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"I uh. We haven't gotten that far," I admitted, glancing back at Lino uneasily.
"Soon," Lino returned, glancing down at me with a warm look. His hand stretched around me, rubbing over my stomach in a way that felt incredibly intimate and full of promise. Everything inside me clenched, the thought of Lino's life inside me making me anxious.
Anxious to feel it.
But I knew it was too soon. We were only just figuring out how we worked together as a couple, hadn't even had our first real fight and who knew how being married would change the way we fought. Lino had been dominating as my friend. I couldn't imagine it would be any better now that I was his wife.
His family wasn't known for their leniency where women were concerned.
Tomasso finally got tired of waiting to greet us, storming over and pressing a too firm kiss to my cheek in greeting. I tried not to flinch away from the touch and the way he made me feel slimy. Despite being only seventeen, his breath smelled like a liquor cabinet. The spoiled, entitled rich boy attended the best private school in Chicago, and promptly drank away every opportunity he was given. Lino had mentioned in the past that he'd already been to rehab for a drug addiction once, and it pained me to think of how Chiara and Lino had turned out so well in comparison, in spite of their father's interference.
There was also the questionable circumstances about Tomasso’s mother’s disappearance to consider. Nobody spoke of his mother, Gabriele's second wife, who disappeared shortly after she gave birth. I had to guess she'd done something unforgivable in Gabriele's eyes, and he'd gotten rid of her. Because no man in the Bellandi family ever tolerated his woman leaving him.
The only way out was through death.
So she was dead, and I'd never know what happened. I doubted even Lino knew.
"Is my new daughter-in-law planning to say hello?" Gabriele asked mockingly from his seat next to the fireplace where he held court. With a sigh, Lino took my hand and guided me to his father. I bent down, kissing him on the cheek as quickly as I could manage before standing straight. "I won't pretend to be pleased about this. Not in my own home."
"Father!" Chiara scolded, but her husband shook his head at her. Such was the legend of Gabriele's cruelty, that a husband had to worry his father-in-law would strike his pregnant daughter.
"I don't expect you to," I admitted. "That suits me just fine. You've never made any secret about your dislike for me. I don't particularly care for you either."
"Samara," Lino’s voice shook with his attempt to restrain his laugh, but I ignored him in favor of holding his father's glare.
"And yet you married my eldest son. You had to know that would mean I'd be in your life. Why do such a thing if you hate me so much?" Gabriele asked, sipping at his whiskey.
"I don't recall saying I hated you. That would require me to give you more thought than you deserve," I paused, taking a deep sigh. "I'll admit, there were times I hated you. Every time I tended to Lino after you beat him. I don't think I've ever wished somebody dead, except for you."
"Perhaps you need to leash your wife, Angelino," Gabriele sneered.
Lino merely chuckled at my back. "Nah, she's much more entertaining when she runs wild. I never did care for a woman to be so beaten down she doesn't dare speak in my presence. I'm not like you," he said.
“In our lives, women are to remember their place. They do not question our decisions or the way we raise our sons. They sit at home and pop out children when we demand. Bellandi men do as they please, and you would reduce our name to a pussy-whipped weakling,” Gabriele barked the words to Lino, and from the corner of my eye I saw Tomasso smirk like he knew the first thing about being a man just because he’d inherited his father’s cruelty. “But you’ll grow bored of her. You always did tire of your toys quickly.”
Lino stepped forward, like he might intervene, but I held him back with a hand at his chest. I wouldn’t, couldn’t, let Gabriele see how the words affected me.
"Dinner will be ready shortly," the butler said, stepping into the room and interrupting the tension. I'd never learned his name, in all his years of working at the Bellandi household. He refused to give it. Talk about archaic and horrible. Lino sighed out his frustrations, turning his attention to me.
"Come with me before dinner," he said, taking my hand and tugging me away. "I want to show you something." I waved a brief goodbye to the others, letting him guide me into the hall and a few doors down. I knew before we got there exactly where he led me.
"It's still here," I breathed when we walked into the room. The grand piano at the back of the room never failed to take my breath away. I knew some of Lino's only memories of his mother were of her sitting at that piano, with him on the bench next to her, as she played and sang to him softly.
"Sing for me," Lino smiled, gesturing me to the piano.
Shaking my head, I backed away a step. "It's not a good time. The others—"
"It's been too long since I heard you sing, Little Dove. Please?" The pleading in his voice was enough to break me down, but my hands shook as I made my way to the bench. Flipping the keylid up over to reveal the keys, I let out a deep breath. It'd been so many years since I'd played in front of anyone, I tried to think of what song I could sing for Lino that would communicate everything I felt about myself and about him.
Eventually, I settled on a song I'd never sung for him. One that I knew would push my voice, probably too much considering how out of practice I was, but the words were about a woman overcoming and fighting for herself, and then finding healing in the arms of someone who saw the strength she held inside.
The first finger touched the keys, and then I paused. Closing my eyes, I let the feel of the keys sweep me away as I played the intro. It started slow; a soft melody that became more haunting as the song went on. When my voice joined in, it shook. The tremble almost made me fumble over the words, my fingers barely gliding over the keys the way I wanted them to.
But it solidified, my voice strengthened.
I found me. The piece of me Connor had killed every time he told me I sounded like a dying cat. Every time he told me I'd never find a career and that my friends were just afraid to hurt my feelings.
And as the song picked up the tempo, my voice grew, less hesitant and louder until I had the fleeting thought that the others would hear. I didn't care.
