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Mother crosses her arms. “You should’ve told me sooner, Evander.” The hurt in her tone is an icepick to my heart.
“I know, Mother,” I say firmly. “We will discuss things later.”
“I’m sure we will.” Mother pushes back from the table and stands. “I’m tired. I think I’ll skip the meal tonight.”
“Oh, no, don’t go,” Aunt Anissa says, rolling her eyes. “Dimitra, you’re going to miss all the fun.”
“Don’t make the poor girl cry, Anissa,” Mother says. She walks over and holds out her hand. Camille blinks rapidly in surprise but takes it. Mother leans forward and kisses her on the cheek. “Welcome to hell, sweetie,” Mother whispers so that only Camille and I can hear before releasing her and walking off. Mother’s personal staff follows in her wake, and she throws me one last, angry look before she disappears.
“Well, with her gone, let’s eat, shall we?” Anissa gestures for everyone to sit.
I take the head of the table with Camille on my left. Helen sits on my right, with Lycus next to Camille, and Sophia and Anissa next to Helen. The tension is so thick and horrifying that all I can do is drink wine and glare at my cousin and my aunt as they whisper to each other, grinning and looking at Camille, acting like two catty high school cheerleaders.
Which isn’t so bad, all things considered.
At least they’re not trying to kill anyone.
Lycus talks to Camille about the diner and Helen gets involved. “I like Demetrios,” Helen says. “Very respectful man. Makes a great lamb gyro too.”
“They’re nice people,” Camille says, smiling. “They really welcomed me into their business and they’ve been good to me.”
“Old school Greek hospitality,” Lycus says nodding. “Helps that you’re attached to the lord here.”
“Easy,” I grumble.
“Demetrios is basically Evander’s biggest fan,” Camille says with a massive grin. “You should’ve seen how excited he got earlier when Evander spoke to him.”
Helen groans and rolls her eyes. “If they actuallyknewmy brother, nobody would treat him like royalty.”
“Totally agree,” Camille says primly.
“This is going worse than I ever could’ve imagined,” I say and finish my second glass of wine.
“Oh, Camille,” Sophia cuts in once the first course is removed and the salads come out. “My mother and I were just discussing your… interesting look. Where did you say you were from again? Philadelphia? What a quaint little city. Are you Greek?”
“No,” I answer for her, and Camille glances at me, clearly irritated, but doesn’t speak up.
“She’s not Greek?” Sophia feigns surprise. “Then what is she? The girl looks almost…”
“Italian,” Anissa says, practically purring the word.
“Yes, Camille is Italian,” I say through my teeth.
“Oh, wow, what a brave choice,” Sophia says, putting both hands over her heard. “Marrying the enemy and all. I’m sure the captains will understand. Love is more important than the family, after all.”
“Sophia, enough,” I say sharply. “We don’t live in the old world anymore where blood lines have to remain pure.”
“Actually, she’s right,” Anissa says, her expression falling. “We can keep this little facade up if you like, but I know who she is, and I know who she left to be here.”
My heart pounds in my ears. I knew this was coming sooner or later, but I expected to have more time to work Camille into the family. But if Anissa knows already—
“Really, Evander,” Anissa continues, tone acid. “Not only is she Italian, but she’s the former wife of a Capo in the Pavone Famiglia. How could you do something like this? How could you spit on the memory of my husband? On the graves of your forefathers? On your entire family?” She shoves her chair back and stands.
“You will not talk to your lord like that,” I say harshly and stare her down. “Hold your tongue, Aunt Anissa, or I will have it stapled to your lips.”
“Go ahead, make threats.” She sneers at me. “You’ll do it too, won’t you? First you were a murderer, and now you’re a traitor. It should’ve been my son on the throne.”
“Your son showed his true colors,” I say quietly. Everyone’s staring at me. Helen’s pale and looks terrified, and Lycus’s expression is hard. Anissa’s on the edge of crying, and Sophia’s staring at Camille like she’s thinking about stabbing my fiancée with a fork. “Your husband and your son got what they deserved.”
