Page 9 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
“Yes, hello. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
He offers a hand covered in gold rings. “My name is Edoardo Bianchi, brother of the groom. Everybody calls me Eddy.”
“Nice to meet you. Is there something I can help you with?”
“I wanted to confirm that the boat tour is going ahead.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Ah, good,” he responds, looking almost angry, but I can’t think why he would be. “I heard whispers there might have been some kind of mix-up?”
I shake my head. “Everything is under control, Mr. Bianchi.”
He smiles thinly. “Eddy, please. Call me Eddy. We’re all friends on this beautiful island, aren’t we?”
Something about the way he says it gives me the creeps, but obviously, I don’t let that show. “Sure, we are.”
He pats me on the shoulder. “Good–that’s what I like to hear.”
When he walks away, I rub my shoulder, as if cleaning away his touch.
CHAPTER 4
DARIO
During the boat tour, I’m on a different boat than Siena. She’s on the one, two boats ahead, and she’s too busy talking with my mother and father to notice me. But I notice her, her hair down now instead of tied up, glimmering in the sun. Mother laughs at something she says, touching her on the arm in the way she does when she likes someone.
I sit with my uncle Eddy and my godfather Rocco. Rocco is the consigliere of the Bianchi Family, though he’s not related by blood. Rocco and Eddy–they’re like yin and yang, Uncle Eddy dark and brooding, whereas Rocco is more like me, quick with a smile and a joke.
Eddy never wanted to be consigliere, or so he claims. He prefers to operate from the shadows, never desired the responsibility and the exposure that came with being second-in-command. But sometimes, I wonder… especially when he looks at Rocco like he’s thinking about pushing him into the pristine blue.
“Have you heard the news?” Eddy says darkly. “That girl from Evermore is running the entire show now. Her boss is sick, from what I understand. Let’s hope she doesn’t mess it up.”
“You worry too much,” Rocco replies. They’re the same age, but Rocco has a full head of hair and clear, bronze skin, a mouth full of straight, white teeth. Eddy looks at least ten years older.
“You should worry more. It’s your job,” Eddy fires back.
“We’re here to have fun.”
“Incorrect. We’re here so that Vittorio and Marcela can show a unified front to the Family. This is a political event as much as a personal one.”
“She’ll do fine,” I say.
Eddy looks at me sideways. “What are you basing this analysis on?”
“Instinct.”
Eddy laughs grimly. “I prefer data.”
“Just give her a chance.”
My godfather claps me on the arm. “I trust Dario’s instincts.”
The boat tour takes us around the island, the sunlight glittering down over the blue waves, making the sand seem to glow yellow. We go ashore on the other side of the island, where Evermore Events has set up shaded marquees with refreshments and a small buffet.
“Isn’t this wonderful?” Mother says, approaching me with a coconut in her hand, a straw sticking out of it.
I wrap my arm around her and give her a squeeze. “It’s great–it looked like you were having fun.”
