adopted son, since she was sixteen years old and they’d had an on-again, off-again relationship for some time. Vittorio was certain Emmanuelle genuinely loved him, which was too bad. The relationship had been doomed from the start. Her brothers had tried to tell her, tried to protect her, but until recently, she hadn’t listened to them. His heart ached for her. He could see the genuine sorrow and distress in her eyes.
“Yes, it is. They were blatant about being in the club, Emme. How they got in without any of us being told, or how Haydon slipped through, I have no idea.”
“Tell me about her,” Emme invited. “When did you meet her? Stefano says you’re claiming her as your fiancée. Rosina is sending us information as fast as she gets it so we can answer any questions posed to us by the police or anyone else.”
Vittorio rubbed his chest. He still felt her there. Deep. Her voice had opened something soft in him that had been locked away. “Tonight was the first time I ever laid eyes on her. She was . . . unexpected.”
“Are you certain she’s the one?” Emme whispered. “Do you just know it, Vittorio? In your soul, where you live, do you just know?”
He glanced down at her sharply, his gaze moving over her face. He nodded slowly because she deserved an answer, especially when tears swam in her eyes and the family of the man she loved was involved in kidnapping and forcing a woman into prostitution.
“She’s the one. I never thought it would be possible. I’d just been thinking that, looking around the club at all the women, knowing there wasn’t one out there that would suit me . . . and maybe there isn’t. Maybe she’s a rider and she would be good for someone other than me. I’m not so . . . lovable.”
“Don’t say that.” Emme’s defense of him was fierce. “Don’t ever say that, Vittorio, because it isn’t true.”
“I love you, honey,” Vittorio said. He pulled away from her and looked at the woman waiting so patiently for him to give her details about his fiancée. “I claimed her, but she doesn’t have a clue who I am. If she knows about the Ferraros . . .”
“Everyone knows about our family or they’ve been living off planet,” Emmanuelle quipped. “She knows. She might not care, but she knows.”
“I’m no bargain, Emme. I need things from a woman most men don’t. She stood up to those men.” He found himself smiling at the memory of her flying out of the trunk of the car, straight at Haydon. “That red hair of hers is natural.”
“Good for her.”
“Yeah. Good for her.” He’d loved that she’d fought back, that she was no pushover. That wasn’t what he wanted in a woman, but maybe it was what he needed.
Hell, he didn’t know. Right now, all he felt was sick inside, his guts twisted into vicious knots. He’d done his best to keep her alive, his hands in that mess that had been her shoulder, trying to stem the tidal wave of blood.
“She’s going to live, Vittorio,” Emmanuelle assured. “She has to, if she’s yours. Shadow riders fight. She may not know she’s capable of riding, but that strength is in her. She’ll pull through and she’ll need lots of help after.”
He was good with that. “I’m going to have to fill out paperwork for her. Rosina has sent me all kinds of information, so most of it will be easy enough.” He rubbed her cheek with his thumb. “What about you, honey? This has to hurt.”
Emmanuelle didn’t pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about. “I broke things off with Val a few weeks ago. I think about him every minute of every day, but I have discipline. I heard him say—I heard him, with my own ears—say that his father had ordered him to seduce me. He told another woman that. A woman he was clearly going to bed with.”
Vittorio wrapped his arm around her again, drawing her under his shoulder, wanting to take the hurt from her. “I’m sorry, Emme. Really, really sorry.”
“It was better to find out now before I made an even bigger fool of myself than I’ve already made.” She paused for a moment. “I would have given up riding the shadows for him. I would have given up everything I am for him and he’s not worth it.”
“No, he’s not.” Vittorio wanted to shake the man until every