“Anita,” he gasped, holding me at arm’s length when I kissed both his cheeks. “Anita, I must speak with you.”
I ignored his fervent whisper in favor of greeting my husband. I only meant to brush his cheeks with my lips, but when I bent down, he circled my elbows in a biting grip. His icy eyes funneled holes through mine.
“Hello, my wife.”
He pulled me down and pressed a kiss on my flattened, furious lips. He tasted like red wine, blood, and audacity. If we’d been alone, I would have used the only weapon he seemed to respond to: my teeth. But we had company.
I pulled out of Romeo’s grasp, unsure why his nostrils flared.
“Bruno, I hope you’ll stay for a full meal this time.” I reached out my clean hand, intending to shake his, when Romeo shoved a wine glass in it. He waved a hand at the empty chair beside him. I ignored it as Bruno reached out to grip my dirty hand instead. He didn’t seem to notice the filthy nails, but Romeo did, his gaze locking in on them. I expected to see anger, but his teeth dug into his lower lip instead, like he enjoyed the sight.
“Oh, I intend to. Haven’t you heard the news? Tonight is a celebration.” He tossed his wineglass in the air, and some of the liquid sloshed out onto the white tablecloth. Paolo gripped Bruno and dragged him down into the chair. Bruno was rough-hewn stone, solid. Golden highlights laced his dark curls, and it was an incongruous softness to his overtly masculine features. His palm had well-earned callouses, the end of his nose was pink from peeling sunburn. There was an honesty in the way he moved, no showmanship, bravado or pretense in the way he filled his seat. A direct contrast to Romeo, who I knew had to do all those things. It wasn’t a slight, Romeo was looked at differently, judged at a different standard. He couldn’t be like Bruno, but I found their friendship an interesting study on Romeo as a person. What would he be like without the last name Orazio? I took a sip of the wine, let it wash away the lingering tingle of Romeo’s touch.
“No, I didn’t even know I was invited to dinner until five minutes ago, if it wasn’t obvious.” I curled my toes, determined to embarrass Romeo in front of his friend. Whatever the celebration, it had brought together an eclectic mix of people.
“Lanton Vani is dead.”
I processed the information with a stony expression. It wasn’t a surprise, obviously. I’d caused his death, and good riddance. But the men in front of me didn’t know that, although Paolo had probably made the connection between me wanting to know more about him. Bruno’s smile wobbled with barely contained glee, as if remembering too late to be careful. He didn’t know whether this news would be a terrible shock to me. I wanted to set him at ease, to tell him the hand I’d had in it. How I’d eavesdropped on his conversation and did something about his vendetta. Instead, I deflated into the chair beside Romeo. Giving a passable performance of a wilting flower, shocked into silence.
Romeo reached out and rubbed my thigh, a touch too hard to be comforting. He locked me in the crystal of his gaze, searching my expression. For what? I couldn’t tell, and Bruno’s drunken apologies distracted us.
“I’m sorry, Anita, that was inconsiderate. I shouldn’t have been so blunt.” He took a fortifying gulp of his wine, fingers drumming on the tablecloth.
“Anita isn’t shocked by death, are you wife?” Romeo interjected on my behalf. Paolo’s eyes widened over the table, and he jerked his head minutely. I bristled at the action, the dismissal. This was my house, and I wouldn’t be ordered by anyone. My bones were fatigued from pandering to men. I slouched in the chair, ignoring Paolo’s pursed lips. I fluttered a hand over my forehead, dabbing at it with the pads of my fingertips.
“Of course, it’s so unexpected.” I injected a warble into my voice. “H-how did it happen?”
“Food poisoning. Too bad it didn’t kill his wife as well.” Bruno snorted, wincing when he realized he was speaking too liberally again.
Food poisoning was plausible enough, and I’d drummed the idea into Merissa’s head before I left. My poisons worked so well because they mimicked sickness that already existed. It was easy to wipe away the foaming mouth and say it came from something someone ate. The truth was, in dealing with a body, nobody cared as long as there was an obvious answer. It was the path of least resistance. The authorities wouldn’t waste time investigating if it didn’t look suspicious. If anything, they were likely celebrating as well. Romeo stood up and emptied the bottle of Shiraz into our glasses, shaking the last few drops into mine.
“What did the Doc say?”
It was standard practice for any deaths to be dealt with quietly by “the Doc,” whatever medical professional the Orazios had on their payroll. The police didn’t need to get wind of anything that occurred in our world. Although a good chunk of them were corrupt. I’d instructed Merissa to call an ambulance, not Doc, in case they decided she was a loose end that needed tying up as well.
The trouble I was going to for the girl was unlike me. I hoped Romeo would appreciate it. Bruno snaked a hand forward and seized a peanut from the bowl in the middle. Like he needed to do something with his hands.
“Well, here’s the interesting thing.” Romeo drawled, shifting his chair closer to mine. His fingers sought my thigh, and tingles ran down my spine as he squeezed it softly. “Merissa didn’t call the Doc. She rang an ambulance. Lanton was already dead, so it didn’t make a difference, but it’s created a real mess for my dad. Instead of dealing with this quietly, so much red tape has been thrown up now.”
I placed my hand over Romeo’s, squeezing as I tried to remove it. He only clamped down tighter, and I shot him a dark look. The way he stared at me was strange. Roiling tension, burning curiosity. Like he was cataloguing me closer than he normally did. My stomach clenched in warning, and I stopped struggling. His gaze was like a laser, searching for chinks in my mask.
“Your father must be furious.” I widened my eyes in mock worry.
“Oh, he is. I spent the latter half of my day holed up in his office, making phone calls while he ranted into a bottle. He and Lanton were close. He’s not taking it well. Ask me how I spent the earlier part of my day?”
“Not to speak ill of the dead, but I’m sure this isn’t a tragedy for you, Bruno.” Paolo spoke for the first time, rushing to cut Romeo off. Bruno put his glass down, his gaze unfocused on the burgundy liquid.
“Tanto va la gatta al lardo che ci lascia lo zampino,” he blew out a sigh. “You can’t get away with something forever. So no, it’s no tragedy for me. I know what people say about me behind my back. But I know Lanton was involved in my sister’s death. The world is a better place without him in it, and I hope my sister is finally at peace, as she deserves.”
“I never met your sister, but my mom always used her as an example of elegance. For Diane.” I held my glass up, “Salute.”
Bruno’s eyes misted over as our glasses chinked.
“Cheers,” Romeo added. It occurred to me how he avoided speaking Italian, or ever referencing his time spent in Italy. It was a complete contrast to most of the men I knew who spoke about Italy like it was a magical homeland.
“I’m going to make myself scarce soon. Take that trip overseas that I’ve been putting off while I dealt with…” Bruno coughed, not wanting to elaborate in front of me. He waggled his eyebrows and added. “If I go to Italy, visit me, Romeo.”
My husband screwed his nose up and let out a quiet snort.
