5

Alessia

“The wedding should be as soon as possible,” Rafael suggested. “What’s the need to wait when she’s well above eighteen?”

“Absolutely. There's no time to waste time.” My father replied, too quickly.

I sat stiffly beside Nico, every nerve in my body stretched taut like wire. The scratchy lining of my dress rubbed against my skin. I could feel the warmth of him just inches away, but I didn’t dare look at him.

My fingers fidgeted in my lap.

Nico didn’t say anything to his father’s suggestion, and they kept talking as though we weren’t in the room. Across the table, Leone hadn’t said a word since the knife incident. His mouth was pressed into a sour line, and I could feel his gaze flitting toward Nico when he thought no one was watching.

Coward.

The conversation continued without us, drifting from wedding plans to talks of alliances. The longer they spoke, the more I wanted to disappear. Crawl back into my room, rip off this dress, bury my head into a pillow and cry until I could forget all of it.

“Does daddy dearest know you sneak forbidden places at night?”

I turned my head slightly, startled by the quiet rasp of Nico's voice against my ear. Images of him in the cellar invaded my thoughts and my thighs clenched involuntarily. God, I hoped he didn't notice.

“Is this your idea of a conversation?”

He looked at me then, and for the first time, I met his gaze without looking away. His eyes were gray, but there was a slate-blue undertone near the iris, a detail I might have missed if I weren’t looking so hard.

“You don’t want to talk about the cellar?” he asked, almost playfully.

“No,” I said, and then paused. “But maybe you can tell me something instead.”

His brow arched in interest.

“How did you get access to my father’s cellar?”

His lips curved into a half-smile, but the warmth never reached his eyes.

“Smart girl,” he said, voice dipping just above a whisper. “Your father’s security is good. But not that good.”

“You shouldn’t have been there.”

“Neither should you.”

There was a long, loaded silence between us.

“That was very disrespectful.” I said finally. “To me. And to my father.”

He tapped a finger lightly against the rim of his glass. “What was?”

I shifted slightly in my seat, suddenly unsure I wanted to answer.

“You know what I mean.”

“The part where I was fucking her?” he asked, so quietly it didn’t matter who else was in the room. “Or the part where you watched?”

The words knocked the breath right out of my lungs. I choked on a cough, my hand flying to my chest as if I could stop the flames burning there.

“I'm not going to marry a man who cheats.” I managed to say.

“Good thing we're not married yet, dolcezza”

My heart thudded against my ribs, and I cursed myself for saying anything at all.

Before I could think of a way to recover, Father clapped his hands together. “The couple seem to be getting along fine,” he said, voice booming with false cheer. “We should head out for dinner before the food gets cold.”

Nico stood first, smooth and unhurried. I followed, moving like someone not entirely inside her own body.

The dining room was already filled when we entered. The women of my family had taken their seats, all dressed like they were attending a funeral they were expected to smile through. None of the Morettis brought wives or daughters. I suppose they didn’t trust us enough for that.

I spotted Arianna immediately. She grabbed my hand before I could slip past and tugged me into the seat between her and Aurelia.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, eyes narrowing. “Mamma says you’re getting married. You just came back.”

I reached up and brushed a strand of her blond hair behind her ear. “I’ll still be here,” I said softly.

She folded her arms and scowled. “No, you won’t. You’ll go away and we’ll never see you again. That’s what the women in the kitchen said.”

I tried to speak but my throat tightened. Before I could answer, Aurelia leaned across her plate

“Are you going to have to kiss him?” she asked, wide-eyed.

I gave a strangled laugh. “Not tonight.”

“Do you even like him?” Adrianna pressed.

I hesitated. I wasn’t sure I had the words for what Nico Moretti made me feel.

“No,” I said finally, because it was easier.

Arianna snorted. “You didn’t sound so sure.”

I was about to say something else when the first pop cut through the air. The woman across from me, a distant cousin from the southern branch of our family jerked back in her seat. Her wine glass tipped. Then her body slumped forward.

I froze, staring at the splatter of red that spread across the linen, and seeped toward the edge like wine spilled from a broken bottle.

My breath escaped me in one rush as someone slammed me to the wall, covering me with their body. The sound of more gunshots and people's screams rang in my ear.

“Merda,” Nico snarled, his back pressed to my front as he shielded me with his body. ““Li farò pagare, bastardi maledetti!”

They'll pay for this, fucking bastards.