"Plus, it gives us legitimacy," Lorenzo adds, still watching me. "A Torrino choosing a Sartori over the Russians? That's a powerful message."
I force myself to nod, to look like I'm following along with their strategy instead of drowning in my own stupidity.
"The question again is which brother," Vittoria says, looking between Lorenzo and Nico. "Pietro's already almost married, obviously."
My eyes snap to Nora sitting next to Pietro. They look each other and you can tell that love is the only word that describes their looks.
"I need to think about this," Pietro announces suddenly, setting down his wine glass with a decisive clink. "It's not a decision to make lightly."
He looks around the table, his gaze landing on me last.
"Until then, let's eat. The food's getting cold, and Giulia will have my head if we waste her cooking."
Lorenzo reaches for the wine bottle at the same time I do. Our fingers brush.
He pulls back like I've burned him.
Great.
Fine. If he wants to play this game I'll make him work for it.
I straighten my spine, channeling every ounce of my mother's grace when she faced down Francesco at family dinners.
"I'll do it," I say, my voice cutting through the tension. "But only with Lorenzo."
Every head at the table swivels toward me. Lorenzo's eyes snap up, dark and unreadable.
"No offense, Nico." I turn to the younger brother, who's watching me with those sharp, analytical eyes. "But I don't trust you."
Nico's lips twitch, almost like he wants to smile. "None taken."
"You pulled a gun on me the first time we met," I continue, keeping my tone conversational, like we're discussing the weather. "That doesn't exactly scream 'husband material.'"
Vittoria makes a sound that might be a laugh disguised as a cough.
Pietro's gaze slides from me to Lorenzo.
"We'll think about it," Pietro says finally, his voice carrying that same authority that makes grown men flinch. "And we'll inform you of our decision."
Good.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lorenzo
Ibarely slept last night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Sophia in that red dress. Saw her lifting her chin, declaring she'd only marry me. Like it was nothing. Like choosing me didn't mean anything beyond avoiding Nico.
Trust.
She said she doesn't trust Nico. But she trusts me?
I drag myself out of bed at five-thirty, skipping the morning training session with her. Can't handle being that close to her right now. Not when my control is hanging by a thread.
By the time I make it to Pietro's office, it's past seven. I knock once and enter.
The sight that greets me makes me stop dead.
