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gaze jumped to his. He refused to look away. She wasn’t going to argue with him, but she wasn’t spending Stefano’s money. Not one cent. Not for anything. Pietro let her eat there at the deli and she was careful not to abuse that privilege, but she wasn’t going hungry anymore, so she didn’t need Stefano’s money. The Ferraro family seemed to be obsessed with her getting new shoes.
    â€œDon’t piss him off,” Giovanni advised. “Buy yourself the shoes. You can always pay him back. He’ll be home soon and you don’t want to get him riled.”
    â€œHe sent you to check up on me?” she hissed.
    He grinned at her, completely unrepentant. He looked nearly as gorgeous as his brother. And as arrogant. “We’re watching over you,” he admitted. “He’d beat the holy hellout of us if we didn’t. So buy the shoes and keep me from getting a broken nose. I like mine the way it is.”
    She gave him the change. “Just wait right there. I’ve got his coat in the back and you can . . .”
    Giovanni backed away from the counter. “Not going to happen, woman. You give him that coat in person. He’d kill me over that coat. Wear it. He’ll be checking on that, too. Buy some shoes and wear the fucking coat. Put him in a good mood for a change.”
    What did that mean? Stefano looked like he was in a good mood when he was smiling for the cameras with all those women hanging on his arm.
    Giovanni turned away from Francesca, which was just as well because she might have thrown something at him. “Joanna, you haven’t been by the club for a while.”
    Joanna had closed the rest of the magazines, stacked them and turned them all over so only the back covers showed. Francesca was fairly certain it was too late. Giovanni had seen what they were doing. There was no doubt in her mind that he would report that to his brother as well.
    â€œYou been giving our competitors your business?” Giovanni’s tone was teasing, but Joanna looked nervous.
    â€œI love the club,” she said, “but the price is a little steep, and I usually don’t make it in even if I come up with the door fee.”
    Giovanni’s face darkened. “What did you say?”
    â€œIt’s all right, really. I understand. It’s a hot spot. I don’t exactly have the clothes . . .”
    â€œThat’s bullshit.” He pulled a card from his wallet and handed it to her. “Skip the fucking line and show that to the bouncer. They don’t let you in, you call the number on that card and I’ll handle it. You’re one of ours. They let you in when you want in. Come this next weekend and bring Francesca. I’ll be there and so will Stefano. We’ve got a meeting. If there’s any trouble, just call.”
    Francesca was horrified. Shocked, too. Giovanni sounded really angry. Not because of her, but on Joanna’s behalf, andthat made Francesca like him a little better. He didn’t like that Joanna had been refused entry into their club. Still, she was
not
going to some hot club. What was she going to wear? Her holey jeans? Not likely.
    They watched Giovanni leave, and then Francesca came out from behind the counter. “What in the world was that?”
    â€œI don’t know, but clearly the family is watching over you,” Joanna said. She held up the card. “Can you believe he gave me this? He was angry that they didn’t let me in. He said to just jump the line, too. Can you imagine getting to do that? I’ve gotten into the club a couple of times but usually they turn me away at the door.”
    â€œThat’s terrible. Snobs.”
    â€œThe Ferraros clearly aren’t the ones being snobs,” Joanna said, waving the card at her. “We can go dancing, Francesca.”
    â€œI can’t go,” Francesca protested. “I wouldn’t have the money to get