I turn away from him and for the thousandth time, let him go.
I know it’s for the best. I know it’s even necessary.
Then why does it make my heart feel so heavy to be invisible to him?
“Mama, Nonna made ravioli,” Natalia, swinging her legs at the table, says around a mouthful of pasta.
I smile at her. “Mmm, your favorite, isn’t it? Don’t speak with your mouth full, though, sweetheart.” I hand her a napkin and show her how to lay it on her lap, just before I take my seat beside her.
Her nanny’s taken the rest of the day off, which is just as well. The girl acts like a scared little rabbit around me, but I don’t know why, since I’ve never done anything to her that should frighten her.
Santo’s four chairs down from me, beside Orlando and across from Romeo, but sitting on Orlando’s other side is a dark figure of a man I’ve never seen before. Ruggedly handsome with classically masculine features, dark eyes frame his square face. The set of his chin hints at a stubborn streak, a feature that will serve him well here. But even though he’s hot—like all men of The Family, strong and muscled, with an athlete’s physique and a general air of authority that knows no compunction—he might as well be wallpaper to me.
There are no men I’ll ever be attracted to again except the one who knows every curve and secret of my body. The only one I’ll never have.
Romeo clears his throat, and the room grows silent. I put my finger to my lips for Natalia and she rolls her eyes. Naughty little thing. If Santo were beside her, she’d be a little angel. All he’d have to do is raise that stern eyebrow of his and she’d eat out of the palm of his hand.
“As we all know, we’re here today for a special reason,” Romeo begins. His deep, authoritative voice resounds in the Great Hall, no need for a megaphone. This hall was designed for meetings just like this.
What he doesn’t say is that we’re initiating another man into the brotherhood because Uncle Leo betrayed us.
Bastard.
“The rules state that the inner sanctum of The Family be fortified within a year of a core member’s loss,” Romeo continues discreetly. “And Orlando suggested we recruit outside The Family. To be clear, later this year we’ll initiate cousins on the Montavio side as well, but we’ll wait until their jobs in Italy are complete.” It’s odd to hear Romeo, the king of using “motherfucker” in any grammatical way possible, speak so formally. But right now, he isn’t my brother but The Don.
Romeo turns to the man sitting beside Orlando. “Welcome, Dario.”
Dario stands, and I can tell before he speaks that Orlando’s chosen wisely. He’s as big and intimidating as the other guys and fills out his suit well. And while he carries himself with an air of respect and intelligence, there’s a cunning edge to his eyes that I note a mile away.
They all have it. You have to, to do their jobs, or you’d fold like a house of cards.
Dario clears his throat. “Thank you for the warm welcome, Mr. Rossi.”
“Romeo,” my brother corrects with a bit of a grimace. He will never allow the men of the inner sanctum to call him Mr. Rossi.
Dario smiles, revealing straight white teeth. “Thank you, Romeo, and thank you Orlando for suggesting me. It’s an absolute honor to be included among the ranks of men such as you, and I will do my best to make you proud.”
Amidst the clinking of glasses and cheers, the smacks on the back and fist bumps, Dario meets my eyes. I give him a small, aloof smile, my go-to. As a Rossi family widow, I’m prime real estate, and it would pain me to mislead any man, even with the hint of a smile that’s too warm.
But Dario doesn’t look away. He holds my gaze for another heartbeat before he looks over at Orlando and sits back down.
I won’t look at Santo. I won’t. I know without confirming that Santo’s giving Dario the death stare that would incinerate a lesser man, and I can’t… I can’t bear that. Not now.
Feasting commences.
Natalia got an early sampling, likely to keep her occupied while the adults conversed and drank their wine. Now, staff bring out large trays of crostini, bacon-wrapped scallops, and Santo’s favorite panzarotti, the decadent little mini calzones Mama fries up just for him. She gets up at the crack of dawn to make the dough, then hand-cuts each piece before she stuffs and fries them.
I watch as one of the staff brings an entire tray and places it right in front of Santo.
I purse my lips. Of all the goddamn things...
First to exile him. For what? We don’t know, because he won’t tell us. Then to treat him like a king when he returns? It’s cruel. Too fucking cruel.