Chapter 13 #2
Gasps and snickers shoot around the table. Matteo and the elders glare at me. Sienna tilts her head, her eyes locking back onto Matteo, pinning him to his seat with a terrifyingly beautiful, icy glare.
“If you have a more suitable candidate,” Sienna adds, her voice dripping with an effortless, mocking sweetness, “feel free to send them to Alessandro and have him choose. You don't have much time, though. The wedding is in forty-eight hours.”
The entire table goes dead silent.
I slowly raise my head, leaning back in my chair as I fix my eyes directly on him. The room temperature drops instantly. “Any more questions, Matteo?” I rumble, my tone carrying a clear, lethal edge.
Sienna turns her head to smile at me—a bright, victorious little look—while Matteo completely refuses to meet either of our gazes. He looks straight down at his plate, hurriedly stuffing another forkful of food into his mouth to avoid answering.
“Don’t pile on Matteo, Alessandro,” Enzo Bellandi speaks up from across the table, his raspy voice breaking the quiet. “He asked a valid question, in my opinion. The stability of our leadership concerns us all.”
Sienna doesn't wait for me to defend her. She smoothly turns her attention to the older man. “I hope my answer was valid enough, Mr. Bellandi.”
Enzo stares at her for a long beat, before giving her a stiff nod.
It doesn’t end there, though.
As the second course is served, the dinner turns into a calculated, multi-front interrogation. They don't just want to know if she's smart; they want to break her composure, using every subtle jab to remind her that she is a Caruso entering a Gallo household—an outsider.
“A syndicate isn't just run on logistics, Miss Caruso,” Alonzo interjects, leaning forward with a skeptical look.
“The women of our family handle the internal politics, the charities, the social front. The Caruso family has always been... a bit more reclusive. Are you prepared for the scrutiny that comes with the Gallo name?”
I suck in a breath, ready to attack, but Sienna grabs my hand under the table, effectively silencing me. With her other hand, she sets her glass down without a sound and looks up at Alonzo.
“Scrutiny is only terrifying to those who have something to hide, Alonzo. My father kept us private because it was his strategy. My strategy is entirely different.”
“So, what’s your strategy?” He asks.
“That’s for you to find out.”
Before Alonzo can process that, Nino Romano chimes in, his voice cold. “And what about loyalty? Blood is thick, Miss Caruso. If a conflict of interest arises between your father's house and your husband's empire, where will your allegiance fall?”
The question is a trap, a dangerous one designed to make her look like a spy or a traitor. I tense up, my hand tightening on her thigh, ready to cut the old man's throat if he pushes too far.
Sienna doesn't even blink. “In two days, I take Alessandro’s name. In our world, a woman leaves her father’s house to build her husband’s kingdom.
My allegiance belongs to the Gallo empire, because it will be the empire of my children.
If my father's house crosses a line, I will be the first to help Alessandro reinforce our borders. I am surprised an elder of your standing needs a lesson on the sacred vows of a syndicate marriage.”
Nino’s eyes widen slightly, and Giuseppe and Eliseo nod subtly.
For the next hour, the verbal arrows keep flying.
Eliseo questions her understanding of their traditional territories, and she rattles off our exact port distributions better than half my captains.
Giuseppe drops a veiled hint about my reputation for brutality, asking if she has the stomach for a violent husband, and she looks him dead in the eye and says, "A Don who cannot enforce respect is useless. I prefer a man who commands it."
With every single attack they launch, Sienna doesn't just defend herself, she completely eviscerates them with a sharpness, precision, and absolute control that leaves the entire room stunned.
By the time the dessert is cleared, a heavy, newfound respect hangs in the air. The elders look at her with a mixture of wariness and awe.
I sit beside her, entirely incapable of hiding the raw, unadulterated admiration blazing in my eyes. My thumb strokes the smooth skin of her leg under the table, my pulse hammering with a possessive pride so intense it makes my chest ache.
Through it all, the one person at this table I absolutely cannot stand is Alonzo. The bastard just won't quit. He keeps throwing jabs, thinly veiled insults, and annoying remarks, trying to poke holes in her composure.
I already know I’m well disliked in this room—that's nothing new. And based on Sienna’s lethal responses so far, she’s proudly joined my league. But everyone else in the room at least has the goddamn sense to keep their dislike private now.
Not Alonzo.
He and Matteo just continue to run their mouths like they’re untouchable.
Every time Alonzo opens his mouth to speak, Sienna’s fingers tighten around my hand under the table.
At first, the grounding squeeze of her palm keeps me relaxed, keeping the beast in me chained down.
But as the minutes drag on, it has the exact opposite effect.
I’m vibrating with a dark, violent rage.
I am very, very close to snapping.
“Miss Caruso,” Alonzo speaks up again just as the murmurs around the table die down, his voice cutting through the lull.
“How do you feel about Alessandro dropping your sister to marry you?” He lets out a low, mocking chuckle, looking around for support.
“Two sisters from the same house. That’s very brave of him, don't you think?”
Sienna’s hand tightens around mine so hard her nails dig into my skin. I glance at her, and for the first time tonight, I see a flicker of real annoyance behind her eyes. This question affects her. It cuts deep.
“Alonzo…” Vittorio snaps from the end of the table, his voice sharp with a clear warning.
Alonzo just laughs, waving his hand dismissively.
“I’m sure Sienna doesn’t mind the question, Vittorio.
We’re literally family now, aren't we?” He leans further over the walnut table, his oily eyes locking onto Sienna, patting her hand gently.
“Come on, sweetheart, be honest. Are you afraid that once the vows are spoken, Alessandro will just start chasing your other sisters too?”
I lose it.
Before Sienna can even realize what's happening or try to hold me back, my hand flies across the linen tablecloth. I grab the closest piece of cutlery—which just happens to be a heavy, serrated steak knife—and I lunge forward.
Leaning halfway across the table, I drive the knife down with every ounce of strength I have.
The blade tears through the tablecloth and slams into the tabletop, burying itself deep between two of Alonzo’s fingers.
Alonzo jerks back with a strangled scream, clutching his hand as his eyes fly wide with terror. For one frozen heartbeat, he’s too terrified to even check whether I’ve taken his fingers with the blade.
The elders slam their hands on the table, their chairs scraping back in a deafening chorus of outrage.
“Alessandro!”
Alonzo stares at the knife wedged between his fingers, his face drained of color. Then, with trembling hands, he checks them. All ten are still there. A shaky breath of relief escapes him before it erupts into a furious scream.
“You’re fucking crazy! You could’ve taken my finger!”
I hold his gaze, my voice calm enough to make the threat even colder. “If I wanted to take your finger, I would’ve.” I lean in slightly. “That was a fucking warning, Alonzo.”
Vittorio, Salvatore, Nino, and Enzo are all standing now, glaring absolute daggers at me. Their chests are heaving with a mixture of shock and fury. To them, I have just violated the sacred neutrality of a family dinner.
I don't give any of them a single second to speak.
I reach under the table and wrap my fingers tightly around Sienna’s trembling hand. My grip is firm, as I gently urge her to her feet, pulling her up beside me. Sienna stands tall. She keeps her eyes locked on the elders.
“We will take our leave now. Dinner was lovely,” I say, my voice smooth. “See you all at the wedding.”
Without waiting for a response, and with Alonzo’s breathing still loud in the background walls, I turn on my heel. Keeping Sienna anchored firmly to my side, we walk away, leaving the den of lions bleeding in our wake.