Page 7 of Hidden Empire

“Sweet,” Matteo cheers, already moving to leave. “I want my steak before it’s cold.”

I want to apologize, but Dante is already guiding me out of the room, following my—maybe—brothers.

The dining room is not what I’m expecting. It’s huge, yes, but it’s also unmistakably cozy, like a real home. When I get a look at the table, I release a relieved breath. Nothing seems to be cold.

The plates are steaming actually, filled with fresh food. Thick steaks, potatoes piled high, and buttery broccolini. There’s an older woman with gray hair and wide glasses tending to the table who looks up as we all file in. I get the feeling that she’s kept their food warm or replaced it completely, without being asked.

Matteo is more than pleased, going to her side and taking the woman’s hand, sighing with happiness. “Oh, Martha, when will you return my affections? You’re the perfect woman. Say the word, and I’ll marry you in a minute.”

She scoffs at him like he’s a silly little boy and bats his hands away. “Eat your food and mind your manners or no dessert for you.”

He gasps. “Martha, you could never deprive me of your pastries. What would I do with my after-dinner coffee?”

“Hopefully, choke on it,” Apollo chimes.

“Fucking rude,” Matteo grumbles, sitting down.

Everyone else takes their seats, starting in on their plates. No one barks at them to wait for Dante to eat first or to slow down. They’re free to dig in without punishment. So bizarre, but so right.

Chapter 3

Jade

“Ahh, who do we have here?” Martha asks, approaching Dante and me.

“This is Jade,” Dante tells her. “My daughter.” The pride in his voice as he speaks hits me right in the chest.

Her eyes light up, and instantly her hands are on me. “Daughter?” she asks, holding my face in her palms, scanning every feature I have.

I don’t love my face being touched by a stranger, but I also don’t want to make my potential family mad by slapping this lady’s hands away from me.

When she’s finished, she gives Dante a scathing look. “You’ve kept a daughter from me, Ragazzo?” While I assumed the family was Italian based on the names, Martha is the only one with a thick accent. Though, there’s a hint of one in Dante’s voice as well. It’s just smaller.

“She was kept from me as well,” he corrects, jaw tightening.

Before he can say another word, unfamiliar words begin to stream from her mouth, angry and harsh words that I can’t understand. If I had to venture a guess, she’s cussing her butt off in Italian.

I wish I spoke the language because I have a feeling she’s pretty creative with her cursing. Maybe hearing it would alleviate my nerves a bit.

Martha huffs after finishing her outcry, and her eyes start to become ringed with red. “I will get you dinner,” she tells me, switching back to English seamlessly. “You are hungry, yes?”

“I’m not sure I could manage a whole dinner right now,” I admit, avoiding the eyes all around the room. So I have a sensitive stomach when I’m nervous, sue me.

Her head dips with an understanding nod. “I will get you broth and crackers,” she says matter-of-factly, leaving no room for argument. “Do you have any allergies? Food you can’t have?”

I blink, suddenly finding it difficult to think. “Um, no. I can eat anythin?—”

“Perfect.” Her cheerful declaration cuts in before I finish. Good thing, or I fear I may have started rambling. “Sit, sit,” Martha insists, practically ushering me into the open chair. Her small form dips out of the room the second my butt hits the wood.

“So,” Matteo starts, happily cutting into the slab of meat on his plate. “Tell us about yourself, sis.”

Dante clears his throat, the sound like a warning.

His youngest son rolls his eyes and takes a bite of warm, red steak. His teeth sink into the food, and he’s already cutting another piece off. “What? I can’t ask questions?”

My throat tightens, and I swallow. “No, it’s okay.”

He’s just curious, and Matteo seems really nice. I don’t exactly know how to answer such an open-ended question, but I can hardly be mad at him for asking it. I don’t want Dante to force them all to walk on eggshells around me, even if his apparent protectiveness warms the hell out of my heart.

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