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Viktor kidnapped Gemma, using her as a bargaining chip to gain influence. When they ended up falling in love, it was a shock to all of us. But Gemma has always been insistent that Viktor is her husband, and that won’t change.
“So, why are you not down at dinner?” she asks.
I lift my book. “Reading.”
“When are you not? Come down and join us.”
“I’m surprised you even knew I was missing.”
“I know. I was surprised myself.” She winks. “Hey, I’ve grown a lot over the past few years. I’ve become more observant, you know. And I know Mom tends to forget you exist. So, come join us. You’ll regret it if you don’t.” She stands up and holds out her hand.
“Why will I regret it?”
“Because Mom actually made a fancy roast. You’ll be disappointed you missed out.”
With a sigh, I take her hand and join the rest of my family in the kitchen. At one end of the table is my mother. Seated beside her are the twins, Lucia and Luca. Even though they’re fraternal, they share the same dark hair. They’re five, and like typical five-year-olds, they question everything.
“Eat your carrots,” Mom tells Lucia, who scrunches up her face and shakes her head.
“Why? Carrots are gross.” With a devious grin, she picks one up and flings it at her twin brother. Luca grins back and throws one of his carrots at her. Mom looks like she’s about ready to cry.
Beside Lucia is Mia, who’s fourteen and dealing a massive breakout on her face. She’s looking into her spoon and trying to pop one of her zits.
“Mia, don’t,” Mom says, grabbing Lucia’s arm to stop her from throwing another carrot. “You’re going to ruin your skin that way. Stop.”
Mia flushes and drops her hand. Across from her is Antonio and Cecilia, the other two thick as thieves’ siblings. At seventeen and sixteen respectively, they’ve always been close. It also helps that they sort of look like twins, too, with their stark blonde hair. Cecilia says a prayer to herself before eating while Antonio looks bored and like he’d rather be training for a fight than having to eat dinner with his family.
And finally, at the other end of the table, is my uncle Franco. He sits there, overseeing my family, like he owns the place. After our father died when I was fourteen, which was six years ago, Franco moved in and took over as head of the business my father left behind. I know the business is shady. I’ve heard the words “mob boss” and “Mafia” thrown around enough times to understand, but I don’t ask too many questions. It’s not really proper for the women in my life to ask questions about such things.
Gemma sits down next to her husband, Viktor, who’s honestly one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen. I always find myself tongue-tied around him.
Viktor shoots me a grin. “Hey, Franny. How’s it going?”
“Uh, good. I just got back,” I manage to say. See? Tongue-tied. And it’s not because I have a crush on Viktor. I don’t. It’s more that Viktor is one of the only people to actually acknowledge me when I’m in a room, and it always startles me. I’m dragged out of my safe hiding place of being ignored, and I never know what to do with myself.
Mom glances up at me. “Francesca? I didn’t know you were out.”As always.
“I was at the Met,” I explain, taking my seat between Cecilia and Franco. My uncle’s energy has always been off-putting. He moved in after my father’s death, claiming he needed to rule in Antonio’s place. But now that Antonio is nearing eighteen, it’s almost time for my brother to take his rightful place as boss. Yet I don’t see Franco packing his bags.
Mom gives me a distracted nod before turning to Luca, who’s now trying to stage an all-out food war with Lucia.
Franco sniffs, pointing his fork at me. “You shouldn’t waste your time at museums, Francesca. You should be out in the real world, experiencing things. In fact, it’s probably time we discuss you getting married.”
I freeze while grabbing a spoonful of mashed potatoes.
“Ugh.” Gemma rolls her eyes. “Don’t make Fran go through that. It was bad enough when you tried hosting a marriage ball for me.” Gemma and Viktor share a look. Viktor took Gemma the night Mom and Franco hosted a ball for her to meet potential marriage suitors. “And besides, I don’t think you get any say in what happens in our family.”
Franco glares at Gemma, but Gemma ignores him as she pops a carrot into her mouth. My sister’s ability to ignore the animosity coming from Franco is a skill I wish I had. But then again, Gemma has always been exceptionally bold.
“Neither do you,” Franco says, “seeing as you don’t live here any longer.”
“You shouldn’t either,” she snaps back.
I’m not sure why they hate each other so much beyond Franco trying to be our father when he’s clearly not. But her anger seems to extend deeper.
Viktor chuckles, placing a hand on his wife’s arm. “Gemma, dear. Let’s not fight tonight. Something tells me that if we do, I’ll somehow get blamed.”
Gemma deflates a little and pointedly turns away from Franco.
