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For once, I agree with my brother.
Hell, I’d prefer no alone time,period—pre- or post-dreadful wedding.
A calm Benny cocks his head to the side and smirks. “You must not have heard me correctly, Tommaso.” His tone is taunting, like a bully on the playground. “Either go get Neomi or I will move you myself and hunt her down in this house.”
Tommaso unclenches his fist to point at the floor. “You two can spend the day here then.”
“I can fix a nice lunch for you to enjoy on the patio,” my mother chimes in.
“I’m taking Neomi out,” Benny states like he’s the final decision maker.
Tommaso raises his voice and straightens his back. “I don’t know who you think you’re speaking to, Marchetti, but this is out of line.”
Benny flicks his hand through the air. “Go fetch her for me.”
“I’m not a damn dog,” I hiss. I meant for my comment to be for Isabella’s ears only, but I was louder than intended.
Benny’s head snaps in my direction, and a slow smile builds along his wicked face at the sight of me. “Ah, there she is. Saved you a trip, Tommy boy.”
He smacks Tommaso’s shoulder, and my brother stumbles back.
From the anger burning on Tommaso’s face, I’m waiting for him to lunge at Benny and for them to brawl in the middle of the foyer. My brother is a hothead. He thrives on the power he carries from being next in line to the Cavallaro throne.
The Cavallaros are a strong family.
People fear us.
We’ve been in this city long enough to run many parts of it.
Tommaso is accustomed to being respected and has murdered men for less than Benny is pulling.
Why is he allowing Benny to disrespect him like this?
Where is my trigger-happy brother?
Benny performs acome-hithermotion at me. “Time for us to go.”
I grip the railing. “I agree with my brother about us spending time alone pre-marriage. It’s not a good look for my reputation.”
Isabella snorts, and I throw her a dirty look.
Benny’s eyes harden on me, like Tommaso’s is on him. “Neomi, now.”
I stare at him in defiance.
“Don’t speak to my sister like that,” Tommaso practically growls.
Benny continues ignoring him and keeps his attention on me.
Isabella and I jump when Tommaso pulls out his gun.
“Tommaso,” my mother gasps.
As if Benny still had eyes on Tommaso the entire time, he slightly turns his head so the gun is pointed directly at his face.
“Did you not hear what I said, Marchetti?” Tommaso asks, thrusting the gun closer toward Benny. “You do not come into our home and disrespect me.”
Benny chuckles—it’s deep and cunning—and swipes his thumb along his bottom lip. “Don’t pull a gun on a man unless you intend to shoot him.” He advances a step toward my brother. “Do you plan to shoot me, Tommaso?”
