“Fucking hate this shit,” Dom mutters, and I huff in agreement. Part of the deal brokered by the families’ states that all attendees at the university must eat together. They didn’t stop there, either.
“I’ll get you a plate.” Dom walks off before I can respond, leaving me to stare at his retreating back. Dante turns around as Rocco walks off to the section they’ve claimed for the V’Arezzos. “You coming?”
I brush past him, picking up his low intake of breath. “Are you?”
We both make our way to the head table. Five seats, set up almost like fucking thrones. One for each heir.
We break bread together every night. Breakfast and lunch, we can sit anywhere we want, but at dinner, the heirs dine together.
Luciano is already there, leaning back with a vacant expression that clears as my heels click against the stone steps. He pulls out the chair next to him. “Little crow.”
“Morelli.” Ignoring the silent invite, I yank out the chair at the end of the table and drop into it. This way, I only have to put up with one of them.
Dante gets pulled back by one of his men, and I breathe a quiet sigh of relief when Stefano pushes past him, pulling out the chair next to me. Dante’s eyes flick to us, but he doesn’t say anything as he follows, taking the seat next to Stefano that Luc pulled out for me.
“So kind of you to save me a seat, Morelli.” His voice is low, but it carries down the table.
“I’m nothing if not accommodating, V’Arezzo,” Luc responds smoothly.
Ignoring the testosterone overload, I watch the Fusco table. They sit silently, none of the posturing and good-natured ribbing we’d normally see. Their eyes keep flicking to the empty seat on the other side of Luc.
“Nicoletta Fusco,” Stefan murmurs, and I turn to look at him. He’s shaved his head again, the short brown hair he used to have disappearing beneath a buzz cut. His tattooed hands tap the table, just once. “You know anything?”
Dom walks up with a plate of food in his hands, his eyes moving between us before I wave at him to come forward. He holds it out. “I tested it.”
“Thanks.” I take it from him, my stomach grumbling as the scent of rich, freshly-cooked food hits me and he returns back to our group.
Returning my attention to Stefano, I wait until I’ve taken a bite of my steak to respond, weighing up my options.
None of the heirs are allies. Not really. It’s impossible to form true friendship in our world. But the Asantes and the Corvos are probably closer than most. My father meets Salvatore Asante regularly for poker, each of them testing the other. An alliance isn’t formal, but there’s something.
“Not yet.” I keep my voice low. “You?”
He shakes his head. The rest of our meal is silent, my ears pricked to try to catch Luc and Dante’s quiet discussion. Stefan stays silent next to me. He probably used up his quota of words for the year with that one question.
Pushing my empty plate away, I glance over at the Crow table. A willowy blonde stares at me beseechingly, practically straining in her chair, and I frown, shaking my head at her in a question. She’s almost bouncing, and when I raise one eyebrow in question, she takes out her phone and waves it exaggeratingly in the air.
Sliding my phone out of my pocket, I angle it away from any curious eyes and flick through my messages. Amie’s name is at the top.
Movies and margaritas?
I stare down at the message, considering, before typing a short reply. I watch from the corner of my eye as her phone buzzes in her hand and she does a mini celebratory hand pump, drawing a few eyes her way.
“Making plans?”
I just about hold onto the startled jump of my shoulders at the deep murmur in my ear. Dante’s fingers brush the shoulder of my silky bronze blouse, and I roll my eyes. “Did no one ever teach you not to touch what doesn’t belong to you, V’Arezzo?”
His lips twitch into a small smile. “Oh, I learned that lessonverywell.”
Asshole. Possessive asshole, which is worse. Ignoring him, I push my seat back, forcing him to take a step back. But only a small one. He invades my space as I get up, the fresh minty scent telling me I’m not the only one who took a shower earlier.
I hope the water was stone fucking cold.
He stares at me, his eyebrows dropping down as I take a very obvious, very long sweeping glance to his smart black shoes and back up.
“Do not,” I murmur softly, “make the mistake of thinking that this is more than what it is, V’Arezzo. You’re a convenience, and you’re pretty, but if you pull any of that bullshit with me, I can find someone else.”
He bares his teeth. “Why throw away a good thing? Two heirs, together. Think of the power, Cat.”
