Page 43 of Mafia Men Need Love Too
Then there were human resources to consider. When mafia men were disgruntled, they never complained. Before Nico took control, complaining got you killed. And after Nico took control…well, he’d never really cared that anyone was disgruntled. But she’d convinced him that employees holding grudges was probably what had encouraged Ricky to turn on him, and that perhaps, if he’d listened to Ricky’s concerns, all that…unpleasantness with the Russians could’ve been avoided.
Nico had no patience for HR concerns, though. So, River agreed to take over. Already, she’d arranged with Van that Frank and Denny never had to work directly together again after the knock-down-drag-out fight they’d had over a soccer—EXCUSE ME, football—match, of all things, (She still didn’t understand how anyone could get that worked up about any type of sports ball, but whatever) and had Ren set up a confidential email that only she’d see for the men to send suggestions about how their work lives could be better.
She’d received some VERY surprising responses. Who knew mafia men would be so interested in continuing business education and team-building opportunities?
But all in all, it had been the best two weeks of River’s life. And while she was enjoying every minute of her days and nights (especially the nights), Tenley was planning the wedding.
If Tenley ever decided she was tired of a life of crime, she could very easily transition into a wedding planning career, because like everything else she did, she was scarily good at it.
In a matter of days, she’d arranged an elegant affair that was somehow intimate yet extravagant, classy but flashy, and still managed to reflect River’s tastes and preferences.
The ceremony itself would be held at the art museum in the Baroque gallery, the reception in the Impressionist gallery. Both spaces were to be covered in Juliet roses and some kind of rare orchid Tenley insisted on. The bouquet would be lilies of the valley, though, because those were River’s favorite.
Tenley was nothing if not accommodating.
River hadn’t had much input on the dress, though. When River had married Jeremy at City Hall, she’d worn a white dress suit from Target. Tenley was so horrified by her description of the suit that she’d taken complete control of the selection process. That suited River just fine. Especially when she saw what Tenley had selected for her.
The gown, which had already been altered to her measurements, was a minimalist vintage Chanel gown that had probably been worn in New York by a supermodel at some point in its life. It had a classic sleeveless silhouette and clean, delicate lines. Signature luxury with a contemporary edge, Tenley called it. River had to agree. It was definitely pretty enough to match her engagement ring.
The guest list was a veritable who’s who of organized crime. Russians, Italians, Irish…the leaders of each organization and their lieutenants would be there. Tenley had secured all their RSVPs with ease. River wasn’t sure if that was because they were all genuinely curious about the woman Nico was marrying or if there was some kind of mafia rule that said leaders had to attend such events, but regardless, they’d all be there. It truly seemed like there was nothing Tenley couldn’t accomplish with a little time, a lot of charm, and a black AmEx.
Except turn a marriage of convenience—or was it an arranged marriage?—into a real one.
As good as everything had been between them, it wasn’t lost on River that there’d been no mention of love or romance since the last time she brought it up.
Tonight at the rehearsal, when they’d stood face-to-face in that gallery, hands clasped, there’d been a moment where she thought she’d seen something…different in his eyes as he looked at her. Something that went beyond lust and interest alone.
Then he blinked, and it was gone, making her wonder if she’d imagined the whole thing.
Like a coward, she couldn’t bring herself to ask Nico if he’d had a change of heart—any change of heart, even a tiny one. She was getting more and more attached to him by the day. But how was he feeling?
More importantly, if she asked and he said no, that he still wasn’t capable of loving her or anyone, could her heart withstand the blow?
The thought bummed her out a little, frankly. So much so that now, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Nico shrug into his suit jacket, she asked, “Are you sure we have to do this rehearsal dinner? We can’t just skip it?”
He glanced back at her, eyes dropping to the thigh-high slit in her black cocktail dress. “I would love nothing more than to cancel, fiorellino, especially with you in that dress. But it’s a necessary evil if we’re to convince the Russians that our engagement is real.”
“I thought rehearsal dinners were for family and friends,” she grumbled. “Not a bunch of Russian assholes who tried to sex traffic me.”
“I have no family. And other than Enzo and Van, you’re my only friend,” he reminded her. “I thought it best not to drag your family into this. Better to keep them far away and safe, no?”
Her mother would happily risk death if it meant seeing her married off to a rich, handsome man—mafia or not. She’d look at Nico, see his obviously good genetics that could be passed on to her future grandchildren, and welcome him into the family with open arms, mafia or not. She’d probably try to fix her unmarried cousins up with the Russians, too. “You made the right call. I’m just…I don’t know. Nervous. Edgy, I guess.”
Nico knelt in front of her and rested his hands on her knees. “I promise I’ll keep you safe, River. You have nothing to be nervous about. Van and Enzo will be there, too. So will Tenley and Ren.”
The sincerity in his voice warmed her heart in ways it had never been warmed before. No one had ever made her feel as cherished and safe as Nico. Even if he could never love her, at least he’d given her that much. She should probably just accept what he had already given her and not whine about the rest. “I’m not worried about my safety. I know you’ll all take care of me. I just have a bad feeling about this.”
“With Tenley in charge?” He feigned a dramatic shudder. “It’s the Russians who should be worried.”
She snorted. “Hope they leave their wallets at home.”
“I hope they don’t. They deserve whatever she has in store for them.”
The smile he gave her was somehow warm and comforting, filled with humor, and smolderingly hot all at the same time. How he managed to pack all that into one smile was a mystery.
And he looked soooooooo good kneeling at her feet, looking up at her. It took her breath away.
He took her breath away. Always had.
