Page 68 of Where Dark Hearts Devour
“Will you be Savero’s best man?” the sister in black asks.
“Tess!” Castellano hisses.
“What? It’s a perfectly reasonable question.”
I smile, but it feels stiff. “Yes, I will be. But I’ll be heading straight back to Vegas soon after, unfortunately.”
Tess’s mouth falls open. “Really? But ... it’s going to be the wedding of the year. Surely, the festivities will go on long after the bells have stopped ringing?”
“Contessa,” Allegra warns. “It’s not any of our business.”
“It’s a fair point.” I shrug. “We Italians do love a wedding ...” My attention catches on Castellano. Her face has paled, and she’s lowered the fork to her plate. “But I have unavoidable business to attend to.”
She holds my gaze as talk of the wedding rumbles around us. Before she looks away, her left eye flickers as though she’s caught onto something. Maybe she has. It doesn’t change anything though. Whatever I feel for my brother’s fiancée is irrelevant. It’s better I remove myself from the object of my temptation sooner rather than later.
The sky outside darkens, the bottles of red wine littering the table now empty. The youngest sister lies across Allegra’s lap sleeping, while Tess talks her aunt’s ear off with what sounds to me like utter drunken nonsense. Castellano and Serafina are talking between themselves, so I pretend to check my phone while intermittently flashing my gaze toward my future sister-in-law. Sometimes she meets it; sometimes she doesn’t. The times she does, I feel a spasm of longing clench around my heart.
This was actually a bad fucking idea. The more time I spend around her, the less I want to leave. Now I’m certain we met before, when we were both younger. Vague memories comeback to me in fragments, but I’m knitting them together piece by piece, bit by bit. With each passing day, it’s becoming harder to think about releasing her to Savero, especially when I know he couldn’t give two flying fucks about this woman, which boils my blood. I don’t remember much from back then—trauma often gets in the way of clarity—but I do know this: the girl has spirit, and Savero only knows one way to deal with that.
Break it.
Allegra straightens her back. “I think we should get going,” she says, stifling a yawn. “We’ve overstayed our welcome long enough.”
“Nonsense,” I say, slipping the phone into my jacket. “It’s been my pleasure. Let me call you a driver.”
“Oh, no, you mustn’t. We’ve burdened you enough. A cab will do just fine.”
“No.” My sharp tone makes all five women turn toward me. “I won’t hear of it. My family has drivers in the city—I can have one here in no time.”
“Oh, well, um, thank you.” Allegra wipes a flustered hand across her brow.
I step outside to make the call and relish the cool night air. It’s a relief after the stifling heat of her presence. But it’s short-lived.
“Make sure the car can fit five.”
I ignore her and speak into the phone. “Hey, it’s Cristiano here. Yeah. As soon as you can. La Trattoria. Back to Port Washington. Four, please.”
I hang up and reluctantly let my gaze drop to hers, feeling almost thankful looks can’t kill.
“I said five.”
“I know you did. I’m not deaf, Castellano.”
She breathes in and out tightly. “Why can’t I go home with my family?”
“I already told you. You’re not safe there, and Savero wants me to look after you until he returns, which won’t be until tomorrow.”
She crosses her arms and lets out a small noise of frustration. “I don’t understand you.”
“That’s probably a good thing,” I answer smoothly.
She continues as if I haven’t spoken. “One minute you’re buying me the best designer clothes in the city and chaperoning me around as though I’m made of porcelain. The next you’re glaring at me across the dinner table as if I just insulted you, and you can’t bring yourself to stay after our wedding. I’m beginning to think you weren’t telling me the truth yesterday, in your apartment.”
“Oh? What do you think then?”
“That you secretly hate me.”
I choke out a laugh, but the sincerity in her stare shuts my mouth.
