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Rather than bite back, instead she was all steely politeness. ‘Your suites have been prepared.’
‘There was no need for that. My brother and sister are staying at my uncle’s and I am staying at the hotel.’
‘Well, should anyone change their mind—’
‘I very much doubt it.’
Dante having cut her off, she stood, her arms still around herself as he walked through the lounge, ignoring the tray where drinks had been set up. Instead he went to a large buffet and opened a crystal decanter and poured himself a glass of amber fluid.
‘Aren’t they coming through?’ Mia asked.
‘You really expect us to have a drink and mingle?’ Dante checked, and gave a black mirthless laugh. ‘I don’t think so. I sent them straight to the dining room. We all just want this dinner over with, Mia. Let’s just get it done and then we will be out of your hair.’
‘Fine,’ she said, and went to head out. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ Dante said to her departing back, and watched her stiffen. ‘Youshalljoin us for dinner.’
‘It’s a family dinner,’ Mia said, her cheeks a touch pink as she turned around. ‘You’ve all made it exceptionally clear that I’m not welcome in the fold.’
‘It was my father’s wish that we all dine together and it is also the only chance to go over tomorrow’s arrangements as I am heading to the vigil soon. I won’t have time to waste explaining things twice.’
‘What is there to explain? Everything’s been organised.’
‘The cars, the seating, the eulogy, the timing of the wake, the reading of the will...’ He ran a list by her, tapping the fingers of his hand as he did so. ‘Or do you just want to waft around tomorrow, dabbing at your crocodile tears, having had absolutely zero input as to the final arrangements for your own husband’s funeral?’
The very last thing she wanted was dinner with the Romanos but, it would seem, she had no choice.
He did not await her response. Dante turned and headed off to take his place at the table.
‘Isshe joining us?’ Ariana asked, because, despite Rafael’s instructions, none of them thought she would have the gall to.
‘I believe so,’ Dante said.
‘She’s got a nerve—’
‘Cut it out, Ariana,’ Dante warned.
He did not like the group attack mentality; heaven knows, he had dealt with it enough himself at work and in his family. Dante himself would face anyone one on one and let them know his mind, but he would not have them sit there and gang up on Mia.
He was also aware he had gone too far with his animosity back in the lounge, but the sight of her had been like a kick in the guts. The house, when he had stepped in, had been so silent. In an Italian home, there would be crying and keening, such as would be taking place at his aunt’s now.
Yet Mia had stood there so still and silent and dignified.
Finally she walked into the dining room.
Still silent, still dignified and still completely capable of turning him on.
CHAPTER THREE
THESEATATthe head of the table was left empty out of respect for the recently departed and there were a lot of side looks as Mia took her seat at the opposite end of the gleaming table.
Mia was, after all, the lady of the house.
And theydetestedher for it.
Wine from the private Romano vineyard, the one still owned by his father, was served and toasts were made.
Dante kicked off.‘Dei morti parla bene.’
