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“Well, I did say hello to everyone,” I replied.
“Hmm ... Bring your grandmother out.” With a nod at Nonna, he turned around elegantly and exited the room.
Although Nonna was just sixty-nine and definitely did not need my help or assistance in walking, I did cling to her as a form of support. Amused, she allowed it. With her hand tapping a rhythm against mine, we walked out together and headed over to the grand dining room.
It was already filled with the guests.
Chapter 6
Sienna
Such a grand room, the ceilings painted with ancient images from Rome, marble statues, and three massive hanging chandeliers, giving off a warm golden light. To the right were extensive floor to ceiling doors and windows that allowed the scenic view of the estate’s fountains, rolling lawns, and the gigantic old trees beyond.
The table, covered in pristine white linen, seemed much longer than I had remembered. It looked amazing with four tall candelabras adding a warm glow to the flower arrangements, crystal glasses, and gleaming silverware.
All around it sat guests, who regarded us curiously.
Nonna’s seat was to the right of the head of the table, next to my father. I settled her in, then glanced at my mother who was seated to my father’s left.
Her lips curled upwards in an approving smile.
I’d hoped the seat by her side or Nonna’s would be left empty for me, but they were occupied by my uncle Piero, who was second in command to my father, and another person I didn’t know.
“Take your seat by Fabio, Sienna,” my mother said. “We’re beginning now.”
Fabio? Who the hell is that? Painfully conscious of the at least thirty pairs of eyes on me, I ran my gaze down the table, found the empty seat halfway down the table, and hurried over to it. I settled down and my napkin folded into a formal bishop’s hat shape, was whisked open and spread neatly across my lap by a waiter who appeared behind me.
I murmured my thanks, then turned to the vaguely familiar woman on my right and smiled at her politely. “Hello.”
“Sienna,” she acknowledged with a nod.
I knew the person my mother actually wanted me to sit next to was on my right. Reluctantly, I turned to that person and stopped. His sharp, dark gaze, wide nose and thin lips, all instantly recognizable features of the Siciliana clan, made him seem familiar.
“Hello,” I greeted.
He was actually good looking, that was, until his lips curved into a smug smile.
I immediately suspected he and I would not get on. When almost a whole minute passed and he still had not taken his gaze away from me, my prediction was confirmed.
The waiters began moving around, serving the first course, lobster bisque. I waited till mine had been placed in front of me, and when he still hadn’t looked away, I squashed my irritation, and said in a light tone, “If you carry on like this, you’re going to bore holes into me …”
“You don’t know who I am, do you?”
I turned to face him. “I apologize. I’ve been away for so long that everyone seems so changed. I’m still trying to familiarize myself with everything.”
“You really don’t remember me?” he asked incredulously. His voice rose louder than necessary and piqued the interest of the other guests.
I took a deep breath, my gaze on the finely chopped chives in the midst of my creamy soup. Then I turned to him again with a smile plastered across my face. “I do—”
“Then who am I?” he demanded aggressively.
I exhaled my growing anger through a breathy laugh. “If you had allowed me to finish you would have heard me say, I don’t remember you, but you look very familiar.”
Suddenly, he swung his gaze away from me and towards my mother. “Aunt Marzia,” he bellowed.
The entire room’s attention was arrested. Even my mother looked startled by his outburst.
I wanted to bury myself in the ground—actually, he was the one I wanted to bury. Arrogant, little prick. I wished I had the freedom to tell him to piss off. That I didn’t give a damn who he was, but all I could do was maintain a serene smile. I didn’t want to embarrass my parents like the idiot was doing.
“Aunt Marzia, Sienna doesn’t know who I am?” he fired off in Italian.
I didn't miss the glance she gave my father before she let out a tinkling laugh and said, “That’s your cousin Fabio, Sienna. Don't you remember? He used to come with us to Rosedale vineyard for the summer vacation. You used to ride bicycles together and play in the pool.”
“Sienna,” one of my other cousins who I actually remembered, spoke up from across the table. “Fabio used to chase you around with frogs from the fish pond.”
“Ah,” I exclaimed, as the reminder jacked an old forgotten memory to life. Fabio was an arrogant, entitled, idiot even then. I turned towards him with a smile. “I remember now. It’s very nice to see you again.”
