“Oh, it’s just a silly party, godfather,” Arabella said, rushing to my defense.
My fingers tightened around the fork. What the sweet summer child needed to learn was that I fought my own battles.
The top of the evening news bent, and my grandfather looked over it, condescension written on his face. “Carraway is an old friend. We go as a group.”
The don’s order was an end to the discussion.
Or at least, it was supposed to be.
“The last time I was at his house, Luigi and I swam naked in his pool.” I dropped the fork and steepled my hands. “Since then, I’ve been forbidden from the premises.”
Arabella gasped.
From the side of the room, another small huff that could have been a laugh whispered. I fought the urge to look her way, but I was dying to see what was written on Rae’s face.
“That was when you were a boy,” my grandfather growled. “I would hope that you’ve outgrown those antics by now, or I’ve seriously misplaced my judgement of you.”
I shrugged. “Maybe my suit will catch fire on one of those tapers Mrs. Carraway insists on lighting, and I’ll have no choice but to swim.”
“See that it doesn’t.” My grandfather flicked the paper straight. “And Luigi isn’t coming.”
The distasteful way he spoke my friend’s name tinged my vision with red. I shoved my plate back.
“Dominico, you’ve hardly eaten,” my grandmother protested. “Do you not like the chicken?”
“I have a phone call,” I muttered. Because it was either leave now or launch my wine glass through the perfectly creased newspaper. It would be a safe bet that the butler still ironed the paper before presenting it to my grandfather. And it would be a waste to undo his hard work.
“There’s dessert,” Arabella hedged.
Taking a deep breath so as not to snap at her, I counted to ten in my head.
Gloved hands reached for my plate. “It’s some vanilla cake. Franky baked it when he heard you were staying.”
Those words, whispered in my ear, eased the knot in my belly.
“On second thought, I’d love something sweet.” I flicked a glance up at Rae. “Bring dessert to the green room?”
One of her dark brows twitched. It was the smallest movement. A question to my order.
“Please,” I tacked on.
“Nonsense, we’ll have it in the parlor,” Grandmother responded.
“I’m not one of your fancy guests, Nonna. The green room is far more comfortable.” I added a cheeky smile, knowing she would do anything I asked.
“Oh, fine, very well. Mr. Romano? Prepare the espresso.” My grandmother continued eating after she gave the instructions to the butler.
I shot out of my chair and hurried to the door after Rae’s retreating form. That uniform might be something from the 1800s, but it didn’t hide the vision of her curves.
She must have felt me watching, because she stopped to let me pass. As I did, she hissed under her breath, “Boys who don’t eat their veggies shouldn’t have dessert.”
I snorted. Was she seriously scolding me right now? The look in her eye sent another rush of heat south.
“Carrots aren’t veggies. Look it up,” I whispered.
Rae smirked.
Maybe I wouldn’t run away just yet.
