Page 84 of Heartless Sinner

“Oh no, do call me Genevieve.”

“Thanks, Genevieve,” I correct, and we both laugh, softening the tension in the air.

She looks back at Micah, her smile faltering. “Heads up, amore mio. Certain people are here who may piss you off.”

Micah’s face instantly hardens and I wonder who Genevieve could be talking about.

“Thanks,” he replies in a stiff tone.

“I tried to speak to your father, but he wouldn’t listen. He insisted they should be here for your engagement party. But don’t worry, I’ll deal with them if things get out of hand.”

She and Micah share a secret smile and I realize this was the dark side of Genevieve I picked up on earlier.

“Grazie, Ma.” Micah gives her a kiss on her cheek.

“Come, let’s go eat.”

Genevieve slips an arm around both of us and leads us through the arched doorway and into the dining room.

The gesture makes me feel better, but I realize it’s a statement and sends a message to whomever is inside.

At least twenty-five people sit around a long mahogany dining table beneath another gleaming chandelier.

The dining room is just as lavish as what I’ve already seen, but the curious stares that drift our way are more daunting than the entire house.

I spot Brahm, who sits next to a man who looks to be about the same age as him and Micah. At least Brahm cracks what could pass for a polite smile, but he still looks scary.

I smile back, then my gaze settles on the man at the head of the table, who’s the spitting image of Micah. Or rather, Micah is the spitting image of him.

That has to be his father.

I know a ton of people who bear striking similarities to their parents, but the resemblance Micah shares with his father is so potent it’s like they could be the same person. You can only tell the difference because his father looks older and has streaks of gray in his hair.

“They’re here,” Genevieve announces in a chirpy voice. “Now the party can begin.”

“Hear, hear,” the younger man next to Brahm says, raising his glass in a toast to which Micah nods with appreciation.

A few more people do the same, and while it’s nice, it doesn’t escape me that quite a few other people don’t. Including Micah’s father, a sure sign that he doesn’t approve of me.

Genevieve walks ahead of us and Micah takes my hand, leading me to the empty seats near his father.

Genevieve sits next to his father on his right, and we sit on his left.

Across the table from us, in my line of sight, there’s a woman who can’t be that much older than me throwing me daggers. The look she gives me is the kind you would when you’ve just spotted dog shit on your drive.

There’s a sophisticated blonde woman next to her and a balding man, who give me the same unpleasant stare. Since the girl shares similarities in looks to both of them, I assume they must be her parents.

Instantly, I wonder if they’re the people Genevieve was talking about in the hallway.

Micah takes my hand and makes a point of setting it on the table with his so everyone can see us holding hands, then he lifts his head and clears his throat. It’s another statement. Anothermessage. And it is received.

Instantly,allglasses rise. Even his father’s.

My nerves scatter at the impact and I realize once again the power Micah wields. Watching his power also makes me realize that he’s different with me. He almost wraps me in cotton wool, but the rest of the world knows him as the fearsome leader.

“Welcome to the family, my dear,” his father finally speaks. His Italian accent is much deeper than Genevieve’s. He looks from me to Micah with his glass still raised.

“Thank you so much.”

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