Leo stuffed spaghetti into his mouth and snatched up a slice of bread. “It’s good.”
His full cheeks puffed out when he bit into the bread and tore off a chunk.
“Easy, kiddo.” Matteo ruffled his hair. “There’s plenty and you don’t have to risk choking yourself.” He moved around the table and stopped by my side, leaning over to whisper, “There are better things to choke on, am I right?”
“Shut up.” I elbowed him playfully and sat beside Leo. My stomach grumbled, encouraging me to load up my plate and dig into the fragrant meal.
Leo finished chewing. “How long are we gonna stay down here?”
His question brought the battle back to the forefront of my thoughts. I’d shoved it aside to focus on keeping calm. The wall I’d held up for hours started to crack, and a shudder trembled through my fingers and ran up my arms.
“That depends on whether we find the treasure.” Matteo tore his bread in half and waved it toward Leo. “Alessio swears he didn’t bury any down here, but I think he did.”
“Really?” Leo’s eyes rounded. “Can we look for it tomorrow?”
“Sure. We’ll come back tomorrow.” Alessio joined us at the table. He’d left his slacks and dress shirt on the floor and dressed in a pair of jeans and a snug t-shirt that brought out his eyes. “I’m heading upstairs after dinner. Want to join me?” he asked Leo, but his eyes were on me.
“Can we explore the whole house? I want to see that big room on the third floor. The one with all the glass windows.” Leo shoveled food in, using big bites to clean his plate faster.
“The solarium.” Alessio shifted his gaze to Leo. “Good choice.”
“Everyone needs a little time to relax.” Matteo’s arm drifted over the back of my chair. “Renzo and I are headed to the library. Want to come with us?”
The invitation was nearly impossible to resist. I arched a brow at Alessio. “Do you mind?”
“I’ll keep an eye on Leo. He can help me pick out plants for next year’s growing season.” He hunkered down close to Leo. “I need your opinion on colors. I’m partial to red roses, but I’ve been told they’re outdated.”
“There are these really pretty purple ones at school. Mama says they’re her favorite.” Leo finished his last bite, scrambling from the chair and tugging on Alessio’s hand. “Come on, I’ll show you. I drew a picture of them.”
We finished our meal while Leo and Alessio headed upstairs. Matteo cleaned up the dishes, and Renzo pilfered through the pantry. He came back out holding a bottle of wine and three glasses.
“Can’t go to the library without wine.” His voice was steady as usual, but his eyes were warm.
He led the way up the stairs, down the narrow corridor, and into the biggest room I’d ever seen. Row after row of books stretched in front of me. A silent fireplace dominated a large space to my left, and an open area with several leather chairs pulled into a circle drew me to the right. I chose the seat closest to the bookshelves and sank into the rich leather. A small table sat in the center of the chairs, and Renzo placed the wine and glasses on the glossy wooden surface after taking the chair on my right.
Matteo took the left and kicked back with his feet on the table. “This is what I’m talking about.”
I closed my eyes and breathed in the subtle smell of binding glue and paper. “What’s the deal with Alessio and the Verduccis?”
Movement from Matteo at my left side pulled my eyes open in curiosity. Moonlight spilled through two bay windows on the other side of the room and coated the shelves in ethereal light.
Matteo poured himself a glass of wine. “I’m not drunk enough for this conversation.”
“Thought we came here to relax,” Renzo grunted. The deep growl of his voice lingered in my bones, making my knees weak.
Matteo wagged his finger back and forth, admonishing Renzo. “We’re all family here. We can discuss and relax. Drinksome wine and spill your secrets.” He drank deep, almost draining the glass. “Whiskey might work better.”
“Can’t risk getting drunk.” Renzo poured two glasses and handed me one. “Go ahead, Matteo. I can tell you’re dying to divulge your family history.”
“My family are assholes.” He snorted and topped off his glass. “I left when I was thirteen. Became an emancipated minor and joined Alessio. I never looked back.”
“Why are they assholes?” I couldn’t resist the complexities that made up their personalities. Matteo turned everything into a joke and laughed with a false sense of joy that tempered his true feelings. I’d taken enough psychology classes to understand it was a way of masking his pain.
“Because they think loyalty is overrated.” Renzo joined in the conversation and toasted Matteo with his wine glass. “If more men were like you, we’d fight fewer wars.”
“If more men were like me, we’d be too busy fucking to fight.” Matteo winked at me. “It’s much more preferable.”
I sipped my wine without even tasting it. My thoughts were too focused on the information pouring from Matteo and Renzo to worry about things like taste. They talked about families as if they were worth going to war for—or they were forced to fight for.
