CHAPTER ELEVEN

GIANNA

I 'm nervous.

Like schoolgirl nervous. I feel like my boyfriend is coming to dinner. And when your father is the capo, it's a big damn deal.

The only chink in my plan is James. So I had to pull him aside and have a chat. We've done this before over the years and while I know most things will go straight to my father, James understands I need to have a life.

Truth is, I could get rid of him in a flash if I wanted. I could tell my father he tried to touch me inappropriately, for example.

Have I threatened it before? Yes. So there's an agreement of sorts between us.

When he knocked on my door earlier this afternoon, I invited him to come inside.

"Take a seat," I said, nodding to the sofa opposite me in the small living room area of my rooms.

"What's going on?" he asked, walking to the armchair but not sitting down.

"Sit, James. I need to talk to you." Reluctantly, he dropped his body into the chair and stared at me. "Braxton is coming for dinner. He's...my boyfriend."

His brows shot up, acknowledging the lie. "Fine."

"I've been seeing him for weeks," I say pointedly, then wait.

James is smart. He narrows his eyes as he crosses his arms, then after a moment, asks, "What are you up to Gianna?"

I expected this.

If something happens to me, he will lose his life. So, this is not about him caring, it's about him saving his neck.

"Nothing." I sit back. "I like Braxton. I want him in my life and for that to happen, I need Papa to think we are serious."

James shakes his head slowly.

"For god's sakes, James. I can't tell Papa that I want him to stay in the country so I can fuck him crazy every night."

James cringes as he rubs his face.

"Jesus. Fine. I'm still looking into his background though and if I find anything, I will have to report it to the capo."

I wave him off. "Good. Take your time. But keep quiet about when we met."

He shakes his head but doesn't argue.

Even though I was confident he'd go along with my plan, I let out a silent sigh of relief.

Then continued on with my plans, briefing the kitchen to make a special meal and ensuring my father would be home.

Now, standing in the mirror, I run my hands over my blush dress with the almost inappropriately plunging neckline and rub my glossy lips together. My hair is up tonight, piled on my head with some curls falling around my neck.

I want Braxton to desire me enough to stay in the United States. I want him to see what he will miss out on if he leaves.

The sound of a vehicle pulling into the drive catches my attention, so I go to my window.

I smile.

Braxton climbs out of a hot-as-hell black Ferrari and tugs on the arms of his blazer. Then brushes his hands down the sides of his pants.

God, he's gorgeous.

I cross the room quickly and make my way downstairs. As I reach the lobby, he's just entering and acknowledging the guards at the door.

Then he lifts his head and our eyes lock. I swear the room bursts into flames from the heat of our chemistry.

My gasp turns into a huge smile as Braxton unapologetically strides across the distance and pulls me into his arms. Then kisses me like I'm the love of his life.

"Gianna," he rasps against my lips.

A voice clears behind us.

Oh fuck.

Breathless, I pull out of his arms, but Braxton doesn't let me go completely, keeping one arm around my lower back as I say, "Papa! This is Braxton Rossi. My—"

"The man in love with your daughter," Braxton says, reaching out his hand as he turns.

Oh crap.

I was hoping to do that a little more subtly.

Then again, nothing about this man is subtle.

My father glares back. Not bothering to acknowledge Braxton's offer to shake hands.

Then he turns to me. "Gianna, explain."

"I invited him for dinner. We are having lasagna. Your favorite." I smile as innocently as possible. "Braxton and I have been seeing each other and well—"

"It's getting serious," Braxton says. "I thought it was time we met."

Papa lowers his brows. "Do you know who I am, son?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you're confident enough to walk into my home and claim to love my daughter."

"If she were my daughter, I'd want to meet the man she was spending time with. And falling for," Braxton says with an insane level of confidence, as my silly heart does a little skip.

Despite none of this being real, hearing a man say these words about me feels...nice.

Papa grunts, but the edge of his anger fades. I shouldn't have blindsided him like this, but then again, it was a last-minute decision this morning.

"Then let us eat and talk."

I turn when my father disappears and grin at Braxton.

He tweaks my nose. "Don't get excited. I still have to leave."

I pout.

I don't want this sexy man taken away from me. I have to make this work. I can't imagine another man on earth making me feel the way he does.

I want him.

The end.

I lead Braxton through the house to the dining room where the long family table has been laid out with crystal glasses, silverware, and one of my favorite dinner sets.

"What is this?" Mama asks as she enters from another entrance, then stops when she sees Braxton. "Oh. Ciao. Gianna, you have a guest."

" Sì mamma, questo è Braxton Rossi ." I introduce her.

" Piacere di conoscerti Braxton. Please call me Angela. You are Italian?" She asks.

" Sì. " He smiles. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Baldassare."

"And you are? Friends?"

"Mama, we are dating. Braxton and I are—"

"The boy says he's in love with her." Papa drops into his seat at the head of the table, and Mama glances back at me in surprise.

She's a strong and smart woman. I can see the question in her eyes. She knows I play my cards close to my chest, so the fact I haven't introduced Braxton to them earlier would be something I'd do.

"Braxton isn't a boy, Papa." I shake my head, then lift my face to his. "I'm sorry."

"No, he is not," Mama says, sitting.

Braxton presses his hand into the small of my back to tell me he's okay. "Don't be. The day I meet my daughter's lover, I'd want to kill him too."

"You have a daughter?" Mama asks, surprised.

"No. Not yet. Perhaps one day." Braxton winks at me and I blush.

I never fucking blush.

"For fuck's sake. Sit." My father demands in his thick accent, pointing at the chairs.

"Where is your family from?" Mama asks as we take our seats and place our napkins on our laps. Braxton sips his water and his hand lands on my leg.

My father watches with complete distrust as the interrogations begin. I'm twenty-five but a mafia princess.

I've only ever brought one guy home to meet my parents. It was when I was seventeen. He never called me again. Papa scared him halfway across the country, so I was told.

I felt terrible.

But it taught me a lesson.

If Braxton was half the man he is, and didn't already work with people like my father, I would never have even considered it.

"Chicago. They work in banking." Braxton answers my mother and waits for his wine to be poured by one of our employees. Then he glances at my father. "And by that, I mean normal, everyday banking."

Papa stares at him for a while, then slowly drags his gaze to me. In one seemingly innocent sentence, Braxton has indicated he's well aware of the industries my father trades in.

As our meal is served, small talk takes place and while there is constant tension, I begin to relax somewhat. Braxton holds his own and is confident and attentive to me.

"How long have you two been dating?" Mama asks.

Braxton slides his knife and fork on his plate, pats his lips on his napkin, then leans his arm on the back of my chair.

"Just over a month," he answers. "Gianna wanted to keep our relationship private, but my feelings for her are too strong, and out of respect, I wanted to meet you both."

I smile up at him and my god; the love pouring from his eyes has me almost believing him.

But the thing is, my parents will only buy into so much of this. I need them to believe him. That's all that matters.

I know my responsibilities to this family, and it isn't marrying Braxton Rossi.

So they'll entertain this fancy of mine.

"Braxton felt it was important." I smile back at my mother.

"Well, it's very nice to meet one of Gianna's friends." She smiles.

Friends.

"What business are you in, Mr. Rossi?" Papa asks, his beady eyes boring into him.

"Trade." Braxton rests into his seat and picks up his wine. "I'm an independent contractor."

He leaves it at that.

So I help this along. I need speed here or this gorgeous man is going to board a plane to Europe.

"We met through Mia," I explain.

"Mancini?" Mama asks and Papa frowns.

"Correct. I did business with her father a couple of times," Braxton says, then adds, "independently."

He sips again, then places his glass on the table, studying it as he slowly spins the stem between two fingers.

"So you knew who Gianna was when you met?" Papa asks. "You were aware of the family she was born into."

I start to get nervous.

I thought he would have eased up by now, but I was wrong.

"Yes," Braxton answers. "She was up front with me. I have no issue with it. As I say, I'm not affiliated with any one family."

My parents share a glance.

"Papa." I press, reality kicking in. Regardless of how serious Braxton and I are, if he thinks he's not to be trusted, I won't be able to see him again.

This could really backfire.

"Quiet, Gianna," he demands. "I take it James has your information, Mr. Rossi."

"Yes, sir."

"Send him in." Papa waves out to one of his soldiers standing nearby.

They are always in the corner somewhere.

I barely notice, having grown up with them from the moment I was born. They're like little armed statues that move about.

And kill.

Yes, I've seen people being shot.

From time to time, someone turns rogue or tries to break into the property. Or once someone tried to mug me, not knowing who I was, and James's bullet hit him in the side of the neck.

Jesus, the blood.

There was a lot.

"Happy to answer any of your questions, sir. I simply want to keep dating your daughter." Braxton ensures him and my heart does a little flutter.

Because that is why we are here, and despite our little ruse, his words feel true.

I like them way more than I should.

James appears in the doorway and shoots me a dark look before stopping a few feet from my father.

"You wanted to see me, capo."

"Bring me everything you have on Mr. Rossi and meet us in my office," he demands, then turns to Braxton. "You and I are going to talk."

My father pushes his chair back and stands. As always, he's in a heavy black suit, his gold ring glittering from his forefinger, and a handkerchief in his top pocket.

I go to open my mouth, but Mama holds up her fingers to silence me.

Braxton kisses the top of my head as he stands. "Let your father and me talk. I will be back soon, sweetheart."

I see Mama smile as she drops her eyes.

I know we're deceiving them, and I feel a little bad about that. But I do like him, and this isn't going to hurt anyone. Papa won't do business with anyone he doesn't trust or throw money at a boy because I like him.

He'll work out if Braxton is a good investment.

Meanwhile, I'll enjoy fucking him.

The more time I spend with Braxton, the more I like him. Watching his confidence in the face of my father's dominance is so fucking sexy. I can't wait for him to return so we can be alone.

When the door closes behind the men, I flop back into my seat and blow out a breath.

"Well," Mama says. "I've never seen you like this with a boy."

"Trust me, he's 100 percent man." I smile across the table, and she chuckles.

"Then let's hope your father doesn't kill him."