Page 100 of Pietro
"I'm done."
The hurt that flashes across her face makes my chest ache. She retreats to the sink, shoulders curved inward.
"Giulia." Lorenzo's voice carries gentle authority. "The sauce needs attention."
She nods, grateful for the excuse to turn away. The sound of a wooden spoon against a pot fills the silence.
"So." Vittoria tears a piece of bread, determined to maintain conversation. "The Ferretti meeting is tomorrow. Are we still moving forward with that?"
Pietro's expression hardens. "That's not breakfast conversation."
"Everything is breakfast conversation in this family." Nico's voice carries rare humor. "Or have you forgotten Papa's morning strategy sessions?"
"Papa's dead." The words drop like stones into water.
Silence expands, filling every corner of the kitchen. Vittoria's hand stills on her coffee cup. Lorenzo's goes still. Even Giulia pauses at the stove.
"We should go." Pietro stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the tile. "Nora needs to get ready."
I set down my barely touched breakfast, my throat too tight to swallow anyway. "Thank you for the food."
Giulia turns from the stove, and for a moment our eyes meet. Hers shine with unshed tears, but she manages a small nod.
"Nora." Vittoria catches my hand as I pass. "If you need anything, even just to talk..."
"Thank you." I squeeze her fingers, grateful for this unexpected alliance.
Pietro waits at the kitchen entrance, his posture rigid, every muscle coiled tight. As we climb the stairs to gather my things he talks.
"You don't have to defend Giulia to me." His voice carries a warning.
"She was trying to help."
"She lied."
"To protect me."
"That wasn't her call to make."
We reach the blue guest room, and I turn to face him. "Are you going to stay angry at her forever?"
"That's not your concern."
"It is when I'm the cause."
He backs me against the wall, his hands planting on either side of my head, caging me in. "Listen to me," he says, his voice a low command. "Your mother made her choice. Finn made his. Giulia made hers. Their decisions are not your sin to carry. You didn't lie to me. Giulia did."
"But—"
"No." His thumb traces my cheekbone. "We all made our choices. Now we live with them."
"Even me?"
"Especially you." Something dark and possessive flashes in his eyes. "You chose to stay. To face my family. To go to work today despite everything. Those are your choices."
"What if I make the wrong choice?" The question is a raw whisper.
His thumb brushes my bottom lip, a touch that is both a promise and a threat. "There are no wrong choices,tessoro. Only choices you can live with and choices you can't. You chose to stay. That's all that matters to me."
