He clenched his jaw and leaned in close. "What do you want from me? I said I'd bring you back. Can't you just take the child and wait a little longer? Just until tonight—"
I turned away with a cold smile, shifting my daughter in my arms as I walked toward the front doors of the house.
"Our daughter hasn't eaten in three days. I'm afraid she can't wait."
"Tell me, Dante, why are you so desperate to keep your own wife from stepping through the door? Is there something in there you'd rather I not see?"
I knew exactly why Dante didn't want me inside. The private dining room was filled with the most powerful men in the Commission's orbit, and among them sat Rosalia Valenti, wife of the Boss of All Bosses.
Every guest seated comfortably at those tables believed that Gianna Greco, his dead brother's widow, was the rightful lady of the Ferrante household.
A wife appearing out of nowhere was a problem Dante had no idea how to explain.
And that was precisely why I was here. To make sure he couldn't.
Dante stared at me, his face drained of color, scrambling for a way out.
Gianna's eyes darted, and then she stepped forward with a warm smile, reaching for my arm.