Page 208 of Kissing the Villain

My cell phone rang. I expected to hear from Marcello or Drake, but it was my father.

I raised the phone to my ear. “I assume you’ve heard about Alex.”

“Yes. We need to move the wedding forward.”

I stuffed the jewelry box into my pocket. “I have Mom’s ring.”

“Good,” he breathed into the receiver. “The Basiles just arrived. I’ve arranged for Domenica to come for a dress fitting tonight.”

“Alex will hate that.”

“Alexandrea doesn’t have a choice. She chose you. Now, we need to move forward with our plans.”

“Dad, she’s for sale atIl Circo. Can’t the dress fitting wait until we get the site taken down?”

“No,” he said, and the line went dead.

73

ALEX

Marcello escortedme into a bright sitting room with a dozen floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the water. Sunlight spilled through the glass, illuminating Arlo Salvatore's chiseled cheekbones. Three other men dressed in expensive suits stared at me.

“Who are they?”

“The Basiles,” Marcello whispered.

Arlo set a glass of amber liquid on the coffee table and stood to his full height. With the wave of his hand, he urged me to move toward him.

I stepped into the room.

“Alexandrea, I’d like you to meet your extended family,” he said in a deep voice that sent chills down my arms. He slid his arm behind my back and guided me to the couch. “They’ve flown in from Italy for your wedding.”

“Oh,” I muttered, at a loss for words.

Luca hadn’t even proposed yet.

The three men staring at me looked related to Arlo. Two dark-haired men in their late thirties or early forties stood next to a man with white hair and wrinkled skin. They had similar complexions and tanned as if they had spent time outside.

“Hi.” I extended my hand for the youngest of the group to shake. “I’m Alex.”

Instead of shaking my hand, he raised it to his mouth and kissed my skin. The warmth from his breath caused shock waves to shoot up my arm.

“Such a beauty, Alexandrea,” he said in a thick Italian accent.

“This is Stefano Basile,” Arlo said with a slight tip of his head. “And this is Giovanni Basile,” he said as the next man leaned forward to kiss each of my cheeks.

“You chose well,” Giovanni said to Arlo with an evil grin. “She looks like her mother.”

Fear shook me when Arlo gripped my shoulders and moved me in front of their leader. A smile tugged at the corners of the older man’s mouth. He brushed my cheek with his fingers, a loving gesture for a terrifying man.

“And this is Antonio Basile,” Arlo said against my ear.

The older man brought me in for a hug and kissed my cheeks.

“Nice to meet all of you,” I lied as I slipped out of his embrace.

There was nothing sweet about this encounter. It took every ounce of strength I had to keep my legs from shaking, which was a real pain in the ass in five-inch heels.

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