Page 4 of Stealing Her Heart
“Mi bella,” he greets me with open arms and a crooked smile. I cringe as I step down from the stairway, trying to avoid his embrace. No such luck. Bending his head, he presses a kiss to my cheek and hisses a warning in my ear. “Go back upstairs and change! You know better.”
Shaking my head, I pull back, beaming up at him with a fake smile. “Thank you, I love this dress too.”
His face twists in a frown as his hand circles my arm. It is like a shackle on me, yanking me after him. There will be bruises later, and I suspect that is what he wants. Reminders of how much he did not appreciate my little act of defiance. Well, he ought to get used to it. If we do make it to the altar, there will be plenty more acts of defiance to piss him off.
Just as my arm starts to tingle from the pressure of his grip, a man I do not recognize sails past us. Tall and broad, he is in a dark suit that looks as if it was made for him. And it probably was. He pauses as he passes us, shooting a dismissive look at Santino Marconi that stuns me. Everyone else here bows their heads and gets out of his way. Not this man.
Beside him, a huge, handsome man in his own snazzy suit shoots Santino the same look. Only he doesn’t stop at a look. He advances on him fast. I wonder for a moment if this is where my betrothed bullshit ends. Is this man going to end Santino—and my misery—right here and now?
“Vuole scambiare due parole con lei.” Who wants a word with me?
Why me? And…who ishe? Not just whoever is asking for a word with me, but the other well-dressed man who stalked off after throwing that glare at Santino. I would love to learn his ways. I almost laugh at the stupid thought. Before I get lost in daydreams of being taught how to grimace and scowl, Santino speaks.
“No. He has no right to speak with her.”
“You want to tell Gabriel no?”
Gabriel. The man in the nice suit with the nice dark eyes and the big, wide body. He looked at Santino the way one would look at an ant ruining their pretty picnic. I stiffen my spine as Santino glares back at me, letting go of his vice like grip on my arm.
“Go. Greet our guest, it is the polite thing to do.”
“Yes, sir,” I mumble what he would expect from me.
Santino smirks at the other man, tipping his jaw at him. As if to say, look, she’s well trained. Lord knows both he and my father would adore it if I bowed down to either of them. Followed the rules, did as I was told. It has never been an option for me—doing what I am told. There was a reason my father warned me to behave earlier. Because by default, I rarely am behaving how he prefers me to.
“Who is it who wants to speak to me? Is it…is it allowed?” I force the words out, keeping my chin tucked close to my chest.
Running into the big wall of a man leading me from the others, I gasp. He turns back to look down at me. His eyes seem strange. One is blue, the other is gray. There is something off about the gray one, and I suspect it has something to do with the scar running down his left cheek. I want to ask because it is a curious thing, but I have learned not to ask these things.
“Gabriel Capelli. Heard of him?”
“No-no, sir. Do I call you sir? Is that…”
Turning back to me again, he shakes his head with a laugh. “Nah, sweetheart, you call me Dario. Far as I am concerned, you don’t need to call any of these other fucks sir, either” he adds with a wink.
Smiling at him, I let myself relax a little. Not that I should. I am in the presence of dangerous men. Men who steal, hurt, even kill those who get in their way. I should know better by now than to trust anyone, even if they ask me to.Especiallyif they ask me to.
Coming to a stop, I smell the sweet cherry scent of a cigar. It reminds me of my grandfather, my mother’s father. He was the last man I trusted. He was a good man. Somehow, this sets me at ease as I face Mr. Capelli. I am still confused why he called me over. Even more confused that with as possessive as he is, Santino allowed it. It must mean he is a lot scarier than my future husband. That should scare me, but it doesn’t.
Gabriel turns to face us, smelling of whisky and his sweet cigar. It creates a plume of smoke in front of his face. I almost laugh. It is very Godfather-esque, meeting him this way in a dark corner of this party. He steps forward, out of that smoke and I step back.
Because I am not prepared. Not for how beautiful he is. His hair is longer on top than most of the other men, shorn close on the sides. I find myself wondering how it would feel between my fingers. His light eyes stare at me, not looking me over, just looking directly at me. Seeing me.
“Mr. Capelli,” I stammer, my words sounding too thick.
“Gianna,” he whispers back, sending a wave of shock through me. Oh, his voice is…it’s warm, velvety, intimate. I want to hear him say my name again, that way. I take a shaky breath, taking a step closer to him.
“I... I am not supposed to talk to anyone else. Just my...well...I mean...my fiancé. He won’t let me talk to another man, if I am not back to him….” Gabriel’s eyes flash as he reaches out to grasp my wrist. It is a gentle touch, nothing like the way Santino handled me earlier.
“He will do nothing,” he declares, clear, crisp, commanding.
I stare at his mouth after he says this. I don’t understand it, but I know he is right. I don’t know how I know or how he could be right. Yet there is no doubt in my head that his words ring true. Something tells me he would have the upper hand in any dealing with Santino.
To my surprise, he takes my hand to lead me outside. I hesitate for just a moment. If my father saw me with another man, if Santino feels slighted by this, I am the one who will pay the price. Yet, I am so intrigued by this handsome man who stands out from the others.
We walk out on the patio, overlooking the sprawling gardens that make up the back acre of the property. We live in a modest home, but this would be my home now. I do not like a single thing about it. I wonder where Gabriel might live. What it might be like.
Out on the patio, we talk for a few moments. He stuns me by asking about my dreams. No one has ever asked me that. They told me the sort of dream life they thought I should crave. The life they lived and screwed up right in front of me. Why would I want that same life?
