26. Trilby

T rilby

Sera clasps my hand beneath the table and gives it a squeeze. It drags my thoughts from where they seem to reside permanently in the master bedroom of Cristiano's apartment to the present. We're sitting on the terrace of what is about to become my home, and it doesn't feel real.

Living with my fiancé before we've wed is unconventional, but no one is going to argue with New York's deadliest don. Still, Allegra doesn't like the thought of me being thrown headfirst into this world without some sort of support, so she's sent Sera to keep me company. And on evenings like this, where I'm expected to dine with Savero and his top capos, I'm so grateful for her.

I squeeze Sera's fingers beneath the table and dip my head. "Thanks for coming. I'm sorry you're missing out on the college trip. I know you've been looking forward to it."

"Don't worry." Her small smile doesn't convince me. "There'll be other opportunities to meet top hoteliers. And with Savero's connections, I might even secure some good positions where I can train while I work. Maybe I'll get to do an internship in the Hamptons. I've always wanted to go there."

Guilt gets the better of me. "Hey, you know, I could try to talk to Savero now ..." My voice tapers off, because even now, that feels like a stretch of the imagination. Despite living in his house, I haven't seen him around much, let alone had a chance to talk to him.

"You don't have to do that," Sera says quietly. "Give it time. You have enough to be worrying about with the wedding in only a few days."

At the word "wedding," I glance across the table at Savero. Apart from a brief exchange of greetings when we sat down to eat, he hasn't looked at me once. Then again, I'm not sure I'd know if he had; his gaze doesn't leave the same burn on my skin as his brother's.

My eyes travel to his side, to the empty chair where I expect Cristiano would normally sit, and my chest aches. He would have pushed it back to accommodate his long legs, and he'd be resting his head back, looking down at everyone, rubbing his jaw in thought. I imagine his upper body lounging casually like he has nothing to prove.

I force myself to blink and immediately feel anxious. Savero is watching me, and the look on his face isn't pleasant. In fact, it's almost hostile. I smile nervously and focus my attention on my plate of largely uneaten food.

"Penelope's going to kill you," Sera says as I push a piece of fish around with my fork. "She's had to take the dress down three sizes already. I know this is a big deal, marrying the don, but you can't starve yourself. You'll be a bag of skin and bones before you know it."

"I'm not starving myself." I pop a small piece of fish into my mouth and chew to prove it. Swallowing it, however, isn't easy.

Sera's brows dart up her forehead. "Whatever you say."

We spend the next thirty minutes chatting about small matters that are mostly insignificant, designed to make us feel like normal, law-abiding US citizens and not a soon-to-be ordained part of New York's criminal underworld. We talk about Sera's tourism and hospitality gig, Bambi's summer work at the local kindergarten, and Tess's dance recital.

"Allegra is still dining out on the fact Savero's brother asked her for the recipe for her spaghetti." Sera giggles lightly, but the sudden thought of Cristiano makes my skin heat.

I lay my fork delicately on the plate and dab the corners of mouth with a napkin that may as well be a shield.

"Where is he anyway? He's usually only a couple steps away from you."

I swallow and try to calm the chaos that erupts in my stomach. There's something wrong with me. How can the mere mention of a person make me physically incapable of functioning like a calm and normal human being?

I shrug and hope it comes off as genuinely nonchalant. "I don't know. He's leaving anyway." I reach for my untouched wineglass, Cristiano's warning still reverberating around my head, and take a long sip.

I force myself to believe his warning means nothing. I'm not important enough for him to stick around for, so how can I be important enough for him to truly care whether I have an alcoholic drink or not? My head instantly softens, and I take another sip.

"I still can't understand why he'd leave so soon after the wedding and abandon his brother to run the business alone. Shouldn't he be an underboss or something? I'm sure that's what his father would have wanted ..."

I lower my voice, and it inadvertently comes out as a hiss. "Sera, I said I don't know, okay?" I lift the glass to my lips and finish it off.

A thin line appears across Sera's forehead as her eyes follow the disappearing wine.

"Okay," she says, but she's unconvinced. "I just find it strange. I mean, being head of the Di Santo family ... there's no more powerful a position. Running a few casinos certainly doesn't compare, if you ask me. And he's spent so much time with you ... It's not fair that he's invested time in getting to know you—his new sister-in-law—to then drop you all to go back to the other side of the country. Does he have a girlfriend over there?"

A knife twists in my gut. The thought of Cristiano seeing someone else is physically devastating.

She ploughs on, oblivious to my discomfort. "There must be a good reason he wants to be somewhere else. I can't imagine Savero will be happy about his brother moving away so soon after his father's passing and his own wedding ..."

I bite back a glare. "Sera, the man barely speaks to me. I don't even know his favorite movie, let alone what he thinks about his brother moving back to Vegas. Can we please drop the subject?" I lift my glass again and briefly notice it's been refilled by a discreet waiter.

Sera watches me drink back half of it with narrowed eyes. "I'm just trying to understand. Your fiancé's brother follows you around town for three weeks, dragging you out of bars and parties, holing you up in his apartment and rescuing you from murder scenes, but your fiancé hasn't deigned to speak to you yet?"

I gulp back the rest of the wine. "Yes," I snap. "You got it pretty damn straight."

Sera looks away, flicking her gaze briefly across to Savero, who's deep in conversation with Nicolò. Her hand finds mine again beneath the table. "I'm so sorry, Tril," she whispers.

I breathe out a long sigh. "It's okay."

She continues to look across the table, but at nothing in particular.

"Hey." I draw her face toward me. "It's okay. Really. I'm going to be fine."

One small tear collects in a corner of her eye. At least I think it's one—the wine has very quickly made my vision fuzzy.

I turn my body toward her and take both of her hands. "I'm doing this for Papa—for all of us. It's my duty, and I've made peace with it. Please don't make it any harder."

"But ..." She leans in toward me. "You'll be in this house all the time, on your own, probably. Won't you be lonely?"

The tear trickles down her cheek, and I wipe it away with a thumb and smile. "No. Soon I'll have children. I'm sure they'll keep me busy. And until then, I have you and Tess and Bambi, and Papa and Allegra. I'll be able to have visitors whenever I like."

I don't know if it's true, but I need to tell this to myself as well as Sera, otherwise I won't have the strength to drag myself down that aisle in a few days.

I settle back in my chair and reach again for my wine. When I bring it to my lips, I almost spit it out. Forcing down the bland liquid, I lift the glass to the light and study it. There's no golden hue as the candlelight flickers through it.

Someone has filled it with water.

As I lower the glass, my eyes catch on a glare that makes my bones weaken. Sitting across the table from me, in his rightful place next to Savero, with a look on his face that could kill , is Cristiano.