Page 9 of The Merciless Don's Bride

She huffs and bumps her shoulder against me.

“Fine. Continue to be stubborn. But you’re coming with me to lunch. I made lasagna.”

My eyebrow arches in disbelief, “Youmade lasagna?”

“Renata made lasagna,” she corrects with a bashful smile. “But I helped. And we’re going to have a nice meal. Dante will be there too.”

That gives me pause, “What tricks did you play to get our darling brother to sit at the same table as me, Sofia?”

She laughs, “No tricks. I think Dan is ready for reconciliation.”

That is very doubtful but I’m not too keen on smothering the hope in her eyes so I don’t say anything.

“We’ll see,” I mutter, letting her lead me towards the exit.

The smell of garlic and fresh bread hits me first. Sofia chatters beside me, a nervous hum under her words. I’m pretty sure she knows this is a terrible idea. But she’s also toooptimistic for her own good. We step into the huge dining room. There’s only one person there, seated at the head of the table.

Dante arches an eyebrow as we walk in. My little brother. He and I are eerily similar, a fact that made us inseparable when we were younger, but we’ve drifted apart more as we’ve grown older. He has a glass of whiskey in one hand, his boot kicked lazily up on a chair like he owns the place. His dark hair falls across his forehead in an obnoxious way.

“Damien,” he says, voice light, but his eyes razor sharp.

“Dante,” I say calmly with a nod, not a hint of animosity to be found.

Sofia flutters between us, grabbing plates and fussing with the silverware like it’ll somehow fix us.

“Sit, sit,fratello,” she urges brightly.

I pull out a chair at the opposite end of the table and sink into it without a word, stretching my legs out under the polished wood. I meet Dante’s glare with an easy bored expression. Soon enough the help comes in to serve our meal. Renata has always had a knack for cooking like a Michelin chef. It’s all delicious.

It would be even better if tension wasn’t crackling across the table like live wire. Sofia talks. About meaningless things. About the weather, fashion shows she’s recently attended, a dress she bought. She’s trying so hard to keep things light, meanwhile Dante and I are completely silent except for the occasional hums and one word answers to prove we’re listening to her.

“Dante, you promised to take me to that concert next week, remember?”

He offers our sister a small smirk, “Oh, I don’t know,tesoro, perhaps Damien would like to take you instead. He sure does like to take a lot of things that belong to me.”

Sofia stiffens, her hand frozen halfway to her wine glass. I slam my glass down on the table, the sound echoing in the room.

“First off, you just couldn’t wait to bring it up, could you? Secondly, nothing that ever belonged to you was taken, Dante. She never belonged to you.”

His glare intensifies, “The fuck she didn’t,” he spits, shoving back from the table so hard his chair screeches across the floor. “She was mine.”

I lift my gaze to meet his, steady and unbothered despite the coil of anger within me at his words.

“She was never yours, little brother. And throwing a tantrum over something like this for so long is beneath you. Immature.”

He points a finger at me, his voice raw, “You’re supposed to be the Don and you broke your word.”

“It’s because I am the Don that I can do what I like and take whomever I’d like. If that doesn’t satisfy you, then feel free to challenge me for the position,” I tell him.

His face flushes red. His fists clenched at the sides. Despite how angry my little brother is, he would never dare to rise up against me. Not if he values his life. A fact that he’s very aware of. Plus, he may be angry right now, but my little brother has always looked up to me. That’s never going to change.

“Now, if you’re done. Sit down, Dante.”

“Screw that. I’m leaving,” he announces, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair.

Sofia rises, her expression pleading, “Dante, please.”

“I’ll come back next week and keep my promise,” he says to our little sister, his voice much softer as he kisses her cheek.

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