“I wasn’t threatening you,” Isla says.
I lower my head, my mouth close to her ear. “Sounded like you were to me. And I don’t take threats lightly.”
I straighten just in time for the photographer to tell the rest of the wedding party to join the bride and groom for more snaps. Moving away from Isla, I join my brother and sister-in-law, pasting on a smile.
Chapter 7
ISLA
The sound of clinking glasses rings through the reception area. I obligingly pick up my fork and give my untouched wineglass a few taps. Good sports, Luna and Priest share another lingering kiss, smiling at each other from the sweetheart table they occupy.
They’re absolutely adorable. I don’t think Priest has stopped looking at Luna like she’s the best thing he’s ever seen all day. And Luna gazes back at him the same way. I’m over the moon for them. Everything has gone smoothly, from the photo session to the announcements of the bridal party, to the delicious, decadent dinner.
But I can’t relax.
Not only have I hooked up with a man who’s in the Mafia, I’ve also pissed him off. Alessio has been watching me throughout the dinner. He’s seated opposite me at the round table the wedding party’s been assigned. I felt his ocean-blue eyes off and on, like a brand burning hot into my skin.
To compensate, I’ve been chattering with Carina and Francesca and avoiding looking at him. That dangerous aura he wears like an expensive cologne? It makes sense now. Priestmay seem like a puppy dog happy to follow at Luna’s heels and worship the ground she walks on, but the truth is that he’s also a dangerous man. He’s a Mafia don, for fuck’s sake. And Alessio is a part of that nebulous world.
The reminder of the quiet menace in his voice earlier sends a chill down my spine as I set my fork back on the immaculate tablecloth.
“So, Luna tells us you’re a creative writing professor,” Francesca is saying to me, diverting my attention back to where it belongs—which is anywhere that’s not in a certain sexy mobster’s direction.
Even if my former position isn’t exactly what I want to talk about.
I force a polite smile. “I am, yes.”
Or at least, I was, until I quit. But I will be again. I just need to gather my bearings and decide where I want to move next. In a way, it’s freeing, knowing that the future is a blank slate. I’m no longer tied down to Christian, who wanted to stay in the Midwest because that’s where his family is.
“Creative writing, like books?” Carina asks, cutting her filet mignon.
“Not novels exactly. More like poetry and short prose.”
“Do you write yourself?” Francesca asks me.
“I do. I’m not a poet like Luna. I prefer longer fiction.”
“Nice. Do you have anything published that we can read?”
Lucky snorts before I can answer. “As if you read, Carina.”
She glares at her cousin. “I read all the time, which is more than I can say for you. The only thing you read these days is the bar menu at clubs.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize your smut books counted.” He grins, unrepentant.
Carina is equally unashamed as she shrugs. “Hey, I love smut. Don’t knock it till you try it.”
“Romance is the top-selling fiction genre,” I point out in defense of my favorite type of book.
As part of academia, I’m not technically supposed to enjoy commercial fiction. But the truth is, there’s nothing I love more than indulging in a delicious historical romance. There’s something about dukes and rogues that I can’t get enough of, but I’m not about to announce my guilty pleasure to the whole table with Alessio listening.
And judging.
“Throbbing members and billionaires,” he quips, as if on cue.
I turn to him. “It’s actually about so much more than that.”
His eyes drop to my lips. “Selling the false promise of happily ever after.”
