It was becoming clearer to her that her pending marriage was really just a trade for her family to get closer to the high rollers in the mafia. Part of her didn’t understand what Lucian’s family gained from this deal.
Sure, Adelina was pretty, but Lucian could get any girl he wanted, so why her?
It was clear that Carlo Luchese had no interest in Massimo as he made every effort not to talk to the man tonight. Adelina had spent her whole life fearing the man, and now in this situation, he looked like a kitten trying to play with the big cats.
“So, this is the fiancé?”
Lucian chuckled beside her at the man who now stood before them. He was as tall as Lucian with the same dark black hair, tanned skin, and high cheekbones. And he was every bit as gorgeous as Lucian in a fitted black suit and expensive Italian leather shoes.
“This is her.” Lucian smiled. “Adelina, meet my brother, Enzo, late as usual.”
“Fashionably so.” Enzo smirked. “Nice to meet you, sis.” Enzo pulled her into a hug.
“Uh, sis? Already?” She told him pushing out of his hug.
“Yep.” He smiled. “You’re my first and only sister-in-law, I think we should roll with this nickname.”
Adelina mulled it over. “Not yet.”
“Whatever you say, Addy.”
She gave him a disapproving smile. “Clearly you’re the better brother.” She said turning to Lucian, who laughed.
“Clearly, bella.”
“Hey now!” Enzo mock pouted.
“Boys,” Carlo interjected. “Come with me for a minute.”
“I’ll be right back.” Lucian whispered, pressing a kiss to Adelina’s temple before he was gone.
Adelina sighed, glancing around the room. Massimo’s mini-mansion was filled to the brim. All of Providence’s Italians had to be here. She moved through the crowd to the one room in the house where she felt safe. It was a small room in the back of the house, home to the grand piano that Adelina spent half a lifetime playing on as a child.
Play for me. Theo would tell her, and she would always happily oblige.
She brushed her hand around the sleek black piano.
“Topolina,” Massimo’s voice purred in her hear.
“Uncle,” She jumped at the intrusion. “Sorry, I was just- “
“It’s fine, Adelina.” He smiled, but she wasn’t foolish enough to think it was genuine. “You should sing for us, topolina.”
“I, uh,”
“Come,” Massimo shouted out of the room. “Our little mouse is going to sing for us.”
If there was one thing Adelina hated more than a room full of drunk Italian men, it was singing to a room full of drunk Italian men.
The Blue Door was a separate use case. Sure, there were men there that pull her aside afterwards, placing grimy hands on the curve of her waist, and telling her they loved her music, but that just came with the territory of being a female musician.
Massimo was different. He showed her off like some sort of prize. He treated her like she could be purchased, a toy anyone could have but he was the keeper. It made her sick to her stomach.
Music was hers. It was the thing that kept her breathing, and she shared it when she wanted to.
Not to be used as entertainment.
Chapter Twelve