Page 26 of Pietro
Ava enters last, a shadow in elegant black. Riccardo's widow moves like she's navigating a world made of glass, careful not to disturb anything. She offers me a gentle smile.
"Shall we sit?" Lorenzo pulls out a chair for me, positioning me between him and Pietro.
Giulia and her assistants begin bringing out food. Antipasti, fresh bread, wine. The scents wrap around me, garlic and basil and comfort.
"So, Nora." Vittoria leans forward, genuinely interested. "Where are you from? Your accent is hard to place."
"Here and there." I reach for my wine, buying time. "Military family. We moved a lot."
The lie comes easily, built on fragments of truth. We did move frequently, just not for military reasons. Connor's business required flexibility.
"But you spent time in Boston?" Nico presses.
"School. Briefly."
"Which school?"
"Nico, enough." Pietro's voice cuts through the interrogation. "She's here as my guest, not a suspect."
"Given recent security breaches, everyone's a suspect."
The table goes quiet. Even Giulia pauses in serving the pasta course.
"That's enough." Pietro's tone drops to something dangerous.
But Nico doesn't back down. "We've lost too much already to trust blindly."
"I said enough."
The brothers lock eyes across the table. Testosterone and grief create combustible chemistry in the confined space.
"Pablo would have agreed with me." Nico's words land like a bomb.
Pietro goes rigid. Every line of his body broadcasts violence barely contained.
"Don't." The word comes out lethal. "Don't you dare."
"Who's Pablo?" The question escapes before I can stop it. It’s not my place to ask but I’ve lost all sense tonight.
Silence stretches, taut as piano wire. Giulia's hands still on the serving spoon. Lorenzo closes his eyes. Vittoria touches her bracelet looking somewhere on the ceiling.
"My son." Giulia's voice breaks the paralysis. "He died thirteen years ago."
Pietro shoves back from the table, his chair scraping marble. He's gone before anyone can speak, his footsteps echoing through the house.
"I'm sorry." My throat burns around the words. "I didn't know?—"
"How could you?" Giulia's hand settles on my shoulder. "Nico, that was cruel."
"Was it? We know nothing about her?—"
"We know Pietro trusts her enough to bring her here." Lorenzo's diplomatic tone has sharp edges. "That should be enough."
I don’t blame him. I don’t even want to be here but man he needs some manners.
"Like he trusted—" Nico cuts himself off, but the damage is done.
Vittoria stands. "I'll go check on him."
