My mouth waters and stomach growls. I realize I haven't eaten today.
We move to the table. The lamb shoulder glistens under the light, its ruby glaze lacquered across tender meat that looks like it would fall apart at the slightest touch. Roasted garlic and herb couscous sit beside it, dotted with pine nuts. Charred broccolini drizzled with lemon-tahini adds a bright, earthy aroma.
Brenna takes her seat. "Let's dig in."
Finn cuts the lamb and I try not to focus on the knife, but I watch him carefully. He puts slabs on plates and hands me one first.
"Thank you."
He grunts again, then passes plates to the others.
I bring a piece to my mouth, and the second it hits my tongue, the world narrows to tender, bold, and savory flavor. There's the slightest sweetness from the pomegranate and warmth from cinnamon and pepper.
Brax groans. "This is so good, Brenna."
"Agree. It's incredible," I compliment and take a bite of couscous.
Brenna beams. "Thank you. I've been perfecting this one."
"It's one of my favorites," Brax adds.
Her expression softens even more. "You used to beg me to make this when you were younger."
Brax scoffs, "Beg? I don't beg. I requested."
"No. You begged," Brenna insists, smiling.
Finn grunts again, but his lips twitch.
The conversation threads itself more easily after that. It's not totally effortless, but smoother than I expected.
Brenna and I talk about yoga. She asks how I have such a beautiful Italian accent, and we end up exchanging Italian sayings. Before I know it, I'm relaxed and laughing.
Finn finally speaks. "Where in Italy did you grow up?"
I nervously answer him, and he slowly lets down his guard a bit.
Brax refuses to take his hand off me, sometimes teasing my inner thigh so my brain doesn't want to function.
Halfway through the meal, Brenna curls her fingers around her wineglass. "Valentina, what about your family? Do they live in Chicago?"
The question drops like a stone into my chest. I straighten my fork on my plate. "I…don't have any family left."
Her expression shifts to sympathy. She lowers her voice. "None?"
"My parents died in a plane crash. There's no family left. Well, none I associate with," I add, thinking about how Luca won't ever accept me. And Zara's family, but I don't want to get into that conversation. It's best to keep it under wraps.
Plus, I can never tell the real truth.
My uncle Salvatore killed my parents in a ritual when I was sixteen. Then he told me I was to forgive him and let him raise me as his, or he'd put me in a brothel. I chose to play the game, vowing to get a seat at the table so I could be the one making decisions on rituals and not him. No one should lose their parents for no reason. Mine did nothing except fall in love. Salvatore only killed them because he didn't like my mother's blood, and that defies the purpose of the Underworld.
Now, he's dead. Sean killed him to save Zara.
Brax's hand clamps gently around my thigh under the table. It's protective, steady, and grounding.
Brenna's voice softens. "I'm so sorry."
I nod. "Thank you."
