Page 51 of Dante

“Behold Dante’s great-great-grandfather, Salvatore Ricci. He came from Sicily with nothing but a desire to build a dynasty. By the time he was twenty-one, he’d bought this house.”

“That’s a fast trajectory,” I say, forcing myself to sound impressed.

I’m still shaking from Silvio’s outburst and having Biscotti ripped from my arms.

But if I want to remain a part of this family, I must shake away my worries and convince myself that Biscotti will be okay.

“Yes. Salvatore was a true pioneer. You’ll learn more about him at the ‘From Docks to Dynasty’ exhibition tomorrow night.”

Before I can ask anything else, a man whispers something in Silvio’s ear.

“Excuse me, niece. Duty calls.”

When Silvio walks away, I turn back to the photograph of Salvatore Ricci.

The man has dark, dangerous eyes. He looks remarkably like Dante, except his expression is decidedly cruel.

“Here you are,” says Angie, kissing me on both cheeks and taking a step back to look at my dress. “I like it! You seem like a different person in this getup.”

“I feel like a different person,” I say.

“What did you wear to fancy parties in L.A.?” she asks.

“Something brighter. Maybe a print.”

“Ha! Dressing like that could get you confused with a hospitality girl around here. And that could get you in big trouble with Dante.”

“What’s a hospitality girl?”

“The girls employed by the casino to keep the guests happy,” Angie explains. “Come, let me introduce you to the aunties.”

We cross the room, and she presents me to a gathered group of older women.

“Good evening, aunties. You all met Dante’s new bride at the wedding. Gina, these are your aunties.”

“I spoke to your mother at the wedding,” one of them says. “Lovely woman. I hear she works outside the home.”

“Yes. She’s a librarian.”

“Imagine,” the other woman says. “How did she have time to raise you?”

I don’t know what to make of that. Clearly, these women have never worked.

As I smile, I scan the room for Dante. He’s in a shadowy corner, his face intense.

But when he sees me looking at him, he excuses himself and comes to my side.

“Good evening, ladies. Would you mind if I whisk my wife away for a moment?”

The ladies titter their consent.

“How are you enjoying the party?” Dante asks.

“It’s fine. But Dante, Silvio cursed at Biscotti. And then…”

“You knew the consequences of bringing him. Yet you defied me.”

“No, Dante, I didn’t —”