Page 28 of The Forbidden Husband

“Why aren’t you practicing law?”

That… that was more difficult. “My father didn’t want me to sit for the bar, so I didn’t.”

“You don’t seem like someone who follows orders blindly.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” I seethed.

“I’m learning,” he replied. “Alonzo holds back your sisters in similar ways?”

“Only when it benefits him,” I stated. “Livia and Evelina are younger, so he hasn’t had to hold them back much. Livia just graduated high school, and Evelina… well, she seems content doing whatever she does.”

“What does she do?” he asked.

I shrugged. “She’s into art and creative forms of expression. She mostly keeps to herself. I think she’s done paintings for commission in the past. She’s really good.”

Thinking about Evelina had the barely-suppressed sadness filtering through the walls I had built around my heart. The reminder of her was enough to know why I was here. Why was I talking to him? I needed to know him, not the other way around.

I turned my attention to a server in a black suit and tie who left two plates on the table and nodded his acknowledgment before walking away. I didn’t bother looking toward the dinner.

“Are you going to offer anything about your life?”

“What do you want to know?” he asked, repeating the exact phrase I had said to him moments ago.

“Siblings,” I said, considering the previous topic. “Do you have any other than Vito?”

His expression darkened. “No.”

“I know that your relationship is strained—”

“I’m not talking about my half-brother.”

He didn’t even refer to him as abrother, just a half-brother. As if the other half of his heritage separated him from the man who had turned on the Rissis years ago and sworn himself to my father.

“You grew up with him,” I reminded him. His stare remained blank. “I just told you everything about my own siblings. You and Vito shared a father. He may have some Bianchi blood in him because of Aunt Lia, but you have something in common. Tell me something about him.”

“You likely know more than I do since he’s been working with your father.”

I exhaled and rolled my eyes at the clear dismissal.

“Fine, then. Your brother is off-limits.” I considered another topic of conversation that could be at all useful. “How long have you been working for your uncle?”

He just stared at me, intently.

I repeated it. “How long have you been working for your uncle?”

“How longhaven’tI been working for him is the better question,” he mused. “What about you for your father?”

“Never,” I replied immediately. “None of us ever wanted to be in a life of crime. We were all thrust into it, and we … survive, I guess?”

“You don’t sound fond of him.”

We both knew the “him” he spoke of, and I opened my mouth to confirm, but…then I realized… He hadn’t answered my question. Not really.

“You’ve learned a lot about me. But you haven’t told me anything about yourself.”

“No, I haven’t,” he confirmed.

“How about this? An answer for an answer?”

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