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“You do! Isn’t that why you had me dress like this?” She gestures to the conservative (for Falynn and her amazing figure) dinner dress that still looks phenomenal on her, but doesn’t hold a candle to anything else she’s worn. She even toned down her makeup. “Isn’t that why you prepped me about them? Why you kept saying I look good on your arm?”

“Falynn, what are we arguing about here? What is it you want from me?”

She folds her arms and shudders out a sigh. “Where is this going?”

“You know what this is.”

Probably the wrong thing to say. Especially after telling me my uncle just propositioned her for sex. She reacts like the words sting as much as any slap across the face. The trace of light pink on her golden complexion no longer looks artificial from the makeup—it’s natural as she flushes from emotion.

“How could I forget?” she says, her volume dropping. “Thanks, Gio. You always know how to make me feel cheap.”

“That’s not how I meant it, and you know it!”

“I can’t do this.”

She turns to go, but I grip her arms and stop her. “Falynn, look at me. Honey,lookat me. Do you see me? You see how you’ve got me? You think any other woman’s ever had me like this? Had me searching down halls for her? Had me about to deck my uncle in the fucking face for coming at her sideways? You are as far from cheap as a human being can get. You are worth the world and more.”

Her fight leaves her. Her body softens, melting into mine. I cup her face in my large palms and our gazes connect. Peering into her beautifully deep brown eyes slows my heartbeat; it makes it flutter like the damn lovesick puppy I become when with Falynn.

I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with the girl. Or as close to love as a cold, heartless bastard like me can get. So much for my beliefs that relationships are strictly transactional and the concept of love isn’t real.

Our lips meet halfway in a slow, soft kiss. It sets everything right again. I’m breathing easy again, tasting the sweetness on her pillowy lips. Nobody’s sweeter than Falynn. Every part of her is like a taste of honey.

“Are we good?” I ask, my head bent, our foreheads touching. I kiss her again for the hell of it. “Let’s go back out there.”

Papa arrives minutes before dinner flanked by his main guys… and Giancarlo. For as old and frail as Papa is, he carries a sense of authority. He’s automatically the most powerful man in the room. Everyone’s eyes are on him as he enters with the aid of his cane. He’s shrunk even in the last month since I’ve seen him swimming in his dress shirt and slacks. But his eyes are ever the same, the bright blue stones only I inherited, not Giancarlo. It’s the most obvious way to tell us apart, because otherwise, we’re identical.

Giancarlo is powerful in his own right, matching me toe to toe. His dark eyes meet mine and we step to each other, gripping the other’s arms before a brotherly embrace. Two rivals sharing the same DNA, same bloodline pretending for one night we wouldn’t do whatever it takes for that crown atop Pa’s head.

His grip on my arm tightens. Mine does the same. We draw apart after the embrace and let another second of tension crackle between us. Giancarlo’s an easy read. The hunger is clear on his face, in the flare of his nostrils and clench of his jaw. In his near-black eyes that are so dark they reflect mine back at me. He blinks, and the moment is over, with him moving onto other family members.

His fiancée, Fiona, is like a songbird, pretty to look at and a voice that chirps. She follows him after a brief hello to me. No doubt she aspires to be the future queen to his king. The two remind everyone of Pa and our mother years back when Pa finally bit the bullet and chose a woman for his heirs.

I glance down at Falynn, and she gives my arm a squeeze—or as best she can with how thick and hard my forearm is. Though we might not be the most traditional pairing in every sense of the word, she’s by my side too.

Dinner begins with a toast to Claro’s freedom. He’s at the front of the table, cheesing hard, showing off his yellow teeth. Pa is at the real head of the table, but barely speaks a word. His looks say enough; his mind is elsewhere.

Julianna and the wives went all out. The table is covered beginning to end in every favorite Italian dish known to man. Silverware and cutlery clink and clank as everybody moves to fill their plates.

I can hardly concentrate on my meal. Once again, it’s a case of irritation scratching away at me. The mask I’d normally be able to wear at a family dinner is nowhere to be found. Where Falynn is concerned, there is no mask. Only the emotion I’ve learned to bury for years. I grit my teeth thinking about how upset Claro made her earlier.

On my left, Claro doesn’t help the situation. He’s already halfway drunk. He slops down more red wine, spilling some on the tablecloth. When Julianna tries to tell him to be careful, he waves a hand dismissing her and turns to Alonzo to tell him about the time he met Jack Nicholson.

“You’re exaggerating,” Alonzo says with an easy laugh. “There’s no way.”

“Exaggerating? What’s that, you dimwit? My whole life’s a movie. Watch it sometime,” Claro slurs. He snorts, the snotty sound like nails on a chalkboard to my ears. “Just ’cause you jackasses have boring existences, you think that’s everybody! Not Claro—my shit’s box office!”

“Claro,” Julianna sighs.

“What? It’s the truth, ain’t it? Not everybody’s like me! You know I got Steve Jobs on speed dial?”

“Steve Jobs died a decade ago. He’sgone, Claro,” Juliana says to laughs around the table.

Claro sways to a stand from his chair, empty wine glass in hand. “So is that figure of yours. Remember when you were a size two?”

The table’s reaction is a mixture of oohs, ahhs, awkward laughs, and tears from Julianna. Claro takes it as a win, a smug smirk on his ugly mug as he moves for the kitchen.

“Don’t mind me. I’m grabbing another bottle. It’s a celebration, ain’t it?”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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