Stefano shook his head. “So you met Bruno. Was he disrespectful? Did you get the impression he’d actually take care of his grandmother?”

Francesca nodded. “Absolutely. Your ‘talk’ with him must have helped, because he really listened to the doctor and seemed genuinely concerned. I have no doubt that he loves her.”

“There was never a doubt about that, only that he was a selfish brat. She gave him every damn thing he ever wanted, even when she couldn’t afford it and had to sacrifice. He never seemed to notice. I just pointed that out to him—that and explained the consequences of dealing drugs in our neighborhood or anywhere else for that matter. I also promised him that if he went to prison on a drug sale charge, I could still reach him there.”

“Could you do that?”

“I’m a shadow rider, bambina—of course I could get to him in prison.” He took a second helping of pasta. “This is good, Francesca, really good.”

“So explain to me all about riding shadows. What that means. Why you can’t say anything until we’re married. Clearly we’re going to be married.”

He put down his fork and studied her face. She wasn’t looking to bolt. She was unafraid and very accepting. She already had an idea of what he did and she not only accepted it; she made it clear she stood behind him all the way. He either trusted her or he didn’t. He had asked her to trust him blindly and she’d done so.

“You have to be certain, bella. There’s no going back from this. There would be . . . consequences.”

“I think I got that, Stefano.” She put her fork down as well. “Are you finished? If you want, we can lie down and you can tell me.”

He had the beginnings of a headache, mostly from being tired. He was usually good at forty-eight hours without sleep but anything beyond that could start taking its toll on his body, especially if he’d been shadow riding. “Thanks, dolce cuore, the bed sounds great.”

“I’ll just get these dishes done. It won’t take me long.”

“Leave them. The service will do them.”

She smiled and shook her head. Stefano knew she wasn’t comfortable with his money or anyone waiting on her. The elevator pinged, his only warning. He snagged the gun taped beneath the table and was on his feet. “Were you expecting anyone?”

She shook her head, fear creeping into her eyes. He hated that. Hated that she would ever need to feel afraid of anything. She was his. His woman had a lot to contend with, but fear shouldn’t be one of them. “Get behind the counter and stay there until I tell you it’s safe.”

Francesca didn’t argue with him. She nodded, her face pale, her eyes haunted. Anger churned in his gut as he stepped out from behind the table and moved with the shadows through the dining room toward the entrance. If Barry Anthon or any of his men had managed to penetrate his security, he’d be shocked. The hotel was a fortress. Getting up to his penthouse without detection was nearly impossible unless you were family and had the codes to the elevators.

His breath hissed out of his lungs, and his anger boiled to the surface. He stepped into the great room, locking his gun on his target, uncaring that his mother gasped and took a step back.

“What the fuck?” he demanded. “You don’t even have the common courtesy to call first?” He raised his voice. “It’s Eloisa, Francesca.” He didn’t tell her to join him because he could see his mother’s agitation. She’d worked herself up to one of her self-righteous lectures and was fully prepared to be cutting, rude and ugly, just as she’d been about his future wife. Francesca didn’t need to hear any more.

“How dare you, Stefano?” Eloisa snapped. “I understand now why you and Taviano skipped the briefing altogether. You endangered all of us, the entire family, with your recklessness, and now you’re hiding up here in your little love nest, afraid to face me because you know what you did was careless and stupid.”

“How dare you?” Francesca’s voice came from behind them. She walked right up behind Stefano and slipped her arm around his waist. “Stefano is not reckless and you know it. He isn’t hiding up here afraid to face you and I think you know that, too.”

“Stay out of this,” Eloisa snapped. “You have no right to interfere in family matters. You don’t have a clue what we’re talking about.”

“Be very careful how you speak to my woman, Eloisa,” Stefano warned, his voice dripping ice, but his heart had turned over at the show of absolute support from Francesca. Even his siblings didn’t interfere when Eloisa was raging at him for some infraction. He’d always been the head of the family for his brothers and sister. He fought their battles with Eloisa, not the other way around. It felt good to have someone stand with him, even though he didn’t need it. He had been arguing with his volatile mother from the time he could talk. “We’re to be married, in spite of your objections, in a couple of weeks. She’ll be my wife and with me, the head of the famiglia.”