20. Bianca

I"ve been playing the same role for too many years. I know how to control my expressions to appear timid, shy, introverted. And yet, why does it seem so hard to maintain this mask right now? I feel like I"m suffocating. Like Theo"s always waiting for me to slip. After my crying performance last night and the minimal interaction with Theo, I think I overdid it. But I keep going.

At the same time, I also want to know what the deal with Marcel is. I"ve met him often enough over the years, but none of our encounters have denoted that Marcel is familiar with these types of issues. The way Theo has made it sound is like Marcel doing the clean-up is a regular thing.

One thing is for sure, though. I can"t afford to show any holes in my persona. It"s also why I had to let Vlad know the thing tomorrow is off. I need to act as normal as I can in the near future.

We"re now in my room at my father"s house. Theo is in front of the mirror, tying his cravat. I"d donned one of my summer mid-thigh dresses, going for a laid-back yet not too casual look.

As soon as we get to the house, we"re greeted by my father"s assistant who tells us to take some time to get ready, that there"ll be other guests. We"d expected there to be other guests because my father only invites us when he wants to show off a family man"s image. It"s good for business, or so he always says.

"Do you have any idea who the other invitees are?" Theo asks me, finally breaking the torturous silence.

"No, but don"t worry. We do what we always do. Smile, make small talk, and then we leave."

"Indeed." His eyes follow me through the mirror, and I muster the courage to go up to him and touch him. Theo and I have always had a very tactile relationship and keeping a distance would immediately mean admitting something is wrong.

My hands go up his crisply white shirt to settle on his biceps.

"We can do this." I raise myself on my tiptoes to briefly touch my lips against his. He doesn"t move, doesn"t even react, a glint of something in his eyes. We stand staring at each other for a long moment before his hand encircles my waist, and he tugs me in for a tight hug.

"We"re a team," he whispers, almost without conviction.

"Always." I smile into his chest, hoping those words will always stay true.

"Okay, enough of this. Let"s go down and face the crowd."

He offers me his arm, and we go towards the large sitting room on the ground floor.

My father"s house is massive. It has over forty rooms; most of them only used when my father throws one of his extravagant parties. A double spiraling staircase is in the middle of the hallway. As we descend towards the great hall, I spot a few figures shaking my father"s hand and starting towards the sitting room.

When we arrive, it seems we are the last ones to do so, and everyone"s eyes are suddenly on us.

An elderly gentleman is talking to my father, next to whom I see another man around Theo"s age, his hand clinically touching the woman next to him. Another two men, already deep in conversation, are on an opposite couch.

"Here are my daughter and son-in-law." My father stands and comes to us with a big smile on his face. The other people stand as well.

Let the acting begin!

My own lips immediately stretch to their full ability, and I see Theo putting on a pleasant smile as well.

"Gentleman," my father begins, clearly about to make the introductions.

"Bianca, Theo, these are Rocco Agosti and his son Enzo Agosti, and the lovely lady next to him is his wife Allegra." He motions towards them, and I"m almost taken aback by the identity of the guests.

Rocco is a portly man with gray hair that has to be about sixty, if not more. His son, though, doesn"t resemble him in the least. He is quite tall, with a muscular built, yet it"s his face that"s entirely too surprising. If I were a normal woman, I might have swooned. The symmetry of his features coupled with his coloring are a dangerous combination. He has an olive skin tone that"s accentuated by his vividly green eyes and dark hair.

Pretty boy… very pretty. Too cute when compared with his wife. She"s small and frail looking, her bones too breakable. Her face is passable, I suppose, but compared to her husband, she is just… forgettable.

"Agosti, Bianca, and Theodore Hastings." My father completes the first round of introductions.

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Hastings." Enzo purrs in accented English, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles. I"m already forcing myself to smile, but my cheeks must look unnaturally compressed at his gesture. Theo"s arm tightens around me immediately, and he steps in to shake Enzo"s hand, deliberately taking his attention from me.

"Italian, right?" my husband asks.

"Born in the States but raised in Sicily," Enzo answers, showing white teeth and a dazzling smile. I narrow my eyes at him, not quite understanding how someone can look like that. I then shift my gaze to his wife, and she seems utterly indifferent to her husband"s flirtatious charm. Odd.

"And these two gentlemen," my father continues, "are Matthew Gallagher and his son Quinn Gallagher from Boston." Both father and son are incredibly fair, their looks the opposite of everyone in the room. They are handsome, in an Aryan way, but their stance tells me they are also deadly.

Then realization dawns.

Well, fuck me!

If this isn"t a mob meeting…

I haven"t had much interaction with the Italian or Irish mafia, but it seems that my father is quick to rectify that. I"m not dumb. I can read between the lines, with Enzo and his Sicilian upbringing, or the Gallagher men from Boston, who I am sure are packing ammo right as we speak.

Yet my smile doesn"t waver. Theo doesn"t react either, but I"m guessing he doesn"t realize what"s happening. His only tell that he is a little out of his comfort zone is that he keeps me glued to his side, the arm around my waist digging into my skin.

I want to tell him he has nothing to worry about, even though any sane woman would admit Enzo"s looks are blinding. So, to mollify him, I lean into his shoulder, letting my cheek rest a little on his arm.

"Come, let us sit. We have much to discuss. Mr. Ashby has been singing you both a lot of praise. I can see why he is such a proud papa," the fat man says, and I almost gag when he utters proud papa. If he only knew…

We go to sit on the couches, presumably until called to the dining room. I take a seat next to Allegra, and I see Theo being ushered next to the Agostis. The Gallaghers are directly across from us.

After staring intently at my husband, Quinn Gallagher starts the conversation by asking the oddest question.

"You seem remarkably familiar, Mr. Hastings. Have we met before?" Quinn"s face shows traces of a rough mob life. Two white lines bisect his left eyebrow, and his nose has seen better days, potentially before being broken several times. My gaze goes directly to his knuckles, and my suspicions are confirmed. Fighter. But then I"m startled by a thought, and my head snaps in Theo"s direction, zoning in on his knuckles as well. Odd…

"Oh, he was in Boston at Harvard; maybe you moved in the same circles?" I quickly jump to Theo"s defense.

Quinn laughs.

"Oh, I doubt that…. never mind." I give him one of my Yes, drop it smiles.

"Harvard, huh?" Enzo starts. "Is that where you met your delectable wife?" His question throws me off a little, mainly because the wording is inappropriate.

"We met in this very house, in fact. Her father introduced us."

"Such a pity I didn"t know you earlier, Mr. Ashby." Enzo turns towards my father and adds.

Everyone laughs. I fake a laugh too, but looking at his wife, I wonder what type of marriage they have that he so blatantly disregards her. She doesn"t seem to mind it, though. I would even go as far as to say that her smile is the most genuine one until now. Odd again.

Theo looks in my direction at his comment, his eyes zoning in on my face.

"What can I say, I"m a lucky man," Theo finally says, and the topic is dropped.

The conversation goes on for a little while before we finally head to lunch, and my father reveals his true intentions for this meeting.