Page 22 of Unleashed
I turn around, resting my back on the bar, and scan the room. A string quartet plays near the rose arch. Waitstaff glide between clusters of guests carrying silver trays of food. A tech CEO I recognize from a fraud investigation is standing too close to a woman who isn't his wife. A former governor nurses a scotch near the ice sculpture.
"So, who is who?" I ask, my attempt to kill some time and be nosey.
He mirrors my position, crossing one leg over the other.
"Well, that over there is Lady Preston and her, I believe, seventh husband."
My eyes go wide. "This sounds like a story to report on."
My brain is already spinning, seven husbands, I wonder if there are any suspicious circumstances, a financial trail…
"No. No story. She just divorces and marries richer."
I nod. Clever woman. Could make quite the psychological thriller book plot though.
And then I see her.
She's standing alone at the far end of the terrace, and that's the first thing that registers, in a room built for networking andpreening, this woman came to observe. To be seen only on her own terms.
Jet black hair that falls down her back. A deep red dress. Elegant, yet sexy. It’s floor-length with a slit up one thigh, revealing skin covered in ink. Tattoos climb both arms in intricate sleeves scaling along her collarbones, disappearing beneath the neckline.
She doesn't fit in here either. But she also, somehow, does. More than anyone. Because everyone else in this room is performing wealth, while this woman is performingpower. Her dark eyes lock onto mine, and the contact is immediate. Then her gaze drifts to Hudson, and her jaw tightens and chin lifts. She looks two seconds away from throwing a dagger at his head.
"Gianna Milano," Hudson whispers.
The name detonates in my brain.
"As in, daughter of Vito Milano?" I say under my breath.
He clears his throat. "Yep."
Vito Milano. Head of the Milano family. The most powerful Italian crime syndicate on the West Coast. Connected to the recent territory wars with the Greek mafia. The ones I was investigating with their links in New Falls and Ace’s family. They are savages from what I can see. And more so, probably now, after her brother, Max, was killed in the shootout recently.
Great. The Italian mafia is here. And she's walking toward us.
Hudson stands straight and grabs my hand, tugging me against his side. His arm slips around my waist, and I freeze. Watching every step she takes. Commanding the room with a lethal stare. People part for her without being asked. Conversations dip to murmurs. A waiter changes direction mid-stride to avoid crossing her path.
My heart is racing as she stops in front of us.
"Hudson," she greets him. Her hand comes up and runs along his chest, straightening a lapel that doesn't needstraightening. She leans up and whispers in his ear, and I watch his jaw go tight.
Then she pulls back and looks at me.
"I'm Gianna," she says with a smile, her Italian accent beautiful and unhidden. She holds out her hand.
I take it. Her grip is firm. Her array of rings press cold against my fingers. "I'm Harper."
"Pleasure to meet you. Hudson's…" She pauses. "Girlfriend?"
"Uh. Yeah," I say quickly.
Hudson shifts beside me. "Would you like a drink, Gianna?"
She shakes her head, holding up her hand. "No, thank you. I have to keep my eyes open and my brain clear."
He nods. There's deference in it. Hudson Blake defers to nobody in his own building. But in front of Gianna Milano, he knows exactly where he falls in the food chain.
She glances down at my whiskey, and her whole face changes. It actually brightens, which is not something I’d expect from a mafia princess. "Ah. A real fucking drink. Isn't it ridiculous how here they just assume women have to drink champagne? Like we can't handle anything stronger."
