“I hope you don’t think you’re smoking that in the house,” Leo said, appearing from nowhere in a classic tuxedo.

“No respect for elders anymore,” Mimi lamented. “Relax, Leonardo, it’s part of my look.”

Leo’s grandmother had opted for more casual attire: gray pajamas with puppies on them—in complete defiance of the occasion. “I’m dropping right into bed after this,” Grammie had announced loudly after her fourth glass of champagne, which was technically supposed to be for the New Year, not the hours leading up to it. But Leo had been prepared with plenty of alcohol. He’d said Grammie’s tolerance was legendary.

On one table were glass champagne flutes with bottles of champagne, and on another were plastic champagne flutes with bottles of sparkling white grape juice for the kids. A large cheese tray occupied a table in the middle.

Most of the kids wore party hats and played with noisemakers. Angelo, Davide, and Uncle Sal sat in a corner in black suits with their hair slicked back like they were on mafia business.

It was half an hour until midnight. Netting with red, black, and silver balloons was strung below the high ceiling of the dining room. Hanging close to the ceiling was a long, clear, plastic bag with red confetti inside. There were two pull cords against the wall, one that would release the balloons and another that would release the confetti.

The large flat screen from the game room had been rolled in so they could watch the ball drop in the city. Though it wasn’t far from here, the experience of standing in Times Square was for tourists and those who enjoyed adventures in bladder control. Faith was glad the family had chosen to stay inside Leo’s warm fortress instead.

He interacted with his family, laughing and talking while he kept her close, a hand on the small her back as if reassuring himself she was still there. In public, he’d been the perfect fiancé, holding her hand, kissing her at all the appropriate moments, and looking at her as if her existence alone made the rest of his world real and solid. But behind the door of his bedroom he kept his distance, not making conversation, rolling over immediately to go to sleep—when he came to bed at all. If he still wanted her, he was doing a great job of hiding it.

Several nights he hadn’t come to bed until way into the night after she’d already fallen asleep. She knew where he was during those times. Faith didn’t want to speculate about what happened in the hotel between Leo and the other woman. Probably a lot of it was stuff she’d just as soon not do, but the threat of Caprice loomed ever larger in her mind, her stomach now tied in knots by the fear that the other woman wouldn’t go back to Vegas, and the larger fear that being Leo’s mistress wasn’t her end game.

If she didn’t get on that plane, it was only a matter of time for Faith. Though Angelo had started to be nicer to her, she didn’t hold any illusions. Being with Leo kept her breathing. It was clear observing his brother that the man didn’t do loose ends, and having no weakness toward the fairer sex, he had no problem disposing of any threat of either gender.