What?
“Then why the hell did you bring me here?” I whisper-yell. I didn’t want to face Reginald, now I have to see generations of locals, all with a vendetta?
“Stop worrying. My father wants a truce with your brother more than his next meal. And no one questions my father in this house,except Ma, so Grant Manor is the safest place in Fort for you.”
“Hmm… then maybe I should move in here,” I mutter, glancing at the grand paintings that line the long hallway. “Staff are cute, too.” I mock, watching the three Italian guys lurking in the gardens.
“Which one?” Mason arcs an eyebrow.
I roll my eyes and giggle. Alessia appears at the top of the winding stairs, wearing a flattering, brown silk dress that dances with every step.
“Amore mio,” Alessia comes and kisses Mason, then me. “You’re late.”
“Colpa sua.” Mason mutters.Her fault.
Did he just blame me for being late?
“Sta mentendo,” I interject.He’s lying
Mason and Alessia stare at me; Alessia amused, Mason surprised.
“You speak Italian?” Alessia asks, her face lighting up in elation.
“A little. My ex-boyfriend was Italian,” I reply with a secret smile. He wasn’t. But two can lie. And he deserves it.
Mason’s face turns sour, a glare scorching my face as his biceps turn to stone under my fingers.
“Brillante. Come on, hon. Let’s get a drink.” Alessia pries me free of Mason’s hold, but he continues to glare at me even as she drags me away, his eyes burning holes in my back.
Alessia takes me to the orangery, where there is a whole section of the wall dedicated to Tuscan wines. She pops open a couple of choices.
“You look like death, hon.” She pours rosé into two glasses. “What’s the matter?”
I don’t answer, but my quick gaze toward the double doors where Mason walked through gives me away.
“This?” She points to the room. “Don’t be silly. It’s always something or the other at Fort. If it’s quiet for too long, they make shit up. You’re the hot topic today; they’ll find something else tomorrow.”
“So, it doesn’t bother you?” I ask in a low voice. She raises an eyebrow. “Mason with me?”
Alessia lets out a booming laugh, wine dancing in her glass.
“Eva, Mason has been giving me wrinkles since the day he came out of me. There are a lot of things that bother me about mymulo.You, not so much.” She motions toward my wine. “Drink. It’s better than anything they serve in London.”
I purse my lips and take a sip, then wince.It’s strong. Just like Alessia.
“So, you don’t care I am Elton Etheridge’s granddaughter? I know Grandpa did a lot of damage around here.” I utter the last part in a whisper.
She scans my face, carefully twirling the wine in her glass and filling the room with the spicy aroma.
“Mason is right about you, you know.” She smiles and sips her wine. “You’re an overthinker.”
Wait. He talks about me? What else does he say?
“Life isn’t roses and laughter, hon. Powerful families have more enemies than friends.” She grins. “You are not them. Don’t let them tell you otherwise. And keep that ladle handy if anyone does.”
I blush and look away, embarrassed at the thought of whatthat ladle was last used for. A sound of soft paws circles me. A welcome interruption.
“Luna!” A beautiful golden retriever with muddy paws runs over to Alessia and gets prints all over her beautiful dress. But Alessia doesn’t seem to care as she kisses her messy face.
