Page 15 of Lies like Rubies, Part One

“Where are you going, slut?” His voice was dark and dangerous, and I fought the urge to shiver as his fury washed over me.

“Mass with my family, as I have every Sunday since I was born.”

Silence.

“Dante, if I miss mass, my family will know something’s wrong.”

More silence.

“Tommaso will follow you discreetly.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, but he’d already hung up.

I strapped Lizzie into her car seat, arranging the skirts of her frock so they wouldn’t wrinkle too badly, then waited for Tommaso to bring the black follow car up to my parking spot. We pulled out of the building together and drove to the church where my family had attended mass since my father was a child, maybe even longer.

One of the perks of being a Russo was that no one in my father’s territory would dare take the parking spots nearest the church, even though it was a busy city street. Sliding my car into an open spot, I let Tommaso fend for himself, ill at ease with the consequences of asking Dante for help.

Lizzie spotted Mamma and promptly dashed over, wrapping her chubby little arms around my mother’s calves.

Mamma waited for me, then carefully kissed me on each cheek before stepping aside for Papà to do the same.

“Sofia, you’re looking well,” she said. I must've looked quite spectacular for her to bother with a compliment. Unlike my two older siblings, my worth to the family was entirely measured by my usefulness as an ornament, a charming object used to enchant business partners and warm up stubborn men so my father could close the deal.

Luca strode up to us and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, kissing me hard on the cheek. “Hey there, baby sister,” he said. “Mamma, would you keep an eye on Lizzie? I want to talk to Sofia for a moment.”

To my utter surprise, my mother nodded and took my daughter’s hand. The power of the heir, I thought to myself. If I’d asked, Mamma would have arched an eyebrow and made a comment about what a terrible mother I was.

“What’s up?” I asked, wrapping my arm around his waist and leaning my head on his shoulder.

“Extracting you from Mamma’s clutches. With Ginevra in California, she’s been on a tear about marriage and children.”

Four years after she married three Irish gangsters, Ginevra had yet to produce a grandchild for my mother. Despite Lizzie’s continued existence, my mother harped on both Luca and me to settle down and work on producing heirs.

“Thanks,” I muttered. We walked toward the entrance to the church courtyard. Heat prickled at my back, a dark and angry miasma that sent shivers racking down my spine. I slowed my step, and Luca looked down at me, puzzlement in his eyes. When I looked over my shoulder, Dante Oscuro was exiting from the back seat of a black SUV. He wore a black suit and a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the black lines of tattoos on his chest and neck, looking good enough to eat. He stared daggers at the two of us.

Shit.

My father waylaid him before he could enter the church, greeting him with familiarity.

Luca sighed. “Wonder who that is.”

I didn’t enlighten him.

We approached Dante, who conversed quietly with my parents in Italian. Papà switched to English to introduce us. I spoke fluently, but Luca could barely manage courtesies. “Dante, I’d like to introduce my children, Luca and Sofia.”

The tension in Dante’s shoulders instantly relaxed. Was he jealous of Luca? No, not jealous. Possessive. Dante warned me he didn’t share, and this was nothing more than ownership of his new toy.

Luca dropped his arm from my shoulder to shake Dante’s hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

Dante took my hand and raised it to his mouth, brushing my knuckles with his lips. “The pleasure is mine.”

I studied him as he and my father discussed mutual acquaintances, bemoaned the increased cost of shipping to and from Europe, and made otherwise small talk. In the bright morning light, Dante’s beauty was otherworldly, curly black hair that fell over his forehead, a hint of grey on the sides and scattered through his curls, tanned skin, wide shoulders and thick biceps—I knew exactly how those arms felt wrapped around me, pressing me against the wall.

Despite the heat in my cheeks, I kept my composure and tucked my fingers in the crook of Luca’s elbow as we walked into the church behind my parents.

“He can’t take his eyes off you, sis,” Luca murmured as we entered our pew. Dante slid in on my left. Painful humiliation rushed through me as I remembered the night before. Would he call me a slut in front of my family? Would he make me play his awful games here in church?

Lizzie wiggled out of my mother’s arms and squeezed along the pew until she was beside me. She wanted to sit between Dante and me. Instead, I lifted her onto my lap, not wanting her to have anything to do with the man.

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