Chapter Four #5
“Come on, Marcello, it’s not like that—”
“We’re supposed to be showing our guests how into each other we are, not texting old lovers.”
I grimace. “I’m telling you that isn’t what happened—”
“How about you wait to text him until after we’re done here?” he snaps. “If that’s not too much to ask? At least wait until after we cut the fucking cake.” He turns and walks away toward the bar, shaking his head.
“What the hell is he so worked up about?” I mutter, tucking my phone away. I feel guilty, even though I did nothing wrong. Marcello was the one who said we could have lovers on the side. Why’s he so bent out of shape just because I got a text?
Marcello is now standing near the bar with an omega I haven’t been introduced to yet.
He’s tall for an omega, dark-haired, olive-skinned, with the kind of face that belongs on the cover of a fashion magazine.
Everything about him is sophisticated, from his tailored suit to his cufflinks to the way he holds his glass of wine.
He’s as comfortable as Marcello is in this room of mobsters.
Something ugly slithers through me when I notice the strange omega is touching Marcello every chance he gets.
It’s little things like a hand on Marcello’s forearm as he leans in to say something.
A brush of fingers against Marcello’s wrist as he laughs at something Marcello says.
Small, familiar gestures that speak of history.
Of intimacy. Of a comfort level that comes from long acquaintance.
Inexplicably, my gut begins to churn. Those two definitely have a past. And the way Marcello is allowing that omega to touch him is doubly pissing me off after the lecture I just got from him.
He was two seconds from slapping a scarlet A on my chest, and yet he’s making no effort to stop that omega from flirting with him.
In fact, he’s leaning into it, tilting his head toward the other omega, smiling at whatever he’s saying.
His body language is open and warm in a way it hasn’t been with me since I met him.
I watch them for too long. I know I’m watching for too long because Carlo catches my eye from across the room. When he notices what I’m looking at, his expression shifts into something careful. Cautious.
Noemi joins me. She follows my gaze and her face changes.
“Oh,” she says softly. “That’s Sandro.”
“Who’s Sandro?” I try to sound nonchalant, but fail miserably.
She hesitates. The hesitation tells me plenty.
“He’s... he was Marcello’s partner. Before you.” She looks apologetic.
“How long were they together?” I ask.
She grimaces. “Two years.”
“That’s a long time. I guess they’re on good terms if he showed up at his ex’s wedding.
” I laugh, although I don’t feel like laughing.
I feel strange. I’m not sure what it is I’m feeling exactly.
I’m still angry with how Marcello spoke to me a minute ago, but there’s some other emotion gnawing at me too.
“Sandro being here doesn’t mean anything,” she says. “He’s a Lucchese. His family controls much of the ports, and they answer to the Foschinis. Leaving him or his mother off the guest list would have caused trouble. Marcello didn’t want or need that.”
I shrug. “I wouldn’t go to any of my ex’s weddings.”
She rests her hand on my arm. “Sandro still manages several of Marcello’s restaurants and clubs. They’re connected through business, not romance. Marcello is the one who ended things.”
“I see.” That gives me a little comfort, although I’m still not sure why I need comfort.
Maybe Sandro bothers me simply because he’s everything I’m not.
Polished where I’m rough. Obviously a part of this group, while I’m temporary.
He has a pedigree, whereas I’m a mutt. But Marcello said he wanted a nobody like me.
He didn’t want a pedigreed omega. I almost have myself calmed down.
I almost have myself convinced I’m overreacting.
Until Marcello puts his hand on Sandro’s waist.
It’s the kind of touch that could mean everything or nothing. But Sandro’s face when Marcello touches him, the quick flash of hope and hunger before he smooths it away, tells me it means everything to at least one of them.
Noemi makes a disgusted sound. “Okay, that’s inappropriate. I’m going to go talk to Marcello. He’s being dumb.” Before I can stop her, she marches over to her brother. She leans in and says something and Marcello lifts his head and meets my gaze.
I keep my face blank as he holds my gaze for a moment, flat and cool. Then he turns back to Sandro and says something that makes Sandro laugh, and his hand stays where it is. Noemi slips her arm through her brother’s and leads him away from Sandro, talking a mile a minute.
Mrs. Foschini appears at my side, and she’s watching Marcello and Noemi. “What’s that about?” she asks. “Why is Noemi upset with Marcello?”
Before I can answer, Ginevra is there with us too. Her face is stony and her gaze is pinned on Sandro. “I knew we shouldn’t have invited him to the wedding.”
Mama glances at her daughter. “What’s going on? Is Sandro causing problems?”
“No, Marcello is the problem,” I say. “He’s encouraging Sandro because he’s upset with me.”
They both look at me, appearing confused.
Mrs. Foschini asks, “Why would Marcello do that?”
“It’s just a misunderstanding,” I mumble.
“Come on, tell me what happened.” Her tone is insistent. “Did you and Marcello fight?”
“Not really.” I glance around at the guests, relieved everyone is having too much fun drinking and talking to notice the drama. Hopefully. “Like I said, it was a misunderstanding.”
Ginevra frowns. “Marcello must have done something bad. It takes a lot to get Noemi mad.”
Mrs. Foschini puts her hand on my arm. “Elio, please, tell me exactly what happened between you and Marcello.”
I meet her worried gaze. “It was no big deal really. I… I got a text from someone I knew back in Philadelphia. It upset Marcello.” I frown. “But I don’t really even know why.”
Ginevra widens her eyes. “Wait, were you sexting during the reception?”
I scowl. “What? No, I wouldn’t do that. God.”
She laughs. “Sorry.”
“I swear I didn’t do anything other than receive a text.” I sigh. “Then Marcello got mad and started flirting with that other omega.”
Mrs. Foschini wrinkles her brow, watching her son. “I’m surprised Marcello is being so careless.”
“Mama, you need to talk to him,” Ginevra urges. “He’ll listen to you.”
“Yes.” Mrs. Foschini leaves us, muttering in Italian as she heads straight for Marcello and Noemi.
Ginevra turns to me, her expression very serious. “Look, I know you’re probably pissed off at my brother right now, Elio. But you need to stuff down whatever you’re feeling and play nice.”
“Play nice? How? I didn’t do anything.” I frown. “I don’t understand why he’s so upset.”
“Okay, even if that’s true, when Mama brings him over, please do something to soothe him.”
I laugh, feeling flustered. “He’s the one who’s mad at me.”
“It doesn’t matter. Just be sweet to him.” Her gaze is imploring. “We need you to be the bigger person.”
“He won’t want me to be… sweet to him. He’s angry at me, Ginevra.”
“I know,” she hisses. “I’m asking you to fall on your sword because this moment is that important. He can’t flirt with Sandro at his own wedding in front of all these people. That’s insanity. You need to get him back under control.”
“I wouldn’t begin to know how to do that. I have no power over him.”
“You have more than you realize. He’s being stupid because his ego is hurt. He’s being a prideful alpha. Even if he’s a jerk, please just be nice to him. I promise you, he’ll like having his ego stroked, even if he doesn’t show it to you.”
“More likely he’ll shove me away and embarrass me. That’s the mood he’s in.”
“No. I know my brother. You can change his mood in an instant if you’ll just say you’re sorry you upset him.” She lets out a harsh breath when I open my mouth to protest. “I know you did nothing wrong.”
“Exactly. So why should I be the bigger person?”
“Because he’s not capable of it right now.
” She presses her lips tight. “Let’s just get through this wedding.
When you get him alone later tonight, tell him what an asshole he is.
Call him every name in the book. Punch him in his balls.
Do whatever you want. But now, in front of all these important people, I’m begging you to soothe the savage beast for all our sake. ”
I hesitate and she grits her teeth.
“Elio, think. What was the point of any of this if Marcello acts like a fool by flirting with his ex at his own wedding?”
“That’s his choice to act like a fool.”
“Of course, but everything will fall apart if he doesn’t get himself under control.
Do I have to remind you that we could all be in danger if the older alphas figure out this marriage is a fake?
They won’t like that at all. They’ll feel angry and manipulated.
That could cause our family real trouble. We need them as our allies.”
Uneasiness shifts through me as I hold her imploring gaze. There’s real concern in her eyes. Even though being conciliatory to Marcello is the last thing I want right now, I can tell she’s truly worried.
When I don’t respond, she whispers, “You need to remember who else is in this room, Elio. They may look civilized in their tailored suits and evening gowns, but this room is full of violent, vindictive, power-hungry men and women who would love nothing more than to bring Marcello and his family to their knees. And that includes you now. Which means it includes Fabio too.”
Her words strike fear in me. If Marcello alienates these powerful people, would that interfere with Fabio’s surgery? Is that a real danger?
“Is it really that serious?” I frown.
“Yes. For goodness sake, you and Marcello can’t fight at your own wedding,” she says in exasperation. “That will ruin everything. It’ll cast doubt on your union and that would be disaster.”