AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"You are too kindhearted," Francesco replies.
My mother's mouth tightens but I doubt my consigliere notices the tiny sign of Mamma's displeasure. Sensing I may have missed something about the dynamic of my consigliere's family, I scan the other guests at the table.
Candilora shoots a look of clear gratitude toward my mother. Her husband is eating, but the grip on his fork is tight. Carlotta looks oblivious to the tension at the table, her lovely features showing no concern. My brother gives me a look and I know what it means.
He has never liked that I kept Francesco as my consigliere after our father's death. He considers the man too hidebound. However, it would be a disservice to my father's memory to replace the man. The idea of appointing a second, or even a third consigliere has merit though. Some dons have a counsel of three.
"Come, Lina, you can help me put the finishing touches on desert." Candilora stands and puts her hand out to her niece.
Catalina nods and stands, her expression stoic. She does not take her aunt's hand, but she does follow the older woman from the room.
"Carlotta will play the piano for us after dinner," Francesco says, his voice warm with approval. "She is quite an accomplished musician."
"Not as accomplished assoru," Carlotta says sweetly, smiling innocently at her father.
Francesco ignores his daughter's claim and asks Miceli what he thinks of the Yankees this season. I do not understand my brother's fascination with baseball. It is a hella boring sport. At least football has a chance for some bloodshed.
"Perhaps your sister will accompany you tonight," my mother says to Carlotta.
"Papà doesn't usually ask her to play."
"You will both play," I say. It is not a question. I don't ask. I tell.
My mother gives me a startled look, but nods. "I think that would be lovely."
"You are in for a treat." Giovi has been mostly silent throughout dinner. "My nieces are both very talented." He smiles benevolently at Carlotta.
She returns his smile sweetly, her undeniably beautiful features made even more so by the expression. I do not know why my mind insists on remembering the stoic expression her sister has worn throughout most of the evening.
And why it is thoughts of the older woman that make my dick hard.
CATALINA
Don De Luca has decreed that both Carlotta and I will play the piano after dinner. Papà is furious, but he's doing his best to hide it. He wants to show off the daughter he loves. His little beauty.
Playing the piano is consuming and personal for me. I prefer to do it without an audience. I do not dare demur though. For one thing, even I know you do not tell the don no. And for another, the only thing that will make my father angrier right now is for me to embarrass him by refusing to play at the don's command.
I think Carlotta must have instigated this, but I do not know if it is because she doesn't want to play alone, or because she wants to highlight my worth. It is something she has done since we were little. She's very subtle about it and I'm not sure anyone else in the family notices, but I do.
It is one of the reasons I adore my younger sister so much. She has always seen my value, no matter what kind of cutting remarks our father makes about me. He cannot diminish me in her eyes. Zio and Zia are the same, though they usually reserve their approving comments for when papà is not around.
Carlotta and I take our places side by side on the piano bench. She starts playingClair de Luneand after the second note, I join her. We have been playing this way since she first learned the instrument. We play three songs like that, finishing withBella Ciao, the lively notes garnering both vocal praise and applause from our listeners.
We turn to face our dinner companions and I notice that even the don's lips are tilted up infinitesimally on one side of his mouth. It's not a smile like Zio Giovi's, but it does funny things to my heart. And my traitorous vagina.
Carlotta smiles shyly and blushes. I duck my head, uncomfortable with being the center of attention even though I share the spotlight with her.
"Now, you play a song for us by yourself,stellina." My father's tone is jovial, but there is no doubt in my mind he expects to be obeyed.
I stand from the piano bench and join my aunt and uncle on one of the sofas placed in the music room for just this purpose. There are three arranged in a c shape, the opening toward the piano. The don, his mother and his sister sit on the one facing the piano. My father and Miceli sit on the sofa across from where I am.
I keep my attention on my sister, having no desire to meet my father's gaze or that of the don, or his family, for that matter. I desperately want to retreat to my room, my emotional reserves used up. I am not used to being around people besides my family and have gotten adept at avoiding my father. Spending so many hours in his company is draining.
Continuing with the theme of Italian folk songs, Carlotta plays a cheerful rendition ofTarantella Napoletana. When she is finished, there is more applause and smiles.
"Your turn," my uncle says to me.
I stiffen. I don't want to play alone in front of the audience.
