Page 104 of Loving Lucia

Giulio sighs and contorts himself so he can look at the two of us, although I really wish I weren’t part of this strange drama unfolding.

“Listen, old man, you want me to take your weddings seriously, maybe don’t have so many of them. It’s only been three years since the last one.”

“And what happened to Clarissa was tragic,” Pavone says, which is almost enough to make me ugly-laugh. “But you can’t expect me to stay single forever, Giulio. You should be happy for me that I found someone to comfort me.”

My eyes widen in disbelief. I hope none of my horror shows, but Giulio catches my eyes and snorts.

“Comfort, sure. If you just need a warm cunt, we’ve got plenty of them at the clubs. Got a few new girls in, actually. Probably hotter than this one.”

“If you’d settle down and get married, you’d see that a loving wife is far better than any random woman,” Pavone says. “You’re getting too old to be single. I’m going to die without grandchildren.”

Grandchildren. Ugh. Like I really need the reminder that Pavone is so much older than I am. Even his son has to be in his late twenties, a good six or seven years older than me.

“You’re the only one who cares about heirs. Well, you and Damien. Jesus, he does not shut up about it.” Giulio settles back into his seat properly. “Anyway, not my fault you’re so impotent you can’t produce more children.”

Pavone stiffens next to me, and I stare wide-eyed at the back of Giulio’s seat. Before Pavone can explode at his son, though, Derek pulls in front of the restaurant.

“Ah, we’re here, boss,” Derek says quickly. He gets out of the car, going around to open Pavone’s door first, as though that’s going to defuse the situation. Maybe it will. This doesn’t seem like an argument that’ll carry on in public… but then again, Giulio seems to lack any basic concept of self-preservation.

Or maybe he just knows that his father will take out his anger on everyone else and not him, the only heir.

Derek opens my door for me, and I slide out, smoothing my dress down. Giulio lets himself out of the car, stretching.

“Hey, we’ll catch up later, Derek,” Giulio says, grinning at him.

He seems so personable in comparison to his father, but I also heard him casually talking about the women in his sex clubs. I can’t let my guard down around him.

Rossi pulls up in his car, and we all head inside to the restaurant where we’ve reserved a private room.

I try to sit next to Vanessa, but Giulio slides into the chair before I can. I’m not sure if he did that on purpose, but it ends with me trapped between the two Pavone men. Vanessa has Rossi on her other side.

Giulio looks around the room and laughs. “Damn, just us? You couldn’t getnonnoandnonato show up?”

“Their health didn’t allow it,” Pavone says. “They’re saving their strength for the wedding tomorrow.”

“You think they gossip about it in their nursing home? ‘Our ungrateful son is getting married for the fourth time!’” Giulio starts pouring himself a glass of wine. “At least they’ll get to enjoy some good food, even if they won’t smile for the wedding photos.”

“They’ll smile for the photos,” Pavone says, glowering at Giulio. “Unlike you, they don’t want me to die alone and unhappy.”

The only good thing about Giulio being here is that he’s sucking up all the attention in the room. Pavone doesn’t have time to say disgusting things to me while he’s dealing with his son.

I look out the nearby window while I sip my own wine. There’s a building under construction across the street. Maybe that's a great venue to set up a sniper rifle. And here Pavone is, too distracted to worry about the dangers of sitting near the exposed window.

But nothing happens, no matter how much I wish it.

“Speaking of being unhappy.” Giulio pats my wrist, which I quickly withdraw from the table. “I’m so sorry about your father’s death. I heard it was very tragic. Or something.”

“Thank you,” I say. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to say? “Or something.”

My mother starts laughing. “Or something!” She lifts up her wine glass, already drained most of the way. “Let’s toast to that! He’s dead!Or something!”

“Mom!” Vanessa hisses. “Don’t be disrespectful!”

Pavone’s face is red. “Eva, that’s enough,” he orders. “I think you’ve had enough wine for the evening.”

My mother defiantly drains the rest of the glass and reaches for the bottle, only to have it taken away from her by Rossi.

“Let’s have a pleasant evening,” Rossi suggests. “Our guests will be arriving soon.”

---