Shadow Warrior, page 20
part #4 of Shadow Rider Series
Grace shook her head. “No, he refused to.”
There was another long look between Francesca and Sasha. Grace sighed. “It’s clear you know what Eloisa meant.”
“What it means, Grace,” Francesca’s voice was gentle, “is that because you meet those criteria, Vittorio is free to fall in love with you. I know it sounds archaic but think in terms of the royal family. They have certain duties they are born to take on and with that comes tremendous responsibility. They aren’t allowed to marry just anyone.”
“I am not royalty,” Grace denied. “And I don’t want a man to choose me simply because I meet a certain criterion.”
“Do you really believe that Vittorio Ferraro, who could have just about any woman he wanted, would choose you if he wasn’t capable of loving you? Do you think he wants a loveless marriage?”
When she didn’t answer, Sasha took over. “Do you believe Stefano loves Francesca?”
“That’s obvious to anyone who sees them together.”
“What about Ricco? Does he love Mariko?” Sasha challenged.
Grace thought about the times she’d observed them together. Ricco had been very much like Stefano, rarely leaving his wife’s side and focusing completely on her in much the same way Vittorio focused on Grace. Butterfly wings began to flutter in her stomach. Deep inside she began to have a niggling doubt.
“Yes, I believe he does.”
“You probably haven’t seen Giovanni with me,” Sasha said. “But I can assure you, he’s very much in love with me. When we’re together, his attention is wholly focused on me. It doesn’t matter how many beautiful women throw themselves at him, he never notices. And guess what? We meet those criteria Eloisa so quickly pointed out to you.”
“Not to me,” Grace corrected absently. “To Vittorio, where I could hear her.” Vittorio did focus completely on her. Even now, after she’d told him not to sleep in her room, everything he did was for her.
He had set up a room with the equipment needed for her physical therapy and was already talking to the physical therapists. He brought her breakfast and made certain she had everything she wanted. Katie came to go over work with her. He escorted her personally to the back patio, so they could look out over the pool to the lake.
He touched her often. Just a brush of his fingers, but each time he did, he sent heat spiraling through her body and secret fingers of desire dancing down her spine. Sometimes, she wanted him with every breath she drew. Other times she was upset at the disappointment and hurt she saw in his eyes. Every cell in her body urged her to soothe him. To make everything between them all right, but she knew that was her personality. She was a nurturer. A pleaser.
She was good with details and she noted everything about Vittorio. She knew he didn’t like shoes worn in his house. She knew how he took his coffee and when he preferred tea or Scotch. She could tell when he was restless and needed to retreat to his private training room, or when he preferred to meditate. She recognized the signs in him when he struggled to keep from kissing her, or maybe even taking their relationship further, but he respected the boundaries she’d set. She almost wished he didn’t.
“Grace, any number of women might meet those criteria. We don’t know. I, personally, couldn’t care less,” Francesca said staunchly. “I will admit, like you, at first I was worried he hadn’t chosen me for me, that we moved too fast, but then it didn’t matter, because he was everything I ever wanted in a man. Don’t get me wrong, Ferraro men are no picnic to live with. You have to be committed to them. Wholly. If you take him on, Vittorio has to be your world, because you’ll be his. That isn’t always comfortable.”
Sasha nodded. There was a hint of worry in her eyes. “Vittorio is a wonderful man and he’ll always look after his wife and children, but don’t let this go any further if you don’t really love him. He needs that. A woman who will love him so completely that she’ll want to be his universe. Like Francesca says, that isn’t always a comfortable place to be.”
“I’m very aware of that,” Grace acknowledged. “I just hate that he has to take care of me. If I wasn’t so needy—” She broke off. What was she saying? She wanted him. That was the truth. She wanted the fairy tale, even if her prince was admittedly a little on the dark side. A little shiver crept down her spine. He’d never shown that side of him to her, but he’d alluded to it and she was aware, on some level, that it was there.
“Has he intimated in any way that he doesn’t want you there or he doesn’t like looking after you?” Francesca asked. “I can’t imagine that. I think Vittorio would enjoy looking after you.”
“He says so. I think, after having Haydon in my life for so long, I’m terrified of trusting anyone. Other than Katie, who I met by accident in college, I haven’t believed in anyone. Not ever.”
She hadn’t. She’d been conditioned not to go near anyone else. She’d met Katie in school and they both had done papers on event planning. After they found that out, they met for coffee and discussed their ideas. When Haydon had objected and made overt threats toward her, Grace had pointed out that if she didn’t have a job that paid well, she wouldn’t have a place to live. She’d implied he wouldn’t, either, and he’d left her alone. Katie had ended up sharing her dorm room through college.
“Do you love Vittorio?” Francesca asked.
It was far too soon. A month? Five weeks? Part of that she’d been out of it. It had been the best month of her life, in spite of the pain. She looked for him. She listened for him. Every cell in her body was completely tuned to him. Was that love or obsession? Was it just turning to a man to help her out in a terrible time of need?
“I haven’t had time to find out. He asked me to give him a chance and I was. I told him I would, but then Eloisa came along and I lost my confidence.”
Francesca sighed. “Don’t fall into the trap I did. Eloisa tried to drive a wedge between Stefano and me. She does a good job of undermining my confidence whenever she sees me. I wish I was more like Mariko, who ignores her, or Sasha, who puts her in her place. Instead, I let her words hurt me and then Stefano loses his mind.”
“Vittorio threatened to put her out of the house, and I think he would have.”
“He would have,” Francesca and Sasha said in unison.
Grace found herself laughing. “I’m beginning to know him enough that I believe when he says something, he means it.”
The smile faded from Sasha’s face. “I hope you always remember that. Ferraro men show their true colors to the women they fall in love with. I can’t imagine that Vittorio won’t let you see him as he truly is with what he needs and expects from his woman.”
Francesca glanced at her sister-in-law sharply but then sipped water from a straw and subsided onto her pillow. “Do you have any idea how exhausting it is doing absolutely nothing? I’ve taken up knitting and it’s a mess. I heard crocheting was easier, but I doubt it. I really admire and have mad respect for women who knit.” She indicated the bag that was on the side of the bed.
Sasha took out the ivory-colored yarn and held up the shapeless blob that was supposed to be some kind of handmade item. “What is it?”
“Give that to me,” Francesca said and tried to snatch it out of Sasha’s hand.
Sasha burst out laughing. “I’m showing this to the boys.”
“Don’t you dare. That awful Taviano will have it framed and hung in my baby’s room and then torment me day and night over it.”
Grace wanted the camaraderie the Ferraros unfailingly showed to one another—and now were extending to her. Vittorio was offering her that. Was she really so afraid that she wouldn’t even give him a chance—give them a chance? She didn’t want to be that girl, the one curled up in a little ball. The one under the covers in the fetal position. She’d been there hundreds of times and every single time she’d told herself to stand up. This time, win or lose, if she just stood up, she had the very real opportunity, which would never come again, to be with a man she’d dreamt of.
She wanted someone to care for her the way Vittorio was offering. Someone who would keep her safe and protect her from the worst of life. She’d had the worst for too long and she wanted a buffer. The idea of an exciting and different sex life made her hot and damp with excitement. She was unashamed that she wanted everything he was offering and was willing to trade a little of her freedom for it. In her mind, Vittorio gave her wings. He set her free to soar high, but in safety.
“Do you know something?” Grace leapt out of her chair, jarring the hell out of her shoulder but she didn’t care as realization dawned. “Most of my life, I’ve thought about Haydon every single minute. I’ve been terrified of him. Terrified for anyone I spoke to that day. If I laughed when I was talking to a client. Or to the catering company. Anyone. The point is, he was always uppermost in my mind. I haven’t thought about Haydon practically at all. Just the last few nights when Vittorio wasn’t sleeping in my room.”
She didn’t care how that sounded to them—if they believed she and Vittorio were already having sex. What sane woman wouldn’t have sex with him? She was elated. In his way, by taking her phone, wrapping her in a cocoon, making the decisions about who could speak to her and who couldn’t, he had already given her freedom. I haven’t thought of Haydon. She hadn’t been afraid. She already missed the closeness she’d had with Vittorio. “Vittorio is on my mind. I think about him every waking minute.”
Francesca practically beamed at her. “That’s good, Grace. I’m so happy that Vittorio could do that for you.”
“Me too.” She touched her arm and found herself laughing. “Ow. I don’t think I’m quite ready to jump out of chairs.”
“Vittorio wouldn’t be happy with you,” Sasha said. “Lord only knows what he’d do if he saw you do that.” She and Francesca exchanged a knowing look and then burst out laughing.
“I’m not sure I want to know.” Suspicion edged her voice, but there was excitement, too. She couldn’t help it. Vittorio was a very sexual man. He’d said there weren’t punishments like she’d read about in books, but she knew there would be something he would do if he wasn’t happy and for some insane reason, the thought excited her.
A light flared bright red through the room. At once the smiles faded from their faces. Sasha was up immediately and pulled weapons from under the bed. “It’s all right, Francesca, Stefano said to expect this, remember? We’re good.” Her voice had gone from laughter and fun to businesslike. “Grace, we need to stay in this room. The panic room is right behind Francesca’s bed. I’ll need you to help me get her into it, if the alarm is given a second time. Vittorio wants you in the panic room with Francesca if it comes to that.”
“What about you?” Grace asked. She tried to keep her heart from accelerating. It was impossible, but she breathed deeply in order to stay calm. Like Sasha, it suddenly was important to her to take care of Francesca.
“I’ll be on the inside with the two of you.”
“Coming in,” a man’s voice called out.
Sasha pointed the shotgun toward the door. “Get behind me.”
Grace didn’t argue. She had just moved to the bed to sit beside Francesca when the door swung open and a man in a suit stepped through, followed by another. The two men looked grim, but somehow reassuring.
“That’s Drago and Demetrio Palagonia,” Francesca whispered to Grace. “Brothers. Related to Stefano. Emilio trained them, so you know they’re very good.” Her face had gone pale.
Grace didn’t know about Emilio or his training, but if Francesca and Sasha were so convinced, she was willing to be, as long as Haydon wasn’t slipping through the duct system.
“No one has breached our security, ladies,” Demetrio said. “This is just a precaution.” He looked directly at Grace. “It is an impossibility for anyone to crawl through the ventilation system. If they were to find a way to do so, they would trigger any number of alarms. Most likely, they would be deceased before we could get to them.”
He didn’t elaborate on how the intruder would become deceased, and Grace didn’t ask. She couldn’t help but look around the master suite, noting each vent and the proximity to the bed. She felt very protective over Francesca, especially knowing she was pregnant and already having difficulties.
Francesca hadn’t taken her gaze from Demetrio’s face. “If this is a precaution, nothing more, then why did the alarm go off?”
* * *
• • •
Vittorio was up out of his chair and off to the side of the door, ready to block it once the Saldi men were through so that Emme, Giovanni and Stefano were safe. He hadn’t liked the look that passed between Angelo and Tommaso. Dario had seemed intent on staring Taviano down, but then everyone knew Dario had a thing for Nicoletta and Taviano’s announcement of his “understanding” with Nicoletta had been met with hostility.
Valentino went through the door first, signaling to his father’s bodyguards. He stepped aside and waved Giuseppi through. The man stepped into the wide hallway that opened directly into the lobby with confidence, still shaking his head, annoyed with his brother. Vittorio saw a shadow move high up on the second floor and alarms went off in his head. He glimpsed several people leaning out over the bannister to point at the chandeliers. A few moved up the circular stairway.
The stairway had been built very reminiscent of eras gone by. The Ferraro Hotels were known for luxury appointments, but also the mixture of elegance and modern technology. One man stood in the corner to the right of the stairs where he had a perfect view of the entrance to the conference room. He was lifting his arm and pointing an object toward the door and Giuseppi.
Without thinking, Vittorio shoved Miceli back into the room and dove for Giuseppi, calling out a warning to Valentino as he did so. Vittorio was a big man and enormously strong. He hit the older man hard, driving him to the floor and rolling toward Emilio. Shots rang out, but Emilio’s knee dug into his back as his cousin covered both men. Enzo had taken down Val a second after Vittorio hit Giuseppi.
Screams broke out in the lobby. Bodyguards on both sides first pointed weapons at one another and then up toward the stairs.
“Don’t fire!” Stefano yelled. “Too many people!”
The shooter grabbed a woman as she ran past him, trying to shoo her teenage son out of the way. The boy ran back down the staircase a few stairs and then crouched low, still in harm’s way. Emilio eased his knee out of Vittorio’s back and then helped him up. Vittorio gently aided Giuseppi. Vittorio’s momentum had taken them down the wide hallway and away from the lobby. He peered through the archway into the lobby and up the stairs.
“Are you all right?” He wasn’t looking at the older man; he studied the shadows falling around the shooter.
“Yes, yes. Thanks to you. Where’s Valentino? Was he shot?”
Stefano directed the bodyguards, “When it’s safe, take Giuseppi and Miceli and their sons back into the conference room. Make certain no one gets near them.” He clapped Giuseppi on the shoulder as he walked past him, but he didn’t stop. He walked into the lobby to the bottom of the stairs and looked up.
An eerie silence had taken over the hotel. All eyes were on Stefano. “Why don’t you let her go?” In the distance was the sound of sirens.
“That’s not going to happen,” the man called down, his accent very heavy. “If I let her go, they’ll shoot me down immediately.”
“No one is going to shoot you down.”
“They will. I know too much. They’re after me and I didn’t get the job done.”
With all eyes on Stefano, Vittorio slipped back into the darkness of the corner. His family was in place in the shadows inside the conference room. Taviano, Emme and Giovanni were with the Saldis in plain sight, but they were guarded by their mother and cousins. He didn’t have to worry about them. Stefano was deliberately placing himself in danger in order to allow Vittorio to get into position to take the shooter down.
Vittorio spotted the shadow he needed. It was one of the thinner ones that moved like lightning, so fast one’s body felt as if it were torn apart and could never catch up. The shadow, thrown by a hanging crystal branch dripping with what looked like icicles, went all the way up the stairs, beyond the shooter, to disappear into the darker corner behind him.
Vittorio would have one moment when he was exposed as he stepped from his corner to the shadow, but all eyes appeared to be on the drama playing out between Stefano and the shooter. Emilio suddenly glided between Vittorio and the others, giving him the opportunity to come in behind him. One step. The tube caught at him, dragged him inside so hard he felt wrenched apart, his body seemingly flying to pieces.
The shock was always greater than one expected, even with all his experience. He streaked past his brother and up the stairs. A teenage boy crouched six stairs from the top, almost in plain sight of the shooter. He huddled there, shaking, holding on to the bannister as if he might leap over at any moment. Vittorio caught a glimpse of the shooter’s human shield as he sped past. The woman had stark terror on her face. She was moaning, the tears streaking her makeup so it ran down her face, making several dark lines.
He halted just behind the shooter in the mouth of the tube, waiting for his body to come together, for the terrible wrenching to subside so he could breathe again. He studied the man. He was older than expected. In his late forties or early fifties. His accent had been Sicilian. What had he said? He knew too much. They would shoot him down. They needed this man alive. They needed to be able to question him.
He waited, knowing Stefano would distract the shooter to give him time to get into position to free the woman and strip the gun away.
“I’ll come up. You let her go and take me hostage. This is my hotel and I can’t very well have my guests accosted. I won’t resist in any way. I think that’s a fair deal.” Stefano set one foot on the stairs.
