Shadow Warrior, page 37
part #4 of Shadow Rider Series
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.”
Vittorio cursed under his breath. “Are you certain you can’t change the seating?”
“I’m sorry, honey, people are already sitting down. The food is being served and the silent auction will start. I wish I’d known.”
“My mother knew.” Damn Eloisa and her games. She thought she was driving home to Emmanuelle what happened when you allowed yourself to love the wrong person. Vittorio knew the risk was too great to take the chance of Val talking to Emmanuelle. Val had gifts. Maybe the others didn’t acknowledge them, but Vittorio knew the Saldi heir had a voice similar to his own. He could charm and persuade. Emmanuelle was particularly susceptible to his voice.
Vittorio knew they could lose Emme. She would never betray her family, and she had too much pride to go crawling back to Val, but if she thought she would never be free to love anyone else, she might take her own life.
They lived with violence every day. It was never easy to get up and face what they did when they were alone. They all tended to live wild in order to combat that terrible emptiness that was always eating away at them. Emmanuelle was sensitive. Compassionate. She was romantic. If Valentino didn’t leave her alone and allow her to find another good man, Vittorio knew their beloved Emmanuelle would take matters into her own hands.
“This is a bad scenario.” Vittorio voiced his worry aloud.
“I could easily add Elie in the mix. Would Emmanuelle be upset if I did that?” Grace asked. “I think he’s the kind of man that if you took him aside and explained that her ex is right on the end of the table, he would take Emmanuelle’s usual seat and we’d move her one seat down. It would be difficult for Val to talk over the top of Elie.”
He liked the plan. Emmanuelle might not, but Elie would do it. He was in the employment of the Ferraros whether he knew it or not. All the businesses eventually were under a Ferraro umbrella.
“Let’s do that,” he agreed.
Grace started to slide out of his arms, but he tightened them around her. “Wait until the end of the song. I’ll get us close to Emme and Elie and explain what you’re going to do. You slip away at that point and get it done.”
She nodded. “No worries. I just have to get to the kitchen and print up a name plate on our fancy gold and silver paper. Give me five minutes.”
Vittorio shot another glance at Valentino. The man hadn’t taken his furious gaze from Emmanuelle. He clearly was willing her to look up and spot him. Beside Val, his cousin and bodyguard, Dario, was also looking at the couple. It was clear he was angry as well, but his gaze was on Taviano.
Grace was looking, too. “The man with him seems very upset at Taviano.”
Vittorio wasn’t surprised that she noticed. She had to be alert and observant when she was constantly worried that Haydon Phillips would show up in her life any minute and take her world away from her.
“That’s Dario Bosco, Val’s first cousin. He’s Miceli’s son, although Miceli never married his mother. He often bodyguards for Val, although he’s also an heir apparent to the Saldi empire. He has a bit of a thing for Nicoletta. Taviano told him to back off, that he was engaged to Nick.”
Her eyebrow shot up. “Is he?”
“Not yet, but he will be.”
“I love these events,” Grace said. “All the drama and undercurrents of a play or a movie. I should write books.”
“An exposé on the Ferraro family,” Vittorio said, but he didn’t really feel the humor. He’d had too many years of the paparazzi invading his life and trying to ferret out every secret his family had.
“Not your family. You’re not nearly as wacked as some.”
Grace’s voice rang with truth and he was immediately intrigued, looking around the room as if he might spot the craziest of their circle.
Her laughter should have elevated his mood, but the knots in his gut began to tighten. To magnify. The music faded and reluctantly he allowed Grace to slip from his arms. He preferred to keep her right at his side, but when it was impossible, he had several of their guards with eyes on her at all times. Nevertheless, he texted them to ensure they took over watching the woman he loved.
He made his way to Emmanuelle and Elie, who were standing on the edge of the dance floor talking in a low tone.
“I hate interrupting,” he said as they both looked up.
“Where’s Grace?” Emmanuelle asked immediately, scanning the room.
Vittorio knew the moment she spotted Val and Dario at the entrance to the ballroom. She flicked them a quick look and then her gaze went straight to her brother’s face. “You’re here because of them.”
“Grace and Katie didn’t know to change the table arrangements.”
Emmanuelle scowled. “I reminded Eloisa.”
“The reminder wasn’t passed on.”
Emmanuelle looked down at her feet. Vittorio willed her to come up with the solution herself. He didn’t want to put her on the spot, not if she really was interested in Elie. He knew if she was, and Vittorio forced Elie to sit with her, she would be stilted and standoffish.
“I’m sorry,” Elie said. “I don’t know what’s going on, but if I could help in any way, I’d be happy to do so. And if you’d rather talk privately . . .” He indicated he would walk away.
Emmanuelle didn’t drop her hand from where it was tucked into the crook of his arm. She looked up at him and took a deep breath. “I know I’m acting like a coward, but I would very much like it if you would sit at our table with me during the meal. I’m sure Emilio would approve. Vittorio can ask him.”
Elie’s gaze didn’t leave Emmanuelle’s face. “The reason?”
Vittorio liked that he didn’t just simply agree. He wasn’t a man to be pushed around. Emmanuelle definitely needed to be with someone strong.
“I’ve been seeing Val Saldi on and off for several years. Recently, I broke up with him after finding out some very disturbing things. They were facts, I don’t listen to gossip. In any case, he’s been trying to explain things to me and I don’t want to hear his explanations. If you would prefer not to get mixed up in my mess, I understand completely.”
Elie was silent a moment, studying Emmanuelle’s face. Vittorio knew what the bodyguard saw. His sister was beautiful. Right now, she looked vulnerable, almost fragile. He couldn’t imagine any man passing up an opportunity to help her.
“It would be a pleasure to have dinner with you, Emmanuelle,” Elie said. “Let’s go find our seats.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Vittorio seated Grace beside him at the elegant table with its tropical rain forest centerpiece that included the turquoise flowers from the Philippines. Grace was very uncomfortable and had tried to get out of sitting with him several times. It was their first real argument, and, in the end, there was no way to compromise—he wanted Grace by his side at the family table and she complied with his wishes.
He understood. She was working. This was one of KB Events’ largest functions. Grace didn’t sit and eat with the patrons, she worked. She made certain everything ran smoothly behind the scenes. He wanted it understood by her and everyone else that she was with him. She was a Ferraro for all intents and purposes and everyone—especially his mother—needed to give her that respect at all times or they would be dealing with him. No matter the argument she used, he refused to budge when he knew she was in terrible danger. He knew she couldn’t be there long, but even a few minutes would establish in everyone’s mind what he needed. Then, he planned to be at her side when she worked.
He dropped his hand to her thigh beneath the cover of the spun lace tablecloth. She looked up at him, touching the tip of her tongue nervously to her upper lip and then biting down on her lower lip. He leaned down and brushed a reassuring kiss on her mouth. He loved her mouth and was tempted to kiss her the way he wanted, but technically, with her working, he needed to show some restraint.
He rubbed her thigh over the lace and slip, feeling the heat of her skin and the way the muscles beneath the material jumped and quivered. “Nice solution, gattina. Thank you. I want Emmanuelle to enjoy herself as much as possible.”
She had added Elie Archambault to the table seamlessly, his name on the elegant foiled paper as if it had always been there. There were five couples at the table and she’d exchanged Eloisa’s and Henry’s place cards for the end of the table nearest the Saldi table and had given Emmanuelle and Elie the two places across from Vittorio and Grace. Anne and Taviano were across from Sasha and Giovanni.
