Page 27 of Of Grief And Gratitude

“Of course!” Antonella opened her arms and drew me into a motherly embrace before pulling back and holding my face gently as she kissed me on the cheek like I’d been a member of the family forever. I supposed it was the equivalent of thrusting a shot of whiskey into the hands of every newcomer to the O’Connor household.

“It’s nice to see you again,” I murmured, my voice strained.

Antonella took it for something else. “I know these things can be overwhelming, but you have some experience with the O’Connors, yes?”

“I suppose so.” Nodding, I chanced a sidelong look at Romeo, who watched me closely. “I’m just a little tired and nervous. That’s all.”

“Well, we cannot have that.” She took my free hand and pulled me along, Romeo following behind, since he still had my fingers woven firmly through his. She led us to an ornate dining room with a large table and several people already seated. Most I recognized from the meetings with the Nerettis. They all turned when we entered, and I felt my face flush as they stared.

Antonella gave me another maternal smile of reassurance and began introductions. “Riona, you’ve already met my husband and my sons Dante and Cosimo.”

The brothers gave me little waves, but Ettore nodded once and pinned me in place with a calculating gaze.

Antonella motioned toward another man who looked remarkably like Cosimo with his swimmer’s build and dark looks. Twins, then, though the newcomer wasn’t quite as threatening. “This is my other son Niccolò, and his wife, Mia.”

“Nice to meet you,” Niccolò said, inclining his head.

The voluptuous woman sitting next to Niccolò smiled. “I’m so happy to put a face to a name.”

How long had they been talking about me? Romeo hadn’t even known me that long. Had he told them everything about our time together? Anxious thoughts held my mind in a vice grip. I mumbled something kind in return and walked robotically to the seat Romeo pulled out for me, clenching and unclenching the hand he’d held captive, hoping to shake the lingering feeling of his touch.

I wasn’t a stranger to how crime families operated. I’d seen my share of that growing up with the O’Connors. Hell, my father was a victim of the bad blood between the Irish and Russians. My mistake was underestimating Romeo Neretti. I’d immediately concluded he was a fuck boy fuck-up, the black sheep of the Neretti family. Now looking at him, I could see that he was cut from the same black cloth as the rest. He just hid his ruthless nature under massive muscles and a suave smile.

Antonella and a shorter, stout woman who must have been the housekeeper brought out platters of food. There wasn’t an empty place on the table by the time the women were done.

“Antipasto, bruschetta, cotolette, rigatoni alla silana.” Antonella pointed to the dishes proudly. That didn’t include the salads and mashed potatoes. I would never remember all that, but it looked and smelled amazing.

I sat, my back stiff, while Ettore said the blessing, and everybody dutifully crossed themselves. Romeo should burst into flame for pretending to be devout after the shit he’d just pulled. It probably wasn’t the worst thing he’d done.

“I hope you plan to go to confession this week,” I whispered out of the side of my mouth.

He smirked, the asshole. “I doubt confessing will save me from purgatory. Some days I think I’m already there.”

“Riona,” Ettore’s dark, liquid voice cut through the conversations at the table. He lorded over the rest of us in his black pinstripe suit at the head of the table. “Tell us more about yourself.”

I froze, unprepared for the questioning. “There’s not much to tell. I grew up here in Chicago, then went to NYU and stayed to work. Until recently, I was at a PR firm in NYC, but now I’m working for the O’Connor family.”

“Ah, yes.” Ettore nodded as he cut into his breaded veal cutlet. “You left after ending a relationship with your superior.”

My face heated, and Romeo’s brothers pretended to be suddenly enraptured by the food on their plates while Mia gave me a sympathetic look. Romeo gripped his fork until his knuckles turned white, and I wanted to sarcastically thank him for dragging me into his mess even further. This was all more than I’d signed up for.

Ettore didn’t wait for me to answer before impaling me with the next barb. “Do you make a habit of getting involved with those you work with?”

I let my breath out slowly as I tried to formulate a response. I flinched when Romeo’s warm hand covered my thigh, squeezing—I didn’t know if he meant it to be threatening or reassuring. The corners of Ettore’s lips rose; he’d taken my movement as a reaction to his questioning, and he seemed to enjoy it thoroughly.

The silence stretched uncomfortably, my desperation leading me to arch a brow at the head of the Italian crime family and respond, “No, not everybody.”

All eyes snapped to me, and I watched a muscle in Ettore’s jaw tick ominously as he leveled me with a contemplative look. He probably couldn’t kill me without starting another war with the Irish, and that wouldn’t be advantageous given their current working relationship. Romeo patted my thigh and cleared his throat to cover a chortle. There was no love lost between the father and the youngest son.

“I see,” Ettore finally said, picking up his wine glass and sipping on the red liquid, savoring it before swallowing and continuing his meal like we hadn’t spoken at all.

Slowly, the conversation resumed and I focused on consuming as many carbs as possible. Their family meal was markedly different from those at the O’Connor house. The men wore impeccably tailored black suits, their hair styled so no strand was out of place. Mia and Antonella wore dresses you might find on former first ladies. Simple, understated, and classy. At least I wasn’t too far off with my blue cocktail dress. Sloane helped me pick it out. It felt odd to wear something I hadn’t even looked at since moving back to Chicago.

I’d probably have to go home and pick a few things to wear in public with Romeo if there was an unspoken Neretti dress code. That brought on an onslaught of thoughts as I ate in silence and gave one-word answers to questions I barely heard when Antonella and Mia tried to get to know me. I didn’t want to be close to this family. Maybe Seamus could get me out of this whole thing if I told him. That wouldn’t stop Romeo from releasing the video. He’d probably do it just for the hell of it.

I sipped on my wine and cursed how smooth it was, the perfect temperature, and the dark berry notes underneath an almost floral scent. Likely expensive, given my experience drinking fine wine in New York.

Romeo watched as I swallowed, and I narrowed my eyes at him. “Stop looking at me like that.”

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