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“Welcome, Matron Veles, Pyotr,” he says stiffly, inclining his head ever so slightly. “Thank you for joining us again.”
“I’m delighted to be invited for another wonderful meal, even if the commute is no small thing,” my mother says, laying it on thick. “We’ll have to return your generous hospitality sometime soon.”
Don Lorenzo jerks his head in a rudimentary version of a nod. Then he invites us to join him in the dining hall, saying his children should join us shortly. Several plates are missing from the number we had during our last dinner. I note the subtle change as soon as we enter the room, and my senses go on high alert.
This time, I take the seat next to my mother, sure it wouldn’t go over well if I tried placing myself next to Silvia. Because this dinner is no doubt meant to hash out what happened in the library.
As soon as we take our seats, four heads of dark hair over matching sets of hazel eyes enter the room, the three Marchetti brothers and Silvia walking through the door. None of the brothers’ partners appear to be joining us tonight.
I rise politely, adopting a smile as I stand for my betrothed. The gesture doesn’t go unnoticed, and Nicolo’s nose flares with silent irritation as he finds the chair across from me. The Marchettis choose to occupy seats along the far side of the table, as if drawing an invisible line down the center, dividing our families.
No one says a word as they find their chairs, and we all settle into our seats.
I could cut the tension with a knife as a staff member fills our glasses with crimson wine. Splashing liquid is the only sound in the stifling room. I force myself to look at Silvia to get past the discomfort tensing my shoulders.
She barely dares to meet my eyes, her hazel ones peering through her dark lashes as she watches me.
“Silvia, you look lovely tonight,” I compliment, raising my glass to her in a silent toast. “What a beautiful dress.”
It is. The high-collared short-sleeved silk dress has a subtle floral pattern stitched into the light-blue fabric. It gently hugs her curves while upholding a modest cut that makes me think she’s doing her best to hide her assets from me.
Silvia’s cheeks grow red enough to match the wine in her glass within moments. “Thank you,” he whispers, dropping her eyes to look at her lap.
Before I have time to feel properly guilty, her oldest brother cuts in.
“How about you shut the fuck up and keep your eyes off my sister?” Nicolo snaps, glaring at me in an expression I’m sure some might find intimidating.
I simply cock an eyebrow and maintain my smile.
“Nicolo,” Don Lorenzo warns, his tone brooking no argument.
Then his eyes shift to my mother. “While we wait for dinner to be served, I think it best we discuss your son’s behavior toward my daughter the other day. It was unacceptable. He intentionally humiliated Silvia and disrespected our family. I would never have agreed to our arrangement if I’d known your son intended to use my daughter like a whore.”
“You never would have agreed?” my mother challenges, tipping her chin up defiantly. “Is that your subtle way of trying to back out of our contract, Don Lorenzo?”
“As far as I’m concerned, it’s your son who broke the contract when he touched my daughter and threatened to defile her before their wedding day,” he states coldly, the fury in his eyes the only indication that she’s getting under his skin.
“You want to call my son’s behavior into question?” she asks in mock disbelief. “When he’s still wearing the bruises from your own sons’ attempt to intimidate him?”
She runs her long, manicured fingernails along the line of my jaw, highlighting the purple bruise that’s slowly turning greenish. “What, did you hope they might rough him up enough to make him want to call off the wedding?”
Don Lorenzo cuts his eyes toward his sons, who all flinch slightly. Silvia pales. “This is the first I’m hearing about anyintimidation.” He hisses the last word.
And there’s the hook. I have to admit, my mother’s a talented strategist. She knew the Marchetti brothers wouldn’t tell their father about what they did to me. And Don Lorenzo never would have allowed it if he’d known. So now we have the upper hand.
“Well, from my perspective, your family has done nothing but disrespect and challenge this agreement since it was made,” my mother says evenly. “Your daughter waltzes around campus, humiliating my son and our family by flirting with anyone she pleases. Your sonsattackmy boy for reminding her of her place. They threaten to kill him if he doesn’t stay away from the woman he’s betrothed to. And now you want to pretend like it’smyson who has the problem? In my eyes, it all points to the same conclusion. You and your family are going back on your word.”
“Is it true?” Don Lorenzo demands, turning his furious gaze on Nicolo. “Did you attack Pyotr Veles?” His eyes shift to the twins, silently accusing them along with their brother.
All three remain silent, and Lorenzo seems to take that as an adequate confession.
“I will deal with you three later,” he hisses, then his gaze shifts back to my mother. “I am deeply sorry, Matron, for my children’s behavior,” he says solemnly. “I assure you, none of their actions against your family have been on my command. I’m appalled they would try to undermine our agreement. Which still stands, if you are willing to accept my humble apology.”
“Thank you, Don Lorenzo,” my mother says solemnly. “Of course, nothing would please me more than for our families to put our differences behind us.”
Lorenzo gives a polite nod. “I assure you, my sons won’t lay another finger on Pyotr,” he says pointedly, flashing them a look.
Nicolo opens his mouth to argue but snaps his lips closed at the warning in his father’s eyes.
