Page 10 of Dirty Mafia King
He has the audacity to gasp. “Jesus, Alessia. For a shrinking violet, you’ve sharp teeth.”
“For an overrated politician with no morals, you’ve nerve.” Until recently, I never talked back. But I can’t stay silent anymore. “Mother would be proud.”
“Don’t you dare bring her up.” His cheeks flush, his fingers clench. “One more comment, and you’ll be studying art history from a coloring book.”
“You canceled my tuition payments.”
“Next step is to unenroll you from that ridiculous program you were so hell-bent on majoring in.”
Like his love and affection, it’s clear—Italy’s lost to me too.
Scowl deepening, he pauses, and I brace myself. Unfortunately, he never disappoints.
“Can’t you be more like your sister?”
You’d think the constant comparisons wouldn’t hurt as much. That I’m used to falling short in his eyes. That nothing I’ve said or done after Mama’s death means anything. Sienna stepped into her role, and I took to the shadows.
“Be like Sienna? And be manipulated by you? Forced into marrying a stranger?”
“You’re jealous.”
This is his response? Stick a label on it and call it a day. How convenient. How wrong. I’m appalled, and sick to my stomach.
“Look at her.” He gestures to Sienna, who is across the room, surrounded by mafiosi, and laughing like she’s having the time of her life. Reckless and carefree.
Foolish.
“Her fiancé isn’t even in the room. Maybe Alessandro has cold feet.”
“He’s by the bar.”
Sienna might not realize it, but she needs me in her corner. It’s what Mama would want. I glare. “That’s Lorenzo Beneventi.”
“You don’t say?” Daddy Dearest shakes his head. “Hell if I can tell them apart.”
“Does it even matter which son she marries?”
Silence.
My heart dips deep inside my chest.
“What if Alessandro doesn’t want this marriage?”
We met him shortly after our arrival. Alessandro Beneventi was cordial, polite,indifferent, with a strong arrogance about him. He shook our hands, directed us to the bar, then disappeared.
As for Lorenzo Beneventi, he’s been propped against the bar and drinking straight from a bottle the entire time. I wonder if he’s even aware of this arrangement. Is he even curious as to why we’re here?
“Alessandro will do whatever Sebastiano asks. We’ve a verbal agreement.”
My eyes widen. “His word? What kind of man hosts a party without making an appearance? Maybe he doesn’t view your verbal agreement in the same light?”
Maybe there’s hope for Sienna yet.
Her laughter filters across the room. My beautiful sister is wearing a curve-hugging white gown that barely contains her willful soul.
“Sebastiano Beneventi’s a busy man, is all. Now, shut up about this and go mingle. If you behave, and once you’ve served your purpose, I’ll consider your returning to Rome.”
Serve my purpose? Do I mean nothing to this man besides Sienna’s sister-keeper? I bow my head, choking back tears as I move away. Mingling will never be an option, so I position myself in a corner near a tall potted plant.
