Taken - A Gangster Stepbrother Romance (7 page)

Chapter Eleven

              “Antonio! Antonio!”

              “Mr. Del Marco! Look here, Mr. Del Marco!”

              Emma was nearly blinded by the number of flashes that were going off in front of her. She could hardly make out the crowded sea of photographers that were all jostling to get the best shot. Seeing the crowd of screaming photographers and the black suited security guards that kept them in line, Emma realized she was
actually
at Hastings Charity Gala, the mecca of the social elite for tonight.

              Antonio effortlessly pulled her frozen body close to his, smiling charmingly for the cameras. She looked up, stunned, to see him look so warm and…human.
So this was the public persona of Antonio Del Marco.

              Bending his head towards her in what looked like an affectionate gesture, he whispered, “Say cheese.”

              Emma realized she must look like a deer in the headlights. Trying her best, she swallowed and smiled shakily towards the cameras.

              “Who’s the girl, Antonio?”

              “Who’s your hot date, Mr. Del Marco? What’s your name, honey?”

              But Antonio said nothing, only smiled and waved, holding Emma close to him. After a few minutes of posing, he guided her into the grandly decorated hotel ballroom.

              “Didn’t you want to tell them who I was?” Emma asked as they walked up a beautifully lit staircase. “Wasn’t that the whole point?”

              “Oh they’ll find out,” Antonio replied confidently, still holding her close to him. “You don’t tell the ants first, Emma. Once the lions get the news, the ants will eventually hear.”

              Emma couldn’t think of a better analogy for the room. It felt like a lion’s den to her. She didn’t know if she could pull this charade off. Sure, technically she
was
Antonio’s stepsister, but
acting
like one was a completely different order of business.

              As she entered the main lobby and saw celebrities and politicians hobnobbing together, Emma was grateful for the strong arm around her waist. She felt stronger and safer by feeling Antonio’s heat and presence.
Better the devil you know, eh, Harper?

              As they entered the ballroom, Emma began to understand how the Del Marco Clan had successfully morphed into DM Holdings. It was all because of Antonio.

              The man could charm the skin off a leopard. People flocked to him. They were eager for his attention, for his time.

Politicians shook his hand, asking him when he would finally come over for dinner some time. Actors would grin and thank Antonio for investing in their last hit or asking him if he was intending to attend their latest premiere. Actresses smiled flirtatiously, unable to hide their attraction towards this powerful and gorgeous man. Because even though he was one of the sharpest dressed men in the room, nothing could cover that lethal aura he exuded that said he did anything and everything to get what he wanted.

              And Antonio took all of this attention with a gracious laugh and a charming smile. He shook hands and made witty jokes. He would gently touch an actress on her arm or back as she spoke, making her blush furiously. Emma was in awe.

              This was the same man who had dragged her from her bed, forcing her down for dinner against her will? The same man who had told her in no uncertain terms she would be engaged and married to a man she had never met?

              But with every handshake, Antonio never lost Emma. He kept her close by his side. She felt anchored and watched over. She knew she could’ve easily been lost in this crowd of the wealthy and socially elite but it felt as if Antonio knew that and made sure not to let that happen.

              “And who is this charming young lady you have with you, Antonio?” Annabelle Livingston asked in a silky voice, clearly a little suspicious and jealous of the careful attentions Antonio was paying Emma.

              Annabelle Livingston was the wife of Douglas Livingston, a hotel magnate. She was now well into her fifties and was often the socialite leader in the major circles. She enjoyed being photographed and made sure to attend as many social functions as possible to make that happen.

              “Annabelle,” Antonio pulled Emma closer so she could properly be introduced, “may I present my stepsister, Emma? Emma, this lovely woman is Annabelle Livingston.”

              Annabelle’s eyes widened in surprise. “Stepsister? I didn’t know you had a sister!” Emma could almost see her mentally licking her lips at this delicious piece of gossip. Immediately, Emma understood why Antonio had waited to introduce her.

Annabelle Livingston was a huge gossip and within a few minutes, the news of Emma’s debut would be spread around the entire ballroom. Antonio had spared Emma countless introductions by having her meet Annabelle first.

              “She’s been away at school for the last few years. She was too smart to keep locked away at home,” Antonio teased with a rakishly white smile.

              Emma could see Annabelle flutter at his smile and had to quickly smother her own smile. She understood. No one stood a chance against Antonio’s charms.

              “My, my,” Annabelle breathed. “Well it’s certainly nice to meet you, dear. You make sure you come by and see me before the end of the evening so I can introduce you to my daughters.” After one more assessing gaze, Annabelle left, presumably to spread the news about her existence.

              Watching Annabelle’s departing form, Emma sighed, her body sagging in relief.

              Antonio looked down, his lips quirking with humor. “You survived,” he said lowly so only the two of them could hear. “I’m a little insulted that you weren’t this nervous about meeting the head of the Del Marco Clan.”

              Emma huffed a laugh. “Maybe that was because I had moved straight past nervous and right into piss my boots fear.”

              A grin cracked his face. That familiar warm glow lightened his eyes. “Really? Then you hid it well, sweetheart. I thought you quite brave.”

              Emma gaped at him, unsure as to what to say. A rush of warmth flooded her body as another guest came, shaking Antonio’s hand eagerly, saving her from having to figure out a response to his unexpected comment.

              And just like that, Emma watched herself be taken under Antonio’s charming and protective wing. He kept her close, made proper introductions, never letting her feel lost or alone. His comments were always incredibly flattering as well. When a politician’s wife remarked on how beautiful Emma was, Antonio quirked his lips and said, “It really isn’t fair. Emma has all the looks
and
the brains in the family. Did I mention she graduated from USC? Summa cum laude.”

              And as if Emma wasn’t already shocked by this new side of Antonio, she was nearly floored when after another politician’s introduction, Antonio pulled her towards the dance floor.

              “Are we dancing?” Emma asked in shock, her voice almost cracking at the thought.

              Pulling her to him, Antonio wrapped his strong arm around her lower back, capturing her hand in his. As the orchestra played a soft, lilting song, Antonio smoothly led her around the dance floor. “Yes, we’re dancing,” he whispered in her ear.

              With the chandeliers glowing above them and the sconces lit around them, the whole ballroom felt like a huge, beautiful fantasy. She could hear the swish of her full skirts as they slowly danced. Looking at her wrist, the sparkles of the diamonds caught the light, making the stones glint and wink at her. Emma followed the line of her wrist up to her hand which was currently swallowed up by Antonio’s bigger, stronger one.

              She looked up, suddenly feeling quite shy. Who was Antonio Del Marco? The man who had destroyed her life in his office that day? The man who had watched over her and had created a trust in her name? Or the man here, who stood so charming and tall over this crowd of society’s best?

              “What are you thinking about?” Antonio asked, his gray eyes nearly charcoal in the dim glowing lights of the ballroom. He effortlessly led her around the dance floor, his strong arms guiding her swiftly and smoothly.

              Emma swallowed. She thought about making some kind of offhand joke about the food the rich eat for dinner or a remark about how itchy her dress was. But instead she said softly, “I’m wondering if this is all real.”

              Antonio’s gaze blazed something hot. His arms tightened about her. She could see something like longing and regret shadowing his eyes. For the first time, she felt like she could see behind the mask of coolness he wore. She felt like she was meeting Antonio Del Marco for the first time. “Me too,” he said quietly, his voice thick with unsaid emotions. He held her tightly. Emma thought about the donations to her schools, the sudden reveal of her trust fund by the Grants. “Me too.” His voice seemed to echo through her chest.

              But before they could drift into the next song, Antonio’s head snapped up. His back straightened and his whole body stiffened. Emma tried to turn around but it was hard to do while dancing.

              “What? What is it?” she asked.

              When Antonio looked down, the mask had fallen back into place. He smiled but it didn’t reach his cool gray eyes. “It’s time,” he said. “The Cavallis are here. Let’s introduce you.”

              And with a small flourish, he took her smoothly off the dance floor. Emma followed him, her hand tucked into Antonio’s. His grip was tight on hers as if he knew she would bolt if given the chance.

              Emma took a deep breath. She was about to meet her fiancé.

Chapter Twelve

              Emma could hear her pulse rushing against her ears. She was sure Antonio could feel her wrist thumping with her anxiousness. And as if on cue, his hand tightened on hers. But it didn’t feel threatening. It felt as if he was trying to give her courage.

              The crowd parted as Antonio walked swiftly towards the far end of the dance floor. She could barely pay attention to all the people, men and women, who did admiring double takes of Antonio as he passed.

              “Ah Antonio! Antonio! You’re here,” a gravelly voice called out.

              A strong arm pulled Emma forward. He kept her close to him but did not put his arm around her waist as he had been doing earlier. “Frank, good to see you again,” Antonio greeted, shaking the older man’s hand.

              Frank Cavalli. Notorious head of what used to be the Cavalli Family, now the Cavalli Corporations.

              Emma stared at the man. How many times had she seen the man’s face plastered all over the papers? He ran the east coast with an iron first and was constantly pitted against Gabe Del Marco by the media, something that neither man had appreciated.

              A lot of gang wars had been started between these two huge crime organizations. They were the only remaining vestiges of what used to be known as the mafia.

              She could hardly believe she was standing between two of the most powerful and feared crime kingpins in the country.

              “Ah, and so this is the mysterious little Emma Del Marco,” Frank said, rubbing his gray and white stubble chin. He was shorter than Antonio and portly. But his roundness was not soft. He carried his weight like a weapon. He knew he had size and he knew how to use it to intimidate. The man’s features were broad and craggy. There was an old scar running across his nose that gave it a flatter appearance. This was an old gangster who had risen through the ranks through blood and sin.

              Emma shivered.

              “Yes,” Antonio said, eyeing Emma sideways. Did the man miss nothing? “And where is David?”

              Frank looked behind him and called out, “David, come here! Where are you? Come here!” The man clearly did not care about being discreet. Several people’s heads turned at Frank’s loud and gravelly voice. But these people knew his background. Cavalli Corporations or not, they remembered he had been the head of the Cavalli Family and they kept their mouths wisely shut.

              A young man came up through the crowds. He was nearly as tall as Antonio. His figure was lean but nicely built. He looked like a runner. With honey blonde hair and soft blue eyes, he reminded Emma of a sunflower. When David caught sight of Emma, he smiled, revealing dimples. It was crazy to think this man was the son of someone as hard looking as Frank Cavalli.

              “Hello,” he said, extending a hand to Antonio, “I’m David.”

              Antonio shook his hand. Emma noticed the easy charm he had exuded earlier was missing. Instead only a cool politeness remained. “Hello, it’s good to finally meet you,” Antonio said. He made a gesture towards Emma. “May I introduce you to Emma, my stepsister.”

              David smiled and extended his hand towards Emma. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Emma,” he said.

             
Finally meet you.
So he was clearly aware of why they were meeting. Nobody was in the dark here. Emma felt her stomach knot.

              David certainly wasn’t terrible to look at. Handsome, even. He had a lightness about him that seemed incongruous considering his father and his family’s background. No one would’ve ever guessed David had mob relations. He seemed too sweet, too innocent.

              But she didn’t know him. She hadn’t even spoken a word to this man yet and she knew they were already engaged to be married. Suddenly, the magical air of the evening twisted and transformed into a suffocating box of unavoidable fate and responsibility.

              “Don’t just shake her hand, boy!” Frank said good-naturedly. “Go take her out on the dance floor for a spin!”

              David chuckled. “Would you like to dance?” he asked politely.

              Emma remembered how Antonio hadn’t even asked if she wanted to dance. He had merely guided her onto the floor and pulled her into his arms, leading her effortlessly.

              “Sure,” she said softly, putting her hand in David’s.

              On the floor, David pulled Emma close but not too close. He held her hand and led her around the floor, smoothly and expertly. He was a good dancer.

              “You’re very good at this,” Emma said hesitantly, feeling they should have some kind of conversation. Looking off her shoulder, she saw Frank and Antonio engaged in what looked like a serious conversation.

             
You got what you wanted, right? This is what you wanted me to do—hold up my responsibilities as a Del Marco. Right? Right, Antonio?

              She wasn’t sure why she felt so wounded or hurt.

              “You’re not too bad yourself,” David said graciously. “How are you enjoying the evening?”

             
It
was
great.
Until
he
threw me into another man’s arms.
“Good. It’s exciting,” Emma said, trying to sound more enthused. “I’ve never been to Hastings before.”

              David made a face and then laughed. “Well, enjoy it then because the amusement wears off pretty fast,” he said. “I prefer something a little more low key. You know, just a
few
millionaires in a room at a time kind of thing.”

              Emma choked on a nervous laugh. She had conjured up all these images of what she imagined David Cavalli to be. A man who would agree to a mob wedding without ever even meeting the girl—he had to be cold, callous, and unfeeling. She imagined a younger Frank Cavalli.

              But David was nothing of the sort. He was tall, handsome, and sweet. He seemed so relaxed and unassuming as if he was just glad to be there. Emma was confused.

              “You…” she started, unsure how to word her thoughts, “You realize why we’re meeting tonight, right?”

              David smiled gently. “Yes I do,” he said. “We’re meeting who we’re engaged to.” His smile and his eyes gave her a warm look of understanding. Emma felt a sudden ease in her. Someone was in the same boat as she was. Someone understood exactly how she was feeling.

              “You don’t feel…awkward?” she asked as they spun around the floor, the melodic music drifting around them.

              David gave a soft laugh. “I’m trying my very best to show you that I am quite a normal man with all ten fingers and toes. I’m hoping that I’m pulling it off without also showing how awkward I feel,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “You tell me if I’m succeeding or not.”

              Emma laughed this time. Genuinely laughed. “I think you’re doing better than me. I’m pretty sure I’ve stepped on your toes at least twice so far.”

              David gave her a grave look. “No, ma’am,” he said seriously. “I’ve only felt the gentle tappings of a gifted dancer on my feet.”

              Emma laughed feeling as if for once, maybe, the world was not a crazy twisted mess. Maybe things weren’t as gray and bleak and mysterious as she had thought. David had shown her she could still smile in the face of storm clouds and maybe that was enough.

              Thinking Antonio must be pretty pleased with how well their dance was going, she tried to casually look over towards the two mobsters.

              And what she saw stole her breath away.

              Antonio was no longer talking with Frank. Instead he stood straight and tall, watching Emma dance. His jaw was taut with tension and his shoulders were straight and broad. But it was his eyes that left her breathless. The piercing silver eyes looked at her with a raw angst that made her heart clench. Regret, anger, pain, longing, sadness. It was all there.

              And suddenly, the world became twisted again.