Chapter 34 #3
“Because she strokes your ego,” Thomas mutters, but there’s the ghost of a smile there, too.
This dinner feels… almost ordinary. Too easy, too comfortable. I forget for a second that these aren’t just charming men with sharp suits and sharper jawlines. They’re predators with titles, and I’m at their table.
“So, what’s your major, Thomas?” I blurt out, needing a safer topic for my mind to focus on.
He blinks. “Huh?”
I laugh. “Your older brother’s an accountant; like me, which I still find hard to believe. I already know Johnny’s a commercial architect,” I gesture around the table, “so what about the rest of you?”
Jake scoffs, jerking a thumb at Troy. “Oh, I know exactly what you mean. When Cyan laid down that rule back in high school, this dumb fuck was failing math.”
Troy glares at him, mouth full of pasta, and points his fork at Jake. “Your ass is lucky Rosa can cook, or I’d smack you.” More boisterous laughter from around the table.
Grinning, Thomas relaxes a fraction. “Civil engineering. I take Johnny’s designs and make them real, big infrastructure, city planning.” Lucilla leans, looking so proud, like she might add something, Thomas hits with a look that makes her retreat into her glass instead.
I can’t help but feel sorry for her. “Interesting,” I say.
Across the table, Collin clears his throat. “Aria, why didn’t you ask me?”
“Because I already know. English literature, right?”
“That’s one of them.” He looks far too pleased with himself. “Also, classical music composition–and biochemistry.”
Sebastian groans. “Fucking show-off.”
I raise a brow. “Okay, so which degree do you actually use?”
“Biochemistry,” he says smoothly. “I’m the head of Oraxone Pharmaceuticals.”
My breath catches. “Oh, my, I moved here because of your drug, Serovac.”
Cyan chuckles beside me, voice lazy. “So technically I owe Collin for us meeting.”
Gabriel grins. “Damn, Col. Maybe you should’ve claimed her first.” My stomach flips. Claimed. Like I’m a business acquisition they could’ve divided up.
Cyan doesn’t even look at Gabriel. He takes a slow sip of wine. “Ridiculous. She was born to be mine.” The way he says it; quiet, certain sends another shiver down my spine.
I gulp and drag my focus to Collin. “I was hoping to get my grandmother into your upcoming Serovac trial.”
He shakes his head. “She’d be outside the bracket. It’s for early-onset memory loss… twenty to fifty-five. Sorry.”
“Oh.” The hope I’d been secretly nursing deflates, small and stupid. Before the lump in my throat can settle.
Cyan’s hand finds mine under the table. It’s warm, and steady.
“Dove, there’s nothing wrong with your Nonna,” he murmurs, just for me.
“She may not remember you, but deep down, she knows. Pauline says she lights up the brightest when you’re around.
Stop focusing on what’s gone. Be grateful she’s still here. ”
“Thanks,” I whisper. He doesn’t let go right away. His thumb traces the inside of my wrist, the cold metal of his bracelet rubbing against my skin before he finally releases me.
Gabriel clears his throat. “Okay, no more sad faces. More importantly, why haven’t you asked me about my major yet?”
Jake snorts. “Ignore him, Aria. My brother’s always been an attention whore.”
I can’t help it. I smile. “Alright then, Angel. What did you study? Please tell me it was theology. I’d love the irony.”
Sebastian cackles. “If he studied theology, I’m the fucking Pope.”
Liam snorts. “We’d all be in trouble.”
Gabriel just smirks. “Communication & Media Studies. I handle branding, PR, all the public-image bullshit. Make us look respectable.” Of course he does. The Devil’s own spin doctor, wrapped in angel packaging.
Sebastian raises his glass to me. “I like this chick, C. She reminds me of Gracie, able to roll with the punches.” Thomas’ expression goes rigid, and Lucilla glances down. I don’t miss the way her fingers tighten before she brings them to her lap. Who’s Gracie?
Before I can ask, Sebastian continues, “Gabe’s called ‘The Angel’ because he always makes women call out to the Most High.” He waggles his eyebrows.
I roll my eyes. “So, you’re a manwhore.”
Trent is mid-sip of wine when he almost chokes, coughing and laughing simultaneously.
“That’s what your dumb ass gets for trying to drink laughter,” Liam taunts, tapping Trent’s back.
The table roars with amusement, including Cyan.
Even Collin has the ghost of a fake smile on his face.
The only person who doesn’t look amused is Lucilla.
Her focus is on the wine bottle. She refills her glass on autopilot.
When she takes a sip, her shoulders lower by a fraction, like the weight she’s carrying is pressing down harder than anyone realizes.
She finishes the glass in one long pull, then refills it again without hesitation.
It’s not indulgence. It’s a coping mechanism.
For a moment, I wonder if the wine is the only thing keeping her from splintering right there at the table.
Evie, sweet and innocent, looks up from her plate, “What’s a manwhore?”
Thomas, quick as ever, blurts out, “A guy who’s... a friend to women.”
Evie hums. Rosa, ever the master of distractions, claps her hands together. “Alright, Evie. It’s time for you and Grandma Rosa to watch Gigi Says in the entertainment room. The adults need some time to talk.”
“Yay!” Evie jumps up excitedly, letting Rosa lead her away.
I take a sip of my wine as I glance at Sebastian. “So, Fixer, what did you study?”
“Business management,” he shrugs. Of course, the Fixer has a degree in making things run.
Cyan leans in slightly, voice warm with amusement.
“I like this side of you, think you won them over.” I meet his gaze, and for a moment, the rest of the table fades.
It’s just us. Despite all of my past denials, the truth is simple.
I’m drawn to him. But before I can even unpack that, a sharp crack splits the air.
Lucilla stands, fingers gripping around the stem of an empty wine glass. Her face is flushed. Across from her, Thomas grips the wine bottle with calm, deliberate control. His knuckles are tight, his face is blank, as the silence stretches on.
Lucilla’s hazel eyes narrow. “Fuck you, Thomas,” she slurs, voice sharp as she shatters the crystal glass in her hand against the nearest wall.
“I’m not a child. Give me the damn bottle.
” Tension slams into the room, thick and suffocating.
Thomas doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch. He watches her as if she’s a puzzle he’s long since given up trying to solve. Not his wife, but his problem.
Lucilla stumbles and catches herself. I catch a flicker of bitterness in her expression. “I said, give it to me.” She reaches for the bottle again.
Thomas’s grip on the bottle tightens. “You’ve had enough.”
Lucilla lets out a breathy, humorless laugh. “Oh, have I?” She looks at him and I see the look of a woman who’s fought the same war for so long, she no longer believes in victory. She glances at Rosa’s glass, still full of wine.
“Don’t, Lucilla,” Thomas warns, bone-deep tired.
Her jaw hardens. She snatches Rosa’s wineglass and hurls it against the wall.
It shatters, red streaks sliding down the pristine white like blood.
I hear a startled yelp. When I look toward the sound, I see Evie and Rosa in the doorway.
Rosa’s steady hand rests on the little girl’s back as she guides her away.
At the table, no one moves to clean up the mess, while Thomas watches Lucilla with eerie stillness. She smiles, but it’s the smile worn by people who’ve already drowned.
“You should drink with me, Tom, like old times.”
Sebastian exhales, dragging a hand over his jaw. “Christ, Lu. That was unnecessary.”
She doesn’t acknowledge him. Her gaze drifts to Cyan. “You know what the real problem with this family is, Cyan? You all think you get to decide when someone’s had enough. When they’re allowed to break. When they have to hold it together.”
She gestures to the table. “And when they’re expected to fall in line.
” Lucilla lets out a slow, bitter-sounding breath.
“That’s the thing about being a wife to one of you mobsters.
” Her eyes land on Thomas. “You don’t get to be anything else but begging for just a scrap of his attention.
” Her words cut through the silence like a blade, straight into me.
Troy leans forward. “Lucilla. You’re drunk.”
Her laugh is dry and broken. “And what if I am?”
“You’re making a scene,” Sebastian warns, tone lighter.
Lucilla presses her fingers to her temple.
Then she lifts her chin, schooling her features.
She smooths her dress, as if that alone could erase what just happened.
Without asking, she picks up Johnny’s wine glass and drains it.
“Enjoy your dinner,” she murmurs. Then she turns, heels clicking sharply against the floor as she wobbles out.
Thomas doesn’t move. His fingers curl tighter around the wine bottle. He just stares at the closed door for far too long.
Finally, Cyan speaks, his voice dry. “That went well.”
Troy snorts. “Yeah. Family fucking bonding at its finest.”
The tension lingers, thick and leaden. I shift in my seat, hands in my lap. Lucilla’s words echo in my head, curling around me like a whisper of warning.
Am I already in something I can’t escape?