“I know,” Alessandra said and winked at me. “We have pink undertones to our skin, so pink doesn’t look good on us. Dark red always works, though.”
“How does it feel?” asked Lucia.
I shrugged lightly. “Feels fine. It’s the comfiest dress so far, and there’s no zipper.”
Lucia turned to Romeo. “I only just realized that these dresses will be perfect with the roses. What do you think?”
Romeo smiled at her, and I couldn’t help but notice the softness in his expression. There was a warmth in the way he looked at her—a tenderness that I wasn’t expecting. It was something I never thought I’d see from him. Was it an act? If it was, it was incredibly well done.
“I think it will be perfect.”
“And Angelo will like it?”
“Yes,” he said and took Lucia’s hand. “He will. I’m sure of it.”
I held my breath when Lucia brought herself to her tiptoes and kissed Romeo quickly on the lips, without him so much as reacting. I thought he’d for sure glare at her, or get upset. He was fine. It was at that moment that I realized it wasn’t an act. How had she changed him? I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.
Lucia gave him a saucy look. “If you say so.”
I remained in the room, watching as they looked into each other’s eyes. That was until I heard his voice.
“Father wants to speak to you, Romeo.”
I felt my heart stop in my chest as I slowly turned around and saw him staring at me. He was eyeing me up and down. I felt my face flush red and brought my hand into a fist, suddenly feeling hot all over. I’d never had anyone look at me the way he was. Lust. Awe. I was surprised he’d allow everyone to see that expression from him, as he was usually so controlled. He hated letting his mask fall. I was glad that I had that effect on him.
I wasn’t sure if he knew whether it was me or Alessandra, but it didn’t seem to matter—he was enjoying what he was seeing. I’d never felt so ogled in my entire life, and he was being so blatant about it that even Romeo grinned.
“I’ll be down there in a second, Marcello. Tell Angelo that I’m just helping with something.”
Marcello nodded as he brought his hand to the door, making sure to get a good look at me in the red dress. “Sure thing.”
I lowered my eyes to the ground and my swollen feet. It was as though the sensation of his eyes lingering on me remained, even after he closed the door. Romeo and Lucia whispered something between each other as I swallowed hard.
I wanted him to keep staring.
20
Marcello
“Finally, he’s goddamn well here.”
My father was strained, which was something I was unaccustomed to seeing. He usually held things together. It didn’t take much to cause him to fly into a fit of rage, but he was rarely stressed. It was always to teach someone a lesson.
Not that I cared. Not at that moment.
It had been over three days since I’d seen Chiara. Of course, it would be my luck that I’d see her in that red dress. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. There were so many things I pictured doing to her in that dress, and I think she knew what I was thinking when I saw her. Even Romeo, who I usually tried to hide my feelings for Chiara from, was very aware of what I thought of her in that dress.
“Marcello, take a seat,” my father commanded.
I blinked and saw that Romeo was already seated at the red oak dining table. We rarely used it, unless we were having a family meeting. With the wedding only a few days away, there would be a need for a discussion. I already knew how this meeting would go. My father would likely yell, Savio would say a few words, Romeo would act entitled and I’d remain as silent as possible so as not to upset my father. It was always the same, and I did not doubt that it would be just another average meeting that ended in awkwardness all around.
I rounded the table, keeping clear of sitting next to Savio, who had been more distant than usual. Natalia was nowhere to be found, but that wasn’t surprising. My father usually kept her out of intense conversations, since she never helped with the family business. He was always just more worried about her having children to carry on the family name, which was something she rebelled against with that famous anger of hers.
I took a seat at the end of the table and watched as my father took a sip of the strong drink he had in front of him. He let out a quick breath after drinking and slammed it down onto the table, startling us with the sound. Everything he did had to elicit a reaction. Annoying.
“So, have you all looked at the guest list?”
Romeo nodded. “LikeBabbo Natale. Checked it twice.”
