Daddy and Aldo were waiting at the bottom of the stairs, a matching proud expression in their eyes as they watched their respective ladies walk toward them. I’d watched this same scene from the living room, a spectator imagining what it would be like when I had a man who looked at me that way. And then Ian came around the corner from behind Daddy, dressed in an expensive dark suit, an unreadable expression on his handsome face. But then he looked up at me, raised his hand, and I thought for a second I saw pride fill his eyes.
The crowd parted as he escorted me into the room, the silence absolute.
“Allow me to announce the betrothal of my beautiful daughter, Mia Isabella Rossi, to Ian Crawford Callahan,” my father’s voice billowed out from behind us.
The room suddenly burst into applause, the sound almost deafening. Ian held my hand up above our shoulders, pushing me slightly forward to accept the wave of adoration. I glanced back at him, and there was no doubt in my mind that I saw pride this time.
It was everything I’d always imagined it would be.
***
Ian remained close to my side all night as we worked our way through the crowd. Everyone was open and joyous. But I could feel the undercurrent of tension in the room. It was the first time in the history of both mafia organizations that major players from both sides were in the same room. Jack McGuire himself came up to me and offered his congratulations, professing that Ian was every bit the gentleman he’d proclaimed him to be to my father. I hadn’t heard that proclamation, but I had no doubt that he was right.
It was exhausting, the tension. I was almost relieved when a few hours into the party Ian led the way outside. We walked through the garden without speaking. He paused from time to time to touch a rose here, a petal there.
“I’ve heard that your mother is the gardener.”
“She is.”
“I can see that. She seemed to have a very patient nature, the kind of nature you’d need to grow and nurture something like this.”
“She’d appreciate your assessment of her nature.”
A few minutes later, Ian pulled me into a little clearing in the center of the garden where there was a small, stone fountain and a bench. We sat side by side for a long few minutes in silence, the sounds of other partygoers walking in the garden background noise to our breathing. Ian lifted his hand and acted as though he wanted to touch me, but his hand stilled in the middle of the air.
“Is something wrong?”
“No,” he said, glancing at me almost as though he’d forgotten I was there. “I just…I feel like there are so many things I should say to you, but I don’t know how or what.”
“Then maybe there’s nothing that needs to be said.”
He turned to me, his eyes moving slowly over the length of me. He touched my knee, just the tips of his fingers resting against the material of my skirt.
“You look really beautiful tonight. I guess I should have said so earlier.”
“Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”
“You think so?” He looked down at his suit. “I debated whether I should buy a new suit or not.”
“Maybe for the wedding.”
He looked up quickly, his mouth open to respond, but then he saw I was teasing and he chuckled softly.
“I want you to know I’m not such a bad guy.”
“I know.”
“I don’t expect anything from you that you aren’t willing to give.”
I nodded, my thoughts going back to the kiss in his kitchen. I bit my lip, and I swear I could taste him there still. Our eyes met and he leaned close, so close that I could feel the heat of their breath. I knew he was about to kiss me—I wanted him to kiss me—but then voices of men who were walking in the garden came close to us.
“Jack only caved to this because he knew he’d never win in a full out street war. Carmine could have kicked his ass.”
“Then why is he marrying his youngest daughter to that Callahan?”
“I don’t know. But it sure is a waste of a sweet, little thing.”
Anger flashed across Ian’s face. He started to get up, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him back down onto the bench with me.
“Ignore them. They’re just drunk and feeling stupid.”
“They shouldn’t be talking about you that way.”
I was touched by that, by the idea that he might care enough to be angry about such a stupid comment. I leaned forward and kissed him on the corner of his mouth.
“Thank you. Not even my brothers would care enough to want to defend my honor.”
“You’re a beautiful woman, Mia,” Ian said, pushing me back against the bench with a hand on the side of my face. “You should be spoken of only with respect.”
He kissed me, not on the corner of the mouth, but with the same sort of breath-stealing, knee-weakening passion that he’d kissed me with earlier in the day. I grabbed hold of his lapel and went for the ride, opening to him as he pressed hard against me, his hand sliding over my hip as he tugged me almost onto his lap. He was an amazing kisser. He knew what he was doing, and he made each and every movement count. I’d never been explored quite the way he did it, never touched quite the way he touched me. It was a jumble of sensations, not just his lips on mine or his tongue doing the most amazing things, but his hand on my hip and his other on my neck. My mind was overwhelmed with the feel of him, not sure which source of pleasure was the one that should win priority over the others.
And then there was my hand on him, the softness of his suit jacket tangled in my hand, the heat of his flesh under his shirt where my other hand was pressed. I wanted to feel flesh in a way that was almost obsessive. I wanted my fingers under his shirt, wanted to feel the jumping and the flexing of his muscles against my hand. We were in my mother’s garden—in the middle of a massive party—yet I wanted him to rip his shirt from his body and give me access to every inch of that powerful chest, that six pack, and the secrets that hid below them.
It was a crazy thought, one I shouldn’t have been having at that moment. If my dad were to catch us, he would kill Ian despite the fact that we were properly engaged.
Almost as if he’d heard my thoughts, Ian broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to mine.
“We should stop,” he said breathlessly.
“Okay.”
“I don’t want your father to think I have ill intentions toward you.”
“Of course.”
And then he kissed me again.
I was floating on a cloud, my mind so far beyond reasonable thought that it was fractured, my thoughts moving from one insane thought to another. I pressed two fingers between the buttons on his crisp, white shirt, disappointed to find the ribbed fabric of an undershirt. But the shirt was thin, and I could feel the heat of his skin and the pounding of his heart. He broke the kiss again, but this time to create a trail down my throat, eliciting a moan from deep in my throat as he made his way slowly to the heart shape of my dress’s bodice. His tongue, just the very tip, brushed against the rounded flesh of one breast, sliding slowly down the curve into the valley in between. And then he began his way slowly up, alternating between little flicks of his tongue and tiny, butterfly kisses.
I don’t think my nipples had ever been quite that hard.
And then his mouth was on mine again and we kissed roughly, almost violently, as he slid his hand under my skirt along my stockings. He groaned when he found my garter, his hand sliding further up against bare skin.
“Fuck me!” He groaned as he broke the kiss a third time. “We really have to stop.”
I ran my hand over the bristles of his short hair, teasing a few of the hairs at the back of his neck. Then he jumped to his feet and held out his hand, tugging me to mine. He stood facing the exit of the little garden for a long moment, almost as though he was waiting for something. Then he tugged me back into the garden and back up to the house. Seraphina saw us first, waving from the stone porch. Beside her was Aldo—with that perpetual dumb
look on his face—Kyle, and the brunette he’d been with earlier.
“Hey, brother,” Kyle said, slapping Ian’s shoulder as he studied him with a hard stare. “Everything good?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
Kyle hesitated a second then tugged the brunette up closer to his side.
“Mia, this is my wife, Amelia. Amelia, Mia.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said, taking her proffered hand.
She smiled and her face seemed to brighten as she focused on me. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you the other day at Killian’s. I was overseeing my father’s move from an assisted living center to a nursing home.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
She shrugged her delicate shoulders. “It’s for the best. He’s had a couple of heart attacks, so he needs twenty-four seven nursing care.”
I glanced through the doors into the living room and caught sight of my father, quite loudly entertaining a group of his buddies. If the bullet that tore through his gut had been just an inch or two higher or lower, he might not be standing there tonight. Knock on wood, I could be right where Amelia was today.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you now.”
Amelia smiled, but she was distracted by Kyle. He was leaning past her to whisper something to Ian. I wasn’t sure what it was he said, but I could feel the tension suddenly move through Ian in the pressure in his fingers as he held my hand. He glanced at me, but my father stepped out onto the porch at that moment and beckoned us inside.
“Come. It’s time for the toast!”
“Good luck,” Seraphina said with a smile.
Aldo laughed.
Someone pushed a glass of champagne into my hand as we stepped through the door. Daddy moved us into the center of the room where we were surrounded by family and friends. My mom stood with her arm through Daddy’s, and Brian stood beside her, a big smile on his face. Killian and Stacy stood beside Carmine Jr. and his wife. Kyle and Amelia came in, and so did Seraphina and Aldo. We were trapped in a bubble of family, and they all seemed so happy for us. It should have been odd, and it should have felt surreal. But when I looked up at Ian and he smiled at me, it felt just like I’d imagined this moment would feel. Perfect.
“To Mia and Ian,” my father said in his booming voice. “May you have a long, happy life together!”
Cheers went up around us as we held up our glasses.
“May you never go to bed angry!” Brian said.
Again, cheers and laughter.
“May your lives be filled with laughter!” Carmine Jr. said.
And it went round and round, everyone throwing out well wishes for us despite the cruel words we’d heard some of Daddy’s men say. I’d never felt so self-conscious; I had never been the center of attention in this way. But Ian’s arm was around my waist, the length of his body a sense of security against me. It was a stupid thought because we barely knew each other, and we were essentially playing a role in some silly play, but I was convinced that as long as Ian was by my side everything would be okay.
The party wound down an hour or two later. I walked with Ian out to his car as the last of the guests left. He leaned back against the driver’s side door and pulled me against his chest.
“It was a lovely night.”
I giggled. “It was chaotic and loud, just like every party my father ever threw.”
“True. But it was much more fun than I thought it would be.” He ran his finger down the length of my cheek. “Your family is a lot of fun.”
“They are.”
I ran my hand over his chest, watching the crisp material of his shirt wrinkle and smooth out under my touch. He lifted my chin and we kissed, slowly. He slid his hand over my cheek, pressing his fingers into my hair. He drew me closer to him, deepening the kiss for a moment. But then he pulled away.
“I should go.”
I nodded where I’d pressed my forehead to his chest. “When will I see you again?”
“I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Okay.”
I stepped back and watched him get into his car. He waved as he pulled away, disappearing around the corner a second later. I sighed as I went into the house, running the tip of my tongue over my bottom lip, the taste of him lingering.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this engagement was real from the way you were swapping spit with him.”
Carmine Jr. was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, a drink between his hands.
“It is a real engagement.”
“Daddy might have told you that you had to marry that fool, but he didn’t tell you that you had to be a good, loyal wife.”
“What’s your problem, Junior?”
He stood up and blocked my access to the stairs. “Don’t let that pretty boy convince you that this isn’t a business arrangement. You’re doing this so that we can get in on the gun trade. The moment we get what we want, we’re taking the Irish down. That includes your husband-to-be.”
“Yeah? Is that what Daddy told you?”
“Daddy didn’t have to tell me, Mia. That’s the way of the business.”
“Then you’re missing the whole point of all this. Daddy wants peace.”
“Fuck peace! I’d just as soon take that asshole out than watch him touch my little sister again!”
“Get out of my way, Junior.”
I started to move around him, but he grabbed my arm and jerked me back.
“Just watch yourself, Mia. Make sure you don’t get caught in the crossfire.”
Chapter 7
Ian
I leaned back in my chair, my arms crossed over my chest. I was watching Kyle pace in front of Pops’ desk, about as agitated as I’d seen him in a long time.
“I just think you’re setting her up.”
“She’s going to be my wife in ten days.”
“But you don’t love her.”
“That’s none of your fucking business.” I got up, nearly knocking the chair over. “You have a lot of nerve lecturing me about my relationships when you’re the one that married some cocktail waitress in Vegas.”
Kyle rushed me, his fist balled and raised. “You don’t talk about Amelia!”
“Are you going to hit me, brother?”
Kyle stared at me for a long minute, but then he backed off, dropping his fist.
“I just saw the way she was looking at you when you came back from the garden last night. If you’re not serious about her, you’re going to break her heart.”
“Since when do you care about a Rossi?”
“I don’t. But you’re my brother and I’d rather not watch you get yourself wrapped up in some emotional meltdown with a woman because you were too stupid to see what you were getting yourself into.” Kyle crossed his arms and studied me a second. “You and I aren’t that different, Ian. I just want to save you from the mistake I almost made with Amelia.”
I just shook my head. I wasn’t interested in discussing my romantic life with Kyle. He was right when he said we were a lot alike. We both had a dark and sketchy childhood. We both struggled when we first came to live with the Callahans. But that didn’t mean that he could offer me any advice that would make a difference.
“Last time I checked…you were my little brother. I’m supposed to give advice to you, not the other way around.”
“Yeah, but I’ve been where you are. And I’m telling you, a girl like Mia doesn’t understand the difference between sexual attraction and love. So watch yourself, brother.”
I might have knocked him out if Pops hadn’t picked that moment to come into the room. Telling me how to act with my fiancée! I wasn’t an idiot. I just…I was going to be married to Mia for at least a year, probably longer. I might as well enjoy myself.
“We’ve heard from the bank,” Pops announced. “There hasn’t been any activity on any of Kevin’s accounts since he disappeared the night of the shootings.”
“I told you,” I said, crossing my arms agai
n as I fell into another chair.
“I know you did, son, but we had to make it official.”
“He must be getting money from somewhere,” Kyle said.
“My accountant thinks he might have siphoned money off of his trust fund for years, little bits of money he snuck under the guise of paying his bills while he was in Paris. He figures that it amounts to nearly fifteen thousand.”
I shook my head. “That won’t last long, not the way Kevin spends money.”
“And when it runs out, he’ll come out of the woodwork.”
“One would hope so.” I leaned forward and balanced myself on my knees, studying Pops’ face. “And what happens when he does?”
Pops shook his head, looking everywhere but at Kyle and me.
“Pops…”
“I think what Ian’s trying to say is that we’re going to have to deal with this the way we would deal with anyone who represented a threat to us,” Kyle helpfully explained.
“I’m aware.” Pops straightened, tugging at the front of his shirt like his collar was suddenly too tight. “He put us all in danger, and he nearly got Killian killed. I’m not oblivious to that.”
“You don’t have to be a part of it if you don’t want to be.”
Pops shot me a hard look. “Don’t patronize me, Ian. I know what needs to be done and I’ll do it.”
But even as he said it, I could see the hurt in his eyes and hear the pain in his voice. Kevin was his favorite. To have it be Kevin who’d so completely turned on us was overwhelming for me and Kyle and Sean and Killian. But for Pops…I couldn’t even imagine what it was like for him.
I drove to Killian’s when I left Pops’ office, not to see Killian, but to hang out with my sister. Stacy smiled this knowing smile when she opened the door, holding open her arms to me.
“How are you?”
There was real concern in her voice that made me wonder what she saw when she looked at me. I held her close for a long time, reveling in the feel of the familiar, of someone who wouldn’t judge no matter what I said or did.
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