Shadow Keeper Read online

  Giovanni took a sip of the wine and nodded. She poured more into his glass and then into Sasha's. The room fell into a hush again. Sasha looked up and Berta hurried away, back toward the newcomers. His brothers had arrived with the cousins. Sasha sat up straighter and tried to pull away from him.

  "What are they doing here?" There was no keeping the suspicion out of her voice. If they got one point for getting a woman to dance, what would it be for coaxing a woman to go out when she'd overheard the rules of their stupid, childish game? How could she have been so stupid?

  "Relax, Sasha."

  His voice was mesmerizing. Gentle. Caring. How could he sound like that when he wasn't that way? She hated that she was so susceptible to him. She'd been alone since her parents had died, and she was starved for affection and company. That was all. Simple human needs. But she wasn't going to be the butt of a wealthy man's joke.

  "I'm leaving. I can walk home." She was more shaken than she realized. She actually felt the burn of tears behind her eyes and that added to her anger. She didn't cry easily and certainly not over a man. She pushed at his rib cage.

  His arm didn't budge. "Sasha, just take a breath and give me a minute. You aren't being fair to me. I fucked up big-time with that ridiculous game. It was wrong, and I apologize for it. My family comes here often. Most likely, some of the others will show up as well. Don't leave because the pizzeria is a popular spot with us. I've known Benito since I was a boy, as have my sister and brothers. Of course, we would give him our business rather than take it elsewhere. And he'd be hurt if we did."

  He sounded so sincere. His family was on their way over to their booth. She told herself she stopped struggling to get out of the booth because she didn't want to look like it mattered one way or the other. She refused to look at Giovanni. If he was making her the butt of a family joke, she despised him. If he wasn't, and she'd accused him, she would be ashamed of herself.

  He might play games in his nightclub, but she wouldn't stoop to his level and be someone her parents would be ashamed of. They wouldn't want her jumping to conclusions because she'd overheard something she knew to be wrong.

  "I don't know how I can change your opinion of me, Sasha," Giovanni said. "I don't like that you keep thinking I'm making fun of you, or whatever it is you're thinking of me."

  "That you're an ass for making up such a mean, spiteful, hurtful game," she said and picked up the wineglass. She needed something to fortify her. What was she doing, sitting in the Ferraro booth with Giovanni Ferraro? She didn't belong there. She didn't even want to be there.

  "That much is true," he admitted. "I hope you like the wine. We have vineyards and a winery in Italy. My family runs it. Cousins."

  "You have a huge family. So many cousins." She took a cautious sip of the wine. She didn't know much about wine, but it was good.

  "It's rich. Full-bodied," Giovanni said. "It's said that when you open a bottle of this wine, with each sip you get unique sensations and taste. Even emotion." His smile took her breath. "Keep sipping. Right now, you're angry with me, justifiably so, but perhaps another sip will make you like me a little better."

  "Giovanni, Sasha." Taviano slid into the booth on the other side of Sasha, hemming her in. "We couldn't get out of there. Believe it or not, Sid Larsen refused to give up his film, and he's always been cooperative with us. The cameraman Darby hired, Jerry Higgens, got nasty, although all he did was make threats. What an asshole." He glanced down at Sasha. "Sorry, didn't mean to talk crap in front of you. Men like Larsen and Higgens get to me. They make a living out of taking photographs of other people's private moments."

  "Don't forget that little runt, Chesney Reynolds," Vittorio said. "He wanted to fight us. I think he had someone in the bushes trying to film us with their cell."

  Vittorio slid into the booth beside Taviano, and Geno pushed in beside Giovanni. Now she was in a booth surrounded by Ferraros. They were big men, and she felt a little dwarfed in comparison. Salvatore took the last option, a seat by his brother. Berta put more wineglasses on the table as well as two more bottles of wine.

  "I sent the names of all the cameramen to the aunt and uncle," Taviano said.

  Sasha had no idea what that meant and she wasn't going to ask. "Why would they want to fight you?" she asked.

  "Darby makes his living on his reality television show," Giovanni explained. "The show gets high ratings because they cause problems. Darby wanted to make a scene, and that's why he ripped your clothes. He doesn't care who he hurts in the process, it's all a--" He broke off.

  Sasha knew he'd been about to say game and thought better of it.

  The antipasto was gone in seconds as well as all the breadsticks. Giovanni grabbed the last one right out of Vittorio's hand and gave it to her. "Thief. What the hell are you all doing?"

  "Saving little Sasha, of course," Vittorio said placidly. He leaned back and flashed her a smile. "Giovanni has a tendency to give us all a bad name. We're not anything like him."

  "You were pretty eager to play your little game," she pointed out, leveling her gaze at him. Giovanni might not want to bring it up but she wasn't going to let the opportunity pass. "In fact, you were the first one leaving the table. Your two brothers remained behind."

  A roar of laughter went up at Vittorio's expense. He put his hand over his heart. "You've crushed me, bella. Crushed me."

  He was so dramatic she couldn't help but laugh with them. "I don't think I believe a word of it. Who was the big winner tonight?"

  There was a sudden, sobering silence. She looked around the table. "Someone had to have won." She wasn't letting it go. They could kick her out of their little circle for all she cared. If they could play their game, the least they could do was own up to it.

  "I did," Geno admitted. "Had four different women want to marry me on the spot."

  "That must be distressing." Her tone was sarcastic. "Women liking you."

  "It is, tesoro," Giovanni said. "It sounds wonderful to someone who doesn't have this kind of problem everywhere they go. How could any of those women possibly love him enough to marry him? Or even like him? They don't know him. They aren't trying to get to know him. If they sleep with him, it isn't for a hookup or because they're so wildly attracted to him. It's because of money. Pure and simple. They want money, and we've got it."

  She lifted her gaze to his face. "So, you're saying, if I'm at a nightclub and a wealthy man comes up to ask me to dance, I should say no, because if I don't, he thinks I'm after his money? That's ridiculous. I don't know what he's thinking any more than he knows what I am. I want to dance. I'm thinking he wants to dance. You all started your game with that premise--anyone asking you or agreeing to dance wants your money."

  "Because they do, cara," Vittorio said. "It's the sad truth. We go to a lot of nightclubs, and it's the same night after night."

  "I love to dance. My guess is, at least half the women in the nightclub, maybe a much larger percentage, are there just to dance and have fun. It would be such a shame for you to miss out on getting to know someone nice because you're so busy trying to win your game."

  "It's easy enough to find out," Salvatore said. "What woman, just wanting to dance, allows a man to put his hands all over her, or initiates giving him a blow job? Initiates it?"

  "Well, obviously, then you would be right about her, but if I agreed to dance with a man and he tried putting his hands on me, I'd make it very clear he was out of line. If he did it a second time, I'd probably deck him."

  That made them all laugh again. Taviano poked Giovanni. "Your little kitten has claws."

  "Or," Sasha continued because Giovanni had put his hands on her and she hadn't really objected because she was attracted to him, "she might be physically attracted, because, let's face it, all of you are rather good-looking, although I don't want that to go to your heads. If she was drinking and wanted to have a good time and maybe find a partner for the night, or hope she's finding a man interested in her, she might let him touch he
r that way."

  Giovanni's arm had settled back around her shoulders and he ran his finger along her arm. Even under his coat, she felt the impact and another little frisson of heat moved down her spine to settle low. He was definitely lethal to women, and to her in particular.

  Taviano suddenly narrowed his eyes. "Damn it. Just fucking damn it. What is she doing here this time of night?"

  They all followed his gaze to the entrance. Two girls and three boys were waiting to be seated. One of the girls stumbled and giggled as a boy caught her around the waist, and all five laughed. The girl that had stumbled was beautiful, with long, dark hair falling almost to her waist. She looked like Sasha imagined an angel might, too beautiful to be of this earth.

  "She's drunk," Taviano said. "I'm getting tired of having to pull her ass out of parties and get her home. That fucking Bruno Vitale has her going out with boys out of the neighborhood and way too old for her. I told Stefano to talk to her. If I have to do it, I'm going to lose my mind and do something crazy like put her over my knee." He took another sip of wine and slid out of the booth, storming over to the group.

  "Who is she?" Sasha said. "They look harmless enough." The girls looked young, the boys college age, a little older.

  "Nicoletta," Giovanni answered, his voice tight. "Vittorio, how much has Taviano had to drink tonight?" He glanced down at Sasha. "He doesn't usually drink, but he had the night off, the first in a long time. He's been covering my shifts after my accident." He hadn't been paying attention because he was watching Sasha.

  Sasha wanted to know what accident he'd been in.

  "Taviano has been drinking a lot. More than I've ever seen him. He seemed upset about something tonight," Vittorio said.

  "Should we call Emme to escort Nicoletta home?" Giovanni asked.

  It was too late. Taviano was in a heated argument with her. She backed away, shaking her head. He caught her around her waist and slung her over his shoulder and marched out. The others in her group stood at the entrance, stunned, staring after Taviano and the struggling girl uneasily. Everyone saw him reach up and smack her bottom hard as he went through the door.

  "He didn't just remind her in that very loud voice, in front of her friends and everyone in here, that it's past her curfew, did he? Or spank her?" Sasha was outraged.

  Giovanni wiped the smirk off his face instantly. "Nicoletta is the epitome of a pain in the ass," he explained. "You have no idea how many times a member of my family has been called to find her and escort her home. I'm talking called out of important meetings, dinners, our beds. If we happen to be on a date. Major charity events. You name practically any circumstance and we've had to leave to find that little hellion. I don't envy the man who ends up with her."

  "Is she related to you?" Underneath Giovanni's humor, she heard worry.

  "Not by blood, but we look out for her. She's Lucia and Amo's foster daughter. She's had it rough, I'm not going to lie, but she's wild and they worry. Stefano needs to step in."

  Stefano Ferraro was the head of the Ferraro family in Chicago. She knew that much. Everyone knew it. "What could Stefano possibly do to change a wild teen? Weren't all of you a little wild? Didn't you sneak out of the house and party?"

  The men looked at one another and she could see something secretive pass between them, but no one answered her. More antipasto and breadsticks were ordered along with several large pizzas. She felt a little funny being the only woman in the booth with the powerful Ferraro family, but she had to admit, they treated her with the utmost respect.

  She found herself laughing more than she had the entire time since her parents died. They seemed to know everyone. They weren't in the least patronizing and included her in the conversation, asking her opinion and sometimes debating a point with her. Through it all, Giovanni kept his arm around her. He was warm and solid. He felt protective, and that was something she hadn't known in a long while, either. Sasha gave herself permission to enjoy the rest of the early morning hours with them. Once she did that, she had fun because they were that--just plain fun.

  CHAPTER THREE

  "Sasha Provis is a shadow rider. At least, she's capable of being one," Giovanni announced to his family. "She's definitely mine. I was attracted to her before our shadows ever connected. In the club, when she spoke for the first time something in me opened up and she just poured inside." He didn't know any other way to describe it.

  Stefano glanced up at him from where he was carrying Francesca's famous avocado pasta to the table. It was a huge bowl, one, Giovanni noted, that was getting larger and larger. "You didn't call me?"

  Giovanni concentrated on putting silverware on the table, not looking at his older brother. He could barely breathe thinking about Sasha sitting up in her apartment alone, or maybe getting phone calls from other men asking her out. She had said no when he asked her out the next night, although she softened the blow by telling him she was scheduled to work at her second job. Who knew she had a second job? Why didn't he know? He'd put the investigators on her. By the end of the night, he hoped to know everything there was to know about her.

  "You and Francesca had the night off together for a change. No one was going to interrupt you."

  Stefano looked around at his brothers, sister and sister-in-law, all gathered together for a meal. The sourdough bread was fresh and hot. The pasta and a giant salad were already on the table. They all pulled out chairs. No one had assigned them individual seats, but they tended to choose the same ones all the time.

  "We're looking for nieces and nephews," Vittorio said. "Looking to you to get it done, Stefano. Giving you as much time alone with your woman as possible."

  "It's not easy when we're one rider down," Ricco said. "I told you I'd give you a few lessons with the rope. Tie her down and get it done."

  Francesca turned a fiery shade of red. "You are not discussing our sex life." She made it a statement as she glared at them all, one hand poised above her water glass.

  "Of course we are," Giovanni said. "Why wouldn't we? It's important he keeps you happy, satisfied, and knocks you up. You ever heard of barefoot and pregnant? Stefano is so damned bossy he's going to piss you off a lot. We're not losing you, so that means we need a lot of bambinos running around, keeping you too busy to run off."

  A look passed between Francesca and Stefano. She shook her head slightly and then rolled her eyes while the others laughed, but nodded as if in complete agreement. "See, Mariko?" She turned to her sister-in-law. "They're taking it easy on you, but this is going to be your life soon. They interfere with everything. I can't turn around without one of them underfoot, or one or more of their cousins. Emilio, Enzo and the others. Try planning surprises for your husband."

  Mariko smiled. "You're the one we all look to, Francesca," she explained gently. "Of course, we're going to look out for you."

  Giovanni noted that Mariko, Ricco's wife, used we instead of they. She'd included herself in looking after Francesca. Mariko was a huge asset to the family, a trained shadow rider, very fast and efficient. Without Giovanni's ability to ride, she was taking jobs as well.

  They rarely worked in Chicago. They were called in to work in New York, San Francisco and Los Angeles. Their work took them all over, but those were the main places they traveled. Salvatore, Lucca and Geno, three brothers and their cousins, were called in from New York if there was a job to be done in Chicago, as they had been the other night.

  "Who looks after you, Mariko?" Francesca asked. "And Emme?" She looked down the table to Emmanuelle, Giovanni's sister.

  "We're riders, honey, so they do put bodyguards on us, but it isn't the same," Emmanuelle said. "We were trained from a young age to fight in just about every style imaginable. You are the center of our world. You know that, Francesca."

  "What's wrong, baby?" Stefano's voice was soft. Loving.

  There was silence at the table. All forks went down as they collectively looked at her. Her hand trembled as she took a sip of water. A distraction, Giovan
ni knew. She was being cautious. She shook her head and carefully placed the glass back on the table.

  "Nothing. Really."

  "Francesca."

  That was all Stefano said, but they all knew that voice. When he used it, the tone was pure command and there was no getting around it. They were all capable of using that voice. They had to be, but Stefano was different. No one argued much with him. His hand went to the back of his wife's head, stroking a caress down that length of gleaming hair.

  She shrugged. "It's just silly really. I'd like to do a few things outside of my home sometimes. Have a girlfriend to go shopping with. Go out to lunch. Work again." She lifted her lashes just enough to see Stefano's face. His features were expressionless.

  Giovanni found his own body tensing up. Francesca had worked at Masci's when she'd first arrived in Ferraro territory, but she had quit just before her wedding. The paparazzi had bothered her nonstop, and she'd had enemies. Stefano had orchestrated her quitting the job in order to better protect her. Giovanni looked at Stefano, waiting for his reaction.

  "Baby, you know if you want to work, I'm going to be supportive of that, unless of course you were pregnant, and then standing on your feet all day wouldn't be good."

  Giovanni snapped his head around, looking at Vittorio and Taviano. Then Ricco and Mariko. Lastly Emme. No one moved. No one ate. They waited.

  "I don't want you ever to feel like a prisoner in our home. Or with me or your family. I know sometimes it has to feel like we're smothering you with our protection. What would you like to do, Francesca? I know Pietro has hired another woman, but he'd give you your job back the moment you asked for it. He can lower her hours and give you whatever hours you want to work." It was a subtle reminder she would be taking a job someone else really needed.

  Stefano's gaze shifted toward Ricco just for a moment, but he took the cue. He leaned across the table toward his sister-in-law. "I thought you were doing tons of charity work and handling all the people in our territory. Are you tired of that?"

  She was doing far more than her share in that field. Sometimes Emmanuelle could go with her, other times not.

  Francesca shook her head. "No, it's interesting work. I'm on a few committees and the board for raising funds for the local cancer fund. The one that helps the families through it. I think it's important work. And I do love visiting with all the families ..." Her voice trailed off.