Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 148612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 743(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 743(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Valentino and Emmanuelle were keeping up appearances as a newlywed couple, jetting with the family to New York to visit her cousins. The Ferraros were notoriously close, and it would be expected that the couple would be seen out with her cousins if the family accepted her husband. They wanted it to be known that he was accepted.
“Marco is the youngest of the Messina brothers. He has a good head for numbers and runs the family’s legit businesses. He makes damn good money doing it. In fact, so much so, that his father is always threatening to retire and make him head of the famiglia. That is the last thing Marco wants, by the way,” Geno continued with his report, delivering the news to the others in his direct way, with a slight New York accent.
He was a big man, with wide shoulders. Valentino could see why he was often described as intimidating by every reporter writing articles about the infamous Ferraro family. This man was the head of the New York Ferraro family. He was soft-spoken, but his voice carried complete authority. With his cousins he seemed as relaxed as perhaps he would ever get—which wasn’t much.
Geno snagged a handful of peanuts from a bowl on the table and ate them, narrowing his eyes at Emmanuelle. “The least you could have done was learn to cook like Francesca.”
“If I had skills, you barbarian, I wouldn’t waste them on you. You’re bossy, and I already have too many bosses.” She turned and included Levi and Axel in her glare.
They were playing cards with Lando and Pace at a smaller table behind them, seemingly not paying attention, but Levi smirked.
“You want to eat, we should go to that Italian place just down from your condo. The one that serves those little salty breads that look like the middle of a doughnut,” Emmanuelle continued, her voice hopeful.
Valentino settled his fingers around the nape of her neck. He was getting used to her brothers and cousins and the way they were with Emmanuelle. All of them were very protective of her, and he liked that. He wanted them to be. He wanted her to be surrounded by love. To feel that all the time. The more protection she had, the better. They liked to tease her. It was one of the many ways they showed their affection for her.
As days went by and the news of their marriage traveled to the other famiglias in Chicago, as well as whispered rumors of Val’s utter ruthlessness when it came to managing the business, more threats had been made against his wife. He’d known it would happen. He hadn’t realized just how crazy it would make him feel. He’d shared every one of them with Stefano, just as he’d promised her brother he would.
He’d met her three New York cousins in Chicago very briefly, but he hadn’t spent time with them. Geno was much like Stefano, aloof and impossible to read, other than the cold promise that if anyone harmed a single hair on Emmanuelle’s head, he would hunt them and never stop until he found them.
“You are such a heathen, Emme,” Geno said, but he stood. “How do you think you’re going to keep that man happy if you don’t cook for him?”
“Sex, Geno,” she retaliated without even blushing. She didn’t even blink with her brothers and cousins or the bodyguards in the room. “Awesome sex.”
Geno just stood there for a moment, very still, his face an expressionless mask while his gaze swept over her. “Never say the word sex again, Emme. You’re five. You shouldn’t even know that word.”
Laughter swept through the room. Emmanuelle took pity on him. “I can cook, Geno. I was just hoping we could eat out, but let me look and see what you have in the fridge.”
His hard features didn’t exactly soften, but his eyes did. “We’ve got a reservation already. I know it’s your favorite place, and since this is your celebration, you can have anything you want.”
Valentino held out his hand to his wife. The moment she put her hand in his, he pressed his thumb over her rings, rolling them back and forth. He liked the feel of them. Solid. Real. He found, as he followed Geno and Stefano through the condo toward the elevators, he liked Geno far more than he’d thought he would.
Stefano watched over Emmanuelle like a hawk. Her brothers did. Now her cousins. That was all right with him. As far as Val was concerned, there couldn’t be enough eyes on her. He was more than grateful for the army of ex-military men Dario had acquired and trained. Dario had been conscious of keeping the men they could bring into the famiglia Italian so if any of them should ever want to move up in the organization, they could. These men were dedicated and loyal to him—to Dario and to Emmanuelle. The four he had appointed as her bodyguards were extremely detail-oriented, and they didn’t take a lot of shit off his beautiful wife. She teased them, but when she tried to misdirect them, it didn’t work.