“You should’ve told me she was Russian,” I add. “If I were you, I would be very careful about how friendly you get with Nikita. Be smart with your loyalties, Paolo.”
I curl my lip at him, then step around him and head toward the ballroom.
“Settimo?”
I tense, my steps halting. Another Romano calling me by my name. I don’t turn around, but I wait for him to continue.
“To betray the don is to betray the familia.”
I look at him over my shoulder and note the sincerity in Paolo’s stare. For a moment, I see him as a child, as my younger brother’s friend, and for a moment, just a moment, I can’t hate him. I believe in his loyalty.
I give a curt nod and continue into the ballroom where Lorenzo is giving a speech. He locks eyes with me and pauses for a moment. Then he continues, his eyes moving around the room.
I love my brother. Trust him. Respect him.
But this time, he’s wrong.
10
ALEX
Irush to my seat at the elegantly decorated table. Mr. Romano is there, along with Andrea, Paolo’s younger brother, and some middle-aged couple who talk like they’re important, but I have no idea who they are. My father wasn’t invited—no surprise there—so Paolo is actually the person I’m most comfortable with at this table.
“Everything okay?” Mr. Romano asks as I sit.
I smile and nod. “Everything’s great.” I glance around the room. “This is a really nice party. The familia has great taste.”
Kiss ass.
“You were gone a long time.”
He doesn’t gaze around the room like I do. His stare locks onto me, and there’s no hint of a smile on his face. The man is so pleasant to most everyone else here, but to me, he doesn’t have a problem showing his true colors. Frankly, he’s kind of a dick.
I open my mouth, having no idea what I’m about to say, and am saved by a clinking of glass.
The room goes silent, except for the clink, and I turn toward the sound along with everyone else. A man stands holding a champagne flute and a knife he twirls skillfully in a way you know is a reflex. He looks… terrifying. If I’d known I’d be seeing this man, I would’ve saved the nickname Scarface for him. There’s a white jagged line that runs from his eyebrow and stops at his cheek. His eyes are… I don’t even know. Menacing? Void of humanity?
“Thank you all for coming,” he says, his lips twisting into a disturbing smile. He looks down at the woman seated in front of him. “My beautiful Amelia and I couldn’t be more thankful to celebrate with so many of our friends.”
Holy shit, that’s the groom.
That’sSettimo’s brother?
He goes on with his speech, but I don’t hear a word he says because I’m too busy searching for a resemblance. The man, wait,Lorenzo,is undeniably attractive, with a handsome face, strong cheekbones, and he’s the perfect height. Not short but not a giant either. The only resemblance to Settimo is the thick dark hair and olive skin, although his skin tone is a couple shades darker than his brother’s. He holds himself with a confidence that matches Settimo’s in intensity, but it’s like there’s a lingering sinister vibe to it. Like he’s threatening you at all times.
Paolo slides into his seat, and I turn to him. He stares at Lorenzo, but I doubt he’s listening. He’s pissed. His nostrils flare, and the vein in his neck bulges.
Lorenzo finishes his speech, and people start clapping. Chairs scrape as several of the guests stand, and we follow suit, our claps loud and enthusiastic. I wonder how many people are faking it. Paolo certainly is.
Lorenzo takes Amelia’s hand and helps her up before kissing her passionately while people cheer. When they pull away from each other, her cheeks are bright red, but she’s got this giddy smile on her face that’s contagious. My own lips lift. They’re actually in love. No arranged marriage for them.
Lucky bastards.
The room is louder than before as people dive back into their conversations. Cheerful laughter and excitement fill the room. None of it comes from my table.
“I need to speak with you,” Paolo whispers in my ear. He grabs my arm and hauls me out of my chair. A woman nearby gives him a disapproving look, so he lets me go and walks toward the bar. I follow like a good little puppy. I fucking hate myself.
“What?” I snap when he leans against the bar and turns toward me. I need to get a little of my pride back. “I didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t even start with the lecture. Settimo kissedme. What was I supposed to do, insult the—”