“No,” Dante said firmly. “She hasn’t been abused in any way since she came into this house. She’s under my protection. My men know that.”
“Okay.” I believed him, and I also believed that none of his men dared to go against Dante’s direct orders. If Gaby was under his protection, she was safe. “I bet those girls would have made you a lot of money. There’s a reason why the Russians kidnap young girls. Why the qualms? It’s not like the Outfit hasn’t its own clubs with prostitutes, and it’s not like those women can just stop working for the mob whenever they want.” I was honestly curious. Dante was a killer after all.
“The Outfit isn’t in the business of sex slaves. The women in our clubs start working for us on their own free will and they know that they’ll be bound to us forever. We make enough money with our casinos and drugs, we don’t need sex slaves or illegal racing like the Russians and the Familia in Las Vegas.”
“What about New York, do they deal in sex slaves?”
“No. That’s really only the Vegas Familia. I’m not saying that there aren’t voices in the Outfit who would like to change that, but as long as I’m Capo that won’t happen.”
“That’s good,” I said.
Dante’s eyes softened for a moment but then he turned away and extinguished the lights.
“Good night,” I whispered. I was still disappointed that Dante didn’t touch me, but at least he’d talked to me as if we were equals, not like I was a brainless woman who didn’t need to know anything about the business.
“Good night, Valentina,” Dante said into the dark. There was something in his voice I couldn’t identify and I was too tired to try.
CHAPTER SEVEN
If I’d thought last night’s chat with Dante would make him reconsider our seating arrangements during breakfast or even make him want to talk to me, I’d been horribly wrong. Like yesterday he disappeared behind his newspaper after a quick greeting. I wasn’t in the mood to fight for his attention. I was too confused and hurt by his continued disinterest in me. I only picked some fruit and drank a cup of coffee before I decided to excuse myself. Dante didn’t even look up from his newspaper when I walked out.
Usually I would have asked him if he wanted me to take one of his men as guard with me to Bibiana’s house, but I was too angry. I had a driver’s license. Antonio had wanted me to get one after we married, which sadly wasn’t the norm for men in our world. After I’d put on a coat and grabbed my purse, I walked into the garage. Dante had given me keys for the house and the garage. Of the three cars parked in the garage, the Mercedes GL was the least attention-grabbing. I took the car keys from a hook at the wall and slipped into the car. It took me a moment to find the button in the dashboard that opened the garage, but finally I steered the car outside and down the driveway. A guard I didn’t know patrolled the fence but didn’t try to stop me when I opened the gate with a press of another button. I drove off the premises and the gate closed automatically behind me.
It felt good to drive again, even if I didn’t like Chicago traffic, but it had been too long since I had been allowed to drive by myself. My parents had been too determined to keep me under their watch after Antonio’s death to let me go out alone. I knew the way to Bibiana’s home by heart, had driven it countless times over the years, and it took me only ten minutes from Dante’s mansion.
Bibiana’s and Tommaso’s house was much smaller than that of Dante and of my parents. They didn’t have a long driveway where I could have parked. Instead I had to leave my car in the street. Not that I was worried someone might steal it. Streets where mob members lived were usually quite safe, unless you counted the risk of attacks from the Bratva or Triad. I walked up to their front door, noticing one of Tommaso’s men sitting in a car on the other side of the street and watching the house. Tommaso wasn’t as highly ranked as the men in my family or the Scuderis, but he wasn’t a simple soldier either. He always kept a guard near the house to watch over Bibiana, or what I suspected: to make sure she didn’t run away.
He didn’t stop me, only tilted his head in a gesture of respect. I rang the bell. Bibiana opened the door, then glimpsed behind me. “Where are your guards?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t take any. Dante never said I had to take guards.”
“Won’t you get in trouble?” she asked as she closed the door and led me into their living room. As usual her husband wasn’t home. Bibiana of course didn’t mind. She’d gained a couple of pounds since Tommaso had been forced to work long hours. Now she didn’t look quite as emaciated anymore.
“Why would I?” I said. I wasn’t even sure if Dante cared if I left the house without protection. He seemed too busy with God knows what.
Bibiana gave me a worried look. “You should be careful. Dante is a dangerous man. He always looks so calm and in control, but Tommaso told me Dante doesn’t tolerate disobedience.”
That didn’t really come as a surprise, but I couldn’t really disobey him if he didn’t give me an order in the first place. “I’m not one of his soldiers.”
I sank down on the sofa. Bibiana took a seat beside me, curiosity filling her face. “So how was your wedding night?”
My lips twisted. “I slept well,” I said sarcastically.
Bibiana blinked at me. “Huh? That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant,” I said, frustrated. “Nothing happened. Dante gave me the cold shoulder.”
“He didn’t try to sleep with you? What about last night?” I wished Bibiana didn’t sound so stunned; it made me feel even worse. As if somehow it was my fault that I hadn’t managed to make Dante want me. I knew she didn’t mean it that way.
“He didn’t even kiss me. He just lay down beside me and said he had an early day, and then he turned off the light and fell asleep. What kind of wedding night is that?” I leaned my head against the backrest. “I don’t get it.”
“Maybe he was really tired,” Bibiana said tentatively.
I gave her a look. “Do you really believe that? He looked fit enough to me. And what about yesterday? Was he tired then too?” I bit my lip. “Do you think it’s still because of his wife?”
Bibiana twisted a strand of her brown hair around her finger nervously. “Maybe. I hear he adored her. They were the dream couple in Chicago.”
I’d never paid much attention to Dante and his wife in the past, but I remembered seeing them together at social gatherings. I remembered thinking they looked like they belonged together. There were few couples in our world who looked like they were together because they loved each other. Most of them married for convenience, but with Dante and his wife Carla you had seen that they were meant to be together. Fate was cruel for ripping them apart, and even crueler for throwing me into the arms of a man who’d already found the love of his life once. “Maybe he hasn’t been with a woman since his wife died. That could be the reason why he didn’t try to consummate our marriage.”
Bibiana avoided my gaze and reached for a macaron on the silver étagère on the table in front of us. She shoved it into her mouth and chewed as if it afforded all of her concentration. Dread filled my stomach. “Bibi?”