Chapter 2 - THE MAN EVERYONE FEARED
Giovanni's hand settled respectfully against my waist.
His other hand held mine.
He moved with effortless confidence, guiding me between couples beneath the chandeliers.
“You dance well,” I admitted.
“My mother insisted.”
“Your mother sounds terrifying.”
“She was.”
I laughed.
It surprised me.
I hadn't laughed once that evening.
Giovanni noticed.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“Your real smile.”
Heat rushed into my cheeks.
“You flirt with strangers often?”
“Almost never.”
“Convenient answer.”
He smiled.
We turned slowly.
Then I noticed something strange.
People were watching us.
Not with ordinary wedding curiosity.
With alarm.
A man near the bar straightened when Giovanni passed.
Two guests stepped aside.
Even the wedding planner seemed suddenly nervous.
I looked up.
“Who are you?”
“Giovanni Fioraldi.”
“I heard that part.”
He considered me.
“What have you heard about the Fioraldi family?”
I frowned.
“Restaurants? Construction? Shipping?”
“Among other things.”
Then I remembered.
A newspaper article.
A federal investigation.
A photograph of a man standing outside a courthouse surrounded by attorneys.
Giovanni Fioraldi.
The man who controlled one of Chicago's most powerful organized-crime families.
My steps faltered.
He steadied me.
“Jessica?”
I stared.
“Oh, my God.”
His expression changed.
“You recognize me.”
“You're that Giovanni Fioraldi.”
He sighed.
“Unfortunately.”
I looked toward the ballroom doors.
“This is insane.”
“Probably.”
“I have a daughter.”
“I know.”
I stopped dancing.
His hand loosened immediately.
“What do you mean, you know?”
Giovanni looked toward Tyler.
“Your former husband announced it loudly enough for half the ballroom to hear.”
I exhaled.
Of course.
He continued quietly.
“I'm not asking you to become part of my life. I'm asking you to finish one dance.”
I studied him.
He didn't tighten his grip.
Didn't order me to stay.
He simply waited.
Then I looked across the room.
Tyler had finally noticed us.
His face was white.
For the first time all evening, he looked afraid.
I turned back to Giovanni.
“One dance,” I repeated.
Giovanni nodded.
May you like
“One dance.”
And the music continued.
