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“Yes, Spencer. We shouldn’t be rude. The next thing you know, we’ll ignore people when they speak to us.” I couldn’t stop myself.
I’d never seen Spencer look as cold as he did now, turning ever so slowly to stare at his mother. Though, I had seen him look plenty intimidating at different moments when I’d gone into meetings at Mitchell’s main offices to help with the procurement of properties. But there was always a removal of personal investment when he looked at the people he intimidated.
Now, there was no removal. Instead, he was fully present, and his gaze was so cold that it burned as his eyes practically turned black.
“You’re quite right, my love,” he said, his voice so icy it could’ve made the surface of the table freeze over. “I shouldn’t whisper in respectful company. I was just informing my wife that I would be—”
“Spencer,” Sloane said, her voice stern. I turned to look at her, seeing that she’d placed her hands over Becca’s ears. In turn, her daughter looked around in frustration as she tried to break away from her mother’s grip.
Spencer shrugged. “She might as well hear the truth at some point.”
“Not now. And certainly not from you.”
“For once, your sister and I agree on something,” Heidi said, reaching for her glass of wine.
“That’s not helping,” Sloane said, not looking at her mother as she uncovered her daughter’s ears. “This is not the time or the place for any of this, and you both know that.”
“Speaking of the time and place for certain things,” I cut in, tightening my fingers around Spencer’s, “where are Stephen and Nadia, the future bride and groom that we’re here to celebrate?”
“They had a few errands to run in Milan for the wedding,” Sloane said as she reached for the water pitcher to fill up her glass and Becca’s. “They’ll be back this evening. I know Nadia wanted to speak to you about a few things.”
Dear God, if this was one of those situations where I was going to be asked to stand up in a wedding because I’m married to the groom’s brother, I might never forgive Spencer for looping me into this.
“Oh? Do you have any idea what she wants to talk to me about?” I asked as a few members of the household staff started filtering in and out of a massive kitchen on the ground floor that opened onto the terrace, putting several platters of fragrant food down in front of us: simple white asparagus roasted with olive oil, risotto with seafood from the Adriatic, a radicchio salad with walnuts, and polenta. It was simple and perfectly made, and as we passed the plates around, the food seemed to allow the family to relax a bit more.
“I’m not sure,” Sloane answered as everyone at the table was distracted by the food.
Becca stole my attention from the idea of being a last-minute bridesmaid while she chattered to me about her lovely life here in Italy; as Spencer said, she was a true encyclopedic source on the history of the region. She told me all about the school she attended back in London and about her best friend, Ollie, who she always missed when she came back here.
“Do you have a best friend?” she asked me.
“I do,” I answered.
“Is she lovely like you?”
My eyes widened as I smiled down at her. “Even lovelier,” I winked at her.
“What’s her name?”
“Breanne, but we all call her Bree. It’s easier, I guess.”
“How did you meet my uncle Spencer?” she questioned.
I could only laugh at how I’d really met the man sitting at my other side; however, Heidi, the bitch glaring at us frostily, wouldn’t appreciate hearing that tale at the table if she thought whispering was ill-mannered.
“I met him through my best friend, Bree,” I lied.
“You did? How?”
“Well, Uncle Spencer is best friends with Bree’s husband, Alex. They all live close to each other on the beach, and one lovely night, Bree and I were taking a walk at sunset, and there was your uncle Spencer. The rest is history.”
I was never one for being a creative storyteller, so I knew I should quit while I was ahead. This adorable little girl was much too inquisitive, and I’d never remember all the lies I’d have to tell if I got going.
“I’d love to visit one day,” she said, making me feel like shit for lying.
It was time to squeeze out of this conversation as efficiently as possible before I ended up inviting her to our beach house and dragging out this fraud even longer than anticipated.
Easier said than done, though. Her sweet smile and how she rubbed my arm before answering a question that Nonna asked about her studies made me feel like a wretch.
