Brielle seemed very independent. Much more so than he ever thought possible. The woman answering questions hadn’t seemed quite so stubborn or liberated. She stated that respect was extremely important, but she had no problems following when her partner led if he was a righteous leader. Her behavior, so far, didn’t quite mesh with the answers she had sworn were truthful ones.
Brielle offered Emilio a tentative smile. “Stefano didn’t seem a man who takes to orders easily. For that matter, Elie doesn’t, either. If you’re able to get either one of them to do what you need them to if their lives are in danger, you must be really good at your job.” Her tone implied that Elie might be stubborn just to have his way in the face of death.
Emilio shot Elie an amused look over her head as he reached to open the door to the private conference room where the party was being held. “When their lives are in danger, not if,” he corrected.
Brielle nearly stopped walking, but Elie put a hand on her back to keep her moving. He glared at Emilio.
“What do you mean, when? Riders get in and get out. We’re never seen. Why would Elie ever be in danger?” Clearly the idea of Elie being in danger wasn’t something she’d considered and she didn’t like it.
There was a short silence. Brielle tipped her head back, her startling green eyes meeting Elie’s. “Elie?” There was a little note of demand in her voice, one that he couldn’t help but like. There was also fear for him. He liked that even more.
“Everyone is waiting on us,” he hedged. “We can go into this when we’re alone, ma chérie.”
She looked as if she might argue with him but then she turned to look at the group of people waiting to greet them and she instantly subsided. The bodyguards moved away from them, deeming it safe in the room filled with members of the Ferraro family. Brielle actually moved closer to him, coming under his shoulder, so that he slipped his arm around her waist, drawing her into the heat of his body as he walked her across the room, once again trying to imagine what it must be like for her not to know a single person.
“Most everyone is a Ferraro or related by marriage,” he whispered, hoping to ease some of her trepidation.
“I heard their family is enormous. Cousins in various locations, even overseas,” she acknowledged.
“It is very large. Not just the riders. They appear to be quite close. The ones in this immediate part of the family are close and the cousins that are riders and their bodyguards are close. I wouldn’t want to be the person who thought to harm one of them.” He traced the back of her hand with his thumb as they approached the table with the small wedding cake.
Stefano and Francesca waited for them, looking happy. Elie could tell that Stefano hadn’t shared Brielle’s determination to end the marriage before it began with anyone else, although those attending the ceremony had to have wondered at the exchange before the vows had taken place.
Elie presented Brielle to Francesca first. Stefano was the head of the family, but Francesca was the undisputed heart of the family. She had given birth to a baby girl just two months earlier, and as always, the entire family—including Elie—was treating her as if she was too fragile to walk across a room. Francesca simply ignored them all and stepped forward to take Brielle’s hands and greeted her warmly.
“I’m so happy to meet you. At last, we have someone for our Elie. He’s the most wonderful—and annoying—man in the world. Just like the rest of them.” She tilted her head to give Stefano a loving smile. He came up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her back against him. “Elie will treat you as if you can’t possibly stand on your own two feet without him, and yet expect you to run his household without a single hitch. And God help you if you get pregnant, but have no worries, we will surround you and protect you.”
She wiggled her finger to encompass the women in the room. “From all the male idiocy that is everything Ferraro, Archambault and Saldi.” She lifted her gaze until it found Dario, who stood looking complacent, draped against the wall to the left of them. “Dario, I include you in the Saldi family, just so you know.” Leaning close, she lowered her voice, but made certain it would carry. “He is undoubtedly the worst of the chauvinists.”
Dario raised an eyebrow. “I take that as a compliment, Francesca.”
“You would, Dario.”
“And I think you’re insulting me, Francesca,” Vittorio said. He had his arm around his wife’s waist as he came up on Brielle’s side. “I’m Vittorio, one of Stefano’s brothers. This is Grace, my wife.” There was softness both in his voice and on his face when he introduced his wife. “We live on the lake close to Val and Emmanuelle, my baby sister.”