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She shoots him a cold glare. “Tell me again, why the hell am I even up for consideration?”
“Language, honey,” Mom says calmly.
Elena shuts her eyes briefly and takes a deep breath before speaking,
“Roman and Tony are two years older than me, and Michael’s a year older. How come nobody’s pushing for them to get married?”
“Our situations are not even remotely comparable,sorella,” Tony says pointedly.
Out of everyone at the table, Michael’s the only one who’s not the least bit bothered. He continues eating his meal, acting like we’re all invisible. Beside Elena, Rosa places a hand on her arm to calm her down, but it’s never that easy with her.
“No,” Elena states. “It’s not fair.”
“Elena, Tony and Michael are men. They’ll settle down when the time is right. As for the Don, he’ll be expected to marry soon as well. I suspect we’ll be planning two weddings before the year is over.”
I still. Every pair of eyes at the table turns to me. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You’re the Don, Rome. You have to find a wife. It’s mandated,” my mom says.
“In what rule book?” I retort.
There’s a smug smile on Elena’s face at the turn of conversation.
“It might not be expressly stated anywhere, but it’s tradition. You can’t run our family without a woman on your arm. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have been able to get your position without being married. But considering the situation, we need to make do.”
My eyes narrow into slits. The “situation” being my father’s death.
“Don’t worry,mi amore. I’ve taken it upon myself to review potential brides for you. All you have to do is pick one you like,” she informs me.
My jaw threatens to hang open. Tony, the bastard, is trying hard not to laugh.
“We’re not talking about fucking chickens, Mother.”
She glares at me, and although I might be the Don and a full-grown adult, my mother scares me sometimes.
“I’m aware of that fact. Now, would everyone quiet down about marriages and eat their food?” she asks, her voice rising slightly.
A chair scrapes back at the end of her sentence and Michael gets to his feet. We all turn to look at him.
“I’m done eating,” he announces, moving to kiss my mother on the cheek. “Thanks for the meal, Maria.”
We all watch as he makes a quick exit. I’m guessing he’s filled his quota for human interaction for the day. Elena takes his cue, getting to her feet as well.
“I’m going home,” she states, green eyes blazing.
Mom sighs, leaning back in her chair. I feel guilty that we ruined dinner. She put a lot of work into it, too. My sister takes a sip of her wine and smiles at me.
“This dinner certainly went well, don’t you think, Rome?” she says sarcastically.
I grit my teeth and look away. One dinner with my family and everything fell apart. If anything, it’s proof of just how fractured things are.
How the fuck am I supposed to fix this?I really wish my father was here.
Someone appears at the doorway of the dining room as Elena walks out. My eyes narrow at the slimy look on Ivan De Luca’s face as she passes beside him, barely offering him a glance.
He steps inside once she’s gone, taking in all our faces. None of us move for a second or two. Then Rosa gets to her feet.
“Hi, Ivan,” she says. “You missed dad’s funeral.” Her tone is light and there’s a smile on her face.
