Page 158 of Sweet Venom
“Mario’s mother, yes. She’s our chief of staff.” Jude glances at me. “She’s helping me find who was behind the attack that pushed her son into a coma and you under Julian’s claws.”
I hang my head, the reminder of Mario and what he’s going through because of me tightening my stomach. I wouldn’t blame Lucia if she hates me.
The air inside the house is colder and heavier, laced with the faint scent of polished wood and something ominous.
The foyer is too large, too pristine, with high ceilings that stretch into shadows and floors of black marble so polished, I can see my reflection looking back at me. A crystal chandelier hangs above, glittering but cold, its light casting sharp patterns across the walls.
Everything feels meticulously placed—not a single chair is out of line, not a speck of dust on the sleek furniture.
The deeper we walk inside, the quieter it gets.
A long hallway stretches out before us, lined with gold-framed portraits of men who share Jude’s features—the same sharp cheekbones, the same calculating brown gaze, all frozen in time.
Just beneath the scent of fresh polish and old wealth, the smell of faint smoke, whiskey, and leather linger in my lungs, suffocating me.
Jude moves through it all like none of it touches him.
But to me, it feels off. Like a legacy built on expectations, silence, and ghosts that refuse to leave.
But then again, that seems to be the case for all of this town’s founding families—almost as if they’re trapped in place, unable to ever leave.
We approach large double doors that two well-groomed staff members open, and then we’re in a giant dining room with glittering candelabras and shiny plates.
“You’re late,” an authoritative older voice rumbles from the head of the table.
Regis Callahan.
Jude’s father looks like an older version of him, his features harsh and unforgiving, and his facial expression is as cold as ice.
“You didn’t mention bringing company,” Julian says, seeming more menacing in his natural habitat, his gaze pinning me in place.
“I never said I wouldn’t.” Jude wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me close to his side. “Violet, meet Annalise, my sister-in-law.”
The woman in question, an ethereal beauty with soft features and a gentle smile, gets up from Julian’s side and gives me a hug, which is awkward because Jude barely releases me. “Hi, Violet. It’s lovely of you to join us. Jude’s never brought a girl home before.”
I stare at him, but he seems preoccupied, glaring at his father even as his grip tightens around me.
“You’re not going to introduce me?” the father asks.
“Certainly,” Jude grunts out a reply. “Violet, meet the sperm donor, Regis.”
“Enough,” Julian says with an edge, and his wife gulps a mouthful of wine.
Regis’s face reddens, his fingers clenching around a napkin, and I tense, thinking he’ll assault Jude or something.
“Sit down.” His voice booms in the hall like thunder.
I can feel Jude’s arm tensing before he releases my waist,takes my hand, and goes to sit on his father’s left. I hesitate before I settle in beside him.
The staff members quickly place dishes in front of us. The lobster smells amazing and looks to be high quality, but my stomach is so tight, I have no appetite.
I prefer the easygoing atmosphere we left at the penthouse instead of this suffocating tension that could be cut with a knife.
“How is school? Hockey?” Annalise asks in a careful tone.
“Good.” Jude grunts, smearing his fork all over the dish, but he’s not eating. Usually, he’d devour anything I cook for him.
“That’s great,” she pipes up. “I’m glad you’re doing well. It feels like forever since I last saw you.”
