Page 28 of Of Grief And Gratitude

“Like what?” he asked innocently. “I find your beauty difficult to turn away from. I could watch you all night.”

I nearly gagged at his over-the-top response. Antonella ate it up.

“Ah, young love,” she gushed, beaming. “I can only pray all my children find love like that.”

Ettore grunted, and Antonella’s face fell into a neutral look as she turned away to listen to whatever her husband was mumbling in her ear. She excused herself from the table and walked back to the kitchen.

Ettore wiped his mouth and tossed his napkin on his empty plate before rising from his chair. “Why don’t we gather in the living area while the table is cleared for dessert.”

It was more of a command than a suggestion because everybody stood, even if their plates weren’t empty. I finished my last bite of pasta and quickly dabbed at my mouth with the napkin before Romeo helped pull my chair out so I could stand. He took my hand and placed it on his arm, leaning down toward my ear. “You’re doing well so far. Keep it up for a little longer. Then I’ll take you home.”

“I have a ride home,” I answered caustically. “I don’t need anything from you. Unless you want to hand over every copy of that video. That I’d gladly accept.”

He chuckled and patted the back of my hand. “Your anger is adorable.”

I dug my nails into his suit jacket, and Romeo flexed his forearm in response, making me uncomfortably hot. I wouldn’t think about how his forearm flexed as he worked his fingers inside me. He’s just a demon in a pretty muscled package, I reminded myself.

The Neretti family room was light and airy, with white furniture I’d never buy for myself in a million years. Vases of fresh flowers decorated tables, and a bar cart sat off to one side. Ettore poured drinks for his sons before splashing the amber liquid into his own tumbler. He didn’t offer anything to Mia or me.

“Good, now we can chat,” Niccolò’s wife said as she approached, taking my arm and pulling me away from Romeo. He couldn’t stop her without looking suspicious. She led me to a set of plush white chairs on the opposite side of the room, and we sat together. “Are you okay?”

I clasped my hands in my lap and smiled. “Of course.”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” she breathed. “I know what it’s like to be aggressively accepted into the Neretti family.”

I searched her face, wondering whether I could trust her. “You didn’t want to marry Niccolò?”

“Definitely not at first.” Mia laughed and spun the gorgeous wedding ring on her left ring finger. “But he’s a good man, and we fell in love.”

“I find it difficult to believe any of them are good men,” I said drily. “Some might put on a good act.”

She smiled wistfully at her husband, who stood talking with his twin across the room. “You’d be surprised.”

“Shocked, even.” I couldn’t hide the disdain in my voice.

“Give him a chance,” she implored, patting my hand with hers.

“Yeah, no.” I pulled my hand away and decided to give her vague information. “If you knew what he’d done, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

“You can tell me.”

“No offense, but I don’t know you,” I said as kindly as possible as Romeo sauntered over to us.

“What are you ladies up to over here?” he asked with an edge to his voice. “Chatting about the latest gossip?”

“You know better than that,” Mia chastised him, a stern look on her face.

Romeo looked genuinely remorseful as he bent down and kissed the top of Mia’s head. “Sorry.”

She waved him off, and he held his hand out to me. I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but I placed my palm in his and let him pull me up from the chair as Antonella breezed into the room, a smile on her face again. That woman could act better than most of Hollywood.

“Dessert is ready,” she announced, beckoning us to follow her back to the dining room.

Romeo practically bounced on the balls of his feet with excitement as he led me back to my seat and pulled it out for me. At each place setting was a fine china plate with a little chocolate dome in the center and a small cup of espresso above the plate.

“Tartufo,” Romeo explained, picking up his spoon and cracking it open. “There’s cherry inside.”

I copied him, breaking open the little ball of ice cream and seeing the white and red layers inside. My eyes closed as I took a bite, the flavors exploding on my tongue: sweet vanilla, tart cherry, rich dark chocolate.

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