Undressed By The Mafia God novel Chapter 374

Chapter 374: You Have Done Nothing Wrong

Val snorted.

"No," Veronica said, pointing at her now. "You just gave me details of your amazing night with Marco. I think we crossed the line of what we can and cannot say to each other about..." She waved a hand vaguely. "Everything. Like, two Nonnina teacups ago."

Valentina’s face turned red instantly, really red. It started at her cheeks and moved downward. Val covered part of her face with one hand as the memory of the previous night came rushing back.

"So you really are getting married, uhn," Vee said. "To Marco this time."

"Yeah..." Val sighed, her lightness dimming just a little. She looked down into her tea. "I still feel some kind of way. Every moment, I dread Ricardo just strolling back in like nothing happened."

"You have done nothing wrong, Val," Vee said. "You followed your heart. That’s all."

It was messy, yes. Painful, absolutely. Inconvenient even. But wrong? No. Love had arrived at the worst possible time, but it had arrived honestly.

"Maybe we can have our weddings the same day!"

Veronica laughed. "I don’t think so."

Val’s mouth fell open. "Why not?"

"Because," Veronica said, lifting a brow, "whatever you have to do has to be done before the baby comes. Luca still has about three months to go before the divorce is final," Vee continued. "You can’t wait for me."

Val’s face fell.

"Oh, don’t do that face."

Val huffed and slumped back in her chair. "Would you at least be my bridesmaid then?"

"I was always going to be your bridesmaid. Did that change and I didn’t know it? You do have to hurry up before I begin to get fat and bloated."

"You mean like me?"

"Exactly," Vee said instantly.

That set them off again. The sisters laughed, the sound bright and easy in the morning air, rolling out across the courtyard like nothing dark had ever touched their lives. They joked after that—about New York, about weddings, about babies, about dresses.

*****

Detective Andrew Voss waited just outside the arrivals entrance at New York airport with the patience of a man who had finally smelled blood.

A squad car sat behind his own vehicle, conspicuous enough to make the point. He planned on enjoying this. Travelers poured in and out through the sliding doors—families, businessmen, tourists, couples dragging luggage behind them.

Voss stood apart from them all. Arms folded. Jaw set. Eyes fixed on the doors. The moment Cassidy had been declared missing, Voss had gone hunting for the mafia devil of New York with all the joy of a man convinced fate had finally handed him the break he deserved. Only to discover Luca Genovese wasn’t even in the country.

That had nearly driven him insane. So he had done the next best thing. He flagged him.

The second Luca set foot on American soil, Voss had been notified. And now here he was, waiting with the satisfaction of a man who believed the web had finally closed around Luca.

He stood there proudly, smugly, rehearsing the moment in his head. The doors opened again.

There they were. Nonnina came first. Luca followed, looking too happy for someone Voss had spent months wanting in handcuffs.

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