I shrugged. “It’s been a decade. Would you please ask someone to take my bags up to my room, or any guest room, if mine’s not still there?”
Alexi’s smile was cruel. “Your mother turned your room into a guest room several years ago.”
My answering smile was just as sharp. “Then I guess it’s time for me to go say hello.”
My mother trained her staff too well for anyone to show surprise as I swept into the house. It was all nods and, “Can I help you with that?” I waved my hand at the maid who tried to shuffle me off to a bedroom and strode into the dining room.
Shocked faces stared at me as I paused in the entryway. My sister, Sofia, gave a choked cry and leapt to her feet, running to embrace me in her delicate arms.
Mamma had updated the colors of the room, painting it, replacing the upholstery on the chairs, but the room still had the same formal air of my childhood. Light from the chandelier glinted off of mahogany wood, and the table was set for a formal dinner.
“Oh, Ginevra, I’m so glad you’re here,” Sofia said, her voice trembling.
I hadn’t told her I was coming so her surprise would be genuine. Sofia couldn’t act worth a damn.
“It’s good to see you too, love.” I stroked her blonde hair as her tears soaked into my silk shirt.
While the men in the room rose to their feet, their manners overtaking their surprise, my mother bustled over, smiling and sniffling and trying to contain the tears that smeared her make-up. I gently kissed each of her cheeks, and then she pulled me into her arms.
“Mamma,” I whispered, my lips pressed against her ear. “I missed you too. But I’m interrupting a business dinner! Where are my manners? I’m sorry—I didn’t expect you to have company.”
My father rose from his seat. I couldn’t get a read on him, but his manners were, as always, impeccable. “Nonsense, Ginevra. My eldest daughter is always welcome at my table. Please, let me introduce you.”
One of the men at the table caught my eye, amused. Was I so transparent? He was gorgeous—pale skin, black hair, bright blue eyes, and a jawline that could fucking cut glass. Tattoos peeked out of his collar and the cuffs of his shirt.
My father introduced his guests. Beautiful Blue Eyes was Rian O’Conner, the man my father promised my sister to. His companions were Cormac Wallace, a stunning black man who looked at me with ice in his deep brown eyes, and Liam Byrne, a man whose red hair, green eyes, and freckles would have identified him as Irish from miles away, let alone his accent. Their attorney was a black woman named Olivia Gaines. I remembered Pietro Moretti, my father’s consigliere, his attorney, and closest advisor.
I exchanged air kisses with my father while my brother Luca pulled out a chair to my father’s left hand. My family’s well-trained staff rapidly set a place for me while I greeted my father’s guests. Luca squeezed my shoulders briefly, whispering, “Welcome back, big sister.”
I’d missed theprimo, the first course, but not thesegondo, the more substantial course. My mother served veal paired with a Sicilian salad. Los Angeles had world class restaurants, but nothing beat my mother’s touch in the kitchen.
My family were excellent hosts. We’d all been raised in a tradition that demanded strict courtesy at all times, and my family’s guests were equally willing to make pleasant conversation during a delicious meal. I offered a prayer of thanks.
Dinner should’ve been a shitshow when I dropped in after a decade of absence. Instead, it was merely awkward as Mamma smoothed over the pauses with small talk.
After we’d finished our food and our wine and our coffee, my father clapped his hands, drawing our attention back to him. “I’d like to suggest we move to my study. Sofia, would you please escort your sister to her room?”
Sofia gasped. She quietly gathered her courage, and took a deep breath before straightening her shoulders. “Father, I’d like Ginevra to join us, if you don’t mind.”
Rian’s eyes flicked to me again, dancing with amusement.Fuck, I really was transparent.“I don’t mind, Antonio,” he said, locking his eyes on mine.
He’d done me a favor and would expect me to pay him back for it. I held his gaze for a second longer than was comfortable and then nodded.
My father glared at Sofia and then at me. He sighed. “I should have known mypiccolinawouldn’t have come home just because she missed us.”Bullshit.No way Papà hadn’t surmised the reason for my presence the moment I walked in the door.
We traipsed to the study, where everyone arranged themselves on couches and armchairs. Like the dining room, my father’s study remained untouched, unchanging, as if frozen in time since the moment I left. The deep reds and browns of the wood and leather furniture warmed the room, and books lined the walls. At one end of the room was my father’s giant desk. I’d spent hours of my childhood sitting beside him, first alone, and then with Luca, as he’d taught us how to run his empire.
I strolled to my father’s bar cart, which also hadn’t moved in the decade I’d been gone, and poured a generous serving of whisky. When I looked up, I was staring straight into Cormac’s dark brown eyes.
“Pour me one, darling?” he asked.
I handed him the generous pour I’d made for myself and, after a moment of rueful reflection, poured myself a more reasonable serving. As much as I craved the liquid courage, I’d need to keep my wits about me around these devilishly attractive men. Cormac hummed as he sipped, eyeing me over the rim of his glass. “I don’t believe it’s a coincidence you’ve come home tonight, Ginevra Russo.”
No shit, Sherlock.I gazed up at him through my long lashes. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see along with everyone else, won’t you?”
He tilted his head and then toasted me with his glass. “Best of luck, then.”
I wanderedover to my father’s desk, where a stack of documents waited for signature, in duplicate—a prenup between Rian and Sofia, a marriage contract between the families, and business documents, to sign over shares in each other’s companies.