Page 253 of Merciless Desires

“Yes, my mamma is Mirella.”

Mamma let go of me and crossed the room. Without hesitation, she yanked Marcella into a tight hug.

“Oh, cara. I’m so sorry. How is she?” Mamma kissed Marcella’s cheeks and then stared at her.

What was she talking about? I knew Moretti had insisted that I hire nurses for his family, but I hadn’t questioned him on it. It was none of my business. But now, it was. Marcella was my business.

“She is doing okay.”

Mamma nodded and squeezed Marcella’s arms. “What do you drink, cara?”

Marcella peered past Mamma at me, so I responded for her.

“Red wine.”

“She has a glass,” my papà interjected, motioning vaguely to the glass of red wine next to his whiskey.

“I’ll check on supper.”

“I will help,” Marcella said quickly, and I wanted to flash a menacing smile at my papà.

She didn’t want to be around him. Whatever the hell he’d said to her, it hadn’t worked.

Staring at me and then her wine glass, Marcella followed Mamma to the kitchen to check on the chefs.

“She knows more than I thought she would…being raised by a made man.” Papà muttered and took a sip of his whiskey.

I snatched Marcella’s glass and downed the contents. “What is this? It’s disgusting. Why would you serve that to her?”

He ignored my question. “How did you find her?”

“Why?”

“What made you pursue her?”

To get you off my fucking back.

“You spoke with her. Why don’t you tell me?” I turned his bold question back on him, needing the heat to be off me for once in my goddamn life.

“Seems…odd that we had a discussion about how you are still single at thirty-seven only a few months ago…and now you have a bride.”

“You wanted me to get married; now I’m getting married.”

“You could’ve picked better.”

My jaw was clenched so hard I thought I would break my own teeth. “Do not insult her. Ever.”

My papà looked past me, and I turned to see Marcella standing with her hands clasped tightly together.

“Supper is ready.”

Why she was sent to tell us this instead of one of the staff, I wasn’t sure, but one thing I knew for certain was that she’d heard the cruel words that left my papà’s mouth.

I crossed the room to her and pulled her against me. I wanted to kiss her, but the way she stared up at me, wide-eyed and afraid, I decided against it. I thought about kissing her forehead or her cheek, but even that seemed like it would be too much for her in this situation.

I spent the entirety of supper watching Marcella. What she ate, how much she ate, if she drank, what she drank, and especially her body language. Her body was very…expressive. She had cringed when she took a sip of that disgusting wine my papà had opened for her and covered her outward disgust by straightening her spine.

It was nearly ten by the time we finished eating, and I was more than ready to leave. My papà was still talking when I pushed my chair away from the table and stood. I reached for Marcella, breathing a sigh of relief when she stood and took my hand.

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