“Give me the money, bitch, or you’re dead,” the man with the knife snapped at Francesca. “Right now. Give it to me.”

She was going to owe Stefano a new cashmere overcoat that had to have cost what a car might, as well as over a thousand dollars. She had stupidly counted the money in front of the window of the store. She’d been so careful not to let Mario see the wad of cash, but she hadn’t thought about the window.

She couldn’t think what to do. She couldn’t let him have the coat or the money. She couldn’t get blood on the coat. She started to struggle, which was the absolute stupidest thing she could have done, but she was more afraid of owing Stefano Ferraro than of having the mugger slit her throat.

One moment her assailant had a knife against her neck and the next he was on the ground and the knife was in the hands of a big, burly man. Her savior looked furious. He wasn’t alone, either. His companion, looking every bit as scary, held a gun on the other man. He’d gently pulled Joanna to one side and then put her behind him, away from their assailants.

The first man, the one who had removed the knife, handed Francesca a handkerchief. She pressed it against the cut.

“Are you all right?” he asked. He kept a foot on her assailant’s neck, not allowing him to get up off the sidewalk. He wasn’t gentle about it, either. “I’m Emilio Gallo. That’s my brother, Enzo.”

Francesca pressed back against the building, very, very scared. No, terrified. This was her worst nightmare, to bring trouble to Joanna.

“We work for the Ferraro family,” Emilio continued, obviously trying to reassure her. “Cousins. First cousins.” He kept trying to soothe her, not realizing he was making it worse. “What were they after?”

The moment she heard who they worked for, Francesca tore the coat from her back and tried to shove it at Emilio. “Take it. Really. You have to take it. Take the coat to him.”

Emilio didn’t move. He stayed as still as a statue, one fist closed around the knife, the other hand down at his side. Both men stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.

Joanna moved cautiously around Enzo to put her arm around Francesca. “Honey, it was just a robbery. That’s all. Put the coat back on. You’re shaking like a leaf. Here, let me help you.” She took the coat from Francesca and held it out for Francesca to slip her arms back in. “There, honey, that will keep you warm.” Joanna smiled at their rescuers. “Do you want me to call 911 and report this?”

“You go along. Another team will pick you up so you’ll be safe. Mr. Ferraro will want to speak to these gentlemen in person.”

Emilio was soft-spoken, but Francesca wasn’t fooled. The two men were in a lot more trouble than they would have been if the police were called. A dark town car pulled to the curb, and Enzo shoved one mugger inside before Emilio dragged the one up off the ground and shoved him in. Francesca found it significant that neither of the muggers was tied up, yet they didn’t attempt to fight; instead, they looked very scared.

Francesca’s gaze clung to Joanna’s, but she spoke to Emilio. “You aren’t going to kill them, are you?” She couldn’t keep the quaver from her voice.

“Francesca,” Joanna hissed.

Francesca forced herself to look at Emilio. “Are you?” She tilted her chin. She didn’t have a cell phone to call the police with, but Joanna did and she’d use it if she had to.

“I have no intentions of killing them,” Emilio said. “Mr. Ferraro will want to talk to them.”

She didn’t ask which Mr. Ferraro because she was fairly certain she knew. Keeping the handkerchief pressed to the shallow wound in her throat, she let Joanna lead her away.

“He said there was another team on us,” Joanna whispered. “As in bodyguards. When Stefano said you were his to my uncle, I had no idea what he meant. He’s serious. Bodyguards? More than one team of bodyguards? That and his brother coming into the store to talk to you? What is going on, Francesca?”

“I have no idea.”

“What did he say to you when he took you outside? Did he ask you out?”

“No. Of course not. He didn’t show that kind of interest,” Francesca denied. She ignored the intense chemistry that had arced between them. She’d felt it, but she wasn’t positive Stefano had. “He just seemed worried that I didn’t have a coat or shoes. He told me to get myself something to eat.”

“He gave you all that money. You could buy some decent clothes with it. Clearly that’s what he wanted you to do.” Joanna snapped her fingers. “We could get you a killer dress for the club and heels to match.”