“He was a nice guy.”
“Yes, Tom.” Grace crossed herself as the pallbearers carried the coffin of Dino Forzani across the grass of the Las Vegas Shady Rest Cemetery. After attending her father’s funeral a few weeks ago, she wasn’t happy to be back in the cemetery so soon, but when your once-prospective fiancée mysteriously turned up dead, you had to make a show of pretending to grieve his loss.
“He would have been a good husband,” Tom said.
“Mmmhmm.” She made a noncommittal noise at the back of her throat. Was she a terrible person for being relieved that the Mafia soldier her father had arranged for her to marry had been killed in a hit-and-run accident the day after he’d been overheard boasting to his friends over a meal at Luca’s restaurant that he was still going to marry the “Mantini bitch” and “put her in her place” by “pounding her pussy” and showing her what it was like to fuck a “real man”?
Thoughts of “real men” took her to Rocco, who had promised to meet her at the service. She hadn’t’ dared to ask him if he was behind the hit on Dino—no one believed it was an accident—because she didn’t want to know the answer. Rocco was utterly uncompromising when it came to her safety or matters of honor. Even if he hadn’t been behind the wheel, as the new Toscani crime family underboss, and leader of the De Lucchi crew, he could have ordered any one of a number of soldiers to do the deed and no one would have dared disobey.
“He was into baseball,” Tom said.
“Yankees?”
“Red Sox. And you’d better wipe that smile off your face. Your husband is a Red Sox fan. Better get used to being on the losing side.”
“He’s not my husband yet.” And he might never be if he disrespected the family and failed to show up before the end of the service. “Weddings can’t be planned in just a day.”
Tom laughed. “He said you’ve been planning this one for years.”
“I planned it for New York. I had to start all over again since we’re having it in Vegas. Luckily, I have Olivia who knows everyone who is anyone in the wedding planning industry in the city. Apparently dealing with bridezillas on a day-to-day basis leads to a need for counseling when you try to have a stable relationship of your own.”
He gave her a gentle nudge. “Please tell me you’re not a bridezilla.”
“I don’t have to be. When you’re a mobster’s bride-to-be, people will bend over backwards to make you happy. No one wants to piss me off when the price of failure is a visit from Rocco in the middle of the night.”
Tom cleared his throat and a shoved his hands in his pockets. “Olivia told me about the caterer who put down Italian food. She said his facility went up in flames in the middle of the night.”
Grace was less interested in burning kitchens and more interested in the fact that Tom had offered to chauffeur Olivia around as she helped source flowers and decorations for the wedding. “You’ve been spending a lot of time together.”
“Just trying to be a good brother and help out.”
“Sure. I get it.” She bit back a smile when she caught a few people looking in their direction. The graveyard was filled with members of the Toscani crime family—soon to be her family after she married Rocco—all dressed in black despite the blazing sun overhead and the unbearable ninety-degree heat. It was an almost perfect replica of the funeral she had attended for Dino’s brother, Benito, only a few months ago except this time she was a stronger, more confident version of herself. She had embraced who she was and what she wanted. She was part of the “family” and her heart had finally been made whole.
“I never imagined you staying out here permanently,” Tom said. “But then I never imagined me living here either.”
Over the last few weeks, the huge political shake-up in New York had led to a new administration and shifts in alliances between the families. Once consigliere, the scheming Luigi Cavallo had become don after his coup and appointed two powerful capos as his underboss and consigliere.
Still recovering from his injuries, and deeply affected by their father’s death and the events that followed, Tom had decided not to challenge the new regime and instead moved to Vegas to be near Grace. Nico had welcomed him into the Toscani crime family and he now worked as a soldier in Luca’s crew.
“I like it here in Vegas.” And for the first time, she meant it. Rocco and her closest friends were here, and with Tom’s arrival, her family, too. Not only that, she had just landed a national jingle contract, and she had officially joined Stormy Blu. With her vocals, Ethan’s contacts, Miguel’s new arrangements, and some kick-ass playing from the rest of the band, they had been in high demand since their first performance at the Stardust.
“We’ve also just closed the deal on the house we were looking at in Henderson,” she continued. “So it looks like I’m definitely here to stay.”
That’s what happened when your family was in the mob. You didn’t get to choose the kind of life you wanted to live, but you could take the life you got and make it work for you. You didn’t get to live in the city of your heart, but you got to live in the city where you’d found your heart. And you got to be with the man you loved.
“What about your psychology degree?”
Grace shrugged. “It wasn’t really my calling, although it helped me work through everything that happened in New York. But I’m going to keep up my skills by increasing my volunteer hours at the orphanage and helping out the kids in need.”
The priest finished the Rite of Committal and the crowd responded with the proper prayers. Grace felt the whisper of a breeze against her neck, the softest caress. A shiver trickled down her spine, but when she turned slightly hoping to catch the soothing air, the breeze died away.
“He’s here,” she said softly, remembering the shiver that had coursed down her spine at Benito’s funeral. That afternoon, she had suspected. Now she knew. Their connection was a living, breathing bond that tied them together even if they were physically apart.
Although they spent every night together, she hadn’t spent much time with Rocco during the days since the incident in the hotel basement. Now Nico’s underboss, Rocco had also become defacto leader of the De Lucchi crew. Instead of stepping aside, as Grace had assumed he would do, he had accepted the position and was now in the process of making sweeping changes through the organization. He had eliminated the requirement that each member of the crew offer up a son or orphan to be trained as a replacement. Training was to be done only after the age of sixteen and then only with consent and in a facility where other crew members could observe and prevent any abuse. Enforcers were free to reject contracts for any reason. And members of the crew were expected to join with established crime families where they would move up the ranks and be treated as equals.
Although Rocco ran the De Lucchi crew, he left the hands-on enforcement work to his soldiers so he could focus on his work as underboss and the fight to overthrow Tony so Nico could lay claim to the city. He could never leave the mob so he had made the best of the world that had made him. Although she still had dreams of a life without guns and funerals, men with nicknames, and codes of honor, Grace had reconciled herself to being married to a mobster. Rocco had promised to keep his business out of their home, and losing him again wasn’t an option.
“It’s weird how you know he’s around,” Tom whispered. “When I was having delusions of a happy life with Tami or Teresa or whoever she is, I never imagined being able to sense her presence when she walked into a room.”
“Did you go to see her in the hospital before they took her to jail?”
Tom shook his head. “I didn’t want anything to do with her. She’s a nasty piece of work. I’m just glad I didn’t wind up with a scar across my throat like Mike. Even he didn’t go to see her after he recovered, and I heard he’d fallen for her even harder than me.”
“The mob is worse for gossip than high school,” she muttered under her breath. Teresa was now in jail after being arrested on suspicion of murder. A mysterious informant had directed the police to a discarded syringe with Teresa’s prints on it, as well as the video surveillance tapes from the hospital that had gone missing shortly after the event. As a result of the new evidence, Rocco had been cleared of all charges and Teresa was facing a lengthy prison term.
“I also heard that Dino’s accident wasn’t an accident.” Tom glanced around to make sure no one could overhear them. “Was it Rocco? Or was it you?”
Only in a Mafia family would they have this discussion.
“I’m still a pacifist.”
Tom barked a laugh and then immediately tried to cover it up by feigning a fit of coughing.
Grace caught movement in the crowd near where the priest was standing.
That’s when she saw him.
Tall. Dark hair. Broad chest tapering to a narrow waist. Black T-shirt tight over a ripple of muscle. Jeans a feast of seams in all the right places. Thick-soled boots for riding. But instead of leather, he wore a casual suit jacket, and instead of keeping to the shadows, he stood with the Toscani crew.
Her body heated in places it shouldn’t. Only one man would dare show up at a Mafia funeral wearing anything other than full formal dress.
She squinted, trying to make out his face, but by the time her eyes had adjusted to the light, he was beside her.
“Bella.” Rocco bent down and gave her an inappropriate, hand-in-the-hair, tongue-down-the-throat, this-is-my-woman, touch-her-and-die kiss.
“Nice jacket,” she said when he let her up for air. “Is that your idea of following Nico’s instructions to dress like an underboss for the funeral?”
“Yes.”
“You’re missing the suit pants, shirt, tie and Italian leather shoes.” She patted his lapel as Tom moved a discrete distance away. “Look at Nico and Luca over by the trees. No jeans. No T-shirts. No boots.”
Rocco scowled. “I’m a De Lucchi. I dress how I want to dress. Nico should be pleased I even went this far.”
“I like the look.” She leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Nothing says sophisticated badass like Gucci over Guns and Roses.”
Rocco growled deep in his throat. “Nothing says ‘fuck me now’ like Grace wearing a dress made of material I can shred with my bare hands.”
“We’re in a cemetery,” she warned.
“Then I’ll fuck you to death.” His hand slid around her waist and he yanked her against his hard chest.
“How was your meeting with Father Seamus?” She tried to distract him in case he got carried away, a distinct possibility because he hadn’t made it back to her place until the early hours of the morning and then had to leave at the crack of dawn, which meant the intervening hours had been spent asleep and not engaged in the activity he liked best.
“He found the old records. Sunnyville was my orphanage. He even remembered me as a boy. The only thing he didn’t have was a record of my last name or where they found me, but he’s got some leads he’s going to follow. He has a vague recollection that it was an Italian name.” He puffed out his chest. “Maybe I’m actually a Gamboli or a member of one of the five founding families in New York.”
“Or maybe your last name was Smith.”
Rocco huffed in indignation. “I’m not a Smith, bella.”
“Hey. I know some very nice Smiths. Ethan, for example. He says thanks for returning the shredded jacket, by the way.”
His satisfied growl made her laugh. “He is very welcome. I’m sure he got the message.”
“The only message he got was not to lend you any more jackets. You’ll have to buy your own now that you’re an underboss and you’re going to be running the Stardust.”
He bent down and brushed a kiss over her ear. “And the vocalist of my headlining band will be singing without a mask.”
“About that…” She grimaced.
“No mask.”
“It’s not the mask. It’s just…”
“What?” His brow creased in a frown.
“Well, since New York has washed its hands of us, and it’s full-on with the war between Nico and Tony, and Tony’s still crazy angry that you threw a knife into his shoulder, and the club is underground in a basement where it’s kind of dark…”
“You don’t think I can keep you safe?” He gave her an incredulous look.
“No. It’s not that. Maybe … you could turn on the lights when I’m on stage.”
“You want to sing with the lights shining on your beautiful face? There will be no light unlit in the whole goddamned club.”
“You say such romantic things.”
Rocco grinned. “It’s my Italian blood.”
She looked up at him, studied his face. Beautiful and breathtaking. His sculpted lips were full and sensual, and his whiskey-brown eyes so dark they were almost black, but there was a softness in his face that she’d never seen before, a warmth that made her heart pound.
Once upon a time those eyes had looked into her soul, and those lips had touched every part of her body. Once upon a time all that beauty had belonged to her, and then the mob had stolen it away.
Now she had taken it back and it was hers forever.
“Say something else romantic.”
He wrapped his arms around her and sang the last verse of Frank Sinatra’s “Strangers in the Night” softly in her ear, taking her back to the first time they’d met when she’d found her soulmate in the words of a song about a love so right it would last forever.
“You stole Sinatra’s words,” she teased.
“He stole my words. He knew one day a man would meet a girl and fall in love the first time he met her, so he sang a song for us before we were even born.”
Grace melted against him, safe in his strong arms. “Did he know that love would last even though we were apart?”
“I knew it, Gracie.” Her pressed a kiss to her forehead. “When I fell in love with you, I fell in love forever.”