Shadow Warrior

by Feehan, Christine

  “How are you feeling, gattina? I saw you pick up a few things that are heavier than the five pounds the doctor is allowing you.”

  She nodded. “I realized that at the last minute. I’m used to just getting things done without constantly asking for help.”

  He transferred his hand to the nape of her neck, smiling carelessly at a senator and his wife. He leaned down to focus completely on his woman, his body posture protective, showing his friends and family who mattered the most to him. “I’m not going to lecture you on following Doc’s orders because clearly you’re trying to. But I did see Eloisa pull you aside and talk to you. You didn’t say a word to her, but I could tell from the way she looked that she was tearing strips off you.”

  Grace looked up at him, the expression on her face wary. “This is my business, Vittorio. You agreed I would handle my business. Your mother hired my company to put this event on and we pride ourselves on delivering exactly what the client wants. She ordered a plant called Lotus berthelotii, more commonly called parrot’s beak, to be on every table and going up the trellises. The plant is gorgeous. The flower is known for its lobster claw–like petals that resemble a parrot’s beak. We ordered them, of course, far in advance, but the plane carrying them lost an engine and had to make an emergency landing. There was no way to get them here in time, so we substituted another very rare flower of equal beauty.”

  Vittorio looked around him. Flowers were everywhere. They were beautiful and had a faint, elusive perfume that was subtle but added to the romance of the evening. The flowers were a blue-green hue, large vines hanging on trellises and down the ceilings in the ballroom, adding a tropical feel. Each table had a single clump floating in water with candles as a centerpiece.

  “The jade flower is found in the Philippines and really is a vine, but the color, almost turquoise, is rare and beautiful. It was extremely difficult to get it flown in, but I know a few people, and for this worthy event, we made it happen. Katie knows how to sweet talk. In any case, parrot’s beak flowers are a different color. Apparently, it was the color and not the rarity your mother would have preferred. We tried calling to ask her when we couldn’t get the parrot’s beak, but she didn’t return our calls even when we said it was an emergency.”

  He brushed his fingers down her soft skin because it was impossible not to touch her. She wore her hair up, a red flame so intricate he longed to take it out, one pin at a time, and watch the strands fall around her. He had chosen her dress for her and there had been a minor protest, but it was beautiful, and she knew she would look amazing in it. The slip was from fabric made in France by the Archambault family, cousins of the famous riders. The green was a perfect match for her eyes and brought out their color and shine. Like the rider suits, the fabric seemed alive, breathing with every step as it clung to every curve, but was lightweight and stretchy.

  The overlay was translucent with white embroidered roses scattered across the fishtail gown as it dropped to the floor. The green slip beneath was low across the curve of her breasts, but the translucent overlay had a rounded neck and long sleeves. The fitted silhouette was gorgeous, the slip contrasting with the embroidered lace. Scattered over the roses were tiny glimmering diamonds, catching the light to add glimpses of fire to the gown to match the fire in her hair. Vittorio knew Grace would never have touched the gown had she known the cost, but he knew it was perfect for her. He thought she was the most beautiful woman in the room. It was sexy and yet elegant, exactly as he’d envisioned her when he’d seen drawings of it.

  He cupped her face, his hands framing the beauty there. “I appreciate that you think it’s your job to put up with Eloisa’s bullshit, but it isn’t. This isn’t her event alone. The Ferraro family puts it on jointly. She might talk to the planners, but she can’t fire them without the vote of the entire family. If you’re worried about that . . .” His thumb slid over the little indentation on her chin.

  She shook her head. “Eloisa lives for these events. She enjoys them, every step of the planning all the way to the final night. She has a vision and usually, it’s one that is beautiful and successful. We might help her tweak it a bit, but she visualizes what she wants better than any other client we have. Each event has been better than the one before it and raised more money for her causes. If I have to put up with her haranguing me over flowers that should have been here, I’m okay with that.”

  He bent to brush a kiss over her upturned mouth, his heart clenching hard in his chest. “I know you’re okay with it, but I’m not. You’re mine. My woman. You’re going to be my wife very soon. She doesn’t get to abuse you any more than I want her to abuse my sister.”

  “Your mother vents. She expresses her frustration in anger. She isn’t good at pulling her punches. It’s clear she has few friends and no one to talk to when she doesn’t understand what is happening around her. All of you are grownups now . . .”

  “Don’t think of her as being an empty nester.” Abruptly he let his hands slip away from her face as he straightened, his mouth hard, his eyes warning her there were some things he wouldn’t tolerate. Eloisa abusing her was one of them. “She never wanted children and when she had them, she didn’t take care of them. She left that to her oldest son, who was barely school age. Eloisa doesn’t see us as children.”

  “Maybe not, Vittorio, but when you were older, she interacted with you. She had someone to talk to.”

  “To criticize,” he corrected.

  She smiled at him and slipped her hand into his. “Perhaps that’s her way of talking. In any case, as long as it pertains to this business, we’re going to agree to disagree.”

  Vittorio swallowed down his decree. He shouldn’t have made the bargain with her. He should have just announced he was the one in charge and gone on from there. Now he didn’t have a leg to stand on, even when he knew how really bad Eloisa could get. Sasha hadn’t put up with her continual criticisms, but Emmanuelle mostly did, which only encouraged Eloisa to leap on her daughter and tear her to shreds emotionally every chance she got. She did the same to Francesca. She tried with Mariko, but not often, respecting her as a rider. Now she had Grace to kick around, but Vittorio wasn’t having it.

  “I’m going to warn you this once, Grace. I might not have a say when it comes to your business. I don’t like it, but I promised you, and I keep my promises. Any other time she gets out of line, I will be the one dealing with it. And I expect you to tell me immediately every single time it happens.” He held her gaze until she reluctantly agreed.

  They reached Emmanuelle, Taviano and Anne. Vittorio immediately introduced Grace to Anne. Anne held out her hand and Grace took it. “Such a pleasure to meet you. Vittorio has told me so much about you.”

  “None of it’s true,” Anne proclaimed with a wide smile. “You can’t believe a word he says.” She leaned over to brush both sides of Vittorio’s face with a kiss.

  Vittorio could see the sorrow in her eyes. “Have you been dancing yet?”

  “We were just about to,” Taviano said. “Would you care to join us?”

  A very handsome man hovering near them smiled at Emmanuelle. “Dance with me, Emme?” He was tall, with dark hair and very dark brown eyes.

  Vittorio tried to place him. He looked to be older than Emme by a few years. “You might want to tell me who you are before you take my sister anywhere.”

  The man turned to him. “I’m Elie Archambault. I was in the military with Demetrio and Drago, same unit. My father is French, my mother American. He died some years ago and she brought me to the States with her.”

  Vittorio recalled one of the famed Archambault riders dying of cancer some years earlier.

  “My father was my mother’s world. When he was gone she was so grief-stricken that I came with her,” Elie added as if Vittorio would need more of an explanation. “She passed when I was eighteen. I joined the military and had a good career, but I was injured and had to leave. I needed a job when I got out, and Demetrio suggested I come here and
train with Emilio as a bodyguard.” He sounded almost bored, as if he’d repeated his story several times, and Vittorio was certain he had.

  Elie had accompanied his grief-stricken mother home rather than have her be alone after her husband’s death. Vittorio liked him more for that.

  “You could have told all that to me, not my brother,” Emmanuelle pointed out. There was clear suspicion on her face, as if she believed Elie had been ordered to ask her to dance.

  Elie’s cool dark eyes slid over her. “Your brother asked. You didn’t.” He turned on his heel and took a step away.

  “Wait.” Emmanuelle had to take several steps to catch up. “I would love to dance with you. I should have said so immediately, but you surprised me.”

  Elie turned back to her slowly, those dark eyes drifting over her. “You look beautiful. Like royalty. I don’t know why you’d be surprised that a man would want to dance with you.”

  “You’re aware of the possible situation going on tonight?” Vittorio asked.

  “Emilio apprised all of us of it. I’m on a break. I wouldn’t have asked her while I was working.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Emmanuelle let out her breath. She visibly relaxed at Elie’s declaration. Vittorio tightened his fingers around Grace’s hand and indicated Elie and Emmanuelle precede him to the ballroom. The music had changed to a slower, dreamy number and the moment the three couples were on the floor, Vittorio swung Grace into his arms. He’d been aching to hold her.

  “I’m supposed to be working,” she reminded, her voice muffled against his chest.

  “You’re supposed to be making sure your man is happy, which, at this very minute, he is.” Vittorio brought her even closer, welding their bodies together so they flowed over the floor in perfect harmony.

  If he could get lost when there was potential danger surrounding him, or anyone he loved, it would have been right there, in that moment. The music, the stars overhead, the fragrant turquoise flowers cascading on trellises from ceiling to floor, all added to the complete magic. He lifted his head for one moment to look around him at the other couples dancing. The event planners had created the perfect moment for everyone, giving them a chance to indulge in a romantic interlude with someone they were hoping to get to know better, or someone they loved.

  Grace felt perfect up against him. Her body moved under the dress, a sensual flow that built a smoldering fire in the center of his groin and made for a lazy spread of heat through his veins. Her steps matched his flawlessly, but he didn’t want to break the spell woven around them to ask her if she’d ever taken dancing lessons. She’d learned somewhere.

  He noted his sister talking with Elie as her partner kept her safe from anyone bumping into her. For the first time in a long while, Emmanuelle looked relaxed and, if not happy, definitely interested in whatever Elie had to say. That was a good thing. He wondered if he should suggest to Grace that Elie be seated at Emmanuelle’s table. He didn’t look the part of a bodyguard. He was tall and lithe rather than sinewy, but Demetrio would never have suggested he look for a job with Gallo Security unless he thought the man was capable of working at the level Emilio would demand. He must have been taught to be a rider, with his father a famous member of the Archambault family. They were renowned as riders.

  Vittorio moved his hand down Grace’s back. His palm was hot against the thin material of her dress. He wanted to touch her skin so badly he could taste desire in his mouth. His cock pushed hard against her body, making it known how she affected him. She just seemed to melt into him, her body soft and flowing, surrendering to him, in just the way she did when she kissed him—or made love to him.

  He whirled her around, so they were in the dark and his hand could slide over her tempting ass. He cupped her there and pressed her deeper into him. “You make me happy, Grace. It’s that simple. I’ve never felt like this before.”

  She tilted her head to look up at him. “You make me very happy, too.”

  A couple came close and Vittorio spun Grace away from them, looking down to see who had gotten so near when they didn’t need to. To his astonishment, Eloisa danced with a man who had worked for their family for years. Henry Watson had his arms around her, their steps absolutely in synch, as if they had been dancing together for years. He’d never seen his mother dance before. His father, Phillip, had danced at numerous charity functions, but never with his mother. Vittorio glanced at Taviano to see if he was witnessing what Vittorio considered a historic event. Grace and Katie had really created magic in order to lure Eloisa into a man’s arms for a spin around the dance floor.

  Taviano sent him a smirk and then nodded his head slightly toward the left. Vittorio rubbed his chin on the top of Grace’s head and shifted his gaze in the direction his brother had indicated. Moritz Mischer danced with Candy. Candy was all over Mischer. She rubbed her body blatantly over him, her hands sliding up and down his as they moved together around the dance floor. He looked very uncomfortable. Her laughter was loud and to Vittorio’s ears sounded taunting, as if she knew Anne was close.

  Taviano turned Anne so she faced away from the couple. His hand twisted hers gently to bring it over his heart and as they matched steps perfectly, elegantly, he bent his head to hers and whispered in her ear. They appeared to be a couple in love.

  “You Ferraros definitely know how to play to an audience,” Grace said. “Anne is an actress so I expected her to look as if she was totally into your brother, but his acting skills are superb.” She eyed him as though she thought he was acting.

  Vittorio bent his head to kiss her. “Her ex is with the loud, very drunk woman dressed in purple just over there but getting closer.” He whispered the information against her ear.

  Grace turned her head and he whirled her around so she could get a better look. Candy teetered drunkenly on her heels and caught at the lapels of Mischer’s jacket.

  “I can’t believe he traded Anne for that woman.” Grace was outraged on Anne’s behalf.

  “He doesn’t look happy. In fact, he’s paying more attention to Taviano and Anne than to his date.”

  “He’s a ridiculous man not to know what he had and treasure it. Anne and Taviano are seated at the Ferraro table. I hope all of you will look out for her.”

  Grace would have glared at Candy and Mischer, but Vittorio whirled her around once again, trying not to laugh. He knew his woman was a little stick of dynamite when she got going. He’d seen her furious.

  “We’ll definitely look out for her,” he reassured.

  “The goal with Taviano isn’t to make her ex-husband jealous, is it? She doesn’t want to get him back, right?”

  Vittorio looked down at the anxiety and fierceness on Grace’s upturned face. His heart did that curious melting thing he was becoming used to when he was around her. “You’re such a ferocious little thing when you need to be. I think of you as my beautiful kitten, and then you roar, and I have to change my assessment. Are you saying if I made such a mistake as to allow another woman to tempt me . . .”

  “Cheat, Vittorio, just use the right word. Break your vow. No self-control. It cheapens you as a man. I realize men in positions such as yours, men with power and money, have women throw themselves at them, but if a man took a vow and promised the woman he’s supposed to love and respect above all others, and then cheats on her, he isn’t worth anything. Nothing at all. It shows he isn’t any kind of a man. So, no, I wouldn’t take you back. I don’t need a man to take care of me. I’ve been taking care of myself most of my life, even my own emotional needs. I’d walk away because I would always think less of you.”

  He loved her snippy little voice. She meant every word.

  “My man could fail in business and I would never leave his side. But that? Cheating? It just says he’s really nothing and he doesn’t respect himself or me. I’d rather live on my own. I can support myself and be happy with my work.”

  He bent his head to press his lips against her ear. “What about sex?” His
voice was deliberately sensual, and his lips brushed that little shell with every word. Grace shivered in his arms.

  “There are really wonderful toys that make up for a lot, Vittorio, so if you’re thinking of going down that cheating road, know that I will replace you with a girl’s best friend.”

  “I thought that was diamonds.” He swung her around, keeping their bodies between Taviano and Anne and Moritz and Candy.

  Moritz was definitely trying to get next to Anne. Candy was louder the closer they got. Henry whirled Eloisa right between the couples, putting another obstacle in the way, thwarting Mischer’s plan. Then Elie danced Emmanuelle between them as well. All the while, Taviano kept his head bent to Anne’s as if they were having an intimate conversation and knew nothing about the drama playing out on the dance floor.

  Vittorio felt eyes on him and he turned his head to meet Valentino Saldi’s angry gaze. The man was furious. He glared at Vittorio, and then at Emmanuelle. Val didn’t try to approach them, which was good. Vittorio didn’t want a public fight on record, but there was no doubt in his mind that the Saldi heir was very angry with the way Emmanuelle and Elie danced together.

  Elie made no bones about showing his interest in the princess of the Ferraro family. She was intelligent, beautiful, elegant, sensual and very lethal. Emmanuelle danced at fund-raisers all the time, but she never leaned into a man, or looked up at his face as if she wasn’t aware of the dancers around her. She laughed at something Elie said, and Vittorio knew it was genuine. Emmanuelle didn’t laugh often. None of them did, but he knew when she was acting, and it wasn’t that. For the first time since she’d gone out to meet Val at the age of sixteen, she looked to honestly be interested in another man.

  “I don’t like the way Val is looking at Emmanuelle,” Grace said softly. “It’s too late to change tables. Emmanuelle always requested that the Saldis be seated at the table left of the Ferraro table. Val sat at the end, closest to where Emme sat. Those arrangements were never changed.”