I got dressed then left the car, not even bothering to stop my lip from dripping blood all over my shirt. “What’s your problem?”
Diego shook his head, slightly bent forward to keep his shirt clean. “Really? You’ve got to ask?”
I shoved my hands into my pockets. “I’m not married to Gemma yet. If I remember correctly, I won’t have any kind of relationship with her before our wedding night.”
Diego straightened. “That’s not all there is to being in a relationship.”
“How would you know?”
“I dated Dakota.”
I gave him a look. If that already counted as dating…
“You are promised to each other.”
It took considerable effort not to roll my eyes. “And I’m going to keep that promise, but I’m not going to retire my fucking dick until I marry Gemma. I don’t give a fuck if that pisses you off.”
“Maybe you should think of her feelings,” he seethed, then turned around and stalked off.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to walk home?”
He only gave me the finger.
“That wasn’t Mick,” said Remo as a way of greeting when I got into his car so we could drive to the Bazzolis.
“It was Diego.”
My lower lip was swollen, but I’ve looked worse after fights. The ladies usually went crazy if I looked like that.
“Already trouble in paradise?”
“I haven’t been allowed into paradise yet.”
Remo let out a rough laugh.
When we arrived at the Bazzoli house, Daniele and his wife waited for us. Remo’s and my eyes went to her hand, which rested on her slightly rounded belly. Remo shook Daniele’s hand, then said to Gemma’s mother. “Congrats on your pregnancy.” She lowered her hand slowly then glanced to Daniele. His smile widened. “We haven’t announced it yet.”
“Our lips are sealed,” I said as I shook his hand then kissed Claudia’s. Remo didn’t touch her, which was probably for the best, considering how she watched him.
Diego hovered beside the set table in the small dining room, his lip even fatter than mine. He greeted me with a terse nod which I returned.
“Take a seat,” Daniele said. “Gemma and my mother will serve dinner in a couple of minutes.”
Daniele pointed at the chair at the head of the table—his place as master of the house. “If you’d like the honor, Capo?”
Remo didn’t even sit at the head of our table at home. He didn’t need the additional boost for his ego. He ruled over everything that mattered. “That’s your place, Daniele. I’m a guest in your house.”
Daniele’s expression flickered with admiration, then he nodded and sat in his usual chair. My brother and I sat to his right with Diego beside me.
When Gemma emerged, I almost snorted with laughter. She was wearing her most conservative church dress. A plaid gray atrocity with long sleeves despite it being summer and a skirt that reached her calves. The worst thing was the bow and the collar though. Gemma’s hair was pulled up into one of those Amish updos. When everyone was busy arranging the pots on the wooden table, I leaned toward Remo. “If that outfit doesn’t scream Do Not Touch, I don’t know what does.”
“Heed the fucking message then,” he said in a harsh whisper.
Gemma stopped beside me and motioned toward the biggest pot. “Would you like some rabbit stew?”
“Sure, but I can take it myself.”
A small smile tugged at her lips but her Nonna cleared her throat and Gemma reached for the ladle to fill my plate, then proceeded to do the same for Remo, Daniele, and Diego before she took the seat across from me.
All right, I was a lazy bastard, but this kind of behavior had to go as soon as she was officially mine. Even Kiara, who was submissive as fuck, rolled her eyes when I asked her to fill my plate.
Gemma didn’t look at me once during dinner. It was starting to drive me completely insane. I could tell that the demureness of the Bazzoli women rubbed Remo the wrong way, but he wouldn’t interfere in other people’s family business. I nudged Gemma’s foot under the table, and finally her gaze met mine. I raised an eyebrow. She motioned with her eyes toward her Nonna who was watching me like a hawk.
Sending Nonna my most charming smile, I only got narrowed eyes in turn. Nonna was going to be my biggest adversary, I could tell.
After dinner, the women went into the kitchen to clean the dishes before I had a chance to get a word with Gemma. Diego, Daniele, Remo and I settled on the small porch with a glass of the expensive whiskey that Remo had brought as a gift.
After Remo had laid out the plans, mainly waiting with the engagement at least until next summer and with the wedding until Gemma had finished college, the atmosphere could only be described as frosty.
Daniele shook his head for what felt the hundredth time. “I don’t understand the need for college. No one from our family has ever attended college, and I don’t see why Gemma would need it. She’s going to be a wife and mother, and she already knows everything to be good in both jobs. She can cook, clean, stitch, iron…”