“It’s all latest season,” I snap.
“I’ll have my stylist come around this week. We need a fresh start.” She pulls out my dresses and hands me a sheer halter dress. “No underwear.”
“But everyone will be at dinner…”
“You will be the Donna soon. They need to learn to respect you.” She zips the dress up for me, and I see my pierced nipples shining through. I can’t do this.
“Izzy, you can see my nipples!”
“That’s the point.” She smiles, pinching my nipples until the buds stand tall. “Perfect. Now, makeup,” she urges, dragging me back to the bathroom.
26
Luciano
Stefano’s whining cuts through the dining room. Thirty damn minutes, and still no sign of Charlie or Isabella.
“I don’t have time for this shit,” Stefano grumbles. His impatience is childish, but I get it—I’ve got no patience for delays either.
Carlo muttering under his breath only adds to the tension. “If they aren’t down in five, I’m starting without them,” he growls, clearly fed up. “Women. Why does everything have to be so damn complicated?”
Then, like she’s making some grand royal entrance, Charlie walks in, confidence practically radiating off her. Isabella follows, grinning from ear to ear. Carlo’s about to lose it, but Charlie shoots him a glare sharp enough to make him stop in his tracks. “Calm down, Carlo. You don’t look starving,” she snaps, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Charlie moves around the table and takes her spot right beside me. I take a slow, deliberate look at her, that sheer dress, the way it clings and reveals more than it hides. I’m this close to grabbing her and fucking her right here in front of everyone. What the hell is she thinking wearing that?
She leans in, giving me a full view that’s impossible to ignore. “You’re acting like you haven’t seen my tits before.” She throws back her head and laughs.
I swallow the last of my whiskey in one gulp and pour another glass. “Let’s eat,” I declare, snapping the room to attention.
“Finally,” Carlo mutters.
The room falls quiet as we eat. My brothers shift uncomfortably, eyes darting between Charlie and Isabella, both draped in sheer dresses that leave very little to the imagination.
Isabella breaks the silence, her voice silky, dripping with mockery. “What’s wrong, boys? Cat got your tongue?” She licks her fork slowly.
Gabriele leans in, whispering to Stefano, “What’s gotten into them?”
“I told you this would be a bad idea, Luciano,” Stefano grumbles, his temper fraying.
Charlie laughs out loud. “Lucky you weren’t home earlier.” Why do these two have to push each other’s buttons? Why can’t they simply get along?
Mattia perks up. “What happened earlier?” He looks between the girls and then at me, wanting answers.
I grunt, shooting the girls a hard glare, telling them to shut up with my eyes. “Nothing.”
Isabella smirks, now swirling her wine. “Oh, I wouldn’t call skinny dipping or kissing ‘nothing.’”
Mattia bangs his head on the table. “Why do I always miss the good shit?”
I rub my temple. “Charlie, you should get an early night. We’ve got a lot to go through tomorrow.”
“Like what?”
“Funeral costs, compensation packages for the families of the men we lost yesterday,” I say, just to list a few.
Her face falls. “Oh.” She nods quietly and stands. “I might head off now,” and before I can say a word, she’s gone.
Mattia’s eyes meet mine, concerned. “Should I check on her?”
