Sunday dinner is at six. Non-negotiable.
Mama started the tradition thirty years ago. No business at the table. No phones. No excuses. Just family, gathered in the dining room where we’ve celebrated birthdays and mourned deaths and pretended to be normal.
The dining room fills at its own pace. Gia arrives first, still in scrubs, dark hair in a messy bun. She kisses my cheek.
“You look terrible.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean it. When did you last sleep?”
“I’m fine, Gia.”
Her chin drops. Eyes flat. The same face she gives patients who lie about their pain levels.
Nico comes next, phone pressed to his ear. Linen shirt, sleeves rolled like he’s above trying. He ends the call when he sees me watching.
“Business.”
“On Sunday?”
“The legitimate kind.” He grins. “Someone has to make sure we have clean money to wash the dirty money with.”
Renzo appears. One moment the chair is empty; the next, he’s there.
He nods. I nod back.
Marco comes last. Still carrying tension in his shoulders. Takes his seat across from me. Doesn’t look at me.
Gia notices. Her eyes flick between us. She doesn’t ask.
Cassia hesitates at the entrance.
She’s wearing dark green tonight. Fabric that skims her curves without clinging. Simple. Elegant.
It shouldn’t affect me.
It does. My cock stirs, and I hate myself for it.
“Come in.” Gia waves her toward the empty chair. “You’re family now. That means you’re required to suffer through these dinners like the rest of us.”
Cassia’s lips part. Her shoulders drop an inch, the stiffness leaving them for the first time all week.
She takes the seat next to Gia. Across from Nico, who’s studying her with sharp eyes.
Maria serves Sunday roast. Potatoes. Vegetables from Nonna Rosa’s garden. The same meal Mama used to make, served on the same china.
Nico breaks first. “So. Cassia. Dante tells me you’ve been going through our financial records.”
She sets down her fork. “Is that a problem?”
“Not at all. I’m curious what you’ve found.”
“Nico.” Warning in my voice.
“What? I’m making conversation. We can’t discuss business, but we can discuss accounting. That’s math. Math isn’t business.”
Gia rolls her eyes. “You’re impossible.”
