Not Mine to Keep: Chapter 11

“I don’t need an outfit change. I don’t care if you think I’m a hot mess.” I waved off Frankie’s attempt to direct me up the stairs to change into something “more suitable”—his words—to meet with Armani.

A protective arm swooped behind my back as Alessandro stood on defense in the fancy foyer that could pass for the location of the stairway scene from Titanic. “I’m not letting her out of my sight. She remains in what she’s wearing.”

“She’s safe here, I can assure you.” Gabriel jerked a thumb toward Leo. “He’ll escort her.”

“One of the guards back in Nashville betrayed Armani.” Alessandro’s hand curved around my side beneath the jean jacket. “I’m sure there’re more traitors beneath his own roof.”

“I’d give my life for Mr. DiMaggio,” Frankie hissed, and maybe I believed that. But would he for me? Doubtful.

When more men joined us in the foyer, the message was clear. If I didn’t willingly go, Alessandro would wind up playing bowling with the men in his attempt to knock them all down. And then Armani would kick him out, and I’d be on my own.

“I’ll go,” I said, turning to face him, but his hand stayed on my body, tracing the line of my waist with my movement. “It’s fine.”

“My wife’s upstairs in your room. She’ll help you out. Rosa went shopping for you,” Gabriel shared.

“I’ve got this,” I reassured Alessandro. Beneath the beyond-five-o’clock shadow of facial hair the man was now sexily sporting, his jaw visibly locked at the idea I’d be out of his sight.

“We’ll wait in my office for her to change before we meet Armani.” Gabriel cut over to our side, waiting for Alessandro to back down.

Judging by the hard look in his eyes, he wasn’t ready to budge.

“I’ll be okay.” I gave him a determined nod, hoping he’d believe me—and that it’d also be true.

“Fine.” He pulled his hand back, and I stepped away in search of Leo to lead the way. I forced myself not to glance back at Alessandro, afraid any more eye contact between us would have him chasing up the stairs after me.

Once in the bedroom Armani had designated as mine nearly a year ago, Leo closed the door, thankfully not joining me, and my attention went straight to the crescent-shaped window over the bed that had a view of the sea in the distance.

“Callie.” Rosa entered the room from the closet, carrying a black dress draped over her arm. “I’d say it’s good to see you, but . . .”

I nodded in agreement, unsure if we were supposed to hug. She was close in age to me and had always been kind in the past, but she was married to Armani’s consigliere, and I couldn’t understand why a woman like her, a former teacher herself, would marry into the mafia. “Hi.” I finally managed to speak.

She set the dress on the red velvet sofa by the closet and crossed the room but didn’t attempt to gather me in her arms.

“This is crazy,” I whispered. “Marriage.”

Rosa swept a hand through her black hair. “Finché c’è vita c’è speranza.” She translated her words a moment later. “As long as there is life, there is hope.”

“Hope,” I said under my breath, feeling the need to cling to that word as much as possible, given my situation.

“Alessandro will keep you safe. Gabriel trusts him.” She toyed with the gold bracelets on her wrists, waiting for me to respond.

Was I supposed to say I trusted her husband? Finding Gabriel hard to hate was one thing, but trusting him just because of that was a stretch.

“You can’t marry Rocco.” She let go of her bracelets.

“And if I just say no to marriage?”

She snatched the sequined black dress again. “You don’t have a choice.”

I knew an American saying or two as well. “There’s always a choice.”

“Sì, but Armani will ensure you make the choice he wants. You know him. He will find a way to make marriage your idea.”

She handed me the dress as I blurted on instinct, “Not possible.”

Rosa’s red nails walked down her throat to her collarbone, as if trying to suppress a secret that wanted to escape, but then she blinked and said, “Let’s get you dressed. A little makeup, too. You’ll be good to go.”

I didn’t push her to talk about whatever she was keeping from me, because the last thing I wanted was to get her in trouble.

Within ten minutes I was ready, and we followed Leo downstairs to Gabriel’s office.

Alessandro was at the bar, head slightly bowed, a tumbler next to his left hand.

“A little early for drinking, isn’t it?” I said, letting him know I was back.

“Morning here. Late-night drinking hours back home,” Alessandro remarked, his tone raspy. He lifted his hands and slowly turned. I hadn’t expected a pissed-off look from him as he took in my transformation from “a quick errand run to the store” to “princess going to the ball.” Well, to a mafia ball.

The dress was a showstopper, though. A sweetheart neckline that reminded me I had damn good breasts. And I didn’t totally hate that I was rocking Jimmy Choos for the first time in my life. Plus, Rosa was a queen at doing makeup, and my green eyes popped from the smoky eye shadow. So what was the deal with his angry face?

“Why in God’s name . . . ?” Alessandro dragged a hand through his hair, mussing up those wavy locks. “Why?”

“Why what?” Rosa asked, stepping alongside me. “Armani wanted her in something fancy.”

He tossed a hand in the air my way and began speaking Italian. Just great. Way to leave me out of the conversation focused on me.

“Relax,” Rosa said as Gabriel came up next to the angry beast still snarling at me.

With Alessandro quietly stroking his jawline, continuing to stare at me like I offended him, I faced Rosa for answers instead. “What am I missing?”

She smirked. “You look hot, Callie. Smoking hot. Gorgeous. Stunning. And he doesn’t like it because your father’s men will see you.” She made a tsk sound probably directed toward Alessandro. “Your future husband is a jealous man, it would seem.”

“I’m not jealous,” Alessandro snapped, then returned to the bar and tossed back whatever was left in the glass.

Gabriel crossed the room, took his wife’s elbow, and kissed her cheek. “Maybe you should wait for me upstairs, amore mio.”

“Good luck,” she said to me, and why’d that feel like she was talking about my “marriage” to Alessandro and not facing Armani?

Once it was only the three of us—well, plus there was Leo hanging outside the office doors, waiting—I snatched the skirt of the dress so I didn’t trip as I made my way to Alessandro. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t have his suit jacket on, so when his back muscles snapped together at my question, it was hard to miss. “No,” he hissed, then faced me. “How am I supposed to go to Rome and handle the Esposito family and leave you here?” His silver-gray eyes went to my cleavage, shamelessly parking there for several long beats.

“Ahem.” I nearly crossed my arms to help with my scolding look, but that’d only have my boobs on display more, and probably inspire those veins at the side of his neck to pop as well.

“What?” Alessandro snapped out.

“You’re snarling at her, is what,” Gabriel commented, saving me from having to say it. “Calm down. I’ll be here when you leave. She’ll be fine.”

I’d been so taken aback by Alessandro’s reaction to me in the dress, I’d nearly forgotten the whole him-leaving-me-to-commit-murder thing. Kind of a big thing, too.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Gabriel gestured toward the double doors of his office. Alessandro gave me one last angry look, then stepped to my side, a hand moving to my back again, and I took that as a cue to walk. So help the man who did try and steal a quick view of my cleavage, because I was pretty sure the growly grump at my side would knock them out.

Alessandro abruptly stopped walking, made eye contact with Leo in the hall, then removed his hand from my back to shut the doors. “She needs to know what’s going on before we face Armani.”

“Wait, what?” I spun around, nearly falling in the heels, but Alessandro was quick and caught my arm, keeping me upright.

“We agreed not to tell her,” Gabriel remarked, gaze pointed his way.

“No, you said that. I only listened.” Alessandro focused back on me. “Armani figured out a way to force you to marry no matter what. We just need to ensure it’s to me.”

I thought back to Rosa’s ominous words upstairs, and then it made sense. The truth had been in plain sight from the beginning. The loophole to how Armani would get me to bend to his will in marriage without him breaking his family’s ancient rules.

“Aunt Tia,” I whispered, as chills coated every inch of bare skin. “If I don’t do what he says . . .”

Rosa was right. I didn’t have a choice. Whether Armani chose Alessandro or Rocco for me to marry, it no longer mattered. I’d do what I had to do to keep my aunt safe.