Page 124 of Married with Mayhem

“What a blast from the past, seeing your grandfather’s Impala sitting out front. You must put some work into keeping it running.”

“Yeah, but it’s worth the effort.”

“I’ll bet it is,” he says.

My cousins all chew their food in silence and occasionally shoot me glances that I cannot read. No one has said or done anything rude since I sat down and yet I’m seasoned enough to detect a palpable hostility hanging in the air. The large round lighting fixture hanging from the high ceiling is fitted with the type of lights that flicker on and off like candles.

Cass lets a quiet minute go by. The only sound in the room is the scrape of utensils on plates. It’s unnerving and I’m sure it’s supposed to be.

My uncle forks a bite of tortellini and leans back in his chair. I have the uneasy feeling the conversation is about to turn more serious.

“You were visiting friends in Colorado, isn’t that right?” he says.

“Yup. Remind me again how that came to your attention.”

He shrugs. “Can’t remember. What are the Connelly brothers up to? Aren’t they the friends you were visiting?”

I don’t feel like confirming what he already knows. He’s inching toward the real reason I’m here.

“Anyway,” he says after another sip of wine, “it’s funny to think how they were supposed to be the heirs to their uncle’s New York throne. And now the whole Amato family is gone, just like that.”

There’s nothing funny about any of it. He’s not really waiting for me to say anything so I don’t.

“The Barone family too,” Cass says and shakes his head with phony sadness. “Vittorio Messina has stepped in to handle a lot of Barone’s business on behalf of his widow but that must be tough to do from the other side of the world. I seem to remember that Luca Connelly’s wife is one of the Barone girls. Or do I have it wrong?”

I stare back at him stonily, giving him nothing, although my pulse is rapidly speeding up.

Cass Tempesta’s mouth stretches into a slow, malicious smile. “Speaking of wives, we’re all wondering why you didn’t bring your own wife with you. Wasn’t Sabrina interested in meeting your family?”

FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

All movement at the table has come to a halt. Five pairs of eyes fasten on me and await my next move. I’m unable to think of a response that won’t make the situation worse. Denial is pointless. A snide remark is an escalation.

“I saw photos of her,” my uncle says and lets out a low whistle. “Quite a looker, that girl. I can imagine how my boys would have clawed each other to pieces while competing for the chance to roll around with a body like that every night.” He grins. “But you managed to catch her first so hats off to you. I’m sure you’re getting a lot of use out of your prize.”

If I move, if I breathe, I’ll dive all the way to the other side of the table and grab him by the throat. There’s little doubt this act would make Sabrina a widow.

“You should see your face,” he says, chuckling. “I’m just over here feeling hurt because I didn’t receive a wedding invitation.”

They knew.

They knew all along.

They’re jungle cats teasing their prey.

This whole visit is one big fat fucking farce.

There’s no doubt Cass Tempesta had his eye on Sabrina because he sees her as a means to grab some New York territory and align with Vittorio Messina. The thought of Sabrina in the midst of this pack of animals for even a minute turns my blood to ice.

Getty snickers as I sit here raging. The rest of them wait to see if I’ll dare to take them on.

“You stay away from her,” I say. “All of you.”

More laughter erupts. Everyone joins in except Fort, who has lost interest and begins eating again.

“Easy now,” Cass says, still chuckling. “We just wanted to wish you and your pretty bride every happiness. Raise a glass, boys. To Monte and Sabrina.”

“To Monte and Sabrina,” they chant in obnoxious unison, still messing with me.

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