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“Ma, you don’t need any more credenze,” Christian protested.
“But I do,” she wailed. “I only have nine in our dining room!”
She was batshit crazy—I knew it. “Why don’t you just get one shipped over?” My tone was terse. Her crying was getting on my nerves.
“No, they get s-s-seized by customs,” she sobbed. “You know, when they get their sniffer d-d-dogs out. I still haven’t got over that original 1970s credenza I lost two years ago!”
She’d completely lost me now. “Er, Fantasia, why would customs seize a sideboard?”
Anni sighed. “It was our cousin’s fault.”
"The problem with our family is how many fucking cousins we have and all the issues they cause,” muttered Christian. “I spend all my time dealing with onestupidocousin after another, clearing up their shit and trying to put things right.”
“Our cousin collected Ma’s sideboard from the seller and delivered it to the freight shipping line in Naples,” Anni explained. “What we didn’t know was that he’d used the top of it to cut his lines of coke on…”
“Ma, I keep telling you,” Christian interrupted, “we’re in charge of all the ports in New York State now. We can get any credenza you want shipped in freight from Italy, and I’ll make sure that it bypasses customs.”
“Nooo,” she bawled, “IneedAnnunciata to go to Italy and b-b-bring me back three more c-c-credenze on Lorenzo’s private plane...”
Jesus, the woman was a loon. Who collectedsideboards? And who needed so many in one house?
I wasn’t sure how much more of this fucking family I could take.
CHAPTER 6
ANNUNCIATA
The celebratory meal was long and exhausting, and I was irritated at having to keep quiet as per Ma’s instructions.
Ma’s cousins openly gawked at Lorenzo’s good looks, annoying me with their lack of subtlety. You’d have thought at their age that they would have known better.
The Marchianos all looked miserable. Their Capo, Marco, looked like he’d rather cut off his right arm than actually try to enjoy himself. The Mexican food at the clubhouse was always delicious, and I really wasn’t sure what their problem was.
We were having quesadillas for the second course, the soft corn tortillas filled with beef and cheese. As I ate, I looked around at the clubhouse, which had been decorated for Mexican Night with papel picado. The sheets of tissue paper were cut into intricate designs and their bright colors glowed around the room.
Lorenzo sat on my right-hand side, and I loathed that I had to be so close to him. His masculine scent seemed to surround me, his nearness making my skin prickle with unease.
As he reached for some more water, the sleeve of his dark suit brushed against me, the fabric feeling rough against my bare arm. My whole body felt oversensitive and hyperaware of each movement he made and every look he gave me.
As a distraction, I began to ask Lorenzo about his children. “How old did you say your children—”
But then Christian interrupted. “What the fuck?” he snapped, glaring at our cousin, Benny. “Why the fuck did you just kick me, Benny? Have you got a death wish?”
Benny looked sheepish. “I was trying to kick Anni like your ma told me to if she said anything.”
I sighed. My cousin was such an idiot. If he couldn’t even kick straight, what hope did he have with a gun?
I gave up trying to make conversation. Instead, I gave in to the thoughts that had been running through my head all evening. There was no way Lorenzo and me would ever manage to be friends and have a tolerable marriage. He wouldn’t even put a fricking sombrero on his head. We had absolutely nothing in common.
I didn’t want much out of a husband. I mean, I hadn’t even asked him about his family, friends, GPA, hobbies, or criminal record. But the one thing I did want, and that was non-negotiable for me, was someone who wouldn’t look down on my family and me.
I looked at him, his superior expression making it clear that he thought he was too good for our Mexican night. He also kept looking at Ma like she was a bit strange.
I just knew that I couldn’t be married to a man like him, and I had to find a way to make him not want to marry me. The only way to do that would be to make it clear to him that I wasn’t into this marriage idea as much as him—despite the contract that had been signed and the gigantic diamond rock he’d just given me.
***
Once the dinner was finally over, limoncello and more champagne were served in the outdoor area next to the pool, allowing people to mingle.
