Page 112 of The Sound in Silence

I thrust him through the open doorway, releasing him with a rough shove.

My father sneers and straightens his button-down shirt before pacing backwards, his head moving in a slow, almost saddened shake. “I tried to reason with you, Erico. Just remember that.”

Ariella

The door to the music room opens and I smile. Erico mentioned only an hour ago, he’d be busy for most of the day, but I’m pleased he’s stopping in earlier than planned. My fingers continue over the piano’s keys without breaking, continuing to play until he speaks or the song ends, whichever comes first.

“Wow, you have some talent in you, after all.”

Not Erico. My fingers stop pressing the keys, my final note more of a blend of sounds than anything decipherable. A female voice, one semi-familiar, and when I give her my attention, I see why.

Gia Rossi fills the doorway, her hands coming up in a slow clap. An action maybe polite if done by others but seems more ill-intended than anything, based on the slight hike in her nose, the flat line of her mouth.

I stand from the piano, not sure how to act. Gia didn’t make a great initial impression on me, but she’s still Erico’s mother, which means I need to play nice for him and for theFamiglia.

She stops clapping as she halts in the centre of the room, standing right on my siren carpet. “Did you write that?” She sounds genuinely curious.

I nod, forcing my mouth into a slight upturned smile for sake of manners.

“Are there lyrics too?”

Another nod.

“None you’ll sing,” she concludes, any bit of kindness gone in that single assumption. Her hands lower, resting in front of her stomach, calling my attention to her pressed, dark pantsuit. “That’s unfortunate.”

I stare, first at her and then the door. If Erico’s mother is here, his father probably is too. Which means playing the polite daughter-in-law for the time. Perhaps the party was a one-off and from here on out, we’ll have a civil relationship.

Even if the churning in my stomach and the chill down my spine, say otherwise.

“My husband is meeting with Erico, so I thought I’d find you and apologize for the party. I’ll admit I was out of line.”

Surprise flutters through me, making my mouth dryer. Okay. This is a step in the correct direction. I force a smile, one tighter than I’d like it to be, but a start.

“My son is tenacious, and marrying you is a sign of that. I couldn’t see it at first, so I am sorry.”

There’s almost an insult woven in that, but at this point, I’m learning it’s simply Gia’s personality. She’s rough, bitchy, and nothing will change that. Brushing aside her snide comments would be best, so I accept the apology with a tip of my head.

“Right then, would you like to get a drink?” She gestures toward the doorway. “I can certainly use some coffee.”

Following her for a drink sounds like something I don’t want to do, but her offer is a band-aid. She’strying. In the beginning, Erico mentioned me having to teach him how to be a better husband. Given Gia’s a boy mother, maybe she’s unfamiliar with the whole daughter thing.

I nod and step toward her. She turns and falls into step beside me. Her thin hand awkwardly comes up and she holds my shoulder, pausing my walk.

“You’re a lovely girl, Ariella. Very beautiful and I can see why my son is smitten with you. This hair—” She pinches a few strands between two fingers, staring at the colour in the afternoon sun streaming through the window. “Such a lovely shade. It’d take a lot of dye to get mine to this point. You and Erico would have made such beautiful children.”

Her statement is a knife to the heart; a reminder of what we won’t have. This isn’t her bitchiness. This is downright cruel.

I wrench my head away, ripping my hair from her hold, even though my scalp slightly burns.

“And that’s why I’m sorry, Ariella, but this is for theFamiglia.”

For the—

And then there’s a syringe in her hand. She yanks my hair again, and my arms try to block her, but she maneuvers between them, and then there’s a sharp stab in my neck. I still fight. I push away from her, throwing myself in the direction of the door.

Erico…I need Erico.

My vision blurs, the doorway no longer identifiable other than a giant black hole. The angle changes at the same time my knees burn. Am I on the floor?

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