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“Oh, nonsense. I told you to get the job done, but I never dreamed you could be so effective. You got him to demand this meeting in such a short time; I must admit I’m impressed. You’re really stepping up.”
Her tone drips with approval that makes my stomach turn. But I bite my tongue, silently fuming as we pull into the long driveway leading up to the Marchetti house. Gravel crunches beneath the SUV’s tires. Then our driver pulls to a stop.
In truth, I’m dreading tonight. It’ll be the first time I see Silvia since our last date, and I have no idea where we stand. She hasn’t answered my calls or texts. I haven’t even seen her in school, so I’m sure Don Lorenzo has been keeping her under lock and key.
I shouldn’t have goaded him about making her wear a chastity belt. I worry it might have given him the idea to hide her away like a princess in some fucking dragon-guarded castle. He just better not have laid his hands on her again.
If I see a single bruise, I really will lose it this time. No matter what Silvia says.
My mother accepts our driver’s hand, stepping out of the vehicle in her signature pencil skirt, then straightens it before stepping aside to let me out. Steeling myself, I follow her, and we approach the front door together, like a team.
Even though I’m not so sure that’s true anymore. My inner turmoil over what I’ve done to Silvia has me questioning everything about my loyalty and what that entails.
The butler greets us, opening the door with the same decorum he’s shown in the past. He offers a slight bow as he extends his hand, gesturing us inside. But as we enter the foyer, the atmosphere is distinctly different.
No host waits to greet us graciously, and the house is unnervingly quiet.
My senses go on high alert as I weigh the possibility that we’ve pushed things too far, that the Marchettis have decided to double-cross us. It’s not beyond my imagination that Nicolo might follow through with his threat and put a bullet in my head.
Then again, I don’t think Lorenzo would go that far to defend his daughter’s honor.
A moment later, the sharp clack of heels on hardwood announces someone’s approach. Don Lorenzo appears around the corner, his beautiful–if vacant-eyed–wife on his arm.
“Ah, there you are, Don Lorenzo,” my mother says, her false decorum too syrupy to sound sincere. “I was starting to think we might have gotten the date wrong.”
The don’s flat-eyed stare says he’s not the least bit amused by our games. “Yes, well, let’s get down to business, shall we? I think we’re familiar enough now that we can eat while we discuss.”
He gestures toward the dining room, letting us go first, and alarm bells ring in my head.Where’s Silvia?I don’t want to sit through dinner wondering if she’s even well enough to join us.
“Alfie, fetch her,” the don barks, and his butler snaps to attention before heading toward the stairs.
That’s the only thing that eases my tension. I let my mother lead us to the dining room, keeping on high alert in case Don Lorenzo has something sinister in mind.
The plates are set for five of us, and I settle into a seat next to my mother as Silvia’s father takes the head of the table, his wife beside him.
The room falls silent as we sit and wait, Don Lorenzo watching us with a cool, near-expressionless face. Then the quiet patter of footsteps makes me turn toward the door.
Silvia appears there, her cheeks full of color, announcing to me that she’s flustered. Thankfully, her face is clear of bruising or any indication of harm. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” she rushes, finding the seat across from me.
From the looks of it, I would guess her father gave her no warning about our dinner. While she’s striking with her hair loose and cascading naturally down around her shoulders, framing her rose-kissed cheeks, her dress is slightly mussed, and she’s devoid of her typical light makeup and subtle jewelry.
As she settles into her chair, she glances up at me through her long, thick lashes, and I find it almost impossible to meet her gaze when I realize she looks apologetic. Grinding my teeth, I glance down at my plate, fighting the guilt that swells inside me.
This time, dinner’s served without the usual pomp and sass. Two kitchen staff members carry plates to us, setting them out to reveal a simple pasta dish. And at the same time, a third staff member pours us wine. Then they depart.
No need for an explanation to describe the simple spaghetti bolognese.
“I propose we set the wedding date for just after Christmas. Before the new year,” Don Lorenzo states, cutting right to the chase.
Silvia’s eyes flash up toward her father, then to me as they grow wide with fear.Does that mean she’s afraid of marrying me? Or just that her father hasn’t told her about pushing up the date?
“I think that’s fine,” my mother says smoothly, finally managing to put a cap on her glee. “So long as Jesenia thinks we can plan a proper ceremony in time.”
“I’ve had plenty of practice recently between Nicolo getting married and both my other sons having weddings in the near future,” Silvia’s mom says, her voice distant–bordering on indifference.
For fuck’s sake.It’s the first time I think I’ve heard the woman speak, and I’m starting to wonder if Silvia has a single parent in her corner. From what I’ve gathered, her brothers care about her. At least they demonstrated an inkling of it when they tried to intimidate me for fucking with her at the start of the year.But this?She has no one looking out for her best interests. And that only drives my guilt harder. Because I took advantage of that, which makes me no better than them.
“Pyotr?” my mother asks pointedly.
