Page 72 of The Sound in Silence

The old-style country club with dark wooden beams running through the ceiling gives this place a cabin vibe. Each beam is strung with fairy lights, which is very typical of my mother’s design preferences. At the far end, a long table that stretches the room is home to more food than we can all possibly eat, complete with a giant ass five-tiered cake at one end. A fucking wedding cake.

My mother’s trying to make a point.

If this night already didn’t suck, it certainly does now when a body breaks from the crowd, heading toward us. The very someone who magically disappeared on a plane and hasn’t been heard of since.

Father approaches, his snake-like smile flicking between Ariella and me. “We need to have a quick meeting. Leave Ariella here.”

Leave my wife alone in the lion’s den? Not likely. But fuck, if I need to speak with him. To demand what the fuck he’s up to with the Volkovs.

Even as Father tugs on my free arm, I shove him away, not being subtle for our guests. “Your meeting can wait until I at least have her settled.”

With a sneer, Father brushes his hand down his suit jacket before gesturing into the crowd. As if knowing, the couple people lingering there shift aside, baring the way for another man to approach. He grins too toothily, as though he’s already won a game only he’s playing.

“You see, son. Waiting isn’t an option.”

Ursin fucking Volkov.

Ariella

Erico turns us immediately away from his father, his eyes scanning the massive crowd. This reminds me a lot of Della’s engagement party, when people whose names she’ll spend years trying to remember descended, all wanting to speak with Nico Corsetti’s future bride.

Hundreds of curious faces stare at me with varying degrees of interest. They remain back, likely awaiting Erico’s permission to approach, which honestly, I hope he’ll never give. By his side, I’m safe. With them…I can’t say for certain.

Walls up. Mask on.

Learning to hide my depression from people has taught me to use the same skill for the other, unwanted emotions, like the anxiety presently making me cold. Causing my nails to dig into Erico’s sleeve as a silent plea for him to not leave my side.

“Where the fuck did Caladin go?” he mutters, doing a visual sweep of the venue. “Him, I trust leaving you with.”

I want to make my fears known to him, but with the crowd still observing us so closely, they’ll pounce. And that’s not including the very large mountain of a man standing beside Erico’s father, who’s watching us with a chilling look in his depthless eyes.

A thin, cool arm snakes mine and an even icier voice says, “Go with your father, Erico. It’s time I officially meet my daughter-in-law.”

Fuck.Having seen Gia Rossi at Della’s party, I avoided her even then. Luckily, I had no reason to approach the three Rossis and remained in the shadows when I wasn’t by Della’s side. And minutes ago, with our arrival, Erico moved us past her so quickly, I didn’t get a good enough look at my mother-in-law.

She’s tall, reaching a foot over my shoulder, though I suspect her heels have something to do with that. Her face is packed with too much makeup for my liking, her eyeshadow a bright contrast to the plain, white dress she wears. It’s long, reminding me of a wedding dress. Her hair, the exact dark shade as Erico’s, is pin straight down her back.

Cold eyes study me while I’m doing the same to her, and at the end of her examination, she smiles too widely. It’s fake. Being practiced in feigning emotions, it’s easier to spot when someone else does it too. So I shoot her back an identical smile, and wonder if she sees through me as well.

We’re trapped between both his parents, leaving Erico with little option. I manage a reassuring look his way, which based on the furrow in his brows, he doesn’t believe at all. Still, with a final scan of my face, he follows his father and the other man through the crowd, which parts for them.

Once they’re gone, leaving me alone with Gia and a room full of strangers, his mother gets right to it. “Lovely dress,” she comments, reaching out to pinch at the skirt. “A little bold for my liking, but we all have our own preferences, don’t you agree? I prefer muted tones, especially for such events. But you’ll learn.”

Insults tossed into a compliment. Got it.

I throw her back another sugary smile and scan the room, searching for Caladin again. Erico’s cousin is amusing, and I’d much prefer him to Gia’s company.

You’re being silly. This is Erico’s mother. You’re stuck with her for the rest of your life.

Gia pats my hand in a way that seems affectionate to outsiders but against my numb skin, it feels like a warning. “Erico will be back soon. Come on. Let’s get the introductions underway. Everyone’s dying to meet you.”

Before I can fully take in her words, she’s pulling me into the crowd, stopping at a couple, and then a group, and then another, doing all the talking while I remain silent. I don’t even bother with my phone to type responses, letting Gia take the lead. Besides, even if I wanted to add in my own reply, at the speed Gia yanks me around, it’d be impossible to do so. She never hesitates in mentioning my mutism, and now I get Erico’s aversion to his mother. Bitch.

Her standard greeting:“Hello [whoever she’s dragged me to]. This is Ariella, Erico’s new wife and the newest member to theFamiglia. Already, she’s taken on such a burden. I should note, if she doesn’t respond, it’s because she’s mute. Bye now. Enjoy the party!”

Again: bitch.

Thankfully, that message is met with a few different responses, mainly from the other wives. Some icy looks, but a lot of easing smiles, and even an attempt to talk directly to me before Gia’s yanking me away from the kindness. Some of them even prove to not be half-bad when they glare at Gia but smile at me. Probably a lot of women here in similar circumstances, and we’re all just playing this game.

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