Page 7 of Betrayed By Sin
A lump rises in my throat. “Thank you,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.
Plates are passed around, filled with roasted lamb, buttery potatoes, fresh-baked rolls, and a rich, creamy pasta dish. The scent alone is enough to make my stomach rumble, even though I’m unsure I can eat at all.
As conversation picks up, I mostly listen, absorbing. They talk about their days, the business, old stories of my father.
The conversation drifts to an upcoming event that I’m hoping I’ll be able to hide out for, and someone - Aunt Eleanor, I think - turns to my mother with a familiar grin.
“Tell the story, Maria,”she says.“Tell Magnolia how you met her father.”
The room stills slightly, a quiet sort of anticipation hanging between the walls. I look up from my plate and find my mother already watching me, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"You’d like to hear it?"she asks.
I nod, even though I’m not sure what to expect. I know nothing about my parents' past, who they were before everything fell apart. But if this story gives me a glimpse of the father I never knew, I want to hear it.
She exhales softly, setting her wine glass down, and begins.
"It was a masquerade ball,"she says, her voice steady but distant, like she’s reaching through time to pull the memory forward."One hosted right here, in this estate. I was young, just turned twenty, and I had no desire to be mingling with strangers.”
I can’t imagine her at my age, restless and defiant, but the hint of mischief in her eyes tells me it’s true. "I hated every second of it,"she continues."Every man who asked me to dance was more interested in my last name than me. I just wanted to disappear."
"Did you?" I ask.
She laughs under her breath."I tried. I slipped out onto the balcony, thinking I could steal a few minutes alone. And that’s when I saw him."
I lean forward, drawn in despite myself.
"My father?" I’m suddenly four years old again, sitting at the orphanage daydreaming about my parents. Wondering even the smallest sliver of their lives.
"Yes,"she murmurs, a faraway look softening her features."Alexander Donati.” My breath hitches hearing his name for the first time. “He wasn’t wearing a mask like the others, he never cared for games like that. He was leaning against the railing, watching the city, and he looked… untouchable."
Her fingers brush the rim of her glass, lost in the memory. "He saw me before I could turn away. And instead of introducing himself, instead of bowing and offering his hand like all theothers, he just smirked and said, "You don’t belong in there either, do you?’"a deep voice cuts in. I turn to Cameron, who’s grinning like he’s heard this story a thousand times before.
Maria chuckles. "Exactly."
Something inside me aches at the thought of them. Young, full of fire, standing in the moonlight before they even knew what their love would become.
"And then what?"I ask.
She sighs."And then he asked if I wanted to leave. Just like that. No formalities, no expectations. He offered his hand, and I took it. Not knowing this was his home, his father’s party.”
She looks up at me then, her expression unreadable.
"I think I knew, even then, that my life would never be the same."
Silence lingers at the table, the weight of the past settling between us. I see her emotions for the first time, in the way her fingers tighten around the stem of her glass, in the way her voice turns wistful at the edges.
“You know,” Luca says, pausing to sip his wine, steering the conversation to something lighter. Which we all need right now. He leans back in his chair, swirling the last of his whiskey in his glass. He’s been watching me all night, like he’s been waiting for the right moment to speak.
“You know,”he finally says,“everyone always talks about your father like he was some kind of legend.”
The table quiets a little, attention shifting toward him. My mother sighs, shaking her head.
“Luca.”
“Oh, come on, Maria, let me tell the girl a story. Not everything about Alexander was poetry and fate.”He smirks at me.“Your father was a pain in my ass.”
I blink.“Really?” A chuckle escapes me, and I don’t miss the way it makes my mom smile.
