“I love to dance. My guess is, at least half the women in the nightclub, maybe a much larger percentage, are there just to dance and have fun. It would be such a shame for you to miss out on getting to know someone nice because you’re so busy trying to win your game.”
“It’s easy enough to find out,” Salvatore said. “What woman, just wanting to dance, allows a man to put his hands all over her, or initiates giving him a blow job? Initiates it?”
“Well, obviously, then you would be right about her, but if I agreed to dance with a man and he tried putting his hands on me, I’d make it very clear he was out of line. If he did it a second time, I’d probably deck him.”
That made them all laugh again. Taviano poked Giovanni. “Your little kitten has claws.”
“Or,” Sasha continued because Giovanni had put his hands on her and she hadn’t really objected because she was attracted to him, “she might be physically attracted, because, let’s face it, all of you are rather good-looking, although I don’t want that to go to your heads. If she was drinking and wanted to have a good time and maybe find a partner for the night, or hope she’s finding a man interested in her, she might let him touch her that way.”
Giovanni’s arm had settled back around her shoulders and he ran his finger along her arm. Even under his coat, she felt the impact and another little frisson of heat moved down her spine to settle low. He was definitely lethal to women, and to her in particular.
Taviano suddenly narrowed his eyes. “Damn it. Just fucking damn it. What is she doing here this time of night?”
They all followed his gaze to the entrance. Two girls and three boys were waiting to be seated. One of the girls stumbled and giggled as a boy caught her around the waist, and all five laughed. The girl that had stumbled was beautiful, with long, dark hair falling almost to her waist. She looked like Sasha imagined an angel might, too beautiful to be of this earth.
“She’s drunk,” Taviano said. “I’m getting tired of having to pull her ass out of parties and get her home. That fucking Bruno Vitale has her going out with boys out of the neighborhood and way too old for her. I told Stefano to talk to her. If I have to do it, I’m going to lose my mind and do something crazy like put her over my knee.” He took another sip of wine and slid out of the booth, storming over to the group.
“Who is she?” Sasha said. “They look harmless enough.” The girls looked young, the boys college age, a little older.
“Nicoletta,” Giovanni answered, his voice tight. “Vittorio, how much has Taviano had to drink tonight?” He glanced down at Sasha. “He doesn’t usually drink, but he had the night off, the first in a long time. He’s been covering my shifts after my accident.” He hadn’t been paying attention because he was watching Sasha.
Sasha wanted to know what accident he’d been in.
“Taviano has been drinking a lot. More than I’ve ever seen him. He seemed upset about something tonight,” Vittorio said.
“Should we call Emme to escort Nicoletta home?” Giovanni asked.
It was too late. Taviano was in a heated argument with her. She backed away, shaking her head. He caught her around her waist and slung her over his shoulder and marched out. The others in her group stood at the entrance, stunned, staring after Taviano and the struggling girl uneasily. Everyone saw him reach up and smack her bottom hard as he went through the door.
“He didn’t just remind her in that very loud voice, in front of her friends and everyone in here, that it’s past her curfew, did he? Or spank her?” Sasha was outraged.
Giovanni wiped the smirk off his face instantly. “Nicoletta is the epitome of a pain in the ass,” he explained. “You have no idea how many times a member of my family has been called to find her and escort her home. I’m talking called out of important meetings, dinners, our beds. If we happen to be on a date. Major charity events. You name practically any circumstance and we’ve had to leave to find that little hellion. I don’t envy the man who ends up with her.”
“Is she related to you?” Underneath Giovanni’s humor, she heard worry.
“Not by blood, but we look out for her. She’s Lucia and Amo’s foster daughter. She’s had it rough, I’m not going to lie, but she’s wild and they worry. Stefano needs to step in.”
Stefano Ferraro was the head of the Ferraro family in Chicago. She knew that much. Everyone knew it. “What could Stefano possibly do to change a wild teen? Weren’t all of you a little wild? Didn’t you sneak out of the house and party?”
The men looked at one another and she could see something secretive pass between them, but no one answered her. More antipasto and breadsticks were ordered along with several large pizzas. She felt a little funny being the only woman in the booth with the powerful Ferraro family, but she had to admit, they treated her with the utmost respect.
She found herself laughing more than she had the entire time since her parents died. They seemed to know everyone. They weren’t in the least patronizing and included her in the conversation, asking her opinion and sometimes debating a point with her. Through it all, Giovanni kept his arm around her. He was warm and solid. He felt protective, and that was something she hadn’t known in a long while, either. Sasha gave herself permission to enjoy the rest of the early morning hours with them. Once she did that, she had fun because they were that—just plain fun.
CHAPTER THREE
“Sasha Provis is a shadow rider. At least, she’s capable of being one,” Giovanni announced to his family. “She’s definitely mine. I was attracted to her before our shadows ever connected. In the club, when she spoke for the first time something in me opened up and she just poured inside.” He didn’t know any other way to describe it.
Stefano glanced up at him from where he was carrying Francesca’s famous avocado pasta to the table. It was a huge bowl, one, Giovanni noted, that was getting larger and larger. “You didn’t call me?”
Giovanni concentrated on putting silverware on the table, not looking at his older brother. He could barely breathe thinking about Sasha sitting up in her apartment alone, or maybe getting phone calls from other men asking her out. She had said no when he asked her out the next night, although she softened the blow by telling him she was scheduled to work at her second job. Who knew she had a second job? Why didn’t he know? He’d put the investigators on her. By the end of the night, he hoped to know everything there was to know about her.
“You and Francesca had the night off together for a change. No one was going to interrupt you.”
Stefano looked around at his brothers, sister and sister-in-law, all gathered together for a meal. The sourdough bread was fresh and hot. The pasta and a giant salad were already on the table. They all pulled out chairs. No one had assigned them individual seats, but they tended to choose the same ones all the time.
“We’re looking for nieces and nephews,” Vittorio said. “Looking to you to get it done, Stefano. Giving you as much time alone with your woman as possible.”
“It’s not easy when we’re one rider down,” Ricco said. “I told you I’d give you a few lessons with the rope. Tie her down and get it done.”
Francesca turned a fiery shade of red. “You are not discussing our sex life.” She made it a statement as she glared at them all, one hand poised above her water glass.
“Of course we are,” Giovanni said. “Why wouldn’t we? It’s important he keeps you happy, satisfied, and knocks you up. You ever heard of barefoot and pregnant? Stefano is so damned bossy he’s going to piss you off a lot. We’re not losing you, so that means we need a lot of bambinos running around, keeping you too busy to run off.”