Page 4 of Auctioned To Her Dad's Mafia Enemies

Does she know who I am—who we are? Does she rememberplaying and dancing with Rosita all those years ago while we talked businessover red wine from our vineyard in Sicily, and her father grinned like a shark?

My stomach tightens, and so does my grip on her smallhand. It’s her. It’s really her.

When my gaze flicks to hers, she’s wide-eyed, and for amoment, I can’t tell if it’s fear or guilt.

She’s so beautiful that it makes a long, dead place inmy chest ache, like a lonely echo in a cave cut deep into the cold earth.

I’m on my feet in seconds, moving through the room withpurpose, dragging her behind me. She doesn’t resist; she just keeps pace withme in her cheap shoes, her breath coming in gasps that trigger my suspicions.

“Where—”

“Just walk,” I growl, low and commanding.

“But I—I’m working—”

“Not anymore.”

I steer her through the crowd, and she tugs against mygrasp.

“Don’t make a scene,” I warn my voice like iron. “Unlessyou want every pair of eyes in this room on you and more than a few gunspointed.”

That stops her.

She glances around, but no one’s noticed us. The band isplaying, the champagne is flowing, and the guests are too busy basking in theirimportance to care about a waitress being disciplined for spilling a drink.

I guide her through the back entrance and into a sideroom—a private study filled with dark wood and low-burning lamps. As soon as Iclose the door, I let her go, and she whirls on me, her chest rising andfalling in rapid breaths.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

I ignore her, already pulling out my phone. I send aquick message to my brothers.

Found something interesting. Dad’s study. Now.

She takes a step back. “Look, if this is about thebroken glass, I swear I’ll pay for it—”

I lift my gaze to hers, freezing her with my icy stare,and she stops talking.

“You think this is about a broken glass? Try again,Aemelia.”

She opens her mouth to speak but hesitates, blinkingrapidly. “What’s it about then,Luca?”

My name on her lips is like a breathy sigh, and innormal circumstances, it would have made me half-hard with interest. AemeliaLambrettiis everything I look for in a woman. Hair as darkas a raven’s wing, soulful melted chocolate eyes kissed with a dark liner thatgives her a feline appearance, red lips that are pouty even under my scrutiny,and a tight little body that I’d punish and relish if the circumstances weredifferent; if I didn’t remember the feel of her body in my arms; if her youthdidn’t make me feel like a man on the other side of a wall, too mature, tooweathered, too tarnished to match her perfection.

I take my time, watching her, looking for panic, but sheseems curious, and when she folds her arms across her chest, squeezing herpretty tits together, a little put out at my sudden accosting, my dicktwitches.

A knock at the door makes Aemelia jump.

Antonio enters first, followed by Alexis. My brothersloom tall and broad, filling the small space, and Aemelia glances at them, herbreathing growing more ragged.

Antonio crosses his arms, and Alexis leans against thewall, his mouth smiling but his eyes burning with suspicion.

“Will someone tell me what’s going on?” she asks, hervoice uneven.

“I think I’ll leave that part to you. What are you doingat my sister’s wedding, AemeliaLambretti?”

Alexis and Antonio don’t react to her name, maintainingtheir cool, uninterested demeanor, but now they understand why I’ve draggedthem away from the celebration.

“Waitressing,” she says. “Look, I know it’s a littleweird. When they told me about the gig, I considered turning it down. I didn’twant to make your sister uncomfortable.” She smooths her hands over her dress,highlighting her current status as a server rather than a guest. “I just… Ineed the money, okay?”

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