“Caterers are coming,” Stefano said, looking down at the text on his phone.
“That’s our cue,” Geno said. “Chances are, the Saldis have someone on the payroll.”
Vittorio agreed. The catering company was one of the best, one they used frequently. Giuseppi Saldi would know every company the Ferraros did business with. It would stand to reason he would put someone on his payroll. The Ferraros always had people on the inside of companies the Saldi family used.
Mariko and their three New York cousins slipped into the shadows in their assigned spots. Vittorio circled Emmanuelle’s shoulders with his arm, drawing her close to him. “Emme, I would be a lot happier if you would join them. You could still protect us.”
She went up on her toes and brushed a kiss on the hard line of his jaw. “I love you, Vittorio. You’re the best. All of you. You’re good to me, but I made this mistake. I set myself up as a target for the Saldi family. I knew I shouldn’t have a relationship with Valentino, but in spite of all the warnings, I did it anyway.”
She rubbed her face against his arm and then straightened her shoulders. “I’m a Ferraro. I can admit to making mistakes, no matter how foolish. I was sixteen when I fell for him. I’m not sixteen now. If he wants to gloat, let him. I stand with my family, and at no time did I ever give him one piece of information about any of you, or my family in general. He may have gotten my heart, but he didn’t achieve his goal, so fuck him and Giuseppi.”
There was no way his little firecracker of a sister was going to hide in the shadows while her brothers faced the Saldi family. Vittorio knew there was no sense in trying to talk her out of her stand. In any case, he would have done the same. “I’m proud of you, Emme.”
She flashed him a smile and turned toward the door as the caterers began to filter in one by one. Vittorio knew that Emilio and Enzo were double-checking each employee as they approached the room. They also had a dog that would alert if there were any evidence of bomb materials in any of the carts or on their persons. The caterers were patted down for weapons. Their faces were run through facial-recognition software, checked against Haydon Phillips’s face. Vittorio wouldn’t put it past him.
The refreshments were put on the table along with small crockery and glasses. Wine was opened. The caterers left. Eloisa slipped into the room. She scowled at her oldest son, hands on her hips. “What is Giovanni doing in this room? He can’t possibly escape if there’s a problem.”
“It’s been handled,” Stefano said.
“He shouldn’t be here.”
“He’s a grown man,” Giovanni snapped. “Don’t start shit before this goes down.”
“It wouldn’t be going down if your sister hadn’t decided to play the—”
“Don’t,” Vittorio commanded, his voice low, but carrying. He stepped closer, towering over her. “Do not say one word against my sister. You’ve caused enough trouble. Leave us, or take our backs, but for once in your life, hold your tongue or I’ll put you out right in front of the Saldi family.”
He was at his limit with Eloisa. She’d already jeopardized his relationship with Grace. More, she could have prevented what happened to Grace, but she had arbitrarily decided she didn’t want Grace as a daughter-in-law. She was relentless in her desire to tear down Emmanuelle. He’d had enough and really, if she didn’t stop, he was more than capable of picking her up and putting her out of the room right in front of Giuseppi and his family. None of his brothers would lift a hand to stop him.
Eloisa looked outraged. “How dare you threaten me. I’m still your mother, as much as Stefano tries to take that role.” Even as she hissed the words at him, she backed away.
“Eloisa, you’re on the western side of the room,” Stefano said, indicating the position he wanted her in.
The conference room had been designed for the riders. Shadows fell across the walls and doorways, leading in all directions, thrown from the many overhead lights artfully placed. Their mother disappeared into the shadows, and Vittorio closed his eyes for a moment to center himself. The adrenaline receded, and he was once more himself.
Stefano put a hand on his shoulder just as the door