Just as I’m about to answer, the door opens nearby and a familiar voice interrupts us.
“Alessio, get your ass back inside, it’s time to eat,” Carmine says as he looks around the door. He has a surprised look on his face when he sees me with Alessio.
“Ah. I told you that you’d find him,” he says with a smile. Though his eyes shift down to our hands and then back up to his and he clears his throat.
“It’s time to eat,” he repeats himself, his eyes growing darker.
I nod wordlessly and motion Alessio in front of me.
“I was just getting a smoke, like I told him, you didn’t need to come get me,” he grumbles as he walks back inside. His voice is less soft and vulnerable than it had been a few moments before.
I can practically see the mask slip back on. The way Alessio’s shoulders straighten, his expression fixes itself, his sad eyes open a bit wider to appear happier. His lips pull up at the edges.
I wonder if his brothers will notice his state; if they do, they don’t seem to care.
When we get inside, Alessio is ushered to a table with Rosalie where they sit alongside Eivor, Patricia, Carmine, and Soren. The rest of the brothers are at a table to the side of them, and I am placed between Cassian and Tommaso.
Neither of which I’ve spoken to very much.
I don’t have much interest in doing so, but I remember what Eivor wants of me. Not just to eat at this function, but to discover more information about the family. About Alessio.
As I slowly eat, I listen to the brothers talk.
“Absolutely not! We can’t just let whoever dropped a bomb on the porch get away with it,” Tommaso insists, his voice louder than all the rest.
“We can’t assume who it was, Tommy,” Tiberi reminds him. “If we guess it was the Carvels and it wasn’t, we’ll only make the situation worse.” The second youngest brother’s voice is soft and low. He speaks as though he’s trying to keep a secret.
Cassian sighs. “Do we have to talk about this here?” he asks. He looks tired and annoyed with his brothers. He’s the youngest. Just barely eighteen. Despite having a different mother, he looks the most like Carmine—he almost looks more like the eldest brother than Alessio does.
“Yes!” Tommaso insists. “Now is the perfect time. We’re all together, why not? Just because it’s Alessio and Rosalie’s dinner rehearsal. Pft. You think whoever threatened them are just gonna stop out of respect for tradition?”
I can’t help but smile slightly as I listen. He’s so heated over this conversation that it’s almost amusing, but at the same time, I understand him. Weirdly enough, he’s the one I agree with the most.
If the Carvels did do this, we should get to the bottom of it. Whether they did or didn’t… Well, whoever did sure isn’t going to stop just because Alessio and Rosalie are getting married.
“What do you think, Damian, was it?” Tiberi asks as he sips at a glass of wine.
I blink and set my fork down. I tilt my head to the side.
“We need to find out who did this, why, and how to stop them,” I say. “They could be in danger right now. After all, if their marriage is the catalyst, the closer we get to the wedding, the more danger they could be in, right?”
“Ha! Told you!” Tommaso reached a hand over and shakes my shoulder before grabbing his fork again.
Tiberi shakes his head. “I’m not saying that’s incorrect. I believe that too, but if we’re not allowed to actively talk to the Carvels and ask them, how are we going to figure it out?” he asks with a curious look on his face.
“You’re not allowed to talk to them… Carmine said this?” I ask.
Cassian sighs and finally joins the conversation. “Yes. He doesn’t want any of us making the situation worse before the wedding,” he explains. His gaze shifts to Tommaso with a heated expression.
“I suppose the only way to know is to talk to your other enemies then,” I say as I pick up my own fork and begin eating once more. Not particularly caring what I’m eating; the chicken is fine, the potatoes and vegetables and the sauce to pair it all… It’s the last thing I’m paying attention to right now.
“Ah, yes,” Tiberi nods. “We can rule them out that way.”
“Unless they’re lying, then how are we gonna rule them out?” Tommaso says with a crinkled brow. “Besides, how are we gonna talk to all our enemies in just a few days?”
“Don’t talk to all of them, just the ones in the area,” I suggest. “The ones who have the resources to do this. They’d likely be closer rather than farther.”
“Which puts the Carvels right in front,” Cassian taps on the table. “Again,wearen’t allowed to talk to them.”
