“They didn’t, honey,” he reassured her.
“What was Stefano thinking, offering to exchange places with that woman?” she asked. “He can’t do things like that. I could have taken her place. It’s not like I’m pregnant.”
Val made a sound that had both of them turning to look at him. His vivid green eyes were narrowed and boring into Emmanuelle. “That’s bullshit to think that way, Emme. You’re not expendable because you don’t have children. That’s your mother talking.”
Giovanni slid between Val and Emmanuelle, a fluid, easy motion that didn’t seem intrusive but was. He kept his back to Val, while looking at his sister. “That poor innocent woman had nothing to do with whatever beef that shooter had with one of us in this room. Or all of us. As head of our family, of course Stefano would make the offer. It also allowed Vittorio the time to get to the man from our private stairway.”
Vittorio had known, sooner or later, one of the Saldis would ask how Vittorio managed to get up to the second story without being seen. Giovanni had easily answered the question as well as cut off Val’s access to Emmanuelle.
She never even glanced at Val, treating him as if he didn’t exist. “You’re right. I just panicked when I heard him. Francesca is so fragile right now. She doesn’t think of herself that way, but she has to be so careful. The drug they’re putting her on makes her shake night and day. It’s crazy.”
She poured herself a cup of coffee and turned back to Vittorio. “I’m going to talk to Grace and explain about Eloisa.” She glanced in the direction of the shadows on the far side of the room where her mother was hidden and unable to reveal herself. Fortunately, the room was long and Eloisa wasn’t able to hear the conversation.
Vittorio ruffled her hair. “There is no explanation for Eloisa, but thanks, honey. I’ve made up my mind to talk to her. The charity event is this coming weekend. We have to be on the same page by that time. It only gives me a few days to prepare. I have the feeling that Haydon Phillips will try to hit us there. It’s the first time he can really get to her.”
All the while talking to his sister and brother, Vittorio was aware of the Saldis in a little group together talking quietly at the opposite end of the room. Val kept casting annoyed glances toward Emmanuelle, but he stayed by his father’s side. Somewhere close, Taviano hovered, blending into the background, forgotten.
In the shadows were the cousins and Eloisa, listening to every word the Saldis had to say to one another. If they, in any way, were responsible for the attack in the Ferraro hotel, and they talked about it, the Ferraros would know. If not, their speculations might reveal answers.
“It’s getting a little dicey,” Giovanni said. “As if Phillips wasn’t enough to worry about, we’ve got this shooter and the Saldis.”
“Miceli was lying his ass off,” Emmanuelle whispered, her voice very low. “I think Giuseppi was very genuine, but then I’ve always liked him and Greta, so maybe I’m prejudiced. He hasn’t been paying a lot of attention to what’s going on around him since Greta got sick.”
“Has Val been taking over?” Vittorio asked her the hard question.
Emmanuelle’s chin went up and for the first time she looked across the room at Val. Their eyes met, but she didn’t look away. “I wouldn’t know. Since I heard him tell another woman that he’d been ordered to make me fall in love with him but really, did she think he wanted a spoiled baby who didn’t know jack about sex, I haven’t had anything to do with him.”
Vittorio froze. Very slowly he turned his head to look at the man who had shattered his sister’s heart. Ferraros notoriously fell in love once. Right or wrong, Valentino had been Emmanuelle’s choice. To do such a cruel thing would never occur to any of them.
“He actually said that? Those words?”
“Vittorio,” Emmanuelle cautioned. She put a deterring hand on his arm. “I told you this before.”
Vittorio exploded into action, throwing Saldi bodyguards out of his way to reach Valentino Saldi. He was like a fierce, destructive tornado. Trained in hand-to-hand combat, in every style of fighting, he went through the bodyguards easily, getting his hands on Val in less than a second, his fists and feet doing damage before the other man had a chance to raise a defense. He had his opponent against the wall, slamming his fist into him repeatedly before Dario reached him to try to get him off Val. Dario went flying, and Vittorio hardly had glanced at him.
“Stop.” Giuseppi stood. An imposing figure. A voice of absolute authority. “Vittorio. Val. Stop this now. There can be no fighting between us.”