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Giulio Pavone, Emilio Pavone’s son.
I’ve never seen him before, and I stare at him for a moment. He’s more handsome than his father, though his idea of appropriate wedding attire is on the casual side. No tie, a few buttons popped open on his shirt.
“Sorry I’m late. Traffic was abysmal,” Giulio says, not sounding sorry at all. “Hey, Damien! Did I miss much?”
Rossi, standing off to Pavone’s side, nods. “You missed the entire rehearsal.”
I don’t like how Pavone’s grip tightens on me to the point of bruising.
“It’s fine,” I quickly say. “He’s just a groomsman, right? He only has to stand next to Damien during the wedding.”
Pavone turns his glare on me for a brief moment, then he lets go so he can focus on his son. “This is why you don’t get to be best man.”
Giulio laughs as he strolls down the aisle. As he approaches, I realize he’s wearing sandals with his suit. He isn’t as concerned with appearances as his father—or he’s deliberately trying to provoke him.
Fuck. Navigating Pavone’s moods is difficult enough when there isn’t somebody poking the bear.
“But I’m the one with the rings, right?” Giulio starts going through all his pockets, and when he’s done, he holds up his empty hands. “I might have forgotten them at home. You want me to go get them now? I’d have to skip the dinner, but…”
Before Pavone can start yelling, Rossi steps between the two of them. “You don’t have the rings, Giulio. I do. And you played this same trick the last time.”
“Trick?” Giulio asks, a bit too innocently. “I’d never play tricks on my esteemed father.”
He has to be a little crazy. Son or not, he has to know he’s going to piss his father off. Of course, he’s not the one who’s going to have to deal with the aftermath. That’s me.
I narrow my eyes at him. He’s going to turn this into a fucking train wreck, and he’ll waltz away laughing while I deal with Pavone’s rage.
“Oh, hey. You must be Lucille,” he tells me with a wide grin. He offers his hand to me to shake.
“Lucia,” I correct him, trying to keep my voice mild.
“Right. Lucia,” he says agreeably. “You’re very pretty. I see why my father is so enamored with you.”
Enamored. Right.
“Thank you,” I say, while Pavone gnashes his teeth next to me.
The priest suddenly coughs loudly. “Ah, I think that was the extent of the rehearsal? Unless you’d like to go through it again with your son present?”
“No,” Pavone growls. “We’re not wasting more time for his sake. Let’s just go to the restaurant.”
If we go to the restaurant, this is over. All of our plans centered around the rehearsal venue itself, not the restaurant. There will be too many civilians at the dinner.
Maybe it’s time to accept that no one’s coming to my aid.
“Ignore him,” Rossi whispers to Pavone. “He’s trying to get under your skin.”
“I know that,” Pavone snaps back. “Giulio, you’re coming with us.”
Giulio grins widely. “What? But I parked illegally. I can’t leave my car here. I’ll just meet you at the restaurant…”
“You’re coming with us, and that’s final. Damien, take the sister and mother. It’s a fucking five-minute drive, nobody had better belateagain.”
Great. So much for a small reprieve from everything. But we obediently file out, and I’m in the awful position of being in a car with Pavone and Giulio. At least Giulio took the passenger seat.
“Yo, Derek. Been a while,” Giulio greets the driver. The driver seems happy to see him, and the two of them chat for a bit while Pavone’s expression only darkens. Finally, Pavone snaps, “Pay attention to the fucking road. I’m not paying you to chat.”
The driver instantly falls silent.
