or jumping or army-crawling or scaling walls to help get you out of here," she said, tilting her head his way to whisper, "I forgot to put on my underwear."
Dante choked on thin air, coughing as her cheeks flushed, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Weddings were one of Dante's least favorite things. He would've rather been water-boarded than have to sit through long, drawn-out vows ever again. He zoned out, damn near falling asleep, until a hand slipped into his lap. He dropped his head, watching Gabriella stroke his thigh, coming dangerously close to his dick.
Relief flowed through him when the guy kissed his bride, but that relief was short-lived. Very short-lived. Guests filtered into the house, the party shifting to a ballroom on the second floor. Gabriella slipped her hand in his, entwining their fingers.
Judgment time.
Eyes trailed Dante, security still monitoring his every move. It wouldn't have surprised him a bit if somewhere up above, a gun was trained on him.
The moment they stepped into the house, feet moving from stone courtyard to marble foyer, Victor Brazzi appeared in their path, flanked by two guards.
Victor looked the part of a typical Italian grandfather: mid-sixties, leathery skin, with thin graying hair combed back so it sort of just stood on end. He wore his age well, his smile wide and his eyes spry. The man was sharp; there was no denying it. He sat atop an empire that men both feared and envied.
"Gabriella! How's my sweet little princess?"
Dante let go of Gabriella's hand as Victor gripped her arms and kissed both of her cheeks.
"Hey, Nonno." She smiled. "I'm great! How are you?"
"Surprised," Victor said.
"Pleasantly surprised?" Gabriella asked.
"Let's just stick with surprised for the time being." Victor's gaze turned to Dante. "Mr. Galante, welcome. We haven't had the chance to formally meet yet. I'm Victor Brazzi."
Victor held out his hand. Dante shook it, fighting off a cringe when the man squeezed. Hard. "Please, call me Dante."
Victor turned back to Gabriella without acknowledging that. "Sweetheart, why don't you head up to the ballroom? I know your mother is anxious to see you."
Gabriella made a face. "I, uh…"
"Don't worry," Victor said. "Everything will be fine. I'd just like to have a word with him in private."
Her eyes darted to Dante, panicked.
"Go on." Dante nodded past the men. "I'll join you soon."
Gabriella hesitated before kissing Dante's cheek. She walked away then, falling into the crowd, disappearing. As soon as she was gone, Victor's expression hardened.
"Follow me, Mr. Galante," he said, stepping past. The guards waited until Dante followed before they trailed along, staying on his heels.
Victor headed to an office on the first floor, through a set of ornamental wooden doors. The second Dante stepped into the office, hands grabbed him from behind, stopping him, pinning him in place. His heart raced as his hands rose in surrender, the guards relentlessly patting him down, clearing out all of his pockets and yanking apart his suit, roughing him up as they searched for whatever.
"I'm not carrying," Dante said, cringing when those rough hands went places they didn't belong. "I've got nothing on me."
"Can't ever be too careful," Victor said, taking a seat behind an imposing mahogany desk. He motioned for the men to let go of Dante, those hands leaving him at once. "Have a seat. Let's chat."
The hair on the nape of Dante's neck bristled when the doors closed, a lock clicking in place, trapping him in there. The guards remained in the room, blocking the only exit. Dante sat down in a leather chair across from Victor. He remained silent, figuring it best to let the man lead the conversation.
"Tell me," Victor said. "How do you know my granddaughter?"
"I met her at the hospital."
"She was your nurse?"
"Yes."
"And, what, she's still nursing you back to health?"
"She, uh…"
"Look, let's skip the small talk." Victor glanced at his watch. "I have a speech to give in twenty minutes. How about you tell me how long you've been seeing my granddaughter and I'll tell you what we're going to do about that?"
Dante cleared his throat, shifting around in the chair. Uncomfortable put it mildly. He felt incredibly small sitting there. "Officially, a few weeks. Unofficially, a few months."
"Unofficially," he said, "meaning not only have you been seeing her in secret, but before you were actually seeing her, you were, what? Just screwing around? Is that what you're telling me here?"
"No, I'm not—"
"Because it's bad enough you start seeing her without talking to us," Victor continued, raising his