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“This way.” Heidi gives Sabella a warm smile before leading the way to the dining room.
Sabella glances at me from over her shoulder, her expression uncertain.
“Come,” Heidi says, entering the dining room and waving Sabella in. “You must be starving.”
Sabella stops dead in front of me. I cup her waist to prevent her from tripping. Her body is warm under the layers of clothes, her muscles tense beneath my palms.
The reason for her apprehension becomes apparent as I lift my gaze over her head. My uncles and cousins sit around the big table. They’re not in a hurry to get to their feet. Animosity hangs like a thick cloud of poison in the air. My uncles size my wife up with unfriendly stares while my cousins take her in with curiosity as they slowly stand.
“Uncle Nico, Uncle Enzo, it’s good to see you.” I nod at each in turn. “Toma. Gianni. This is my wife, Sabella.” I walk her deeper into the room. “Sabella, meet my uncles and cousins.”
Uncle Enzo steps up first. He doesn’t kiss her cheek or shake her hand. He scrutinizes her with shrewd eyes. “Welcome to Angelo’s home.”
Notyourhome.
The jab doesn’t escape anyone. Toma and Gianni exchange a glance. Sabella tenses more under my hold.
The hostile smile that curves Uncle Nico’s lips says he already despises her. “Yes. Welcome.”
“Thank you,” she says, lifting her chin.
Heidi is either oblivious to the strained atmosphere or pretending not to notice. “I’ll let you take care of the seating arrangement while I get the starters, Mr. Russo.”
I acknowledge her with a curt, “Thank you, Heidi.”
In the uncomfortable silence that follows when she walks from the room, I seat Sabella on my left before taking my place at the head of the table.
“As you were,” I say, indicating they’re free to sit where they please.
A bottle of rare red from my father’s cellar—not from our own vineyard—was opened to breathe and left on the table. I pour a generous amount of wine for Sabella and then serve everyone else.
“A toast,” I say, raising my glass. “To the new Mrs. Russo.”
Sabella flushes, hiding her face behind her glass as the men dissect her with their glares. Uncle Nico tips back his glass but barely wets his lips. Uncle Enzo mumbles something unintelligible.
The grandfather clock ticks in the background, counting down every awkward second.
“Oh, um.” Toma clears his throat. “I’m also marrying soon.” At the cutting look his effort to strike up a conversation earns him from his father, his enthusiasm slips. His voice wavers. “Um, in one year’s time.”
Uncle Nico scowls at him. Toma swallows a gulp of wine and hangs his head.
Heidi enters with bowls of asparagus soup on a tray. She convinced a few guards to play waiters. They follow behind her, carrying more bowls, baskets of freshly baked bread rolls, and dishes of salted butter.
I utter a silent sigh, wishing this night was over already so that I can take Sabella to bed.
Heidi went to a lot of effort with the menu. The main dish is her specialty—marinated wild boar in a red wine reduction sauce with young carrots and mushrooms on the side. It’s one of my favorites.
My uncles clean their plates. Sabella only picks at the food while the conversation turns to business—only the legal parts, that is—that doesn’t concern her.
By the time the chocolate fondant and crème anglaise are served, she’s yawning. We got to the hotel in the early hours of the morning. We only slept for a short while. It’s been an exhausting two days on more than a physical level.
The minute the dessert plates are cleared, I get to my feet, signaling that the dinner is over. I open my mouth to bid them good night, but Uncle Nico beats me to it.
“Cognac, Angelo?” he asks. “There’s a matter we need to discuss with you.”
I push back my chair. “It can wait.”
He smiles even as he clenches his jaw. “I’m afraid it can’t.”
