“Elio too.” Sal gives me a look. I nod even though I despise Elio as much as Vincenzo. Those two have been attached at the hip ever since we were children and made my life miserable. So naturally, I hate him too. But Sal doesn’t, and I have to remain diplomatic.
We finally reach the main dining hall. One of the largest rooms in this place with a long table to accommodate this gathering. The ceiling is three stories tall, but we’re in the center of the castle, so there isn’t any natural light—giving the room almost an intimidating, dim atmosphere. It’s a perfect place to share a meal with my future wife for the first time.
The steaks are barely cooked—rare as hell, just the way Marco likes it. And perfect little Sofia hasn’t touched her meal. I’m sure she has some type of special diet to maximize her athletic performance or whatever the fuck.
I observe her behavior as she tries her best not to look at me despite sitting directly across from me. She flicks the food around her plate, her eyes trying to latch onto anyone that isn’tme. I know that I'm being petty, but I feel a smile form on my face at her discomfort.
For a microsecond, she finally makes eye-contact with me. But the fire is gone from her, and she looks worried. She bites the inside of her cheek as a light sheen of sweat forms on her forehead; her face grows pale as if she’s about to be sick.
What the hell? Am I really this repulsive to her?
I shake that thought away as Marco drones on and on about… dissolving a body in acid? In graphic detail.
Then I realize that’s why Sofia is looking ill suddenly.
I suppress a chuckle and scan down the Calabrese side of the table. The women look uncomfortable and scared—Sofia looks to be in the worst shape of them all.
“Marco,” John Sr., Sofia’s grandfather, speaks up, interrupting Marco’s story. “Can we keep the dinner conversation family-friendly?”
Family-friendly.
Does he know where he is?
Marco manages to keep his manners. I know his goal is not to show his cruelty before the wedding: lull the Calabreses into a false sense of security. “Apologies. Sometimes I get carried away with work.” He shrugs as if his ‘work’ is something mundane,like working in finance or a hospital or anything that doesn’t involve dissolving bodies in acid regularly.
Which we don’t even do that often, we got an incinerator installed in the basement ten years ago.
Vincenzo cackles next to Marco and then suddenly stops. Marco must have kicked him under the table.
Silence falls over the room. I decide to help by making Sofia even more uncomfortable.
“You don’t like your steak?” I ask.
Sofia finally meets my gaze. Brown eyes heated; her cheeks flushed. She gives me a fake smile. “Everything is fine, but I ate quite a bit of pasta for lunch. Still full.”
I can tell she’s lying. Her parents were hissing insults into her ear after our ‘initial’ meet and greet. She’s supposed to be minding her manners.
“It’s not too… is it cooked enough?” I ask, irritated that I have to speak in English for this meal. She looks down at the plate. At the blood pooling out of the piece of meat. “I don’t want you thinking this is similar to what Marco is talking of.”
Her face pales even more, and I see beads of sweat form on her forehead. Marco glares at me. I should behave myself, but this is too much fun.
She pushes her chair back and stands up. I’m worried she’s going to collapse, but she hurries out of the room.
Her mother stands up to follow, but I stop her. “Allow me. My English is not so good.”
She looks at her husband, who looks at his father. The old man nods his head at me, so I hurry off after her.
When I exit the dining hall, I ask one of the staff which direction she went and then jog towards her. My shoes tap on the white tile that lines the floor of most of this level, echoing against the tall, vaulted ceilings.
I find her facing a wall, her forehead resting on it and breathing heavily. She’s as white as a sheet. As I take a few steps forward, she stumbles a bit and catches herself just as I react and get a hold of her arm.
She startles, looking up at me. Her expression quickly turns to anger at the sight of me. “Get your hands off me.”
“I thought you were going to faint.Sedere.” I tell her to sit down.
She remains defiant and leans against the wall unsteadily. “Why are you here instead of literally anyone else? Where’s my mom?”
“She wanted to help, but I told her I’d sort everything out.”
