Chapter 25 #2
He doesn't move.
"Finn, go pour some whiskey for you and Brax," she instructs.
He tears his stare off me for a moment.
She tosses him a warning look.
He caves and walks toward the bar.
She grabs a bottle of wine out of the fridge and opens it. She fills two glasses and hands me one.
Finn hands Brax a crystal tumbler of whiskey.
Brenna toasts, "Welcome to the family, Valentina." She holds her glass out, then nudges Finn.
He raises his glass and mumbles, "Welcome."
Brax tugs me closer.
My pulse ticks higher. I clear my throat. "Thank you. And for having us for dinner."
"Anytime," she states.
We click glasses, and the smooth, full-bodied, rich with berries and oak slides down my throat. I comment, "This is delicious."
"It's from a wine tour the girls and I took last year. Should we sit?" she asks.
"Yes," Brax replies and leads me to the couch. We settle in, and he puts his hand on my thigh.
Brenna takes a sip, then inquires, "So how did you two meet?"
My anxiety flares.
Brax answers, "Through friends."
"Oh? Who?" she asks.
It makes my nerves oscillate faster. I look at him, feeling ill.
He lies, "Kirill and Fiona."
Finn shifts on his seat.
"Ah. I see," she replies and takes another sip. Before any more interrogation can begin, she stands. "Okay, stay there. Finn, help me bring everything out."
He grunts something that might be an agreement. They disappear into the kitchen.
I exhale, leaning closer to Brax. "I'm going to combust."
"You're doing great."
"Finn looks like he wants to skin me alive."
"He doesn't do that to women," Brax deadpans.
My eyes widen.
He chuckles, then presses a kiss to my temple. "Relax. Brenna already likes you."
"How do you know that?"
"She didn't sling wine on you."
"She does that?"
He grins. "Only when it's warranted. Welcome to the O'Malleys."
Brenna returns carrying a large platter. The rich pomegranate glaze, savory lamb, and caramelized aromatics drift through the air.
Finn follows with the sides.
My mouth waters and stomach growls. I realize I haven't eaten today.
We move to the table. The lamb shoulder glistens under the light, its ruby glaze lacquered across tender meat that looks like it would fall apart at the slightest touch.
Roasted garlic and herb couscous sit beside it, dotted with pine nuts.
Charred broccolini drizzled with lemon-tahini adds a bright, earthy aroma.
Brenna takes her seat. "Let's dig in."
Finn cuts the lamb and I try not to focus on the knife, but I watch him carefully. He puts slabs on plates and hands me one first.
"Thank you."
He grunts again, then passes plates to the others.
I bring a piece to my mouth, and the second it hits my tongue, the world narrows to tender, bold, and savory flavor. There's the slightest sweetness from the pomegranate and warmth from cinnamon and pepper.
Brax groans. "This is so good, Brenna."
"Agree. It's incredible," I compliment and take a bite of couscous.
Brenna beams. "Thank you. I've been perfecting this one."
"It's one of my favorites," Brax adds.
Her expression softens even more. "You used to beg me to make this when you were younger."
Brax scoffs, "Beg? I don't beg. I requested."
"No. You begged," Brenna insists, smiling.
Finn grunts again, but his lips twitch.
The conversation threads itself more easily after that. It's not totally effortless, but smoother than I expected.
Brenna and I talk about yoga. She asks how I have such a beautiful Italian accent, and we end up exchanging Italian sayings. Before I know it, I'm relaxed and laughing.
Finn finally speaks. "Where in Italy did you grow up?"
I nervously answer him, and he slowly lets down his guard a bit.
Brax refuses to take his hand off me, sometimes teasing my inner thigh so my brain doesn't want to function.
Halfway through the meal, Brenna curls her fingers around her wineglass. "Valentina, what about your family? Do they live in Chicago?"
The question drops like a stone into my chest. I straighten my fork on my plate. "I…don't have any family left."
Her expression shifts to sympathy. She lowers her voice. "None?"
"My parents died in a plane crash. There's no family left. Well, none I associate with," I add, thinking about how Luca won't ever accept me. And Zara's family, but I don't want to get into that conversation. It's best to keep it under wraps.
Plus, I can never tell the real truth.
My uncle Salvatore killed my parents in a ritual when I was sixteen.
Then he told me I was to forgive him and let him raise me as his, or he'd put me in a brothel.
I chose to play the game, vowing to get a seat at the table so I could be the one making decisions on rituals and not him.
No one should lose their parents for no reason.
Mine did nothing except fall in love. Salvatore only killed them because he didn't like my mother's blood, and that defies the purpose of the Underworld.
Now, he's dead. Sean killed him to save Zara.
Brax's hand clamps gently around my thigh under the table. It's protective, steady, and grounding.
Brenna's voice softens. "I'm so sorry."
I nod. "Thank you."
Finn says nothing, but his gaze flickers, sharp and assessing.
Brax clears his throat, almost defensive. "She has us now."
Brenna smiles faintly. "Yes, she does."
I blink hard, not expecting the emotions welling in my chest. Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, "I'm sorry. I just lied and you deserve better than that. Zara's my cousin. She and I have gotten really close. Luca used to love me but now…" I turn away and blink hard.
Brax slides his thumb over my thigh.
I look back at Brenna, adding, "Luca won't have anything to do with me anymore because of my father. It's complicated."
Silence electrifies the room.
Crap. Why did I just admit all that?
I don't dare look at Finn. I glance down at my plate.
Brenna says, "Luca's missing out. I'm sorry to hear that."
I meet her gaze.
She smiles then stands. She chirps, "Dessert time. I made a dark chocolate tart with cherry glaze. Valentina, want to help me?"
"Yes," I say instantly, grateful for the escape.
We carry plates into the kitchen. The moment we're alone, Brenna places a hand on my arm. "You're doing great."
I blink, unsure how to respond.
She adds, "Finn's protective. He's slow to trust, but when he does, it's permanent."
"Permanent in the good way?" I ask lightly.
Brenna laughs. "Yes, in the good way. And deep down, he wants to get things back to where they were with Brax. It's killing him, but he's so damn stubborn."
"I can see that," I comment.
She winces. "Sorry."
A genuine laugh escapes me. Tension drains from my shoulders.
She adds, "We should probably get back." She picks up the tart.
We return to the table, serve dessert, and finish the night with lighter conversation. It's nothing deep or sharp, just small bridges forming where cliffs once stood.
When we finally leave, Brax slides his hand along my back as we step onto the porch. The night is quiet and the air's cool.
He exhales when he gets to the car. "Thank you for going."
"That wasn't bad," I say.
"You mean Brenna wasn't."
I shrug, unable to hide my smile. "Finn didn't slice me to pieces. And she likes me. That's a start."
"Miracle one accomplished," he states in his sarcastic voice.
But it is. And I don't take it lightly.
If Brenna's going to allow me into the family with open arms, I'm going to dive headfirst.