Page 124 of Savage Lover

Greta starts bringing the food up from the kitchen. Sebastian jumps up to help her. I can see him limping just a little. Otherwise, he looks healthy and strong. He easily carries several platters at once, setting them in the center of the table.

I’m not Italian, but you can’t grow up in Old Town without learning about proper Italian cuisine.

I can see that Greta knows what she’s doing. The platters are heaped with roasted vegetables, eggplant Parmesan, radicchio Panzanella, Italian wedding soup, giant meatballs, and freshly-made pasta with clams and hot Italian sausage.

Once all the food is brought up, Greta sits down to eat with everyone else. It’s clear that she’s family, too. That makes me feel just a little more comfortable, as evidence that the Gallos aren’t snobs.

“Take a meatball!” Aida encourages me. “They’re the best you’ve ever had, I guarantee it.”

“Don’t hype it up too much,” Greta says, “I’m sure Camille has had plenty of meatballs in her life.”

I take a bite, chewing carefully so I don’t burn my tongue.

“Not like this,” I say, seriously impressed. “This is amazing.”

“You should open a restaurant,” Sebastian says to Greta.

“Don’t tell her that!” Aida cries. “She’ll never come back here if she knows she has other options.”

Greta snorts, pouring herself a generous glass of wine.

Seeing that she can’t get a rise out of Greta, Aida turns her attention on me instead.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Aida says, with a concerned expression. “But have you suffered a head injury lately? Because it appears that you actually like Nero . . .”

Nero scowls at her.

“You promised to behave yourself tonight.”

Aida lets out an infectious peal of laughter. “Is that by your standards, big brother? Because if that’s the case . . . I think anything short of burning the house down is acceptable.”

“You’re the only one at the table who’s set a house on fire,” Aida’s husband reminds her.

That’s Callum Griffin—probably the richest and most influential person at this whole table. He looks stern. But there’s no malice in his tone—he’s only teasing Aida.

“One library,” she says, airily. “Not a whole house.”

“That was my library,” he growls.

“Well, now you have a whole new apartment! And a wife!” Aida grins. “What a good trade.”

I can feel Nero sitting tensely next to me. I glance over at him, afraid that he is embarrassed of me after all.

Then I see that he’s looking at Aida, not at me—nervous at how I’ll take her jokes.

I realize he’s worried what I’ll think of his family, now that I’ve seen them all in their natural state.

I squeeze his hand, smiling up at him.

“These really are the best meatballs,” I whisper to him.

He relaxes a little, smiling back at me.

“I know,” he says. “You can’t oversell them.”

In the end, the dinner is just as lovely as the setting. Nero’s family is warm, charming—and most of all, just a family. Who love each other and drive each other crazy, in equal measure.

I feel like I could fit here.

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