Page 57 of Rescued By the Mafia

“Daddy says you’re going to marry Uncle Dante.”

Iris stared at the stern-faced little girl who’d just stepped up to her.

Lucia De Salvo was barely seven-years-old, according to her father, with modestly braided light brown hair and big brown eyes. Both of her uncles and her grandmother had greeted her with warm hugs, her father had introduced them technically, but this was the first time young Lucia had done more than cast an uncertain glance in Iris’s way.

“Lucia,” Romeo said from the seat he’d already claimed at the dining table.

Iris found her composure and offered the girl a smile. “That’s right.” She adjusted to face the girl who still looked like she didn’t really know what to make of her. “Do you think you can give me a chance, too?”

Lucia rolled her lip between her teeth and shifted her weight on her feet. “Is your hair real?”

Someone snorted across the table.

Iris bit back a laugh of her own. “Yes, it is.”

Lucia’s eyes got big. “I thought all gingers came out of a box!”

This time Mikey couldn’t contain his laugh, and the sound nearly obscured Romeo’s groan of discomfort.

Dante leaned forward. “And where did you hear that, Lucy?”

Lucia’s gaze snapped immediately to her uncle and a smile lifted her lips. “I overheard a couple of the teachers talking at school.”

Iris barely resisted the urge to finger a strand of the hair she’d worked so hard to style before they’d left the house and said, “My hair color is … much less common. But it’s just as real as brown or blonde.”

“Oh.” A stain of pink built on her face and she ducked her head. “I’m sorry, then.”

Iris bent down and tipped the girl’s chin up. “Never apologize for your curiosity, Lucia.”

As her smile returned, Romeo said, “Come sit down, Lucy. Dinner’s about to be served.”

She darted back around the table and Iris straightened in her seat, suddenly wondering if she’d overstepped. But no one seemed to be giving her disapproving looks. Hopefully that meant she hadn’t.

Dante straightened as well. “You should talk to those teachers about watching their gossip during school hours.”

“Yeah, I will,” Romeo said with a sigh.

Lucia reclaimed her seat next to her father seconds before a literal tray on wheels was carted into the room and three men dressed like butlers proceeded to fill the table with food and drink. Wine and whiskey were poured, two bottles of the former left on the table for self-serving refills, and plates were filled. Lucia got a Shirley Temple, cherry and all.

As the staff stepped away, Iris’s attention was drawn again to the empty spots at the table. She understood, though she hadn’t been told, that one of them was for Eleonora’s late husband. Since she’d entered the home she’d seen little signs—mostly in the décor—that made it clear he was never far from her mind. But there was another seat, between Lucia and Eleonora, that was also vacant. She’d have thought it merely that the table was too large, except a clean plate and waiting tumbler sat in front of the seat expectantly.

Iris didn’t consciously hear the sound of heavy, approaching footsteps until after she processed the shifting focus of the attention in the room. The clinking and barely begun chatter between Dante’s brothers came to an abrupt halt. Even Lucia put her drink down, eyes big with excitement.

“Sorry I’m late,” said another male voice from the direction of the main hall.

Iris turned to see for herself, because she had no idea who was supposed to be joining them, and noticed Eleonora pushing from the table.

“You’re not late, we’ve barely begun,” Eleonora said. She glided up to the newcomer, but her petite stature was not enough to obscure his form.

The man who’d just joined them was massive, like a living mountain. He had to have been taller than even Dante, with muscles that strained against what seemed like it should have been modest clothing. He had to bend sharply down to embrace Eleonora in the hug she insisted on, practically lifting the older woman off her feet with a single squeeze. When he straightened, his stare seemed to snap straight to Iris. “You’re new.”

Eleonora promptly swatted his arm, but anything she might have said died on her tongue when Dante found his feet.

“I’m glad you could join us, cousin,” Dante said. He laid a hand on Iris’s outer shoulder—the shoulder the other man could more easily see. “This is my fiancée, Iris Jayne. Mind your manners.”

Iris blinked and, unable to meet Dante’s gaze from her current angle, cast a quick glance around the table instead. She hadn’t realized Dante had a cousin.

“My apologies,” the man said.

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