Page 97 of Vow

Sly, sure.

Not stupid.

Andino planned on using that to his advantage. Glancing at Siena, he said, “We’ll talk more on the John thing when I get something worked out.”

“Sure,” Siena replied.

“Should we try the cake?” Ginevra asked.

“Why bother?” Andino shrugged one shoulder, and stood from the table. “None of us are going to actually eat it.”

Ginevra glanced up at him with a knot between her brows. “What does that mean?”

He simply gave her a smile. “You’ll find out soon enough. Just keep doing what you’re told, Ginny.”

• • •

Five days to go.

Andino’s life had been reduced to counting down the days to a wedding that shouldn’t have been agreed to in the first place. He felt like a ticking time bomb that had almost reached its time to blow, but it wasn’t coming fast enough.

He was ready to put an end to all of this.

For good.

But for now?

Andino held his arms out straight, and allowed the tailor to take yet another set of measurements. Not that the man needed it—Andino’s size hadn’t changed since his early twenties. Nonetheless, the man was particular, and demanded Andino be sized each and every time he came in to have a suit tailored.

But … at least if he was here doing this, then he didn’t need to be somewhere else handling the goddamn Calabrese brothers. That seemed like a fair trade to him. After all, he was going to have to deal with Kev and Darren more than he would ever want to soon enough.

“All right, Andino,” his old, familiar tailor said. “I think I have everything. Dante, you’re up next. And stop fucking scowling, Dante, you know I hate doing your measurements when you scowl.”

“Maybe because you keep finding inches where there are none,” Dante bitched under his breath as he pushed up from the couch.

The tailor still heard his uncle anyway. “That’s what happens as we grow older. Things shift, and move. You still look fine enough for a man your age; as your wife hasn’t left your difficult ass yet, we can all safely assume she feels the same way. Stop whining, and get up here.”

Chuckles passed around the room between the Marcello men. For a second, Andino felt comforted by the familiarity of it all. Had this been any other day … for any other event … he might not have felt the nostalgia be chased away by the heaviness of his impending fucking doom.

Dramatic?

Maybe.

Still felt true, though.

Andino took a seat between his uncle, and his grandfather as Dante stepped up beside the tailor to be measured on the small platform. His boss eyed him from the position with a softer eye than usual.

Normally, Dante surveyed Andino like he was trying to get inside his head, or size him up for what might be coming next. It often made him feel like a bug under a damn microscope, but he was becoming numb to it. This was just Dante’s way. Andino didn’t have to like it.

“What?” he eventually asked.

Dante smiled. “Nothing, just thinking, nipote.”

“Care to share with the rest of the class?”

Antony laughed beside him, and Lucian only smirked.

“You can talk if you can listen at the same time,” the tailor warned Dante, “now widen those legs for me.”