Page 3 of Between Us

His father nodded, dismissing him with a wave of his hand.

2

Alessandra Rossetti looked at her reflection in the mirror and frowned. Two white tan lines were traversing the delicate ridges of her collarbones where the straps of her bikini top had rested just moments before. She traced the discoloration of skin with a finger and sighed. She'd have to rectify that on her next sunbathing session.

There was a knock on the door, and she grabbed the towel she'd discarded on the bed to cover herself up. “Yeah?”

The door opened a crack, and her brother Matteo poked his head in. “You decent?”

“Yup,” she answered, giving him a questioning look. “What's up?”

Matteo stepped inside and pushed his hands into his pockets as he took in his sister's pink cheeks. The sun had done a number on her today. “Nothing, just wanted to say hi.”

Today was Sunday, and that meant the Rossetti family would be having dinner together in its complete formula. Matteo had moved out of the house five years ago, but he was still required to attend family dinners once a week, which was the reason why he was there in the first place.

“Kind of early for you,” Alessandra noted with a teasing smile. Her brother almost never arrived earlier than he needed to, and it was only four in the afternoon.

He shrugged. “Dad said to be here for a meeting.”

Alessandra nodded in understanding. She had a pretty good idea of the type of business her father was running and her brother's involvement in it. Although Nero had always tried to shield her from that part of their lives, she'd seen and heard things that pointed out her father wasn't a regular businessman. So, even though they never openly discussed their family’s livelihood and the burdens that came with it, Alessandra knew that when their father demanded something, Matteo was to execute his orders, no questions asked.

“Luca is here,” Matteo added, the hint of a smile touching his lips. Luca Morano was the son of Vito Morano, her father's associate—or, in terms Nero Rossetti didn't want his daughter to be acquainted with, his underboss. Alessandra had been promised to Luca on her fifteenth birthday, and the wedding was set to take place next year.

As archaic as it sounded, arranged marriages were still a fairly common occurrence within their tight social circle. She had been raised with the belief that her purpose as a woman was to marry an Italian man of notable status to strengthen the bond between theirfamilies. For her, Luca was that man, and she was fine with it. He was attractive, well-mannered, and he was going to make for a decent husband. What more could she ask for?

“He's staying for dinner?” she asked, none too shy about showing interest in her future husband. She liked Luca well enough and she enjoyed his company.

“Guess so,” her brother replied. “I didn’t get the chance to talk to him about it.”

Alessandra nodded, her mind already shifting focus to what she was going to wear. She also needed to do something about her hair, since it had been up in a bun all day, and all that chlorine in the pool hadn’t helped either.

“How was your weekend?” Matteo continued to make small talk.

“Not that different from the other days of the week,” she replied, arms crossed over her chest and her hip propped up against the bed’s footboard. While Matteo had his job within their father’sorganization, she didn’t have that much going on for herself. Her days were mostly spent lounging outside by the pool when it was warm enough, reading books, shopping and occasionally meeting her cousins for lunch. She’d started taking an online course with her father’s approval, and even though it did manage to fill up some of her free time, it wasn’t the same as going to college. Andthatwas a different discussion altogether that she wasn’t planning to touch again with her father.

Maybe, when she got married, Luca was going to be more open to the idea of Alessandra finishing her studies. As her husband, he could take that decision from her father’s hands. But that was something shehadn’t dared to address with him just yet. For the time being, she was content to just be patient and wait for the day she was officially a married woman.

Matteo's phone started to go off inside his pocket, a sign that he was waited downstairs. He took it out and glanced at the display before answering the call with a quick, “Yeah, I'll be right there.”

He was already halfway out the door when he turned to give his sister a wink goodbye and a mouthed “see you later”.

Alessandra let out an amused breath. After a moment, she walked to the dresser, grabbed a matching set of bra and panties and headed into the bathroom for a shower and a thorough scrub.

If Luca was staying for dinner, she wanted to look her best for her future husband.

???

Wearing a baby-blue dress that reached mid-thigh and four-inch sandals, Alessandra gathered her long, dark-brown hair over one shoulder as she stepped into the empty living room. She had expected to find everyone there, but after searching the dining room and even the kitchen, there was no sign of activity anywhere on the ground floor. With a frown, she glanced at her phone and saw that it was a few minutes past six, which meant dinner was already overdue.

This was definitely strange, especially since her father always insisted on being punctual with any social gathering. She hesitated for a moment, debating whether to call Matteo and ask where he was. Just as quickly, she dismissed the idea, already knowing that ifthey were still handling business, interruptions of any kind would not be appreciated.

Her mother had to be somewhere inside the house, so she turned on her heels and was about to take the stairs again, when the sound of cars pulling up in the driveway had her freezing with one foot on the first step. She waited, knowing it wasn't polite to spy through the windows and expecting the front door to open and someone she knew to make their way inside. But when the doorbell rang instead, she set into motion and went to answer the door.

The four suit-wearing men standing on the front porch didn’t look even remotely familiar.

“I assume you are Alessandra,” one of them spoke, giving away a slight accent she had trouble placing. “We are here to see your father.”

Before she could answer, the man of the house appeared at the top of the stairs. “Alessandra, invite our guests inside.”

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