Elie knew Dario had interrogated Jason before the man had died. Dario wasn’t gentle in his interrogations, and in the end, few men held out any secrets. Jason wasn’t the kind of man able to even try to hold out. Stefano had been apprised immediately of what Dario and Valentino had suspected when they realized Jason Caruso was the man behind the trafficking ring. It had been virtually impossible for him to have been the one to have set up such a widespread and successful business. It was clear they hadn’t conveyed everything they’d learned to Emmanuelle, and Elie didn’t blame them. What good would it do, other than to worry her?
“Princess, even if it was his idea initially, he would have needed someone else to help him get started,” Val said. “Someone to back him financially. The entire thing was far too widespread, in too many states, for someone like Jason to have run it on his own.”
Emme pressed her lips together and then started to drink from her wineglass. Val took it out of her hand. She didn’t drink as a rule. If she did, it was rarely more than one glass of wine. He picked up the glass of water and handed it to her. “Baby, you know you’ll have a headache if you keep drinking wine.”
“Maybe it will be worth it.”
He brushed his lips along her temple very gently. “Don’t be stubborn. I know this is upsetting.”
“You think? There’s a hit out on you again, Val. Both you and Dario.”
“And Elie,” Valentino said. “He’s included on the list.”
“There’s a list? As in my family? Stefano? All of my brothers?” Emmanuelle pushed.
“No, your family isn’t included on the list, princess. Your family has a reputation and very few people understand them or want to mess with them. You aren’t on the list. Elie is. I am. Dario is. Four of my men are. I find the choices interesting.”
“Well, I don’t.” Emmanuelle looked down at the table. “Damn it, Val. Why is it that there’s always someone wanting to kill you?”
“I told you he’s a complete bastard,” Dario answered in his monotone. “Absolute complete bastard. No one but you likes him, Emme. Even Stefano had him at the head of his list of men to do in until you made your plea to save him. Then that put me at the top of the hit list, which, quite frankly, I didn’t appreciate. But to answer your question, he’s a bastard.”
Elie nodded his head and took another slice of pizza. “I have to agree with Dario, Emmanuelle. His own men will tell you the same. If you were telling the truth, you just really like him for sex. Remember when we were making those pro and con lists? Even my good looks won out. I’m a better dancer. I’m not as arrogant.”
“But I’m better at sex,” Val pointed out complacently. “I’ll take it.”
Dario smirked. “Yeah, you kind of lost out on that one, Elie.”
Elie laughed. “I guess I did.”
He was gratified to see that even Emmanuelle laughed. It might not be her normal laugh, but she definitely found the exchange funny. Elie had learned, after the disastrous loss of Brielle, that ego wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Sometimes sacrificing for those he loved was worth taking a hit now and then.
“You better not know anything about Elie and his abilities when it comes to sex,” Val said suddenly.
Elie laughed again, this time with Emme. Dario’s smirk was just a little more noticeable, even though brief. “They don’t even equate me with the Ferraro family,” Elie said. “Sheesh. I’m an Archambault. In the grand scheme of things, that should trump the Ferraros but no one is in the least bit intimidated by me.”
Dario swirled a breadstick in oil and salt. “I don’t exactly get that entire Archambault thing. What does that mean?”
Elie had been kidding. He didn’t want to explain and make himself sound like he was bragging. He took a bite of pizza and chewed, stalling for time, trying to think how to answer.
“The Archambault family, as you know, come from France,” Emmanuelle said. “What you might not know is, without a doubt, they are the fastest riders in the world. They are the only riders who can police other riders. If a rider has committed a crime, the Archambault family investigate and are the ones tasked with dealing with the criminal no matter where he or she is in the world. Elie has always been considered one of, if not the fastest and the most skilled rider and fighter in the family. We’ve been lucky to have him train with us.”
Elie took another bite of pizza, avoiding looking at the two men. He detested anyone talking about his skills. His abilities were what had gotten him in trouble in the first place. He had been born with lightning-fast reflexes, and yeah, he was grateful for that. At the same time, he’d been taken from his parents at the age of two and sent from trainer to trainer to develop skills. The more promise he showed and the better he became, the more trainers he was sent to, so that he was never in one household very long.
As an athlete and a rider, it was a great way to develop skills, but as a human being and a child, it didn’t do so much to help him understand relationships. He didn’t really know his parents, even from their occasional and very brief visits. He’d learned to be a brash, arrogant, too-full-of-himself rider, praised for all the wrong reasons. Girls fell for his good looks and his name. He came from a family of a great wealth, so as a young man in Paris, he could easily find women who would want to be seen with him at all the right events.
He had things easy for all the wrong reasons. He’d gotten into the clubs and then the underground clubs with his money. The kinky sex had at first intrigued him and then become a huge part of his life. It was part of a rider’s life to be written up in magazines, photographed with women on their arms at every opportunity. They were supposed to be in the blaze of lights, hiding right out in the open, always having an alibi if any criminal was assassinated, but eventually, Elie’s lifestyle was too much for those in leadership of the Archambault family. They wanted to rein him in.
“Now you’re stuck with me, Emme, and by association, Val and Dario, you are as well,” Elie said, striving to look complacent. “And, Dario, I do expect you to come to the wedding wearing a suit.”
Dario heaved a sigh. “This family business is such bullshit. Emme, I blame you. Before you seduced Val, all I had to do was beat up a few guys, or kill them. Then you tell me I’ve got to make nice with your brothers and attend these family dinners every Sunday. Now you expect me to show up at weddings, too.”
“You poor thing,” Emmanuelle cooed, making it clear she had zero sympathy for him. “You love Sunday dinners. You can’t get enough of Taviano’s and Francesca’s cooking.”
“Or yours,” Valentino added. “He practically lives at our home in the evenings just so he can eat.”
“That was the deal,” Dario reminded, unrepentant. “If I took the bullshit position of head of the family until you found someone else you trusted to do it, I could still eat with you. Which reminds me. How come you haven’t found anyone? I’ve cleaned up the territory—well—mostly cleaned it up. Found new men and brought it all under control. We’re making money for you and I’ve even cleaned up the ports. Isn’t it about time you managed to find someone to take my place so I can guard your ass?”
Valentino shared an amused grin with Elie. Elie knew Val had no intention of finding anyone else to take Dario’s place. He wanted his cousin to stay exactly where he was.