Giovanni hadn’t counted on how tired he was, or how much a petty thing like a few stitches in his calf was going to hurt. He felt like a whiny baby, although he hadn’t complained, nor had he taken pain pills. He did, however, have a shot of whiskey halfway through the night. He told himself it had everything to do with pain and not with the fact that Aaron Anderson had come in with an even larger number of his friends than before.
Mixed martial arts fighters trained all the time. They didn’t frequent nightclubs, and they didn’t pay for the top tier of a club like the Ferraros’. That table cost Aaron thousands of dollars. He was normally a man very careful with his money, but all of sudden, he was spending cash as if he had it to throw away, and judging from the cash tips at the table and the amount he would add in to his tab at the end of the night, he was doing it to show off for Sasha.
He didn’t want his woman anywhere near Aaron, just in case, and he’d tried to get Sasha to change tiers with Nancy, but she was so damned stubborn he wanted to shake her. He found himself glaring at her as she served drinks to Aaron’s table. He wanted Aaron banned from the club, but he had no real reason; the investigators hadn’t handed in their final reports. Yes, he had military training. Yes, he was capable of setting charges, but then so were a number of the men at his table and the two cameramen who were giving the Ferraros trouble.
Giovanni realized why the rules were in place regarding bringing in other riders to serve justice close to home, especially if it was personal. He wanted to break a few necks, do whatever it took to keep his woman safe. He thought cavemen had it right, throw his woman over his shoulder and carry her off where no danger could get to her, but he lived in modern times and his woman believed in carrying her own weight.
The thing was, and he couldn’t find the right words to tell her, she was a miracle to him. Everything to him. His world, the way Francesca was Stefano’s world and Mariko was Ricco’s. They’d been raised to believe having children was their duty and they had to find the right women to give them shadow riders for babies, but in the end, when they found the right women, it wasn’t about that at all.
He knew Stefano wanted children with Francesca, but not because they would be shadow riders. He also knew, if Francesca couldn’t have children, Stefano would never give her up and never go to another woman to provide those children. Ricco felt exactly the same about Mariko. Giovanni knew, because more than once Ricco had told him if Mariko chose not to have children, he wouldn’t push her, no matter what Eloisa or the council said. Fortunately, Mariko wanted children. Giovanni knew he should have that conversation with Sasha, but it didn’t matter to him anymore. He wanted children with her, but not if she was unhappy.
He watched Sasha go up to Aaron’s table. Instantly all attention was on her. Aaron spoke at great length to her. Tom Mariland was there, along with James Corlege. Both men looked as if they were apologizing to her. She gave them a small nod and brief smile. Giovanni knew her now, and that smile was in no way genuine.
He willed her to look up at him, but she didn’t. She was withdrawing, pulling in to protect herself. He couldn’t blame her. She had to be scared. She didn’t understand what was happening or why. Her stalker hadn’t made demands. The threats to Sandlin were very real, and her brother’s health was fragile. If the heavy rod had come down on his head, it could have easily killed him.
Taviano and Vittorio had come with him in an effort to help protect Sasha. He was grateful to them. Taviano was distracted and danced more than usual. Vittorio seemed more introspective, as if he had something on his mind but wasn’t sharing. Each time Giovanni thought he would try to pry it out of his brother, either Taviano returned to the table or Sasha was serving a table full of rowdy celebrities.
The paparazzi was present in full force. To his dismay, the two cameramen he’d hoped wouldn’t be allowed back were there as well. Apparently, the deal made with them when their film was taken was that they could return in a couple of days. Chesney Reynolds was a man who was extremely aggressive at getting his shots. In spite of the fact that the Ferraros were considered cooperative and usually worked well with the photographers, he still tried to jump out at them and followed them relentlessly. Instead of being of use to them, the man was a constant threat to them.
He was more surprised at Sid Larsen. He was, as a rule, extremely cooperative. At the time the shots had been taken, Sasha was a cocktail waitress at the Ferraro Club; otherwise, she wasn’t affiliated with them in any way. Larsen had had no way of knowing that Giovanni would ask her to marry him. Why had he been so adamant about keeping his photographs of a waitress when giving them up meant a shitload of money and a favor owed by the Ferraro family? He’d added both photographers to the list of suspects, and their investigators were working to uncover everything they could about both men.
Giovanni couldn’t stop himself from looking toward Aaron’s table again. There was a part of him that wanted to walk up to the man he’d called his friend and smash him right in the face. He didn’t like the fact that Aaron had lied to Sasha. He’d sparred with Aaron to help him out. He’d never competed with him for a woman. He didn’t do that kind of thing. He was already ashamed of the stupid game he’d thought up to play with his family to get back at the women so blatantly trying to use them, but that wasn’t competing for the same woman. That wasn’t making a woman feel special or trying to take her away from a friend or brother and then dropping her. The idea turned his stomach.
Gritting his teeth, he turned his head toward the sudden, overpowering scent of roses. Meredith Benson, a powerful actress who had won her share of awards, stood far too close. She’d made a million overtures toward him. He’d made one very bad mistake a few months earlier. He’d been in Los Angeles and had been angry with Stefano for insisting he play the role of playboy yet again. The doctors had made it clear he was sidelined for at least six more months. He’d drank too much. He’d known Meredith was a predator, just like he was, and he’d spent the night with her.
He forced a smile. “Meredith. Good to see you.” He was already feeling as guilty as hell, he didn’t need Meredith making him feel worse. She was a shark, a woman who enjoyed men and got off on dumping them as publicly as possible. She liked her reputation as a femme fatale, and she wanted as much publicity as possible.
Meredith was the kind of woman who constantly schemed to use the paparazzi, just as his family did. He could respect her for that. He respected her business sense, but she didn’t have one-night stands, she developed relationships with men. Those relationships sometimes lasted as long as six months. That, Giovanni didn’t like or agree with. Inevitably, she dumped a man who cared about her and it often shattered her partner. Once, a few years back, one man had committed suicide. She’d gotten a lot of publicity out of that, playing the part of the regretful, mourning young woman. Even then, Giovanni had known her emotions weren’t real.
She put her hand very possessively on the nape of his neck, her fingers dancing a seductive massage. “I was told you’d be here tonight. I’m so glad my sources were right. Come dance with me, Giovanni. I want to hear all about your engagement.”
“Take a seat. I can tell you right here.” He patted the chair next to him, the one Taviano had vacated to take the dance floor.
Meredith smirked a little, using the expression she was so famous for. Half seduction and all secrecy, she wiggled until her tight dress slid up her thighs as she sank into the seat. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard. I kept expecting you to call me right up until I realized our little tryst meant nothing to you.”
“It didn’t mean a damn thing to you, either, Meredith, so don’t pretend it did.”
Her smile stayed intact, but her face got hard. “There’s a right way and a wrong way to end things, Giovanni. You’re a big boy, you know that, and you knew it going into it.”