Page 93 of The Don’s Omega

“He’s… gentler,” I say softly.

“Gentler?” Costanza repeats, sounding surprised. “That isn’t a word I’d connect to Marcello.”

“Me neither.” Pasquale grins. “I heard he’s beaten men half to death with his bare hands.”

Giulia gives him a warning look and then glances at me. “That was before. When he was an enforcer. He’s not like that now. He doesn’t need to be.”

“Not sure about that.” Pasquale sips his drink. “I heard he slit a man’s throat for hurting Elio or something.”

The blood drains from my face. “What?” I whisper, horrified. “What did he do?”

Pasquale looks a little guilty. “Sorry. I guess you hadn’t heard that particular rumor.”

“That’s exactly the point, Pasquale. Those are just rumors. You have no proof anything like that happened,” hisses Giulia. “Stop gossiping about Marcello. You’re being reckless.”

“I agree.” Costanza looks uneasy. “If he found out you’re saying these things, you could be in trouble.”

My stomach churns because I believe Pasquale is telling the truth. Or at least, he’s telling what he believes to be the truth. Marcello said the people who tried to hurt me had been handled. Would he actually have slit a man’s throat because he was upset about the attack on me?

Pasquale huffs. “How would Marcello find out about what I’m saying?”

When all eyes turn to me, I grimace and hold out my hand. “No, I… I wouldn’t tell Marcello anything. I’m not here to spy. I’m just here to play tennis.”

“Right.” Pasquale nods, but he doesn’t look convinced.

Giulia makes a disgusted sound and she puts her arm around my shoulders. “Elio is one of us. He’s not going to run and tell Marcello everything we say. Why would he?”

“I wouldn’t,” I say.

“Also, I called him to come here today. He didn’t call me.” Her laugh is mocking. “What? You think he agreed to play tennis with me today just so he could come here and set up his big bad spy operation? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Pasquale gives a sheepish smile. “I guess that wouldn’t make much sense.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” Giulia shakes her head. “He’s here because I invited him, and that’s that.”

The group seems to accept her side of things, and they collectively relax.

“Sorry, Elio. I meant no harm.” Pasquale winces.

“It’s okay. You don’t know me yet.” I’m relieved Giulia was able to get through to them. I had no idea what a great ally she would be.

“Who wants another round?” Giulia asks brightly and everyone raises their hands.

The group has just settled back into its easy rhythm, laughing and joking around, when a shadow falls across the table and everyone looks up.

“Salvatore,” Costanza says cheerfully. “I haven’t seen you around lately. It’s been ages.”

I glance up to see an older, handsome, silver-haired man beside us. I know him, but it takes me a second to place where from. Then I recall I met him at the wedding. I met a lot of people at the wedding and most of them I don’t remember. But his warm brown eyes and refined bone structure stuck with me.

“You’re right. It’s been far too long.” His smile is friendly as he greets the group. He’s in a soft linen jacket the color of sand, and he moves confidently, the smile never fading from his deeply tanned face.

“Sit, Salvatore,” Costanza says.

When his gaze meets mine, his smile widens. “Elio, good to see you again. You probably don’t remember me.” He grimaces. “You met so many people at the wedding. I’m Salvatore, an old family friend of Marcello’s father.”

“I remember you.” I return his smile. “But you’re one of the few. The day is a blur.”

“Of course it is. Everyone else gets to enjoy a wedding except the bride and groom. They’re in survival mode, just trying to make it to the wedding night in one piece.” He winks, and lowers himself into the chair Costanza has cleared for him.