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“A-plus,” I reply softly with a nod, unable to stop staring at him.
A muscle ticks in his jaw and finally he looks away. “Good night, Rosa.”
Before I can blink, he’s walking out the door. I finally allow myself to slide down to the ground. I place my head in my hands and groan softly.
What the heck have I just done?
I don’t go downfor breakfast the next day. I stay put in my bed until I’m sure Enzo has left the house. I’m too mortified to face him. By noon, my stomach is growling and I decide I’m not mortified enough to die of hunger. Plus, he should be gone by now. I get dressed and head downstairs to the kitchen. As soon as I make a turn in the hallway, I find myself in the path of two women.
Isabella’s blue eyes narrow onto me, but she’s not the one that has me freezing in place. Denise Russo has dark brown hair and brown eyes. She can’t be more than forty. But right now, she looks much older, with lines drawn across her face and wrinkles around her mouth and eyes. She looks sick. But when her eyes meet mine, there’s no mistaking the anger there.
I haven’t seen her since moving here. When I asked Jason, he said she didn’t like to leave her room. I didn’t realize it was because she was ill. Isabella holds onto her arm. She’s even unsteady on her feet.
Oh, god. What’s wrong with her?
“Nice bling, Rosario,” Isabella says, eyes fixed on the diamond on my fingers.
My instinct is to hide my hand behind my back. Which is wrong. I’ve done nothing wrong.
Denise’s brown eyes move to the diamond as well, and I watch as she studies it for several seconds. When she looks back up at me, there’s even more anger in her gaze.
She has every right to be angry. Roman killed her husband. But this is the Cosa Nostra. She has to know that I had no control over that. Just like she didn’t. She’s currently the oldest member of this family, and the least I can do is accord her some respect.
“Mrs. Russo,” I say gently. “It’s really nice to finally meet you.”
She laughs. It’s brittle and cold. “Do you even understand the significance of the ring on your finger?” she asks. Her voice is surprisingly strong. “That ring has been in this family for generations. It belongs to the first-born son of the Russos. The next in line to become Don.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Isn’t Enzo a first-born son?”
Unless there’s another son out there that I have no idea about. Knowing this family, it’s entirely possible.
“No,” Denise replies bitterly. “I merely wanted to point out that neither you nor Enzo deserves to be in that position. That ring should have belonged to me or Isabella’s mother. It’s insulting that it’s on the finger of someone like you.”
Well, that’s harsh.
“You don’t even know me, Denise,” I say calmly.
“I don’t need to,” she states. Then she looks at Isabella beside her. “Let’s go, Isa. I’m tired of the present company.”
Isabella shoots me an annoyed look like I’m somehow at fault. Wrapping her arms around Denise’s shoulders, she escorts the woman away.
As far as first interactions go, every single one with nearly every member of this family has been next to awful. It hits me that the only meeting that was actually nice was with Enzo. And that was only because I didn’t know who he was at first.
I spend the rest of the day replying to emails and watching TV. By the time evening rolls around, I’m actively anticipating Enzo’s return. This morning, I would have done anything to avoid him thanks to our kiss last night, but I have questions now. Questions that require answers.
As soon as I hear his footsteps, I climb off my bed and head for the door. When I open it, Enzo’s leaning against the wall on the other side, a contemplative expression on his face.
“Hey,” I say. “What are you doing there?”
“We need to talk,” he informs me.
I nod, despite the nerves blossoming in the pit of my stomach.
“Yeah. I need to talk to you, as well. I wanted to ask about Denise.”
A dark brown eyebrow flicks up. “Denise?”
“Yes. Your aunt. Did you know she’s sick?’
