Page 6 of Auctioned To Her Dad's Mafia Enemies

I nod toward the door. “Go back to work.”

Relief softens her expression. She’s thinking about themoney. “Thank you,” she whispers, pushing past Antonio and Alexis in her hasteto leave.

We don’t stop her.

At the door, she turns. “Tell Rosita I saidcongratulations, okay?”

I wait until the door clicks shut before turning to mybrothers.

“She’s not lying,” I say before they can question me.They don’t. I lick my lips, giving myself time to sort my thoughts. “But thatdoesn’t mean she’s useless.”

Antonio raises a brow. “What are you thinking?”

I lift and drop one shoulder. “She’sLambrettiblood. That makes her valuable.”

“Yes,” Alexis says darkly.

I stride to the door and push it open, walking the shortdistance back to the ballroom.

Aemelia is there, clearing plates, dodging drunk guests,trying to disappear into the crowd again, but I keep watching, and eventually,so do my brothers, flanking me on either side. I tug my sleeve and finger thecufflinks Mario bought me for my eighteenth birthday.

Alexis rubs his jaw. “AemeliaLambretti,huh?”

“All grown up,” Antonio says.

Alexis snorts. “She looks like her mama did twenty yearsago. I always said Carlo was punching above his weight, but mothers tell theirdaughters to avoid the most handsome men because they’ll stray. Pick an uglyman, and he’ll stay loyal.” Alexis pushes his hands into his dark jeans. I lovemy brother, but he never dresses like a Venturi should, not even on an occasionlike tonight.

“Is that why we’re all still single?” Antonio asksdryly.

“I fuck more than every married man in here.” Alexiscracks his neck, and I grit my teeth.

Antonio shakes his head. “She shouldn’t have come back.”

“I held her when she was a child,” I say, more to myselfthan anyone else.

Alexis raises a dark eyebrow, his hazel eyes dancing. “Yourdick doesn’t need to feel guilty.”

“Not yet,” Antonio says, walking away.

***

Long after the wedding ends, when the music fades and the guestsleave, I stand in the shadows, watching Aemelia shrug on a tattered coat andhug it close against the cold. I watch as she pulls out a phone and has a briefconversation with her mom, which is mostly reassurance that she’ll be home soonand that she made some tips, so they’ll be okay. I watch as she disappears intothe night like a ghost.

I exhale a long breath, the weight of old memoriespressing down, and pull a cigarette from the packet, lighting it and inhalingdeeply. Smoke swirls around me like Medusa’s snakes, and I exchange thedarkness of the night for the darkness behind my eyelids.

AemeliaLambretti. A mafiaprincess turned Cinderella.

Mario should have been here tonight. He was the oldestof us, and walking Rosita down the aisle was his job, not mine. All day, hisshadow has trailed me, and his ghost has lingered in the cavern of emptiness inmy chest.

He should have been at this wedding, not Carlo’s spawn.

AemeliaLambretti.

I toss the cigarette and crush it with my polishedleather shoe.

She has no idea what she’s worth.

But she’ll find out soon enough.

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