Stefano makes a dismissive wave. “No, simple annoyances, nothing more.”
Dem nods. “So what happened with the Riccis? Has that threat been neutralized?”
Garzolo’s expression darkens at the mention of the New York clan he plunged into war with after his plan to steal their business was exposed. “They’re done. Rafaele and I have beaten them down to practically nothing. With us taking the counterfeits business from them, they’ve been left scrambling. Last thing I heard, they were fighting for scraps in the Bronx.”
“I heard you suffered significant casualties,” Napoletano says.
“So have they.”
“We’re sorry for your losses,” Damiano says.
Stefano waves a dismissing hand. “Let’s talk about more pleasant things, huh? Two weddings to celebrate, and another on the way.”
Napoletano and I look at each other. Garzolo sure as hell doesn’t want to talk about what happened with the Riccis. I wonder if he’s trying to minimize how badly he was hit.
Based on what I know, Garzolo kind of asked for it. The whole feud started because the Riccis got tipped off that Garzolo was planning on stealing their counterfeits business from them.
Garzolo succeeded. But it seems like his family paid a price.
I glance over my shoulder to where Gemma is standing. Whenever she’s around, I feel an inexplicable need to know exactly what she’s doing.
I wonder how she feels about her upcoming marriage. Vale mentioned to me that she wants to feel the whole thing out while Gemma is here, to make sure her sister isn’t being forced into something she has no interest in. The truth is, even if Gemma is being forced into something, there isn’t much any of us can do without blowing up our relationship with the Garzolos. They’re not our most important allies, but they’ve become a key part in Dem’s plan to expand the Casalesi influence across the globe.
The servers appear with trays of antipasti and bread, and the women take it as their signal to join us at the table.
The men are outnumbered. There are the three Garzolo sisters and their mother, plus Mari, Damiano’s younger sister. She takes a seat to Napoletano’s left and places a kiss on her fiancé’s cheek. Honestly, I still can’t quite believe those two are a pair. Age gap notwithstanding, Napoletano’s always been so reserved, while Mari is as easygoing as one gets. Guess she melted his ice with her sunshine.
When Mari realizes I’m watching her, she grins and sticks out her tongue at me. I huff a chuckle. That girl’s always been like a sister to me, and she definitely acts like one.
A server comes around to serve us bread, and I ask for two big chunks. I fucking love bread. It’s one of life’s greatest pleasures.
When he gets to Gemma, she eyes the basket. She’s changed out of her travel clothes into a light-blue dress that makes her eyes stand out even more than usual.
Fuck, she’s pretty. Would look even prettier with my cock inside her mouth.
Her gaze flicks to my face, and I wink.
She turns pink, looks away, and points at one of the bread rolls.
“You shouldn’t eat that, Gemma,” her mother says. “Not if you want to fit into the dress we’ve chosen for your wedding.”
It takes me a moment to process what I just heard.
The fuck?
That’s a pretty fucking rude thing to say. Anyone with eyes can see Gemma’s already quite thin. Her mom’s either projecting or just a bitch.
I run my tongue over my teeth, eager to see Gemma bite back.
But she doesn’t. Instead, I watch as she slightly deflates and drops her hand back in her lap. “You’re right.”
Indignation floods through me.
“Pass the tomato salad,” Damiano says, and I do it in a mild trance. Something’s seriously not computing, because if I’d said something as rude as that, Gemma would have bitten my head off. But with her mom, she just rolls over and takes it?
“So how are the wedding preparations going?” Mari asks Gemma, oblivious to the interaction I witnessed a few seconds earlier. I don’t think anyone but me noticed, because no one else has developed a habit of studying Gemma like me.
Maybe that’s a sign you should stop.
Gemma gives Mari an unconvincing smile. “They’re going. I have a lot to do when we return to New York.”
“Will it be a big wedding?”
“Nearly five hundred people.”
Mari’s eyes pop wide. “Oh my God. I’m sure I don’t even know that many people.”
“We both have very big extended families. It seems Rafaele is set on inviting just about everyone on his side.”
“Messero is a traditionalist,” Garzolo says, tuning into the conversation. “I like that about him. So many Italians have dropped the traditions we held dear before we came to America, but not them.”
“What kind of traditions are those?” I ask, already disliking where this is going. In the Casalesi clan, but even more broadly in the Camorra, women have always had far more opportunities than in the Cosa Nostra. If a person can prove they can run a territory and make good money doing it, few give a fuck about what they have going on between their legs.
Garzolo finally deems me worthy of a look. It’s amazing how a man with an ego as big as his can be in this business for so long. Usually, it’s a ticket to an early death.
“The women aren’t allowed to go anywhere unaccompanied. For their safety, of course. Gemma will have at least two guards with her at all times.”
Okay, that’s not so unreasonable. As the wife of a don, she needs to be protected at all times.
“They don’t like having their women drive, so she’ll also have a driver.”
The other conversations have quieted, and everyone is listening to Garzolo now.
“And wedding night linens will be displayed the day after the wedding.” He chuckles. “That one is a bit silly if you ask me, but one has to admire their dedication.”
Gemma turns a light shade of green, but the fire inside of her, the one I was so sure was inextinguishable, is nowhere to be seen.
Valentina’s eyes flare with anger. “That’s sick.”
“It’s their family’s tradition.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not despicable. What else? Have they demanded a doctor verify Gemma is a virgin?”
“Vale,” Gemma pleads, but her father pays her no mind.
He sneers, his teeth flashing at his eldest daughter. “I assured him that won’t be necessary. Unlike Cleo, Gemma’s reputation isn’t in question.”
Vale’s gaze narrows. “But he asked?”
“Your sister’s marriage is none of your damn business.”
I can tell Dem’s getting pissed off. “Watch your tone around my wife,” he warns Garzolo.
“What about Gemma’s terms?” Vale demands. “Does she have a say in this?”
Garzolo gives Vale a blank stare and then laughs. “Have you really forgotten how these things are done? Unlike her sisters, Gemma still remembers her duty to th—”
“Can we please talk about something else?” Gemma exclaims, cutting off her father. “There are two weddings happening before my own. Surely there’s plenty of other topics to discuss.”