Marco scoffs.“At least I know how to fuck a woman properly.Yourwife is clearly unsatisfied, seeing as how you don’t even share a bedroom. Maybe I should give you some lessons, eh? Let you borrow my friends here for a few practice rounds?”
He wiggles his brows, and Dante’s whole body goes taut as he shoots back,“You need to watch where you stick your dick, Marco. The Brunos have eyes everywhere.”
Tension ratchets in the room and I find myself mindlessly pulling at the hem of my dress. Maybe being ten minutes late wasn’t the wisest choice. I should have waited longer, like…never. I could have had a greasy burger and fries delivered to my room and spent the evening watchingSchitt’s Creek. I really didn’t need this tonight, not after all of last night’s drama.
“That’s funny, brother,”Marco says.“You’re one to tell me to be careful who I fuck.”
The inflections in their words and force of their tones suggest they’re seconds away from an all-out yelling match, or possibly a physical altercation. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, eyes flicking toward the door. That’s when I notice Armani watching me, so I try to look confused, pretending not to understand what’s going on.
Fuck you guys, I think.I’m fucking fluent. I spent three years speaking nothing but Italian every single day, so joke’s on them. And there are more than a few things I could say right back, but of course I won’t. Let them fight. I don’t have a stake in this argument, and I’d rather play my cards close to the vest. The Bellantis not knowing I speak Italian could come in handy later.
The kitchen door swings open, and two men in aprons come out with the salad course.
Dante cools his features back into his trademark impassive face. Marco’s apparently had enough, though, because he gets out of his chair before the food is set down and ushers his dates toward the door, switching back to English as he herds them out.
“Sincerest apologies for my brother’s rude behavior, ladies,” he says loudly. “Let’s go out tonight instead of sitting in this viper’s nest. You’ve both earned it.”
He makes a show of pinching them each on the ass on their way out.
Without acknowledging anything going on in the dining room, the waitstaff set the plates down and then fill our glasses, then leave as if nothing out of the ordinary has taken place. Maybe it hasn’t. Maybe this is just par for the course at Casa Bellanti.
Armani stares at his salad with a blank look. There are shadows beneath his eyes and a furrow in his brow. He looks tired. Probably exhausted by his family, and from what little I’ve experienced so far, it seems like it doesn’t take much for this group to wear each other down with their bickering. He smooths his tie as he stands and nods politely at me, then Dante.
My husband speaks in English as he picks up his wineglass. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m not very hungry. And I’ve got a morning meeting to prep for.”
“Armani,” Dante says.
Armani gives a slight bow. “Good night, brother. Francesca.”
Then he’s gone, leaving me and Dante alone, and we haven’t even gotten past the salad course yet.
Meeting, my ass.Why couldn’t you take me with you?I scream in my mind. Picking up my wineglass, I swirl it gently and eye my husband over the rim as I sip. It’s a sweet red but the delicious notes do little to temper the bitterness of my words.
Raising a finger, I tick off each word aimed at Dante. “Criminals, senators, mobsters, princes. I didn’t see any elected officials or royalty here tonight, so what does that make your brothers?”
I take another sip of wine.
Dante doesn’t answer.
15
Frankie
“I’d liketo go to my father’s house, please. You can just drop me off, and I’ll call when I’m ready to leave.”
Donovan opens the car door for me. “Apologies, Mrs. Bellanti,” he says kindly, if a little uncomfortably. “I’m not allowed to leave you anywhere.”
I go still, reluctant to get into the back seat now. “You don’t have to wait for me. Really. I might be there all day, and it’s only a few minutes from here.”
He smiles in that practiced, yet genuinely warm way. “I’m happy to wait as long as it takes, Mrs. Bellanti. Itismy job.”
“But—” I pull in a breath. I know this isn’t his fault, but I can’t help feeling pissed about it. A little sick over the whole thing, actually. My husband has apparently forbidden me to go anywhere—even right here in town, to see my own fucking family—without a chaperone.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Donovan repeats. “Would you like to revise your itinerary?”
With a sigh, I tell him no, and that I understand. “And I appreciate that you’re looking out for me,” I add, slipping into the back seat. He seems relieved that I’m not kicking up a fuss.
