappeared in the direction of his office.
I closed my eyes briefly. Maybe I shouldn’t take Samuel’s harsh words to heart. The incident in the restaurant had definitely shaken him, even if he refused to admit it. I didn’t want to nag, but Samuel didn’t talk to me, so I wasn’t sure what exactly was going on. I had seen the brief flash of pain in his eyes when Domenico’s mother had attacked him. If he still carried so much guilt over his friend after all these years, he must have gone through a lot.
I positioned my wheelchair in front of the panoramic window and glanced out at the lake as I called Giorgia. It was already past ten, but unlike me, she was a night owl and spent at least an hour every night reading in bed.
“Emma! I tried to call you today, but you didn’t pick up.”
“Samuel and I had dinner at an Italian place so I had my phone on mute.”
“Date night? So things are going well?”
I pursed my lips. Were they going well? “It’s going better than anticipated, at least physically.” I blushed at the mention of our sex life.
Giorgia giggled. “You probably won’t share any details?”
“I won’t, and it’s not why I’m calling. Did you really agree to marry Renato? The guy who ogled your breasts like a Neanderthal during my wedding?”
Giorgia sighed. “I did.”
“Why?”
“Because my mother found a man for me in Italy who’s twenty-two years older than me and makes a toad look like a model.”
“Oh no, really?”
“She wants me to marry as soon as possible. It’s not like I’m the best catch, considering my family isn’t high ranking, and we’re not swimming in money.”
“But him?”
“He’s only nine years older than me, good-looking if you ignore his intolerable character, and he needs to marry soon.”
“He’s also a manwhore and won’t be faithful, according to Samuel.”
“I don’t care. I need to get out of marrying that old fool in Italy. And I’d be living close to you again.”
“That’s true. So you want Samuel to convince your brother?”
“My brother isn’t the problem. My mother is.”
“Samuel can be convincing.”
“Then let him work his charm.”
We talked for another hour before I finally ended the call. I went upstairs. As expected, Samuel wasn’t there. I changed into my nightgown, then climbed into bed and read a romance book Giorgia recommended. The heat level soon made me feel quite hot, and I put the book down. Should I go downstairs and check on Samuel?
Remembering his words about his command being law, I decided to stay where I was. I had a feeling if I pushed too hard right now, he would close himself off even more—if that was even possible.
