“I’ll pass.”
“Why?” I prodded at him, turning in my seat. His pupils widened at my direct gaze, and my skin tingled under the questing intensity of his expression.
“I’m an Orazio. You know our family broke off from the main branch of the mob there. My father sent me there when I was younger to learn the traditions of our family, our legacy. It taught me one thing. That I want something better for my future, and I refuse to be treated lesser because I wasn’t born on Italian soil. They beat me, tried to break me to punish my father for his success without them. The old families are furious. Our ties are looser with them, and we’ve created our own world here. I refuse to be held hostage for the sake of tradition.”
My eyebrows rose at his blunt honesty, unexpected.
“What about our children? Will you deny them their history, their language?”
A slow smile spread over Romeo’s lips, and his tongue darted out to wet the lower one.
“Our children? They will have whatever you want. You want to send them to Italy? You want them interred on the Orazio estate like I was? So be it. You want them to learn Italian,velenoso dolcezza, mia moglie, I will do it for you.”
My body prickled with unwanted heat, flustered by the low purr of his voice. I didn’t want him saying anything to me in Italian ever again. It was like liquid silk, and I craved the sound wrapped around me. Paolo and Bruno laughed, surprised and awkward. I knew my cheeks were pink, and I damned Romeo in my mind.
“I never thought I’d see you let go of your anger about that year abroad. Being married suits you, Romeo.” Bruno crushed a peanut shell between his thumbs. He looked between us with a guileless smile, truly believing there was love in this marriage.
“It does. You know my wife has many layers. I appreciate them all.”
Paolo gulped, and it was enough for Romeo to shoot him a dark glare. He didn’t even know how many layers I had, and I knew if he did, he wouldn’t be sitting at a table with such ease.
“Your hand is dirty.” Romeo lifted my hand and pursed his lips at the filthy nails.
“It is.” I let my grin unfold. This was what I was waiting for, his displeasure and embarrassment at his wife not putting on airs for him anymore. “My gardening glove had holes.” I added to Bruno as his forehead creased.
Romeo clicked his tongue and dropped my hand in my lap.
“I will be right back.”
He stalked to the door, his shoulders hunched toward his ears. I watched him go with a mix of delight and disappointment. I wanted him to be angry with me. Furious enough to leave me alone. But part of me protested at how easy it had been to carve the thorn of him from my side. My shoulders sagged. He gave up so easily. I expected to trade a few more thinly veiled insults, had them ready on my tongue even.
“Anita,” Paolo shot Bruno a meaningful look, “I need to speak with you in private.”
My cousin fidgeted with an empty peanut shell, tearing off tiny pieces. Bruno held up his hands.
“I can step out if you need. This is an imposition, me turning up here, half drunk. I’m imposing, I know. I just heard the news and had to celebrate with someone who would understand what it meant to me…who knew my sister.” Bruno cleared his throat. I ignored the way Paolo was gesturing at me, my carcass of a chest warming for Bruno. In a way, I understood him. If I suspected my father of being discarded like Diane had been, I wouldn’t stop until I avenged him, either. Every breath would have been laced with the desire for revenge. There was nothing I wouldn’tdo for the few people who snuck through the steel prison of my ribs.
He suffered. Lanton died in pain,I promised Bruno in my mind, and he jerked his head up as if he heard me speak.
“I understand, and you’re welcome here any time.”
Had I really extended an open invitation to someone? My stomach quelled in shock. Even Paolo struggled not to squint at me. Bruno, not understanding the rarity, only hummed with pleasure.
“Anita, I really do need to speak with you.” Paolo tried to draw my attention back, but I was too busy wondering what on earth was happening to me. First, I was disappointed that Romeo didn’t give me the fight I craved and now I was inviting people over to socialize? I pressed the back of my hand to my head, checking for a temperature. Perhaps I’d ingested some pollen, and it was making me hallucinate. Romeo stepped through the door, holding a small package in his hands.
“I’m sure you can say anything you need in front of us, Paolo. Don’t be shy. But I would consider whether it’s in your best interest.”
They shared a charged look, one that I should have paid more attention to, but the box he placed in front of me distracted me. It was a plain black rectangle with a silver bow stuck to the top.
“What’s this?” I asked, running my fingers around the edge suspiciously. He paused behind my chair, and the oppressive closeness unsettled me. Romeo had a way of commanding a room with only his presence.
“Open it and find out.” His clear, powerful voice was a challenge I wouldn’t back down from. I flipped the lid open and stared at the gift in sudden muteness. A pair of gardening gloves was nestled in white paper. Mint green suede with a creamy, white leather trim.
“I don’t understand.” I grappled with my rapid heartbeat, dizzy as it slammed a frantic beat against my insides. He got me gloves? I looked down at my grubby hand, the one that was meant to enrage Romeo. He didn’t leave out of disgust but to retrieve the gift he’d procured me.
“I had several pairs made when I visited your greenhouse for the first time. They should be durable, but please let me know if they need adjusting. Anita is a talented gardener, you know,” Romeo explained to Bruno. I picked up the gloves, sliding them over my hands with bubbling excitement. They fit perfectly. The gift fractured some of the hard shell around my heart, made space.
I took the gloves off with a harried breath. Nothing good would come of thoughts like these.
