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“It’s wine, Chiara, it doesn’t come out,” Cato grumbles behind us, and I whip my head to him. His eyes glint viciously.
He snatches the tissues away and glares at his brother. I bite down a smile, realizing he’s jealous.
Why would I let this opportunity go to waste?
“We should go to the bathroom and get you cleaned up,” I say to Dario, biting my lower lip. Dario sees through my act and battles a laugh.
Cato’s nostrils flare, and his brother’s face switches from amused to serious.
“Leave.”
When he does, I mutter under my breath, “Traitor.”
“If you touch him again, the next time you’ll be wiping traces of blood and not wine.”
With that, he leaves me, and I blink at his back. He is one crazy bastard. And I can’t stop antagonizing him.
I return to the party, searching for my mother and sister, when I’m stopped by Cato’s mother. “My son is quite taken with you.”
No mother should smile at the woman who wants to kill her son. I am in the twilight zone. I miss my friend.
I wonder what Aurora is doing. Somehow, with every phone call, she seems to have settled in.
I take the stairs upstairs, finding a rooftop balcony. I place my elbows against the railing, the city lights bouncing off the Charles River.
Glancing down, I do a double take. My sister is kissing—or actually, being devoured by Cato’s brother in a secluded corner.
Stupid me thought she was talking about Cato when really, she was talking about his brother. That makes sense, but when did that happen?
Still, relief surges through me, and I breathe, feeling lighter.
Chapter 10
Chiara is painfully beautiful, and I say painfully, because both my chest and my pants stretch uncomfortably.
I watchher from my father’s office window and she smiles, looking down from the rooftop. What has her attention? What makes her smile? I’m losing my mind over her. Her father puffs from a cigar, while taking large gulps of whiskey.
“I know I should have told you, but for a father to acknowledge he can’t control his own daughter is . . .”
“I am happy I got two sons,” my father says with a hint of relief.
I almost drown out their useless discussion, perching my ass against the hardwood desk, while my father prepares his own cigar in an ottoman chair.
“What I propose is . . . a man with your power needs a woman at his side who’s more docile.”
I crack my neck at the words of my future father-in-law. That woman can’t be controlled, and that’s what has me so fucking taken with her.
“My other daughter would be happy to take her place.”
Ahh, so that’s why she insisted I say no to her father. A smug smile spreads on my lips; my little firecracker was jealous. Good, because I almost killed my own flesh and blood because she laughed with him.
“She’s too young for me.”
“I thought about Dario for Viviana,” Domenico replies.
“I will marry Chiara. End of discussion.”
“But, son . . .”
