I drag my palm over my chin. “I do, actually. Didn’t realize I needed to when there’s a perfectly good lock, though.”
“There are a dozen bathrooms in this house. You just happened to pick this one to barge in on?”
Okay, I may have seen her go inside this one while I was going through my messages in the kitchen. I just couldn’t resist catching her off guard.
I paste on a grin I know will irritate her. “You know what they say about great minds.”
She heaves a long sigh. “Move out of my way, you utter imbecile.”
Instead of doing that, I brace my palms on either side of the doorframe and lean into her space. Her eyes widen, and she shuffles backwards, a hint of alarm flashing across her expression.
“I have to say, I thought you’d skip this one.”
“Skip what? This trip? My sister’s getting married. Even your annoying presence isn’t enough to keep me away.”
The grin widens. “I’ve missed you too, Gem.”
“Don’t call me Gem. And I’ve missed you as much as someone misses a used condom.”
I snort. Her anger looks good on her. Then again, what doesn’t?
Chocolate hair, plum rosy lips, and a round, tight ass I’ve studied so thoroughly whenever she wasn’t looking that its shape is practically ingrained in my memory.
The second time I saw her was at the elopement, and while she did her best to ignore my existence the entire time she was here, I did the very opposite.
It’s another reminder how far I am from being a gentleman.
Gentlemen don’t look at engaged women the way I look at Gemma Garzolo.
That sobering thought forces the next question out of my mouth. “So when’s your fiancé coming?”
A shadow passes over her eyes. “The day before Vale’s wedding. Don’t pretend you don’t know that as well as I do.” She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, and my attention snaps onto that enormous ring on her finger. A bright-green emerald surrounded by a bunch of sparkling diamonds.
I reach out, grasp her wrist, and pull her hand toward me so that I can get a closer look.
She sucks in a harsh breath. “What are you—”
“A Messero family heirloom?” I venture a guess, the last name of her stupid fiancé tasting bitter on my tongue.
She jerks her hand away. “Yes.”
“A bit gaudy.”
“No one asked for your opinion.”
“What’s he like, Gem?”
“Guess you’ll find out soon enough.”
I study her face for any hint of what she thinks of this guy, but she gives away nothing.
Rafaele Messero is supposed to be the youngest don amongst the five New York families, which isn’t saying much given the other four are ancient. The wedding is a great excuse to get him out here to talk business, and as part of the normal preparation process, Napoletano and I have dug up everything we could on the guy.
By American standards, he seems like a force to be reckoned with.
But to us Casalesi, he’s a kid still riding a bike with training wheels. I’m looking forward to having him here and watching Damiano knock him down a notch.
“What were you doing in here anyway?” I ask, remembering her clutching the sink like it was a lifeline when I first swung the door open.
“Taking a piss, what else could I be doing?”
“Tsk.” I glance over my shoulder toward the front door. “Is that how you talk around your father?”
“You’re not my father.”
“No, but I’ve been called daddy on occasion.”
I’d thought she was looking at me like she wanted to murder me earlier, but that had nothing on how she’s looking at me now.
She makes a gagging sound. “Seriously, is this some sort of torture method you’re testing? Holding unsuspecting women hostage in bathrooms while you share details about your sex life?”
Laughter spills out of me as I drop my arms back to my sides and step to the side to let her pass.
She brushes past me, leaving the scent of cinnamon lingering in the air.
My eyes track her until she disappears from sight. I’ve always liked feisty women. A weakness you could say. And to find a woman like that living in our world? It’s rare.
I drag my palm over my lips and chuckle to myself. Yeah, Gemma might be off-limits, but I’m still going to enjoy pressing her buttons over the next few days.
Our first lunch with the Garzolos happens a few hours later on the back terrace that overlooks the sea. While we wait for the food to be brought out, the sisters ooh and ahh at the view with Vale. The Garzolo matriarch, Pietra, stands to the side with Martina, examining some flowers.
The men take their seats. Dem’s at the head of the table, Napoletano is two seats to his left, and I’m at his right. Stefano Garzolo is offered the chair directly across from me.
Dem’s good at playing the politician, but there’s no love lost between him and Garzolo. Their history is complicated, to say the least. But since Garzolo helped us in the early days of Dem making his bid to become the Don of the Casalesi, we’re allies now. And Garzolo’s determined to milk that for all it’s worth.
We’ve already started supplying him with Italian made luxury counterfeits, the kind of stuff that fetches a pretty penny in a status-obsessed market like New York.
If you ask me, Garzolo should be worshiping the ground Vale walks on. His daughter upgraded from the sick fuck he married her to, to a man with significantly more power and money. A man who loves her more than life itself. Garzolo’s not grateful though. In fact, I overheard him giving a stiff-tongued apology to her just a few minutes earlier in Damiano’s office. She accepted it equally as stiffly. Who can blame her? Her dad’s kind of a piece of shit.
“I’m eager to discuss a few things about our current arrangement,” the piece of shit says, leaning back into his chair. “But I think most of it should wait until Rafaele arrives. Given his role in all of this, it wouldn’t be respectful to talk business without him.”
I resist the urge to snort. Respectful? Jesus, Garzolo is really sucking the guy’s dick.
“He had a swift rise after his father passed away,” Dem says.
“Even before the old man died, Rafaele was already running much of the organization. His father’s health had been declining for a while,” Garzolo says.
“And the two of you are obviously getting on well.”
“With Rafaele and Gemma marrying, we plan to only expand our business relationship going forward. The counterfeits deal between the three of us has been a testing ground, and it has exceeded even our most optimistic expectations. We’re both invested in this partnership.”
“As are we,” Dem says. “We’re always looking to diversify our business geographically. We like having partners we can trust in New York.”
Garzolo’s lips tighten into a thin smile. “Likewise. It’s good to be doing business with paisans. Men who understand honor and the importance of omertà. New York’s changed since I first took control of the clan, and I’m disappointed to say the changes haven’t all been good.”
“Anything to be concerned about?” Dem asks.