Velia fanned herself. “I’m so flattered.”
“You should be. He thinks a lot of himself,” Marzio pointed out.
“The Ferraros have a network, and we can send someone to scout him out,” Stefano said. “That would turn their attention from Benito and anything that happens to him onto themselves and their future. We can drag out the production and decide later if we think it’s a good idea or not, but for now, it would deflect the rest of the Demons from continuing to come at Nicoletta.”
“I like it,” Vittorio said.
“Brilliant,” Giovanni agreed. “Turn the tables on them and have cameras on them twenty-four hours a day. I doubt they know what they’re going to be agreeing to.”
Taviano was watching Eloisa’s face. Even she was nodding as she considered what Stefano had said.
“Taviano?” Stefano asked. “Ricco?”
Both men added their assent. Emmanuelle and Mariko did as well.
“I don’t have a vote anymore, but I agree with Giovanni, Stefano,” Eloisa said. “You might make them famous, but on the other hand, if they are so stupid as to commit crimes on camera, they’re incriminating themselves to the cops and providing evidence. Just make certain in the contract with them it states that the film will be permissible to be evidence.”
Taviano was so shocked, he nearly fell off the couch. Looking at his brothers and Emmanuelle, he could see they were as astonished as he was. Their mother never praised them, least of all Stefano. No idea any of them had was a good one. Stefano, she seemed to want to crush every bit as much as Emmanuelle.
“Then I’ll make a few phone calls,” Stefano said, his expression exactly the same. There was no telling by his face or his inflection what he was thinking. “We all have to inform the families that we’ll most likely be under scrutiny again after so many Demons were found with their necks broken. We’re not tied to these deaths in any way, and there’s no way to connect us, but there are rumors that continually surface about our family, and that means an undercover will be looking to infiltrate and try to find a way to prove we’re somehow involved. Our greeters can’t in any way make mistakes. That’s more important than ever.”
Eloisa leaned forward just a little more intently. She was the greeter for the Chicago Ferraros. Since Phillip was gone, the family relied on her. “I need to talk to you about that, Stefano. We do need help. I’d like to put out the word to the family to bring in greeters to give me some time off, if you don’t mind. You’d have to interview them with me.”
Again, there was a shocked silence, although Taviano was looking at his older brother’s face and there was something in his eyes that told him maybe this revelation wasn’t altogether unexpected.
“Of course, Eloisa,” Stefano said smoothly. “I’ve wanted to get you help for some time. It’s too big of a responsibility for one person. Now, with the threat of more scrutiny, I think we should take a break for a short while and regroup. All of us should, but that has to go before the council. The world is a much smaller place than it once was. We all deliver the same signature kill. That has become noticeable to some law enforcement officials worldwide.”
“Even in our families, few know of the riders,” Eloisa pointed out. “Not even close family members. Only those with direct responsibilities, or spouses. Sometimes not even spouses. Once in a while someone in the family wants to go into law enforcement, and we are supportive of that decision, but we are extra careful around them. Riders are protected at all times. They serve on the boards of the banks and hotels and are given jobs that take them all over the country and out of it, so no one thinks anything about them traveling.”
“Or playing hard,” Giovanni added. “Our cover is solid, that isn’t what Stefano is saying. There isn’t a need to panic. He’s saying to be cautious, and he’s right.”
Elie nodded. “The council has to hear about what’s happening and the fact that law enforcement will be investigating us thoroughly.”
Eloisa sent him a sharp glance but refrained from saying anything. Technically, he wasn’t a Ferraro, although he spent all of his time with them now. He rotated in with them and worked under Stefano’s authority. When he wasn’t working as a rider, he took jobs as a bodyguard, which Stefano objected to. Often, on his days off, he and Emmanuelle went to dinner or clubbing. Both liked to dance, and they were seen together out for pizza or they came to Stefano’s on family night. Most importantly, he was a member of the famed Archambault family. Eloisa had a high respect for them as riders and held their bloodline in the highest esteem. More than anything, she wanted an alliance between the two families.
“Yes,” Stefano agreed. “I’ve already spoken to Alfieri, and he was arranging a conference call for later this evening so that all members of the council would be able to be on.”
“Alfieri is our uncle and a member of the international council,” Taviano whispered to Nicoletta.
Stefano sank back in the chair. “That brings us to Nicoletta. She accompanied Taviano and me to the Chicago Demons who were coming to aid Valdez, or rather attempting to. I wanted to observe her. Already, just working with her, training her over the last couple of years, each of us had, including Elie, written reports on her. All of us had come to the same conclusions. No one had ever seen anyone like her. Reflexes were faster, learning curve, hand-eye coordination, the way her body reacted to the shadows, it was all very similar to Elie’s.” He indicated Elie.
Taviano smiled down at Nicoletta. He couldn’t help the surge of pride in her. Faint color swept up her neck to stain her cheeks. She didn’t look at any of his brothers or cousins. He tightened his grip on her hand and glanced at his mother to see how she was taking the news. The look on her face was priceless. She’d gone very still. Almost frozen. She stared at Stefano as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“We asked Elie to train with her because he’s incredibly fast, and she actually kept up with him when they were kickboxing. We filmed her so we could send the live feeds to the head of the Archambault family. We know that her father was a member of the family, but not a rider. Nicoletta had never trained as a child, yet she not only didn’t lose the ability to ride the shadows, but the compulsion, the need, grew in her to the point that she was doing it on her own.” Stefano gestured to Taviano to take up the narrative.
Taviano pressed Nicoletta’s palm into his thigh. “When she was attacked at the concert, she texted me immediately as she fought off her attacker and got her three friends to run. Her friends scattered, but she did exactly what I said and met me where I told her to. Unfortunately, I was shot.”
He heard Eloisa gasp and realized she hadn’t been told. Before, when they came off missions, they always reported injuries to her, but since her ugliness to Francesca, none of them did. He hadn’t realized that until just that moment.
“I had Nicoletta strip and put my shirt on. She did so without hesitation, and she went with me, taking the shadows to the first aid station. She did get sick that first time, but she helped me with my wound, and she stayed alert and ready for action. From there, we took the shadow to the hotel. It was a long and very fast ride, with sharp turns and curves.”
“Dangerous,” Severino murmured. “So dangerous for anyone new to riding, let alone untrained. It was a terrible risk.”
Taviano nodded. “We had to get there before the Demons did. She was very sick, and this time I could see there was bleeding. It alarmed me, but I consoled myself with the fact that all of us had some bleeding from the nose when we first rode the shadows as kids.”
That was true enough, but he saw Stefano and Severino exchange a worried look, and there was no doubt in Taviano’s mind that that exchange was one of concern. He found himself pressing Nicoletta’s hand deeper into his thigh, more for his own reassurance than hers.
“The cousins took her two friends to a safe house, but Nicoletta was worried that Claris
s, her friend still unaccounted for, had been taken by the Demons. When we discovered that was so, she didn’t want to return to the plane. She knew what they did to women, and she wanted to be there for Clariss in case the men had raped her. She felt it was necessary to be there for her friend under those circumstances.”
“That would be three jumps on an unskilled rider. Her body . . .” Severino trailed off. He looked at Nicoletta with respect. “That’s unheard-of. We work up to that. We train from the time we’re children. Shadows can tear apart a body.”
“The third time was actually better in terms of her controlling the ride,” Taviano explained. “She began to anticipate the curves and turns. She kept her head down, and her arms around me tight, but her body moved with mine, and she relaxed into the ride rather than fought it.” Which was one of the hardest things to do. He knew that, as did every rider in the room.
“From the warehouse, we went to the plane, so all in all, Nicoletta rode the shadows four times in one day. She had the headache from hell and was exhausted, but there didn’t seem to be any repercussions on her body, such as soreness with aches and pains, and she didn’t get sick after riding to the plane. I watched her carefully. She didn’t limp. She wasn’t wincing. I had her meditating and doing breathing exercises, sitting with me on the floor, and we trained in my gym for a short period of time. She didn’t so much as grimace. She never once has protested when asked to work out. All of us have had to stop her from pushing too hard.”
“What does Marcellus Archambault say about her?” Severino asked.
“He says she’s extraordinary and definitely indicative of their family, but one trained from childhood. Her body has to be made up of the muscle and cells theirs are made up of. He’d like to have their doctor examine her. He’s extremely interested in her abilities, as no one has ever exhibited her talents before,” Stefano said. “Not just coming in cold like this.”
“Naturally, the Ferraros would manage to get her in their family,” Elie said. “Her genetics are amazing even for my lineage.”
Taviano felt Nicoletta stiffen.
“Well,” Eloisa said, sitting back in her chair. “This is rather amazing. I didn’t think this girl would be worth much to the family, and yet she’s a prize beyond belief. Her children will be the riders we need to carry on the family name. It’s just possible, Emmanuelle, that you won’t need to have kids if she can produce several like she should, wouldn’t you agree, Stefano? That really takes the pressure off everyone.”
Nicoletta pulled her hand out from under Taviano’s. When he reached for her, she stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m feeling a little sick to my stomach right now.”
She didn’t wait to see what anyone said. She walked away, not toward the inside of the house, where the other women were, or any one of the numerous bathrooms, but toward the elevator. She was leaving. Her back was ramrod stiff, her shoulders straight and her head high. She knew how to make an exit.
Stefano shook his head. “Why is it, Eloisa, that you always know exactly what to say to wreak havoc?”
“What did I say? I implied she was extraordinary. I wanted Emmanuelle to know she might be off the hook. It was a good thing. Nicoletta said she was ill. Maybe she’s already pregnant.” There was a hopeful note in Eloisa’s voice.
Taviano ignored the exchange and, swearing under his breath, hurried after Nicoletta. He stepped into the elevator just as the doors were closing. She didn’t say anything to him, but her eyes all but dared him to talk to her. He didn’t make that mistake. Instead, he remained silent and just stayed close to her.
Nicoletta stepped off the elevator and walked right into the middle of the Ferraro luxury hotel, oblivious to the sudden turning heads of those in the lobby. Taviano glanced around. Emilio and Enzo came hurrying in through the rotating door, no doubt called in by Stefano. They slowed down when they spotted Nicoletta striding toward the doorman, who had stepped up to courteously open it for her. She smiled at him without really seeing him and went right out onto the sidewalk without checking for danger first.
Taviano clenched his teeth. Nicoletta wasn’t used to the danger she could be in just by being married to him. Fortunately, few people were aware of their marriage yet, but she needed to be more careful. He stepped close, ignoring the fact that she quickened her pace as if she wanted to get away from him. Enzo and Emilio fell into step behind them. They were smooth about it, as if they weren’t really in any way shadowing them.
“I didn’t say or even think what Eloisa said.” He kept his voice low.
She sent him one smoldering look from under her long lashes. “Don’t talk to me yet.”
He counted to a hundred, his own temper mounting with each step rather than fading. He was trying to be understanding, but he wasn’t the one who’d fucked up. That was Eloisa. That was his mother—trying to regulate Nicoletta into being a broodmare and their children into being nothing but shadow riders. He had never once said that was what he wanted. If anything, he had reassured Nicoletta over and over that he wanted her, not babies.
“Damn it, Nicoletta,” he hissed under his breath. He caught her hand as they stalked down the street like two soldiers marching on Armageddon. At least she didn’t pull away from him, and it was a damn good thing, too.
She glanced up at his set jaw. He knew his eyes were blazing fire. He felt like strangling his mother. And maybe Nicoletta, too. She could try believing in him. Her dark chocolate eyes went from a lethal smoldering to suddenly bright, brimming over with laughter. He didn’t see anything the least bit funny at all about what had happened. His mother’s behavior or hers.
Taviano set the pace now, and the direction, heading toward Petrov’s Pizzeria. It was only the best pizza in Chicago as far as he was concerned, and if he was missing out on a home-cooked meal at Francesca’s, even if he was helping to cook it, to hell with it, they were having pizza. He quickened his stride, texting Tito—the co-owner with his father and manager of the pizzeria—one-handed, to ensure he had the Ferraro private table available as well as a table close for Emilio and Enzo.
A small sound that sounded suspiciously like laughter escaped Nicoletta’s throat. She had that sweet little musical laugh that was always on such perfect pitch there was no mistaking it. The sound always made him want to smile with her—but not this time. He glared at her.
“You don’t get to storm out, mad as hell at me for no good reason, and then laugh.”
“I’m thinking it isn’t a good idea for both of us to get angry at the same time, Taviano,” Nicoletta said. “You have a rip-roaring nasty temper, and mine isn’t so hot, either. Can you imagine the kind of fights we’re going to have?”
“We’re going to have one right now, a big one,” he said and kept walking straight down the sidewalk, nodding every now and again—rather curtly—to anyone who lifted a hand to him.
He half expected his woman to take offense and try to walk off in a huff, as she’d done at Stefano’s, but she kept pace with him, even if she did have to nearly jog. He slowed down to give her shorter legs a break, but his temper wasn’t in the least appeased.
“I should have been given the benefit of the doubt.” He shoved open the door to the pizzeria.
Berta, the waitress and sometimes hostess, looked up and smiled at them as they came in. She gestured toward the back. The restaurant was large, and two tiered, with tables and booths accommodating all sizes of groups coming in. Petrov’s was extremely popular. Aside from the locals, people came from all over to eat there. Take out orders were common as well. The pizzeria kept a few tables available for the locals to drop in when they got off work, which made them happy.
“Maybe you should have given me the benefit of the doubt,” Nicoletta said cryptically, the smile fading from her face. Her dark eyes went right back to smoldering. “I think you’re right. We might just get into a rip-roaring fight.”
&nb
sp; Alarms went off. He bit down on his retort, taking a deep breath and replaying the scenario in Stefano’s penthouse. Taviano stepped back to allow Nicoletta to precede him. She followed Berta to the booth in the back, the one his family considered “theirs.” It was mostly in the darker side of the restaurant, allowing the shadows to fall across it, making it difficult for other customers to see them as they had dinner, giving them a sense of privacy.
Nicoletta slipped into the booth first and Taviano slid in next to her. Close. Thighs touching. She shifted away from him. Just an inch or so. It annoyed him.
“What the fuck, Nicoletta?”
“Don’t say fuck to me. I don’t like it.”
“I don’t like being blamed for something I didn’t do.”
Berta smiled brightly at them. “I would be happy to bring you the antipasto plate and breadsticks. Do you already know what you’d like, or do you want a menu?”
“We know,” Taviano said.
“A menu would be great, thank you,” Nicoletta said perversely.
“She doesn’t need a menu,” Taviano snapped. “She’s just being difficult. She likes pepperoni and black olive with extra olives and mushrooms. Thin crust, because she’s not really Italian. She just looks like it.”
Nicoletta kicked him under the table, but she didn’t put much of an effort into it. “She would like an Italian soda to drink along with water. Peach, please.”
Berta nodded. “What kind of pizza for you, Taviano?”
“I’m eating hers.”
“I’m not sharing with you,” Nicoletta declared. “Because you’re all kinds of an ass.”
Shadow Flight Page 37
