“We’re founded brothers,” Gabriele replies sharply, his eyes glued to his screens still. He seems like the odd one out. He’s the smallest build out of all of them, while his energy is of cool control. He’s dressed in a flawlessly tailored suit, not a crinkle in sight, and his brown hair is perfectly styled, not a strand out of place. Framed reading glasses sit low on his nose, adding an air of intellectual intelligence, every gesture deliberate and measured.
Looking across the room, Stefano and Carlo sit in silence, their faces unreadable, like they’re unsure how to react to my presence. I take another shot and perch myself on the edge of the bar instead of a stool. Fuck them, this’ll be my home, eventually.
“What do you mean—like adopted?” I ask.
Gabriele narrows his eyes at me like I’ve just asked a stupid question. “No, we were too old to be adopted.”
“So founded?” I add, but no one replies. I ease into the billiard room and listen to the sound of clacking balls and murmured conversations between the brothers, yet only Mattia seems to notice me. Hedrifts over, leaning casually against the bar, his piercing eyes locking onto mine with a silent understanding.
A sharp knock at the door slices through the quietness. “Dinner is ready,” a young girl lets us know. Looking at her outfit, she must be one of the maids.
“Thank you, Anna,” Stefano responds.
“Dinner?” I echo, watching as the men abandon their spots and move toward the dining room rather quickly.
“Wait!” I shout, raising my hands in the air, halting them all mid-step near the doors.
“What?” Carlo grumbles as he turns to look at me. His voice alone sends a chill down my spine. Every part of his skin I can see is inked, including his bald head, his dark eyes burning with fierce intensity at me. His body is built like a fortress, and his massive frame radiates unyielding strength. He’s the kind of man who could silence a room with a single glance. I have to remind myself to breathe under his gaze before I can respond.
“Do you eat here every night?” I ask, bewildered. Rosa’s comments about the boys start to click together in my mind. These must bethe boys, only thing is they aren’t boys—they’re big, kind of scary looking grown men.
“Yes,” Carlo replies like it’s obvious, turning away and hurrying down the hallway.
Mattia slips his arm through mine, tugging me toward the dining room. “Yes, Red, family dinner every night if we can make it.”
This is too much for one day. The vodka blurs the edges of my mind, and I stumble slightly towards the dining room. Luckily, Mattia is holding my arm.
Luciano sits at the head of the table as we enter, his eyes lifting just long enough to catch sight of mine and Mattia’s linked arms. Hiseyes flicker, darkening, almost as if the demon is stirring beneath the surface again. He quickly averts his gaze, but not quick enough for me to miss the flash of jealousy.
Mattia, buzzing with excitement, guides me around the table. “Everyone’s got their spot at the table, Red.”
“Which one’s mine?”
“Next to Luciano,” he says, ushering me toward the empty seat.
I balk. “No way. Why not that one?” I point defiantly to the chair farthest from Luciano, the safest distance from this handsome giant.
“Sit the fuck down, Principessa,” Luciano hisses. He rubs his temple, his patience clearly razor-thin.
“Stop calling me Principessa!” I snap, stepping closer to him to meet his glare.
“Or what?” His voice is low and dangerous as he rises to his full height, matching my defiance. The scent of his cologne envelopes me, sharply and intoxicating. Being this close to Luciano, and the large amount of vodka in me, throws me off balance, and the fluttering between my thighs leaves me momentarily speechless.
“I’ll…”
“You’ll do nothing. Sit down. We eat NOW,” he commands, his presence looming over me, and I suddenly feel quite small.
I scan the room, remembering we aren’t alone, and swallow my pride. I flop into my chair just as Anna and another maid begin to serve dinner. “Thank you,” I murmur, sinking into the chair further, hoping it’ll swallow me whole.
Stefano sits across from me and leans over to Luciano. “Questo è un errore, Luciano. Lei non dovrebbe essere qui.”This is a mistake, Luciano. She should not be here.They clearly don’t know I’m fluent in Italian and can understand what they’re saying.
Luciano is gripping his fork hard enough that I swear it bends slightly. “È stato Caterina a ordinarlo, non io.”It was Caterina's orders, not mine.
So, they don’t want me here? That’s interesting to know…
Stefano scoffs. “Rovinerà tutto quello per cui abbiamo lavorato da quando Caterina se n’è andata.”She will ruin everything that we have worked for since Caterina left. He doesn’t seem to be the type to back down easily.
“Abbastanza.”Enough. Luciano’s face is dark and unreadable.
