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enjoys being watched as if I
    might steal the silver, so tell your watchdog to relax.”
    “Of course.” The don chuckled, though the sound was remarkably cheerless. “It is only that
    Giglio sees you as competition.”
    “Trust me, Cordiano, I’m not the least bit interested in taking his job.”
    “No, no, certainly not. I only meant that he is aware that I have been searching for a way to thank
    him for his years of dedication, and—”
    “And I’m sure you’ll find an appropriate reward but that doesn’t concern me. I’m here on behalf
    of my father. I’d appreciate it if you’d read his letter.”
    Cordiano smiled. “But I know what it says, signor. Cesare begs my forgiveness for what he did
    almost half a century ago. And you, Raffaele—may I call you that?—and you are to assure me
    that he means every word. Yes?”
    “That’s pretty much it.” And still not a word about daughters and marriage, thank God. “So, I
    can return home and tell him his apology is accepted? Because it’s getting late. And—”
    “Did your father tell you what it is he did?”
    “No. He didn’t. But that’s between you and—”
    “I was his—I suppose you would call it his sponsor.”
    “How nice for you both.”
    “He repaid my generosity by stealing la mia fidanzata.”
    “I’m sorry but I don’t speak—”
    “Your father stole my fiancée.” Cordiano’s smile turned cold. “He eloped with her in the middle
    of the night, two days before we were to marry.”
    “I don’t understand. My father has a wife. She…” Rafe’s jaw dropped. “Are you saying my
    mother was engaged to you?”
    “Indeed she was, until your father stole her.”
    All that “dark passion” stuff was starting to make sense. Now what? What could he say? It was
    hard enough to picture a young Cesare but to imagine his mother as a young woman running
    away with him…
    “Did you think this was about something simple?” The don’s voice was as frigid as his smile.
    “That is why he sent you here, boy. To offer a meaningful apology, one I would accept. An eye
    for an eye. That is our way.”
    Rafe shot a quick look at the capo. Was that what this was all about? He’d put in his time in the
    Marines; he and his brothers had all served their country. He could give a good account of
    himself against, what, 350 pounds of fat and muscle, but in the end…
    “An eye for an eye. Or, now that so many years have gone by, a deed for a misdeed.” Cordiano
    folded his arms over his chest. “Your father took my bride. I will show him forgiveness by
    letting you take my daughter as yours. Do you see?”
    Did he see? Rafe almost laughed. No way. Not even a genius would see any logic in that.
    “What I see,” he said flatly, “is that you have a daughter you want to get rid of.”
    Pig Man made a humming sound deep in his throat.
    “And somehow, you and my old man cooked up this cockeyed scheme. Well, forget about it. It’s
    not going to happen.”
    “My daughter needs a husband.”
    “I’m sure she does. Buy one, if that’s what it takes.”
    The mountain of muscle grunted and took a step forward. Rafe could feel the adrenaline
    pumping. Hell, he thought, eyeing the capo, he could do more than put up a good fight. Angry as
    he was, he could take him.
    “I have your father’s word in this matter, Orsini.”
    “Then you have nothing, because it is not his word you need, it’s mine. And I can damned well
    assure you that—”
    “There you are,” Cordiano said sharply, glaring past him. “It took you long enough to obey my
    orders, girl.”
    Rafe swung around. There was a figure in the doorway. Chiara Cordiano had come to join them.
    A weak finger of late-afternoon sunlight pierced a narrow gap in the heavy window draperies,
    lending a faint outline to her thin shape.
    “Have you turned to stone?” the don snapped. “Step inside. There is a man here who wants to
    meet you.”
    Like hell he did, Rafe almost said, but he