Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
“The Archambaults should consider themselves somewhat complicit in that they didn’t investigate when they were asked numerous times,” Amaranthe said, a frown on her face.
Geno couldn’t help himself. He leaned into her and rubbed at her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “I honestly don’t give a damn about the Archambaults, other than Elie and Brielle. And I could not care less about the Boutlers. I’m just very thankful I have my family and friends alive and here with me.”
Taviano waved at him, the scent of cinnamon and apple following the motion of his hand. “You just like me here because I cook for you.”
“That could be true,” Geno admitted.
“It’s the only reason I tolerate him,” Stefano said. “Otherwise, he’s a pain in the ass.” He stretched and sent a quick grin to Lucca and Salvatore. “We do have another important matter to discuss. I had no choice, Geno. When I leave the women behind and they know we’re in danger, it’s important to give them something to occupy their minds to keep them from worrying.”
Geno reached for Amaranthe’s hand. Brace yourself, Danzatrice Ombra. He’s up to something, and my knuckleheaded brothers are in on it.
He glanced around the table. His brothers weren’t the only ones. Even Dario was smirking. “Spit it out, Stefano.”
“Apparently, the two of you got your marriage license.”
Geno sat up straight. “Do you have spies in that office?” He glared at his brothers. “Are you shadowing us?”
Lucca looked unrepentant. “Someone needs to keep you safe. You have enemies, Geno.”
“Welcome to the club,” Dario said. “Now you’ll never have a minute to yourself.”
Geno tightened his hand around Amaranthe’s. “What did you do, Stefano?” He knew he sounded wary. When his cousins looked as they did right at that moment, with their shit-eating grins, he knew he was in trouble.
“Grace is an event planner.” Stefano stated it as if that answered all questions.
There was a sudden silence as around the table his cousins began to eat with great enthusiasm.
“What does that mean?” Amaranthe asked, looking up at Geno. “What event would Grace be planning?”
“Our wedding,” Geno said tightly. “We’re eloping,” he added.
Amaranthe nodded vigorously. “We’re eloping,” she echoed.
“That’s what the women are planning,” Stefano said. “The family will be here . . .” He glanced at his watch. “In under an hour. They planned your elopement.”
“But . . .” Amaranthe pushed her coffee cup along the table beside his. “Elopements aren’t planned, Stefano. They’re spontaneous. We run off alone, together.”
Stefano sent her a look of pure amusement. “Did Geno deceive you into thinking you could really get away with running off alone to get married? You’re engaged to a Ferraro, Amara.”
“Eloping,” Geno cut in. “What part of that word don’t all of you understand?” He glared at his grinning cousins and then brought Amaranthe’s hand up to his mouth to press kisses over her fingertips. He knew, from experience, this wasn’t going to end well for them—at least not have the outcome they desired.
“Eloping doesn’t mean getting married without guests, Geno,” Emmanuelle said. She sipped at her coffee and then began to eat again, looking every bit as smug as Stefano.
“Eloping means running off to secretly be married,” Geno corrected.
Amaranthe pulled out her phone. “I don’t think one has guests at an elopement.”
“Don’t bother,” Dario said. “You can bet this has been researched heavily.”
Val nodded. “Twenty guests, and it’s still considered an elopement, especially if no parents are present. Up to fifty guests is a micro-wedding.”
Geno’s growl rumbled in his chest. His cousins just grinned at him. Amaranthe looked more confused than ever.
“Stefano, did the cousins go home?” Geno asked. It was impossible to keep the suspicion out of his voice. “Lorenzo and his family? Severino and his family?”
“I believe they were tired after all the excitement yesterday at the ballet. They opted to spend the night,” Stefano said.
“Who is coming in on this plane you have in the air?”
Amaranthe gripped his thigh, her nails digging into his leg.
Stefano shrugged casually. “Just the famiglia.”
“That would easily make it over thirty people attending, which puts it over the required number for an elopement,” Geno pointed out.
Valentino laughed. He didn’t bother to cover it, he just laughed aloud. “Do you have anyone in mind you want to throw out?”
“All of you,” Geno said.
“I don’t even have a dress.” Amaranthe’s voice held a hint of a wail. “Geno, they’re joking with you, right? This is all a joke.”
Geno wrapped his arm around her shoulders and leaned closer to give her some protection against his insane family. “Unfortunately, I doubt it.”
“No worries on the dress, Amara,” Nicoletta assured. “Grace contacted Andrea at Ferraro Designs and she has everything ready for you.”
Amaranthe pressed her forehead against Geno’s side. “Is there no way to make them all just go away?”
“I could shoot them.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’d do it for you, Danzatrice Ombra.”