“Perhaps it would be best to start again,” Francesca suggested. “Would you care to sit down, Eloisa? I’m Francesca Capello. We haven’t been formally introduced.”

Eloisa stood for a moment, obviously struggling with her temper, but to Stefano’s surprise she nodded her head. “It’s nice to meet you, Francesca. Please excuse my rudeness the other day. I had no idea you were in the house and would overhear the things I said to my son, things I believed at the time. Since then, I have read the numerous reports gathered on Barry Anthon and I know I was mistaken. I should have done what we always do and gathered the facts first.”

Stefano opened his mouth to agree with her, but Francesca dug her fingers into his side hard and he refrained from blasting his mother in the way he normally would have. He glanced down at his woman. He fucking loved thinking of her that way. She was . . . magnificent. Her head up. Her arm around his waist. Her eyes clear. There was no fear now, only a confident woman standing beside her man. Yeah. He loved that.

Francesca gestured toward the armchair across from the couch. “Thank you for that, Eloisa. I appreciate it. Emmanuelle tells me you’ve been helping with some of the wedding details. It’s all happening so fast I’m a little overwhelmed, so I’m thankful for any help at all.”

Eloisa took the chair across from them. Stefano tucked Francesca close to him, his thigh pressed against hers. He’d missed her. Really missed her. It was strange to think of a woman night and day, to worry about her and look forward to being with her. To inhale the scent of her and know you were home. To crave her body like an addiction and need the sound of her laughter and the sight of her smile. He’d never had that before and now it seemed as natural to him as breathing.

“We really do have to discuss this mess, Francesca,” Eloisa said. “I don’t want to distress you, but Stefano did something that wasn’t protocol in our business and it could have gotten someone killed. I can’t let it go by without saying something.”

“If you’re talking about Nicoletta, I’m fully aware of the situation,” Francesca said. “By all means talk to Stefano about it, but get all the facts before you get upset. He had a good reason for doing what he did.”

Eloisa’s face flushed with anger. Her eyes went hard. Stefano had seen that look a million times. He could have told Francesca that Eloisa wasn’t reasonable when she was emotional. Her temper was legendary in the family. Even her siblings trod lightly when she was upset.

“First of all, Stefano, Francesca shouldn’t be burdened with the knowledge of our work until after the wedding.” She bit out each word, her teeth snapping together, as if she might take a bite out of him if she wasn’t so controlled.

“Eloisa, you don’t get to tell me how to handle my personal business, not when it comes to my woman.” Stefano kept his voice as mild as possible. His family could get loud in their disagreements, but with his mother, it went from bad to worse very quickly.

Eloisa’s breath hissed out in a long stream of disapproval. “When it comes to you being careless about family business, Stefano, someone has to, and there’s no one but me. Everyone else is afraid of you.” She leaned toward him, narrowing her eyes, her finger stabbing toward him. “I’m not. You had no right to bring that girl to our neighborhood. She should have been left there. And Taviano had no business being there. His job was to be seen. To be photographed. Both of you left the famiglia vulnerable.”

Stefano shrugged. “Fortunately, Eloisa, I’m the head of the famiglia, and I make the rules, not you. It was my call. Taviano was there when he was needed, thanks to him acting on his instincts, which is what we’re trained to do. I don’t know why you’re upset when we all did our jobs.”

Eloisa leaned even closer, her eyes alive with anger. “Because deviating from protocol, something that has been in existence for a hundred years for good reason, at the last minute will get you killed. It will get your brother killed. You’re both more important than this girl, whether she’s a confirmed rider or not.”

There was a shocked silence. Stefano counted his heartbeats, trying to control his temper. “Why would that be, Eloisa? Why would you think Taviano and I are more important than a seventeen-year-old girl? One being brutalized, raped and beaten nearly every fucking day since she was fifteen? If that isn’t reason enough for you, this girl can provide children—riders—for our family. She could be a much loved wife to one of your sons. How is she not just as important if not more so?”