Page 23 of King

“Rightful?” She snaps quietly. “This ismyrightful seat, as the woman of this house, right next to the man of this house. And I will not stand down from this position to accommodate aboy.”

Her eyes are fiery and fierce. She sucks her cheeks in and her lips pout in defiance as she presses them together. She’s not moving. That much is clear.

And her eyes, heated against my skin, send a thrill of desire pulsing through my body.

I turn my head away, acutely aware of her leg brushing against mine beneath the table. Electricity sparks between us and no matter how hard I try I can’t ignore it.

Santino walks in and I clench my jaw.

“Santino, sit down.” I command, before he can say a word.

A low growl rumbles through him as he takes his new seat on my left. He glares at Zina, then at Guido .

Guido remains calm, avoiding eye contact, but the way he’s holding his fork, his knuckles white with anxiety - it upsets me.

I don’t know the boy, but he is my son. Zina right, I’ve been avoidant. I should at least get to know my son. My heart is heavy with guilt over this mess I’ve created. I look towards Santino.

“Stop.” I mutter to Santino who hasn’t taken his eyes off his new found enemies.

“Dad.”

“No.” It’s time to put an end to this hostility as best I can.

He pulls his mouth tight and sits back in his new seat.

Dinner is served, and the tension is palpable as the only sounds are that of knives and forks against plates.

Zina looks pleased with herself and when she glances at me I note a trace of mischief in the slight smile touching her lips. The corner of my mouth twitches and curves upwards, so I look down at my plate to hide it.

She notices and nudges me with her knee beneath the table.

Clenching my jaw I manage to pull my face straight again, but, without thinking about it I drop my hand beneath the table and wrap it around her thigh, squeezing gently. My only intention was to reassure her that I will do my best to make things more comfortable here - but the moment my hand touches her skin, her dress too short to cover her legs, I know I’ve made a mistake.

Every cell in my body ignites, and it takes every single ounce of will power to pull my hand away instead of pushing it higher, between her legs.

It’s a relief when dinner ends, and I can escape to the upstairs balcony to clear my mind. The night air is crisp and fresh as I take a deep breath in, filling my lungs and letting the air push against them until it starts hurting.

Slowly, I let it out.

I’m standing with my hands resting on the railing when Dante walks in, he stands next to me without a word, watching the sky in silence.

Reading his body language I don’t say anything either, until, after ten minutes has passed he quietly asks.

“Did you know you had another son before Zina showed up at the funeral?”

“No. I didn’t know.”

“So, he really is my brother. My half-brother?”

“Yes, Dante, he’s your family.”

He’s quiet again.

I wait, knowing there’s more he wants to say.

“She accused me of being disrespectful.” He sighs.

“You have been.”

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