“Bodyguards remain outside. You know what to do,” Stefano said. “The trouble could start out there. Be watchful.”
Emilio gave them all his deadpan look, as if to say let them try.
“Bring them in.”
Valentino came into the room first. He scanned, taking in everything and everyone, his gaze coming back to rest on Emmanuelle. She didn’t stand close to any of her brothers, but rather she was straight, her chin up, regal almost, and Vittorio was proud of her. He noticed Val’s breath hitch, but his gaze moved beyond her to Stefano.
“I’m trusting you with my father, Stefano.”
Taviano opened his mouth, but Vittorio shook his head. They all wanted to say the same thing. They’d trusted Val with their sister. They should have stopped the relationship. They’d protested, but they hadn’t stopped it and she’d been broken by this man.
“I’m trusting you with my family,” Stefano responded. Saying nothing and everything.
Vittorio always admired how Stefano could command a room with his sheer presence. He repeated back to Val his own words, yet his inflection meant something altogether different.
Val was silent a moment, taking a careful look around, even looking up, once more scanning the room for any hidden threat. He studied Stefano’s face, and then looked at Emmanuelle, as if she might give him answers.
“Don’t look at her,” Vittorio cautioned. “Worry about yourself, not your family.” He kept his tone low and mild, but there was a menacing promise in every word.
Val continued to study Emmanuelle’s face. Vittorio glanced at his sister. He was proud of her. She didn’t bend. Her shoulders remained straight, no expression on her face, and she looked right through Val.
Val’s gaze shifted to Vittorio and then touched on each brother. He didn’t look intimidated, but he did look upset. He shook his head and then glanced over his shoulder. “We’re good.”
It was difficult not to respect Valentino Saldi. In the midst of the hostility he couldn’t help but feel emanating from the Ferraro family, he still trusted them enough to call in his adopted father. It was clear he loved Giuseppi and would defend him fiercely, but even if war was coming between the two families, he wasn’t about to back down from trying to stop it.
Giuseppi Saldi entered. He was a man in his early sixties, in good shape. His black hair was streaked with attractive silver. He looked worn. Vittorio had never seen him look so beaten. He wore sorrow like a cloak. As a rule, Giuseppi could take over a room. He usually had a smile and his dark eyes were laughing. There was no laughter whatsoever in him. He went straight to Stefano and held out his hand. Stefano immediately shook it and indicated the conference table.
“I appreciate you meeting with us, Giuseppi, especially under the circumstances. We were so sorry to hear about Greta. I hope she’s comfortable?”
Everyone knew Greta was the love of Giuseppi’s life. She was in stage four pancreatic cancer, and Giuseppe spent all of his time with her. For him to take the time to come to the meeting meant it was extremely important to him.
Giuseppi nodded several times. “She was happy to see Emmanuelle.” The man turned to look at her. “Thank you for going to see her. It meant a lot to her.”
Emmanuelle inclined her head. “Greta is very loved by everyone who knows her.”
Valentino swung around, looking from his adopted father to Emme. She didn’t even glance his way.
Giuseppi smiled at her and turned back to Stefano as his brother entered, his brother’s three sons behind him. “Pay no mind to Miceli. He’s a hothead.” It was an attempt at the humor he’d always shown.
Stefano accepted Miceli’s handshake. “As is Taviano. We’ll keep the two of them apart.”
Miceli laughed. “He’s been saying that since I was four. Now I’m sixty and he thinks I haven’t outgrown that trait.” He turned to Vittorio. “Before we start this meeting, I have to formally apologize to you. I had no idea Grace Murphy was your fiancée. No one knew of your engagement. I certainly have no idea what Ale and Lando were doing at your nightclub.”
Vittorio, like all shadow riders, could hear lies. Miceli Saldi was lying. The look of apology on his face appeared sincere. His expressions and inflections were perfect, but he was lying. Vittorio studiously avoided looking at any of his brothers or Emmanuelle. They would hear it, the note that was just off enough to warn them the