Her knuckles are growing white as she tightens her grip on thechair's back, giving away her docile facade of sisterly affection. With one last glare over her sister's form, she turns her back on us and makes her way over to Christopher, linking her arm through his and tossing her head back, tittering as though he had said something amusing.
Isabella still has her hand wrapped around my arm. Her rigid body betrays the plastered smile she wears on her ashen features. I take a glance at her. She is trying her hardest to hide the distress in her eyes, and it is failing the closer we get to my parents. I follow her eyes as she slightly tightens her hold on my arm. Her parents are standing stiffly across from my parents, sporting disdainful looks on their faces. She slightly retreats in response to the disappointment coming at her from their direction.
I lower my arm, taking her soft hand in mine, attempting to intertwine our fingers in a show of unity, silently letting the room know she will be mine. I can feel her fingers wiggle as she stiffens her hand flat, attempting to break contact as if my touch repulses her.
The slight rejection reignites the annoyance that was a moment ago, slowly diminishing and I quickly intertwine our hands while squeezing slightly, pinching her fingers with mine, reminding her that only a moment ago I told her that she will take what I offer. She falters mid-step from the pain, her smile slightly wavering but regaining her composure quickly.
The way my mother snaps her back straight, tilting her head to the side, one eyebrow raised, locking her fuming features to mine, I know she didn't miss the way I forced Isabella to comply.
My father takes in my mother's defensive posture, immediately putting his hand to the small of her back, drawing her closer to comfort her, and quickly scanning the room to locate her annoyance. "Chiara, love? What's wrong?" He leans in close and whispers.
My mother doesn’t break eye contact with me as she puts her hand on my father’s chest and pats his chest twice, "Nothing I can't handle dear." My father leans down and kisses her on the cheek, completely missing the warning I was given.
My mother steps directly in front of Isabella, freeing her hand from mine and holding it in both of her palms, she gently rubs it. "Isabella! So nice to finally get to meet you." My mother's smile is warm and inviting; "It's been quite the introduction."
Isabella gives a weak smile as my mother gently pulls her away from me. Irritation raises its ugly head as she takes her away from my side, and I step directly behind Isabella, claiming my spot once again beside her.
Isabella drops her head, pursing her lips, as she speaks to the floor; "Yes, I must apologize for that. I am so sorry for the way I represented myself. I didn't mean to embarrass you or my family. I'm not usually this clumsy.”
My mother’s hand gently caresses the top of Isabella's, attempting to relieve the sting of my roughness. My mother's eyes soften. She is already half in love with the girl. I can see it in her eyes.
She leans in closer and puts her hand on Isabella's cheek: "Oh sweetheart, I raised three boys. Do you think this is the first time something has come skidding into a room? I can't tell you how many lunches I've held where a football came sailing through the patio door to land in the middle of the floor.” "Or a window was broken due to a baseball." My father interjects.
My mother barks out a little laugh and pats my father's chest in agreement.
"Isabella, this is Mr. Russo." Isabella reaches out her hand to shake it, but my father's expression becomes softer and he smiles like he's looking at an angel. He pulls her into his massive chest for a hug and says, "So happy to meet you."
Isabella is unmoving, her hands sticking out straight like amannequin, eyes wide, distress written all over her face as she struggles with what to do.
Uncaring my father leans back slightly and cups Isabella's cheeks in his big hands; Isabella flinches slightly and squeezes her eyes tight.
"Beautiful." Her eyes open in response to my father's commanding voice, her bows constrict in bewilderment, and I can see a faint sheen of tears forming in her eyes as they start to become red.
"I'm looking forward to you joining our family," He winks and says, "And I can't wait to have little bambinos running around and bursting into rooms as well." he steps back and drops his hand to gently flick under her chin.
Isabella lets out a little laugh, and a flush forms across her face as she steps away, sheepishly looking at the floor. I’m pretty sure she has to talk to me or let me touch her before I can fuck her and give him grandkids.
"Oh my goodness, we have to get the wedding over with first. Don't rush the poor girl. She’s had quite a night."
My mother rushes to her defence while laughing and holding her hand once again, pulling her away from me to walk her farther into the dining room.
Mr. Gallo takes my mother's place, stepping up beside my father.
“I appreciate you letting this little blunder of hers go, Amato. She's been sheltered for most of her life.” He takes a slow sip of his drink and says, "Social interactions are something she will quickly get accustomed to."
As he leans around my father's shoulder, "Don't worry, Alexander, she'll be ready by the wedding, I promise you that," he quickly adds. He nods at me as if I should approve of him pointing out his daughter's weaknesses like it is a fucking selling point; the whole house knows her flaws.
I can feel my face starting to heat. But my father ends the conversation with very few words. "Take your seat, Robert."
Mr. Gallo stutters out a weak apology and heads over to the table to look for his card. I undo my suit jacket, stepping back to take my seat as well.
"Why does that lovely girl have tear stains down her cheeks, Alex?" He hasn't stopped watching my mother guide everyone to their assigned seats at the table. The deep accusatory tone makes me take a big breath in, and I'm not coming up with an answer that won't make me look like the asshole I seem to be tonight.
Taking a sip of his drink, he lowers the glass and sighs, "You make this shit right. She is a good girl. A gentle soul."
He finally looks at me, disapproval is written on his face. I'm not about to back down. I'll respect his wishes, but she is mine.
I nod. "Understood."
