The elevator opened directly into Stefano’s foyer. The place was elegant, always had been, but when Stefano had lived there alone, it had been cold. Now, it was warm and welcoming and smelled like heaven. That was Francesca. She could make a cave a home. Breakfast at Stefano’s wasn’t hotel food, never mind that they had five-star chefs. Francesca insisted on cooking and usually his youngest brother, Taviano, helped her in the kitchen. There was something special about their concoctions, most likely the love they put into them.
“Hey, you,” Francesca greeted, leaning into him so he could brush a kiss along her cheek. “How’s Grace doing?”
Vittorio noted, with some alarm, that she looked tired. “She was in surgery most of the night. Doc says she lost a lot of blood. It’s going to take some time to heal all the smashed bones, but he says everything looks good. Told me to get some sleep and come back around noon. They want to keep her out as long as possible because the pain is going to be barely manageable.”
He gave the report to his family because they’d all ceased their boisterous conversations to hear what he had to say.
“Breakfast is ready,” Taviano said. “We were just waiting for you.”
There was no reprimand, but Vittorio didn’t want Francesca to think he’d held them up for no reason. “The doc had a lot to say about her care and I needed to hear it.” He made his way to the large table, already set with white china rimmed in gold.
Each of them tended to choose the same seat when they ate at Stefano’s, which was often. They hadn’t been allowed to attend schools as other children had. They’d trained together. They’d studied with tutors and had been expected to learn multiple languages and excel in everything required of them, particularly when it came to mastering weapons and turning their bodies into weapons.
Their family had to be protected at all times. Once, a hundred years earlier, the Saldis had attempted to wipe out the Ferraro family.
That didn’t allow for friendships outside the family. What they did was done in complete secrecy and would always have to be. No one outside the family knew what they were capable of doing. There were other shadow riders in the world, but very few. They policed themselves and were extremely careful at all times.
Every rider had personal bodyguards whether they wanted them or not. It was a fact of life they’d learned to live with. Most people thought they were a crime family, just as the Saldis were. They were investigated often, but had never been indicted for a crime. They couldn’t have close friends outside the family. They had to portray a lavish, extravagant lifestyle to the public, to further their images as playboys with far too much money.
They played polo. They raced cars and gambled. Those unmarried had a different woman on their arm at night at charity events and clubs. They flew from one country to another, seemingly just to party. On the other hand, they had many legitimate businesses, including international banks and their hotels.
“Did anyone review the security tapes?” Vittorio asked as he took several homemade pastries from the basket being passed around.
“Mariko and I did,” Ricco said, indicating his wife. “Someone definitely messed with them, but I sent them to Rigina to see what she could recover. She’s working on it now.”
They employed only family when it came to the shadow riders. Rigina and Rosina Greco were Ferraro cousins and investigators. Both women were geniuses when it came to anything to do with computers or electronic equipment.
“I spoke with Giuseppi twice,” Stefano said. He took a sip of his latte. “He swears they aren’t running any operations out of our club. He spoke to his brother Miceli, and Miceli claims he has no idea why Sarto or Gori would have been at the club. He also claims complete ignorance of the fact that his two very loyal soldiers were involved in anything as heinous as human trafficking, prostitution and kidnapping. Neither knew the connection between Grace and our family, which is probably the only true statement made.”
“Leonardo Saldi was head of the family for years,” Giovanni explained to bring Francesca, Mariko and Sasha, Giovanni’s new bride, up to speed. “He had three sons: Giuseppi, Miceli and his youngest son, Fons. When Leonardo died, the oldest, Giuseppi, took over as head of the Saldi family. They have the entire East Coast locked down as their territory and they rule with an iron and very bloody fist.” He speared sausage onto his plate.
Ricco took over. “When Valentino, the now heir apparent, was eight, there was a car bombing. It killed his father, Fons, and mother, leaving him an orphan. Giuseppi and his wife, Greta, had always been in Val’s life. Supposedly, they adored him and were the favorite aunt and uncle. Greta has never had children, and there isn’t even a whisper of Giuseppi cheating on her. They took Val in and later adopted him legally. He was around ten when they made it legal.”
Giovanni took over the explanation. “Miceli had one son, Dario, out of wedlock. He never married his mother, but Dario came to live with him when he was fifteen, after she died. Miceli has two sons with his current wife, Tommaso and Angelo. Because Giuseppi adopted Val legally, Val, who would have stood in line behind Miceli and his three sons, was now the official heir to the Saldi throne.”
Vittorio slid his hand under the table and covered Emme’s hand. She was pressing her palm hard into her thigh. He felt her tremble and he waited until she looked up at him before he smiled at her. “We don’t have the first clue what’s going on, and as with any investigation, we don’t make a move until we know for certain.” He kept his voice soothing. Gentle. He pitched his tones to be comforting and even peaceful.
Emmanuelle visibly relaxed. “I can tell you that Giuseppi treats Val as his own son and clearly loves Greta. She has stage four pancreatic cancer and Giuseppi isn’t leaving her side.”
Stefano raised his head alertly, his dark eyes pinning his sister. Vittorio shook his head and immediately intervened. “Thanks, Emme. We’ll have Rosina see what she can dig up on Greta’s health and where she stands right now. It’s possible Giuseppi really isn’t in the know about what’s going on in his territory.”
“That would be a first,” Taviano said. “Nicoletta was assaulted in the flower shop by Saldi scum. I took care of it, but the bastard actually put his hands on her. And Val’s bodyguard, Dario, you know, Miceli’s oldest son, has twice called Nicoletta, just in case anyone’s interested in that bit of information.”
Nicoletta was a young woman they’d rescued when she was a teen. She lived with Amo and Lucia Fausti as their foster daughter and she’d recently turned eighteen. That made things difficult for the riders as they watched over her. She was one of them, that rare woman who could produce the type of child who was capable of riding shadows and dispensing justice.
Emmanuelle stiffened. “Are you kidding me? When did that happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Taviano halted in the act of lifting a scone to his mouth. “What’s wrong, Emme?” She had their complete attention.
“The Saldi family has definitely told their younger men to attempt to seduce the women in our family, me included. If they’re going after Nicoletta, I need to talk to her. She’ll listen to me. Taviano, you didn’t go by her house and lay down the law, did you?”