By the time we arrived in the city, thick snowflakes were falling, dusting the sidewalks. I was grateful Joseph had provided me with more conservative, weather-appropriate clothes to wear. He might like when I wandered around the house in next to nothing, but he’d never let anyone other than Marco look at me when I wore so little. He was as possessive as ever, just not where Marco was concerned.
I hugged my pale pink pea coat tighter, shivering when Joseph opened the door and helped me out. I didn’t have more than a few seconds to feel the cold; he hustled me into the restaurant in a matter of seconds, and Marco pulled away from the curb to find a parking spot.
Anxiety made my stomach knot, but I plastered on a pleasant smile. Meeting my boyfriend’s parents would have been enough to make me nervous, but I knew Joseph’s family business. His father was a career criminal, and anyone dining with us would be complicit to some degree or another. Joseph had promised me that his father was excited to meet me, but I was far from comfortable with the idea of meeting a mobster.
Well, a real mobster. Joseph and Marco didn’t count.
Joseph led me through the restaurant after dropping off our coats with a young man at the host’s stand. It was obvious that everyone who worked at the restaurant knew Joseph. They all had a polite smile and greeting for him.
When we reached a closed door at the back of the restaurant, Joseph opened it without hesitation and led me inside.
“Joseph!” a man’s voice boomed, ringing with genuine joy.
I kept my body tucked halfway behind Joseph’s, but I could see the older man get up from his seat at the head of the table. His face was blocky, his salt and pepper brows thick and heavy. He didn’t look anything like Joseph, whose sensual features were practically sinful on a man. But their pale, aquamarine eyes were the same, and I knew this must be Joseph’s father.
“Let me see her, let me see her.” He waved Joseph to step aside as he approached us. His eyes caught on my face, and his features split in a wide, genuine smile. “You must be Ashlyn. Bellissima. No wonder my son’s been hiding you away.”
Even though I hadn’t been able to greet him in return yet, he leaned in and clasped my shoulders, brushing a familiar kiss against my cheek before quickly pulling away. The energetic exchange occurred so fast, I could barely keep up.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Russo,” I managed to find my ingrained manners. “Thank you so much for inviting me to dinner. Joseph’s told me great things about your restaurant.”
The door opened behind me, and I jolted slightly, on edge. Then, I felt Marco’s fingers brush the small of my back as he came to stand beside me.
“Marco,” Mr. Russo said with nearly the same enthusiasm he’d shown Joseph. “I’m glad you could come. Now it’s a real family meal. Sit down, sit down.”
He motioned us over to the dining table and resumed his seat at the head. The table was set for seven. To Mr. Russo’s left, I noted a petite, middle-aged woman. Although fine lines were drawn around her eyes, it was obvious where Joseph’s beautiful features and glossy black curls came from.
I gave her my best smile. “You must be Mrs. Russo. It’s nice to meet you, too.”
She inclined her head and returned my smile. “It’s nice to finally meet the girl who’s stolen my son away.” The words were a bit frosty, but she was outwardly polite.
My gaze flicked away from hers as my anxiety spiked. My eyes fell on the man seated on Mr. Russo’s right. I instantly recognized him as Marco’s father. They looked almost exactly the same, only separated by twenty years or so. Mr. De Luca even shared the same cold glint in his black eyes that Marco possessed. That hard exterior had frightened me at first, but I knew Marco better now. I knew he was gentle and kind.
I wasn’t certain there was a gentle, kind soul hiding behind Mr. De Luca’s hard exterior.
He gave me a small nod of acknowledgement. “Miss Meyers.”
That was all he said in greeting. It was even frostier than what Mrs. Russo had offered me. In her case, I could understand the touch of animosity. Joseph had run away from his family and started a relationship with me in Cambridge. Even now, he was living at Marco’s house with me instead of staying at his own home.
But Marco’s father… He simply fixed me with a frozen stare, his cold eyes inspecting me.
Joseph pulled out a chair for me, seating me beside his mother. He settled down at the end of the table, opposite from his father, and Marco sat on Joseph’s left. I wanted to be between them, but I knew that might seem odd. I did my best to smother my discomfiture.