Page 136 of Dancing with the Devil
She was stunning and didn’t look a day older than fifty.
She graciously smiled at her daughter before lifting her eyes to meet mine. Before I could even get a word out I was pulled into her arms. “Hello, little one,” she squeezed me in her arms and I was taken by complete surprise.
She pulled away and started going off in Italian. She was smiling and looked excited as she practically sped through her words. I simply looked over at Antonio to see him trying not to smile too much and Amelia who nodded in agreement with her mother.
When their mother finally stopped talking she pulled me into a hug once again. As she pulled back, Antonio spoke in Italian and she looked over at him in surprise.
Her face slightly changed for a second and my heart nearly leaped out of my chest. She dropped her shoulders, shaking her head. “It’s okay,” she brushed it off. “My English is not the best either,” she spoke in a soft Italian accent and I smiled.
“I’m so happy tofinallymeet you,” I admitted, feeling my nerves disintegrate.
“I just can’t believe you’re real,” she said and Antonio looked taken back. “I mean, I know my son, and even though I love him, I know he’s not the easiest and most fun person to be around,” she almost whispered and I snickered. “I have always been afraid he’d end up alone,” she teased.
“I can be fun,” he defensively said and Amelia scoffed.
“Yeah right. Your definition of fun is staying up an hour later than your usual bedtime, I mean come on—what are you, an old man?” she practically laughed in his face and their mother sighed.
“Who called mamma, crying, because little Ivan forgot to buy her, her favorite fucking candy?” he asked and she frowned.
“It was about more than just candy and you know it!” she snapped back and their mother stepped in.
“Behave. Both of you,” she demanded and Amelia rolled her eyes at Antonio. “Now, leave Nirah and I,” she shooed them away and Antonio looked over at me. He kissed my temple before walking away with Amelia.
“Do they always bicker like that?” I asked as Amelia hit Antonio’s arm repeatedly.
“When don’t they?” is all she rhetorically asked, walking towards a waiter to grab a flute of champagne and I followed behind. “Bruno,” their mother said and an older man turned around—wearing an expensive grey suit with a shiny diamond watch on his wrist that held a champagne glass. She took his arm and introduced him as her husband—and their father—and me as Antonio’s fiancée.
“Ah…” he acknowledged. “Nirah Joy, right?” he slightly tilted his head to the right and I felt a chill run down my spine.His voice…
“Yes,” I smiled and he extended his hand towards me.
“Bruno De Luca.”
His palm was rough when we shook hands. The three of us started conversing about Antonio and me, including our upcoming wedding. Mr. De Luca held a defensive and taunting tone throughout the entire conversation. He’d insinuate things—indirectly—and I’d simply smile, answering him as politely as I could.Just do it for Antonio.
I felt uncomfortable speaking to him without Antonio but suppressed it, realizing that it was probably just the nerves kicking in. As he spoke, I grabbed onto the material on my dress, subtly fiddling with it while maintaining respectful eye contact.
“Yes, that’s right,” his mother softly said.
“Although, your wedding is only days away,” he said and I nodded. “I personally find it atrocious that you’re rushing into the wedding so soon,” he casually said and his eyes dropped to my neck. To my necklace. “Was this your idea or my son’s?”
“It was a mutual decision,” I answered and he slowly nodded, clearly not believing me.
Mrs De Luca left for the bathroom and Mr. De Luca took a step towards me. “Tell me, Nirah, did my son buy you that?” he asked, keeping his eyes on my necklace.
“Yes. Myfiancédid.” My answer came out braver than expected, which made his eyes snap up to me.
“And what do you do for a living?”
“Does it matter?” I smiled. “Respectfully, I don’t think that my career—whether I have one or not—has anything to do with you.”
He gave me a single nod and spat out another question. “Where did you meet my son?” he almost interrogated me, and I swallowed hard.
“Antonio didn’t tell you?” I asked as he stepped closer.
“It seems that little detail might have slipped his mind,” he calmly shrugged his shoulders and I felt heat coursing through my veins. “Unless it’s something he’s ashamed of admitting.”
“Maybe that’s something you don’t know because your son doesn’t need to report to you,” I said and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “First you insinuate that I’m here for his money, then you accuse him of being ashamed of me?” I asked and he licked his lips, taking a sip of his champagne.
