Aislin took her phone back and scrolled again. ‘That’s Finn, Orla’s son. He’s an angel.’
Riccardo smiled. ‘A beautiful boy.’
‘He is!’ she agreed with enthusiasm. ‘And he’s as bright as a button. He’s got cerebral palsy, but he never lets it get him down, and he’s always so happy. It’s such a shame Dante’s missed out on the first three years of his life but obviously that’s not his fault, considering he didn’t know Orla or Finn existed until recently, but that’s all changing—he’s buying them a house and is going to help as much as he can. I know he’s going to make a fantastic uncle.’
‘And father?’ he asked pointedly after a beat that was probably caused by him struggling to keep up with Aislin’s lyrical flow of chatter.
‘One day,’ she replied before Dante could get a word in. ‘We want to enjoy married life first before having children.’
She made it sound so natural. So real.
He should be proud that she was sticking so closely to the script they’d created but all he felt was those damned needles digging into him.
Oblivious to Dante’s darkening mood, Riccardo said, ‘You know when you marry?’
‘We only got engaged last week.’ Aislin spoke if she were confiding something of tremendous importance. ‘We’re thinking the end of summer—that should give us time to plan it all. We’ve already decided we want a big white wedding and there is so much to do for it... Well, you would know all that; I bet this weekend’s celebrations took months to prepare.’ She fixed him with a look that conveyed she held Riccardo responsible for all the planning that had taken place and that she thought he was amazing for having done so.
‘It took lot of planning, sì.’ He nodded, puffing up like a peacock spreading its plumes.
‘We’ll have to pick your brains about it.’
‘It would be my pleasure.’
She beamed again.
Riccardo finally gave his attention to Dante. Switching to their own language, he said, ‘I’m impressed. When you get bored of her, send her to me. I have a nephew who would love her. It’s time he settled down.’
‘Aislin is not a chattel to be passed around.’ Dante clenched the stem of his glass to prevent himself from jumping to his feet and knocking Riccardo off his.
The older man stared at him levelly but with a sneer forming on the side of his face. ‘I’m glad to hear you say that but I will believe it when I see it. You’ve treated all your women before her like chattels. But then, they always treated themselves like a commodity too. This one is different. Look after her.’
Then he leaned down, kissed both of Aislin’s cheeks and shuffled back to his seat.
Dante drained his wine and fought the swelling urge growing like a tempest inside him to smash the glass on the table.
Sensing danger, Aislin placed a tentative hand on Dante’s thigh. She propped her elbow on the table to rest her chin on her free hand and gaze at him. The tension she’d sensed in him on his roof terrace the night before had returned.
‘What did Riccardo say to you?’ she murmured.
‘Nothing important,’ he dismissed with a quick smile.
‘Then why have you got a face like thunder? Did your plan backfire? Did he not like me?’
‘He liked you.’ He gave a muted laugh. ‘He said that, when I get bored of you, to pass you on to him so he can marry you off to his nephew.’
Her nose wrinkled. ‘Ew.’
She didn’t get the chance to question Dante any further for a chill snaked up her spine and the willowy figure of Katrina appeared, talons holding her champagne flute tightly.
‘If it isn’t the happy couple,’ she purred, sliding into the space Riccardo had vacated.
‘Do you want something, Katrina?’ Dante posed his question politely but there was an edge to his voice.
‘I’m just concerned for your fiancée.’ She fixed hostile eyes on Aislin. ‘It’s so hard to be an outsider at an event like this. Are you finding it very difficult?’
Aislin tried not to let her intimidation at the underlying malice behind the seemingly kind question show. ‘Everyone has been very welcoming.’
‘That’s Sicilian hospitality. No one would dream of saying anything cruel to your face.’