Page 65 of Kissing the Villain

“Apologize, or I’m walking out of here for good.”

“Sit,” Luca demanded.

I slid my hands to my hips. “Apologize.”

His dad smacked his arm, issuing a silent order.

He clenched his teeth, biting back whatever nasty comment he was about to make. “Sorry.”

“Alexandrea,” Arlo said. “We’re about to serve the steak. You don’t want to miss this cut of filet. I had it delivered for the special occasion.”

What was special about this nightmare?

“Alright.” I took my seat. “But I’m done discussing a marriage between Luca and me.”

Arlo shot a warning glance at Luca, and then his dark brown eyes were back on me. “You have my word. My son will be on his best behavior for the rest of the meal.”

“One more thing,” I said to Arlo because I knew it would piss off Luca. “My grandfather mentioned having a choice between Luca and Marcello.”

Arlo’s eyebrows rose in shock. “Carl said this?”

“Yes.”

Luca clenched his jaw so tightly it could have cracked under pressure. Everyone stared at me. It was so fucking awkward I wanted to hide under the table.

“I will speak with Carl about the matter,” Arlo said with a concerned look aimed at Luca.

Did my grandfather’s opinion hold more weight than I thought? No one corrected me, which made me wonder if the Wellingtons had power over them when I was led to believe it was the other way around.

My hands trembled, forcing me to hold them on my lap. He consoled me at night and helped me deal with the nightmares. But he would not show me the same kindness in front of his family. That version of Marcello was reserved for me.

“Evangeline’s twentieth-anniversary show is coming up,” I said to Arlo, hoping to break the tension in the room. “I want to add a new painting to this year’s collection. Something no one has ever seen before.”

Arlo rubbed the dark stubble along his jaw. The platinum serpent ring on his finger with onyx chips gleamed under the fluorescent lights. If I could find the Salvatores’ link to The Serpents, I could prove their guilt.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Have you been in Evangeline’s studio lately?”

Arlo sighed. “Not in a long time.”

“There’s a fresco on the ceiling.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with it.”

Biting down my fear of discussing what could be a sensitive subject, I said, “I’d like to recreate one element from the fresco, which would mean spending time alone in her studio.”

Luca shot daggers at me from across the table.

“Not a problem,” Arlo intoned.

I smiled. “Great. There’s just one thing. You’re in the piece. So are Luca and Marcello.”

“And you want my approval?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “You have it.”

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