Page 55 of Veiled Vows

We haven’t had a dinner party in months, and while this is just a small gathering, Bianca’s going all out, and the smile on her face is genuine. It eases my guilt a fraction.

Roman arrives a little after eight looking all kinds of nervous, which is a strange look on such a handsome, usually confident face. He stands on the doorstep with a massive bouquet of flowers cradled in one arm and his other hand repeatedly adjusting his blue tie.

“If I didn’t know any better,” I tease, accepting the gigantic bouquet. “I’d say you’re nervous.”

“Your father has a reputation,” Roman replies with an easy smile that barely hides the nervous flit of his eyes. “Is it true that he hosted a dinner party and had the necks of every attendee slit?”

“That would be telling.”

“Noted.”

“And my mother?” I gaze up at him with warmth in my heart. “Any scary reputation stories I should know about?”

Roman shakes his head with a soft chuckle. “Nope. Which makes her infinitely scarier.”

“Noted.”

“No rumors just means she’s too good, never been caught.”

“Ah, of course.” I take his hand in mine and he grips it tightly while running his thumb over my knuckles.

“You look beautiful by the way,” Roman says in a low voice. “Though how you expect me to get through a dinner with your parents while you’re looking like that, I have no idea. You’re a cruel woman, Jasmine.”

“Consider it a test of strength,” I tease, smirking. The dress I chose for tonight is a simple strapless silver dress that just so happens to be so skintight, it’s like I dipped myself into silverand walked out with my head held high. The only way I can get away with such a dress is that I made Mom think it was her idea. Not difficult to do since she’s eager to take credit for any design and creative choice I make.

“Consider me tested.” Roman’s chin lifts briefly while we walk down the hall, then suddenly, he uses his grip on my hand to push me up against the wall, knocking one of our gigantic paintings off balance. “Consider me failing.”

He presses me there with his body, and the flowers in my arms get crushed by the sheer miles of muscle Roman possesses. He leans in quickly and presses his lips firmly to mine, earning a brief taste of my raspberry lip gloss that seems to melt between our lips as the kiss quickly goes from soft to hungry in half a second. He kisses me deeply until the sound of a door opening drives us both apart, and he stands nearby smoothing down his tie once more.

Our eyes meet briefly and he smirks very faintly while I have to swallow down a laugh at the sparkling lip gloss transfer on his lips as my mother steps into the hallway.

“Jasmine! What on earth are you doing to those flowers?”

I jolt up from the wall and warmth floods my cheeks as I thrust them forward into her arms. “A gift! From Roman!”

Bianca’s eyes widen at the sheer array of color and variety in the bouquet, then she looks at Roman as he steps forward and lightly takes her hand.

“It’s an honor to finally meet you properly, Mrs. Falzone.” He dips his head and brings the back of her hand to his lips. “I’m even more honored that you are allowing me to marry your vision of a daughter.”

My Mom’s cheeks flush a dark pink and her eyes turn faintly glassy as if this is her first experience with any kind of romance. “Oh, don’t be silly,” she titters. “It’s no trouble. I kept tellingJasmine to bring you around sooner, but you know what she’s like I’m sure!”

The laugh that escapes her is high-pitched and unlike anything I’ve ever heard from her before. Surely it can’t be that easy for Roman to get on her good side?

“And these flowers are beautiful. Jasmine, be a dear and find some of the servants to set them in water.” She thrusts the flowers back into my arms and loops her hand around Roman’s arm, then she frowns while leading him into the dining room. “Are you…wearing lip gloss?”

I track down a servant and have the flowers taken care of, then I head to dinner where my mother has Roman sitting next to her. My father sits at the head of the table tearing into a steak, my mother is at least one glass of wine deep, and Roman only looks faintly uncomfortable. The relief in his eyes when he looks at me makes my heart skip a beat, and when I sit next to him, his hand grips my thigh under the table.

The rest of the food is served as Bianca scolds Enzo for being impatient. Then the meal starts, and for the most part, it’s incredibly pleasant. Roman answers all my mother’s questions, including a few tall tales about his childhood to paint a perfectly unproblematic past. He’s also extremely complimentary of both me and my mother, and by the time dessert is served, I’m not sure who is blushing harder. Roman’s compliments to me are earnest, and while his words to my mother are entirely out of politeness, she blushes like a teenager.

Unfortunately, it’s around halfway through ice cream and lemon meringue pie that talk takes an inevitable dip toward the elephant in the room.

Work.

“Perhaps if the Yakuza hadn’t made the unwise decision to try and kill mydaughter,” my father snaps over his glass of bourbon. “I’d be more willing to lean into their demands. Butgiven their determination to harm the only thing dear to me, I’m having a hard time finding a reason why I should give a shit what happens to them when I take back my shipping lanes. I don’t give much of a shit as to how they will continue to do business.”

“Understandable,” Roman replies smoothly. “But Yakuza hold grudges. Insulting them with a bad deal now will be paving the way for retaliation down the line. I won’t lie, they don’t deserve an inch, but I also know my brother. Alto is a master manipulator who excels at getting other people to do his dirty work, but I have some contacts within the Yakuza. If you are serious about peace, I can put you in touch. Dealing directly with the Yakuza without a middleman can make things go smoothly.”

It’s a good offer, considering cutting Alto out of negotiations leaves a smaller window for interference, but the distrust merely deepens in my father’s dark eyes.

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