Sandlin nodded. “I’d like that. And you can read to me.”
“Of course, I’ll read to you. I always do, don’t I?” She kissed first one cheek and then the other.
Sandlin nodded again. “Yes, you do.”
“Emmanuelle said she would come to read to you when I’m gone. You remember Emmanuelle, right?” She pointed out her sister-in-law, whirling around on the floor with a man she didn’t recognize.
“Is she good at it, like you?” Sandlin hadn’t even looked toward the dance floor.
“Yes, very good,” Sasha assured her brother.
“Okay then. You can go with Giovanni.” He sounded as if he was giving her a great concession.
Sasha laughed, kissed him again and took her husband’s hand.
“Why don’t you like him?” Signora Moretti asked Nicoletta as Taviano walked past the table where they sat with Lucia and Amo.
“Like who?” Nicoletta asked, frowning.
“Oh, stop that, girl,” Agnese Moretti scolded. “You’re not very good at covering your expressions. I’ve been working with you for a long time now and I can tell when you don’t like someone. The Ferraros are paying for your education, they make it clear that you’re under their protection and they’re giving you lessons in self-defense, which I don’t agree a young girl should be doing. Not until you’re older. Instead of appreciating them, you make it clear you don’t want anything to do with the family.”
“That’s not true, Signora Moretti,” Nicoletta denied.
“Of course it is,” Agnese persisted. “My understanding is that Stefano served with your father, and when your parents were killed, he brought you here. Isn’t that true? Did the family do something to offend you? Take you from another relative you preferred?”
A small shudder went through Nicoletta’s body and she stood abruptly, as if the fight-or-flight response had kicked in. At once, the members of the Ferraro family turned their heads.
It was Vittorio who got there first. He held out his hand to the girl. “Dance with me.” There was pure command in his voice, but his touch was gentle as he pulled her into his body and swung them onto the dance floor.
He was quiet for a few moments, holding her close as if absorbing whatever it was that had upset her. When she quieted, he allowed space between them. “Is she prying? Upsetting you? You have only to ask and we’ll find you another tutor.”
Nicoletta moistened her bottom lip with her tongue. “No. Signora Moretti has been really good to me. She takes getting used to, but she really brought my studies up and helped me finish the grades I needed fast in order to graduate. She makes every subject easy to understand. I’m going to graduate in another week or so.” She paused. “I like the training in the gym your family has given me. I hope to continue that.”
“You’ll have more time once you finish school,” Vittorio pointed out.
“Yes. I told Lucia and Amo I would stay, but I want to pay them rent. I’m working at the restaurant now, and once I’m full-time, I’ll be able to pay them.”
“Nicoletta, you know Stefano pays for your rent and clothes. If we could have taken you in ourselves, we would have, but Lucia and Amo were far better equipped. Still, you’re part of our family.”
She shook her head and almost pulled out of his arms. He just tightened his hold and locked his arm like a bar across her back. “Settle down. Don’t you think it’s time you got over the fact that we know about your past? You’re punishing our family because we got you out of a horrendous situation.”
“Is that what you call it? A horrendous situation?” There was a cross between a sneer and a sob in her voice. “I call it something else. Maybe you’ve never lived in hell, Vittorio. Maybe you’ve never had to hide from others how ashamed you are. How dirty.”
His hand caught her chin and yanked her head up so her eyes were forced to meet his. “Don’t you ever let me hear you call yourself that. Never. It is so far from the truth, I want to put you over my knee and paddle that right out of you. Don’t let something like that into your brain. They did that. Not you. You’re bright and beautiful and so far above them they wanted to break you. They wanted to bring you down into the muck with them. They can’t take that you shine, and you do. You are not dirty. That is not you, Nicoletta.”
She stared into his eyes for a long time and then she swallowed. Nodded. The music ended and instead of Vittorio taking her back to the table where Signora Moretti watched over her with Lucia and Amo, he took her over to Stefano. Stefano immediately whirled her into his arms. Stefano intimidated her. There was no other word for it. She realized, now that she was eighteen, the Ferraro family wasn’t going to back off. They were determined that she stay in their territory where they could look out for her.
Giovanni lifted his hand as he guided Sasha around them. “Save me a dance, Nicoletta.”
Sasha smiled at the girl. “She’s really beautiful, Giovanni.”
“She is. She doesn’t realize it. She’s hell on wheels in the training hall. You should see that girl move. She’s fast. She doesn’t realize that, either, because Emmanuelle and Mariko, the two working with her right now, have trained all of their lives, but all of us are astounded. Her reflexes are incredible.”
“Why aren’t any of you men training her?”
His woman sounded a little snippy, as if she was going to take him to task because, at the moment, they were leaving Nicoletta’s self-defense training to the females. “She’s very leery around us, sweetheart. We’ll be training her eventually, but right now, she’s more apt to show up if she’s working with Emme or Mariko. We’d have to put our hands on her and she’s not ready for that. In any case, Mariko has developed a very good relationship with her, and we want to encourage that. You can see she’s very intimidated by us. She doesn’t like us touching her, or even standing too close.”
“She likes him.”
Giovanni’s head came up sharply. “Likes who?” Because that “who” was going to have his head removed if he was making a move on Nicoletta.
“Taviano. Sheesh, Giovanni, you’re kind of a hothead.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Baby. You’re just beginning to notice? Why aren’t you intimidated?”
“Because I’m better with a rope than you are. I think I proved that the other night.”
He rested his lips against her ear. His tongue did a brief foray, and he felt the answering shiver of her body. “Dio, but I love you,” he whispered.
Benito Petrov danced past them with Angelina Laconi in his arms. Petrov owned the pizzeria with his son, Tito. A widower, no one thought he would ever date again, but it looked to Giovanni as if he was very comfortable with Angelina, although she was several years younger.
“You aren’t even going to protest the rope thing?”
“Because it’s too absurd to bother protesting. You just brought it up because Mariko told you about that rope thing Ricco does with her that totally turns her on.”
She pulled back and scowled up at him. “What rope thing? Mariko told you about a rope thing your brother does?”
“Mariko would never talk to me. I thought she talked to you.” He pretended to give it some thought. “Where did I hear about that technique?”
She burst out laughing, just as he knew she would. He loved that sound. He knew he wanted to hear it for the rest of his life.
“You made that up.”
“I did,” he admitted and then put his mouth over her ear again. “But you’re thinking about it, and your panties are damp for me, aren’t they?”
“Silly man. My panties are always damp for you, haven’t you figured that out yet?”
He wanted to get her home. He needed to get her home. He turned his head and stiffened. In the doorway of the hotel ballroom, Valentino Saldi stood framed. He wore a suit, and his shoulders nearly touched from one side of the frame to the other. He paused there, his gaze sweeping around the dance floor and tables until he found what he was looking f
or.
Emmanuelle. Giovanni nearly stopped dancing right in the middle of the song. He caught sight of Ricco dancing with Nicoletta. They had decided to take turns, making that first declaration to her that she was part of their family. Each one would dance with her at least once. Giovanni included. She was Taviano’s. He’d made that clear. No matter whether she was or wasn’t, they’d brought her into the family and it was time she accepted it.
Valentino walked across the floor, weaving in and out of the people. Everyone liked him. He was a good man, no matter that he was part of the Saldi organization. His family owned the meat company, and he often delivered their products himself. The Ferraros were convinced he did it in order to see Emmanuelle more, but he was always friendly with everyone. Still, there was an aura of danger about him and everyone knew he was a Saldi.
His cousin and bodyguard, Dario, paced behind him, also in a suit. For just one moment, his gaze shifted to follow Nicoletta around the dance floor and then he was all business, and Giovanni wasn’t certain he actually saw that momentary breach.
Emmanuelle stood to one side of the room, talking with Signora Vitale. His sister turned her head slowly just before Valentino reached her side. He held out his hand to her. Giovanni willed his sister to walk away. She didn’t. She just stood very still. Frozen like a statue. Valentino was the one to step forward. He pulled Emmanuelle into his arms and brushed a kiss onto her forehead.
She jerked her head away, said something to him. Giovanni knew that look. She was angry. Hurt. More hurt than angry. “Baby,” he said softly. “I have to help Emme.”
“Of course.” They hurried over to the couple. He’d been dancing them closer and closer so it wasn’t far.
“Emmanuelle. You promised me this dance.” Giovanni took her right out of Valentino’s arms and turned his sister into his chest so she could hide her face.
Emmanuelle went with him as he guided her across the room. He just held her, feeling the tremors running through her. He didn’t talk. There wasn’t anything to say, and he wasn’t going to put her on the spot. No one could pry anything out of her if she didn’t want to share, and so far, she hadn’t said a word to any of them about Valentino, or why she was so upset with him.
Valentino immediately held out his arms to the bride. He expected her to turn him down, but she smiled at him and let him take her out among the whirling couples. He kept his eye on Emmanuelle, making certain to stay close enough that when the music ended, he would be able to claim her again.
“You’re very brave to come here when you hurt that girl,” Sasha said. “Her brothers would very much like to teach you a few hard lessons.”
He was a little shocked that she spoke to him at all. “I’m sorry. I read the papers so I know your name is Sasha, but we haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Valentino Saldi. My friends call me Val. I had to crash your wedding reception, which I’m very aware is terrible manners. And I’m also aware her brothers would like to throw me into the nearest river and drown me. Dario, my bodyguard, knows it, too. She won’t take my calls.”
“Emmanuelle isn’t nearly as tough as everyone thinks she is,” Sasha said. “Nor has she had the easiest time. I don’t know why you keep pursuing her when you make her so miserable. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“It doesn’t? Why does any man pursue a woman?”
Sasha recalled the conversation at the Ferraro table half said in jest. “Sex?”
“For any man,” Valentino agreed. “But to risk one’s life, it has to be more than sex.”
She agreed with that assessment. “That’s the general consensus. But some men do like the adrenaline rush, and what a feat it would be to defeat your rivals by going after their sister.”
“I wasn’t aware we were rivals.”
Sasha shrugged. She felt very protective over Emmanuelle. “How many times have you broken up with Emme and then gone after her again?”
“Emmanuelle does the breaking up. I have never sent her home. She goes back again and again. I’m unsure why. When I ask her, she just cries and leaves me. I’ve tried to live without her. I’ve tried dating other women. God help me, I even tried fucking another woman. That was a disaster in more ways than one.” He sighed, his eyes on the woman in Giovanni’s arms. “I do know that if she does what she says she’s going to do, there’s going to be bloodshed, and she needs to know that up front.”
“What do you mean? You wouldn’t dare hurt her.”
Valentino stopped on the dance floor, looking down into her face. For the first time a shiver went down her spine and she was a little afraid of him. “I would kill any man who threatened her or touched her. Never her. Never Emmanuelle.”
Thankfully, the music ended, and Valentino took her hand and gave her back to Giovanni. When Emmanuelle tried to turn away, he caught her wrist. “You’re dancing with me, Emme.”
Sasha saw Emmanuelle take a deep breath and then she turned back to him. “There isn’t anything to say. I don’t want to keep doing this.”
“You have to hear me out.”
She shook her head. “I saw you, Val. With my own eyes. I saw you.” Tears filled her eyes and she looked to Giovanni. “I need you to get me out of here.”
There it was. His sister never asked for help, and she was asking. Giovanni gently took her hand out of Val’s. “Excuse me, Sasha. I’ll be right back.” He strode away, his arm around Emmanuelle. He took her out of the ballroom.
Sasha followed Valentino and Dario at a distance because they were trailing after Giovanni and Emmanuelle. Giovanni went straight to Stefano’s private elevator, put in the code and kissed the top of his sister’s head. He stood there like a silent sentinel until the doors closed and then he turned toward Valentino.
“You’re a good man, Val,” he said. “But she means it. No is no in my world.”
Sasha knew it really wasn’t. No, to the Ferraros, meant “try harder.” She wasn’t certain that Giovanni really understood that they had a double standard.
Valentino shook his head. “She’s hurt, Giovanni. You know she loves me. You know she belongs with me.”
“The sad truth is,” Giovanni said, “she can’t ever be with you. I don’t know what happened, but you’re going to have to respect her refusal. This isn’t like the ten times before. This time she’s adamant. I’ve never seen her refuse to dance with you. Nor has she ever asked for our help in dealing with you. Not ever. Leave her alone, Val, and let her heal.”
He held out his arm, and Sasha moved quickly under his shoulder, her arm around his waist. The two of them faced the bodyguard and Valentino, who shook his head and turned to walk away.
“Val?” Giovanni called.
He turned back.
“I’m really sorry.”
Val nodded and walked toward the front of the hotel.
“You really do like him. I thought there was some feud and you were all ready to do him in for some reason other than Emmanuelle.” She rubbed his chest over his heart because she felt his hurt for the other man.
“The feud between our families goes way back, well over a hundred years. The Saldis are a crime family. That’s the bottom line. Valentino stands to inherit it all. He’s the prince in that family. He was born into it and brought up in it. Emmanuelle can’t go there. She’s expected to carry out her duty. She has to have children, riders.”
“She can’t be happy? Your family wants to turn her into Eloisa?”
“Why would you think Eloisa wasn’t happy in her marriage?”
She rolled her eyes. “Anyone can see she wasn’t happy. She didn’t want children. Her family forced her to be someone she wasn’t. That’s what is going to happen to Emmanuelle.”
Giovanni stood there for a long time staring at the elevator, his arms around her. Tight. “That’s true, but I didn’t realize others could see it so easily in Eloisa. I’m going to talk to Stefano and the others about this. I’ve never thought of it this way. Never. She isn’t going to be another El
oisa.”
“Having said that …” Sasha backpedaled a bit. “Valentino really hurt her. Whatever he did, she isn’t going to forgive.”
Giovanni let out his breath. “Believe me, baby, that’s a good thing. Our family would never accept him, and his would never accept her.” He nuzzled the top of her head. “Let’s go home.”
“I thought we’d never get home tonight.”
At last. Giovanni carried Sasha over the threshold. He kept the age-old tradition to ward off bad luck. They’d had enough of that and he wasn’t taking chances. He set her in the large chair in the great room, turned on the fireplace with the remote, added music and closed all the drapes. Sasha started to remove her shoes.
“Don’t, Sasha. Not yet.” He removed his jacket and loosened his tie as she slowly straightened. “I want another dance with you, baby. Are you too tired?”
She shook her head and stood up. “It was a beautiful day and I don’t want it to be over. I did drink a little too much champagne though.”
“That’s good. I wouldn’t mind a little drunken sex with you.” He pulled her close and reached behind her to find the little hooks holding the nude-colored slip under the beautiful transparent layer of sequined embroidery. The silk slithered down her body, leaving her in only a pair of nude lace panties that were little more than a strip.
Sasha laughed and stepped out of the slip. “Did you know about that little trick the entire time?”
“Of course.”
He pulled her into his arms and began to guide her in a series of intricate steps that kept her hips pressed tightly against his. He loved the way her body felt against his. Through the transparent material, her skin felt like silk, sliding over him. His cock grew hard. Hungry. He slid his hands down the curve of her spine, found that indentation where her back met the rounded curves of her buttocks. His hands moved lower, found her cheeks. Firm. Soft. He kneaded, massaged. He loved that she savored his touch.
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