“Thanks, mia sorellina. I appreciate you feeding me.” He glared at his brothers.

Vittorio shrugged. “I’m kind of liking you not being able to reach the table properly, Gee. More food for me and I don’t even have to work at it. He’s not going to starve without a few meals, Mariko.”

“Vittorio,” Francesca protested. “That’s so mean.”

“He’s kicking me while I’m down,” Giovanni pointed out, clearly looking for sympathy and an ally from Francesca.

“Vittorio.” Francesca sent him a stern look. The Ferraros burst out laughing. Mariko had to smile as well. Francesca didn’t look nearly as stern as she tried. She looked sweet, much like Lucia. She could see why the family regarded her as their center with Stefano and were protective over her. She felt a little protective toward her as well.

Stefano passed his plate to his wife and she put a healthy helping of pasta on it. “Taviano. What did you find?”

“Cameras. All over the village. At Eloisa’s house. In the hotel lobby and positioned across the street recording all entrances. Once I realized we virtually had our own reality show, I checked everyone’s homes. Cameras were positioned across the streets, and sometimes in the garages.” He took a bite of the pasta, chewed, swallowed and continued. “The cameras were installed some time ago. Long enough that there’s signs of rust on the mounting bolts. Whoever he is, he’s damn good with surveillance. Knows what he’s doing.” He took another bite of pasta and chewed, then waved his fork at them. “I’d guess whoever put those cameras up also fucked up Ricco’s car.”

Mariko stole a quick glance at Ricco. He was sitting close to her, close enough that their thighs were touching. He did that a lot the last couple of days. They’d returned from Japan and he’d stayed close to her, very protective. She had nightmares and he was always there, holding her close, telling her everything was going to be all right and she wasn’t alone.

She was terrified she was going to lose Ryuu. He was all the family she had left. It had hurt to discover just how much Osamu hated her. Dai knew, he knew exactly how Osamu had treated her, and he hadn’t stepped in. Mariko had been a child. She’d been three years old when her family had been massacred. Now… She fought back panic. She couldn’t lose Ryuu.

Ricco shifted in his chair, his palm curling around the nape of her neck. She blinked, looked around and discovered the entire family was watching her. All of them. Compassion on their faces.

“We’re with you, Mariko,” Emmanuelle said. “All the way. We’re with you. You’re Ricco’s, but you’re ours as well.”

She flashed a smile, but it hurt even to curve her mouth when she wanted desperately to cry. They had one another. They always had. No matter how bad it got for them, they had a circle of absolute love and loyalty. She’d never even known it. It was a struggle to believe it was real, and they were extending that love of family to her. She wasn’t certain she could make herself believe she was worthy of it when she’d been told so often she wasn’t.

Ricco’s finger slid down her nape, steadying her. Connecting her. She didn’t know why it worked, but it did. The moment she felt that small caress, she felt strong again. Complete. Not because she was with him but because he had somehow managed, through his rope art, to empower her as a woman and a human being. He was offering her his life. More than once he’d made himself vulnerable to her. She had to hold that to her. Remind herself every time she felt uncertain that Ricco felt she was worthy. His family felt that way. She had to come to that realization, and Shibari had started her along that path.

“I try not to think about Ryuu and what he must be going through. Osamu had him so conflicted, he probably thinks I’m not looking for him.”

“Everyone is looking,” Stefano said gently. “The International Council and every rider we have. We’re all trying to pick up the trail.”

Yet no one had. That was what was so disturbing. She forked pasta and put it in her mouth, although it tasted like cardboard to her. The shock of seeing Dai shoot his wife and then knowing he killed himself…

“We didn’t actually see Dai’s body,” she said, turning her head to look at Ricco. “What if he didn’t kill himself and just wanted us to think he had. He’s smart. He could be behind this.”

Ricco’s fingers tightened around her neck. He shook his head. “The police came and found them. The bodies were taken to the morgue and members of the Japanese council as well as the International Council viewed them. They died when we were present.”

Emmanuelle frowned. “What does that mean? They suspected you of killing them?”

Stefano held up his hand when his siblings protested loudly. Mariko’s heart thudded wildly. She could very well get the entire Ferraro family in trouble with the council.

“Farfallina mia.” Ricco leaned into her, his lips brushing her ear. “They were always after me. You were sucked into my mess. Just the fact that Taviano could tell the cameras had been up for a long while means they were planning this for a good amount of time.”

“Either I’m losing my poker face, or you can read my mind,” she objected.

“You never actually had a poker face,” Ricco said, “but that blow to my head gave me psychic ability. I can read your mind.”

“What exactly is it saying right this minute?” she asked, trying not to laugh. He could always make her laugh, even in the worst of circumstances.

“Even I can read that message,” Giovanni said. “He’d better eat the pasta if he wants to keep what’s left of his head.”

“That would be correct,” she agreed.

The siblings erupted in another round of laughter. This time, she joined them, feeling a part of them. They had a way of wrapping one another up, just like Ricco’s ropes, snug, laying the line perfectly to keep one safe.

“Cameras can be traced,” Vittorio pointed out when they all sobered. “Pass the garlic bread, please, Giovanni. Stop eating it all. You’re going to get fat sitting on your ass and eating Francesca’s fine cooking.”

“Vittorio.” Francesca tried another severe look.

“I’m helping him. Good advice, you know. He can’t work out for a while, which means watching the calories. Garlic bread” – he nabbed three pieces – “is high in calories.”

“You’re not exactly working out right now.” Giovanni managed to snag one of the pieces of bread off his brother’s plate. “If you call that stretching crap work, I’m going to call you a girl.”

Emmanuelle’s head shot up. She scowled at her brother. “What does that mean? I’m a girl. Are you saying I’m not badass because I’m female?”