Page 77 of Brandishing Betrayals

IstoodoutsideLeonardo’smother’shome—his family home—dressed in a suit and tie that I tugged at awkwardly. The suit was new, something I had gone into Mourningside for that morning to pick up. It had been years since I had to wear the get up and I had bulked up since then. Nothing in my closet at my mother’s had still fit from when I was a scrawny little teen.

I had made a point to go to Ralph Lauren for something off the rack. I didn’t have time for some tailored bullshit like theSeratelli’s always wore. Leo wouldn’t be caught dead in anything off the rack. He was highly ostentatious.

Struggling with feelings of inadequacies, I stared up at the imposing marble staircase outside the ridiculous mansion that boasted a cliché circular drive with a fountain in the middle of it. The whole place was so ridiculous, as were half the people inside.

The dining room was sure to be packed with fake women, dressed to the nine’s in layers of silk or tulle or some other bullshit fabric I couldn’t give two shits about. They would laugh their fake airy laughs and throw their heads back and noses up in the air like it was the most hilarious thing in the world…and I would have to sit through it all, with a smile on my face and bear through it.

The thought alone made me miserable.

A car pulled up behind me and I glanced over my shoulder to see Leo climbing out of the back of a blacked-out Escalade. Talk about your cliches. “Nice shiner,” Leo commented.

I smirked back. “Can’t all look this beautiful.”

Leo rolled his eyes. When he stepped closer, I waited warily. “I’m glad you’re doing this.” He rested a hand gently on my shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”

I was slightly dumbfounded as I stared at my cousin. “Uh—”

“Apologize to the family at dinner, then after, we’ll talk about your girl.” Leo squeezed my shoulder before he dropped his hand and walked up the marble stairs. “Come on, no one makes my mother wait.” Leo called over his shoulder, shooting me a smirk.

That got my ass in gear. I bounded up the steps after Leo, knowing just how hot-headed Lita Seratelli could be if anyone missed her cooking—not that she didn’t have a team of chefs in the kitchen helping her, but no one would dare to tell her otherwise.

Inside the house was just as ostentatious as the outside, or even more so, given all the intricate woodworking details and gaudy gold accents covering everything. I could admit the wood was cool, the gold everything on the other hand was overly flashy for no reason. In short, it was stupid.

I followed Leo into the parlor where guests—family members—mingled. Leo was stopped almost immediately by a group of ladies, but I carried on to the full bar in the corner of the room where a bartender was serving drinks. I ordered a whisky neat, going for Kara’s favorite Macallan, not feeling a damn bit wrong for drinking Leo’s top shelf liquor.

While I waited for my drink, I scanned the parlor area, searching for my mother, even though I knew she’d either be in the kitchen helping Lita, or in the living room chatting with one of the girls. She didn’t like that Leo allowed the gentlemen to smoke in the parlor. She said it was bad for her skin and lungs, despite Augustino Sr. shelling out big money to install exhaust fans and ozone filters.

I knew I should find her before dinner so we could sit near each other at the ridiculously long table, but I was in no rush to hear her fuss over my very black eye. Leo had been precise in his two hits to my face—aiming for my eye and jaw—to leave a very dark bruise.

I thanked the bartender as he set my drink on a napkin before me. Turning to survey the room, I sipped on my whisky and nodded occasionally at people as they met my gaze. No one had dared to come over to me and I knew they wouldn’t until Leonardo gave the ok that I was welcomed back into the family.

When it was finally time to be seated, a staff member announced dinner and the guests all made their way into the dining room. I met my mother at the door from the living room and gave her my elbow as I led her over to the table—or rathershe led me to where she’d like to sit—in the middle, closer toward the head of the table where Leonardo stood, facing us all.

I ended up seated right next to my cousin Tino. The five Seratelli brothers were seated closest to Leonardo, with Fredrico Accardi seated across from me. Freddy glared at me, but I ignore him, taking in all the faces along the very long table.

Everyone waited for Leonardo to motion to us to sit, before we actually took our chairs. Then it was a flurry of activity as everyone sat down and kitchen staff began bringing out plates. Everyone was served a plate full of food by the staff, while platters were set in the center of the table for people to serve themselves seconds as we finished our plates.

Nothing had changed. Not one damn thing.

I didn’t know whether or not to laugh or cry at how familiar it all was. I didn’t know why I expected change. Just because my Uncle Augustino was gone, didn’t mean the family would change how things have been for decades. Leonardo was more like his father than he realized.

Conversations around the table ranged from different movies to plays that people had seen that week, to different remodeling project updates people were going through. One of my aunts was having a knee replacement the following week, so a couple of the women were fussing over her.

One thing that I noticed about the Seratelli men was that none of the younger generation—my generation—had women. They were all single.

I didn’t know why it stood out, but it had. Leo was my age, just having turned forty, so it was a little unusual for someone in his position to not have an heir yet. He’d been head of the family for ten years now. I would have thought that securing an heir would have been a priority for him.

I glanced around the table looking for Alessia—Leo’s youngest sister—but couldn’t find her. “Where’s Alessia?” I asked my mother, keeping my voice low.

“She’s away at college,” Leo replied, having heard me.

I turned to my cousin, wondering if I was permitted to ask more. It had been so long since I was in a social setting regarding the family, I didn’t know how Leo acted during dinner, or where I even stood with the man. He’d been agreeable before dinner when we’d been one on one, but surrounded by the entire family, Leo might act different.

“She’s studying to become a nurse practitioner. She’s up north at the University of Chicago, downtown,” Leo elaborated.

My eyebrows rose as I nodded. “Good for her.”

Leo smiled wryly. “As she keeps telling me.”

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