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This surprised me. Chiara was very pretty and looked around seventeen, of an age to be still in school. And it was a Saturday midterm. Surely she should have been making the most of a day off?
I frowned, wondering if she felt like a prisoner in this house too. It wouldn’t be surprising in a mafia family that they kept the girls indoors while the boys went out to play. I felt a flash of annoyance.
“No tennis?” Marco said to Chiara, looking a tad disappointed. “Why don’t you call up some of your tennis friends and I’ll get Jacob to drive you all to the club tomorrow? He’ll take you all somewhere special for lunch. My treat. You can make a day of it.”
“No thanks,” she said shortly, looking fixedly at her plate now that she no longer had her phone to resort to.
Marco looked pained. His mother let out an impatient exhale.
Marco interjected quickly before his mother could speak, “Okay, maybe next weekend, then. Let me know what you want.”
His sister said nothing.
Vittoria turned to me. Gave me a cold smile. “So, Bethany, is it? What do youdoexactly?”
The sour twist of her lips told me she thought she had a good idea of what I did for a living.
Still scowling down at her plate, Chiara said, “Don’t be such a snob, mom. It can’t be worse than what this family does for a living.”
Her mother shot her a sharp look.
Before I could open my mouth, Marco spoke. “Beth is my fiancée. She doesn’t work anymore.” His stiff tone was final. He shot his mother a warning look.
I felt a flash of indignation. I was not ashamed of my job.
“Actually, I work as a barmaid,” I said sweetly. “At a club named Bordello. Have you heard of it? It’s where your son and I met.”
Marco’s lips tightened.
Ha! Take that.
But I had forgotten about Chiara, whose eyes widened. “You mean like an actualbordello?” she asked. “A strip club?”
Her eyes darted to her big brother in glee. He shot her an annoyed look.
“Yes,” I said. “Exactly like that.”
“No way!” she breathed, looking scandalised. She giggled slightly as she saw her big brother’s tense face.
Vittoria looked disgusted. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“By what?” I said innocently. “That I work there or that your son patronises such a place?”
Chiara gasped.
I raised my wineglass and pretended to take a sip.
“Beth!” Marco said in a warning voice.
I widened my eyes at him. “Oops, sorry darling. Was it a secret? Are you going to spank me for it later?”
Chiara burst into laughter, and nearly spat out the gulp of juice she had just taken.
“Don’t be so uncouth,” said her mother.
“Who? Me or her?” said Chiara. Then, at her mother’s outraged look, added, “Oh please. You can’t judge. You were a mobster’s wife.”
“Chiara, don’t speak to mother like that,” said Marco.
