Chapter 7 #2
For a split second he looks at me as if I slapped him, but he resumes his blank expression instantly. “You told me I was attractive.”
Blood freezes in my veins. “No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.” He folds his arms across his chest, and his biceps fill out the white shirt, dark ink filtering through the soft cotton. “In fact, your exact words were, ‘If you weren’t the most attractive guy in here already, you certainly are now.’”
My vision swims.
His gaze feels searing against my shoulder blades as I turn back to the window. Even looking in the opposite direction I can’t escape the heat.
“That was inappropriate of me. I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He takes another step toward me. “Don’t be. I would have been flattered if it weren’t for the fact you only thought that because I might be bad news.”
My peaked nipples chafe against the fabric of my dress. “And are you?”
There’s a long pause before he replies.
“It depends who’s asking.”
My mouth is suddenly dry. “What if it’s me asking? As your future sister-in-law.” I stare out at the garden, too afraid to read his expression.
His soft sigh touches my skin from a few paces away. “No . . .”
I hold my breath.
“. . . because I’m not staying.”
The thump of my heartbeat threatens to drown out all other sound. “But you’d be bad news if you were?” I turn my head far enough to catch his presence out of the corner of my eye, and my blood pulses in my ears.
Seconds pass.
His jaw works softly from side to side.
Then he nods slowly.
I shiver as I exhale. I feel like I’m levitating, unable to keep a handle on solid ground.
I turn back to the window, afraid to look at him. “I’ll see you in the dining room,” I say quietly.
When I return to the table, rain is lashing against the windows, the late spring weather reflecting my volatile mood. One minute I’m upbeat and the sun’s shining; the next I’m as low as I can possibly be and thunderclouds are emptying themselves over every corner of my world.
I’m attracted to my future brother-in-law.
And if his cryptic response to my last question was what I think it was, he’s attracted to me too.
I feel sick and lightheaded.
Cristiano and Papa are discussing something at one end of the table, with Allegra and my sisters at the other.
Sera and Bambi are doing something on Bambi’s phone, while Tess and my aunt bicker over something inconsequential.
I sigh inwardly and sit next to Tess and Allegra, feigning interest in their low-key quarrel.
“Can we talk about something else?” Tess whines, jerking her chin toward me. “The wedding. What’s the latest?”
My stomach drops, and my eyes involuntarily find Cristiano’s. His face is turned toward Papa’s, his chin resting on his curled fist, but his eyes keep flicking sideways, watching me.
I turn away before my cheeks heat. “I don’t know anything about it.”
Tess lifts a glass to her lips and extends a finger toward Allegra. “Do you?”
“I’ve had some ideas. I was hoping to talk to Savero about it this evening,” Allegra replies, looking personally offended he didn’t show.
Tess flashes me a glance.
I look down at the linen napkin I’m bunching between my fingers. “He’s not coming.”
“How do you know?” Tess places her empty glass on the table, the loud clang turning Papa’s head.
“It’s ten p.m. already.” I shrug. “And he sent his brother in his place. At least I know what his priorities are before I marry him. My expectations won’t have to come crashing down after the wedding—they’ll already be on the floor.
” I pick up a glass of whiskey that hasn’t been touched and throw half the double measure down my throat.
“Trilby Castellano,” Allegra hisses. “What’s gotten into you?”
The whiskey burns, but I manage to swallow. “What?”
“You don’t know the reasons why he didn’t show . . .”
“And I never will,” I say tightly.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I’m never going to know where he is, what he’s doing, who he’s with.
It’s not my place, is it? Not in his world.
I have to sit back, do as I’m told, and live with it.
” I circle the whiskey glass, watching the amber catch the light.
“So there’s no point in speculating. I’ll only ever know as much as you.
” I glance at her wide-eyed expression. “Which is nothing at all.” Then I down the rest of the glass.
Allegra seethes silently, while Tess gleefully scours the table for more whiskey. What could be more entertaining: me having another disagreement with Allegra, or me having another disagreement with Allegra, drunk?
My aunt and I stare at each other until a shadow falls over us both.
“Excuse me, ladies.”
His voice brings me out in goose bumps. I glance up—a long way up—until I find his face.
“Oh! Mr. Di Santo . . .” Allegra springs up from her seat, but Cristiano puts his hand on her shoulders.
It’s then I think the one thing I never thought possible: Right now, I’d give anything to be my aunt.
“Please sit.” He coaxes her back down. “And please, call me Cristiano.”
Allegra gulps loudly.
“I’m about to leave, but may I have a word with your niece?”
Allegra frowns. “Serafina? Well, yes, of course.”
“Serafina?” Cristiano’s brow dips.
“Yes. You’re interested in marriage, no?”
Both Cristiano and I gasp at the same time but for probably very different reasons. I suspect any marital involvement with my family is low to nonexistent on his bucket list, and nausea overcomes me at the thought of him marrying one of my sisters. One Mafia man in the family is more than enough.
“No. Trilby, signora. I owe her an apology.”
Allegra flushes deeper than a ripe raspberry.
“No, you don’t.” My words come out too high and too fast. “It’s fine. I understand. Savero has business to attend to.”
His eyes darken. “Still . . .” He pauses, his gaze burrowing beneath my skin. “Would you mind walking me out?”
Nerves sizzle across my shoulders. Allegra pans to face me slowly. Tess returns from her search empty-handed and with an obvious awareness of the uncomfortable vibe. Her gaze flits between me and our aunt.
“Um, of course,” I mutter. I can hardly refuse him. “In fact, it’s time I went home anyway.”
If I leave now, I might save myself the Spanish Inquisition for at least twelve hours.
I kiss Allegra’s stone face and wave good night to Papa. Then I numbly follow Cristiano out the dining room to the front door. Before he opens it, however, he shrugs off his jacket and slides it around my shoulders.
“It’s been raining out, and I noticed you didn’t bring a jacket.”
He opens the door before I can think of a response.
Our pace is slow as we walk along the path. When we reach the steps to the apartment, an image from the night at Joe’s flashes across my lids, and I burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I just remembered something. When I got home from Joe’s Bar that night, I was so relieved to see these steps. I had the cab driver doing circuits of this whole neighborhood, because I couldn’t for the life of me remember my address.”
When I look up at him, he’s not laughing. It sobers me right up, even though the only thing I drank tonight was the one glass of whiskey.
“Didn’t the bartender tell the driver? He knows where you live, right?”
I gawp at him. “Yeah, he does, but . . . why would Rhett tell my cab driver?”
In a beat Cristiano has my arm in a tight grip. “Who called the cab?”
“Cristiano, that hurts . . .”
He growls through clenched teeth, “Who called the cab?”
“I did. What’s the matter?”
“Who paid for it?”
“Me!” My voice is high-pitched, and I look around the gated development, hoping no one is witnessing this. “Who else?”
When he doesn’t respond I glance back at him, and for some unknown reason, I’m afraid of what I might see.
It turns out I’m right to be, because a shadow has descended over him like thunder.