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Nicholas Matsoukas clears his throat, lifting his own glass. “I’d like to congratulate the couple. I see bigger and better things in all our futures because of your union.” Evander nods at him. “I’m sorry for bringing up business on such a joyous occasion, but we must discuss our next moves.”
“You’re right. Other than to celebrate, we invited you all here today to inform you of our plan,” Evander says, placing his hand on Angelica’s thigh. “Now that Angelica and I are married, our families have united. But there’s one problem: Peter has disappeared.”
Damon Petrakis, another Godfather, confirms that Peter must be in hiding since they’ve not met for business in some time. He and Evander exchange heated words, their argument escalating quickly. Angelica steps in, trying to calm Evan, while I notice Aria is watching the scene unfold with a worried expression. Her eyes meet mine.
Things begin to simmer down, just as the doors to the restaurant swing open with such force to draw everyone’s attention. The room falls silent, and all eyes turn to the entrance.
In walks Philip Kastellanos…with Andrew. My insides boil. That motherfucker. I told him to not show his face around here anymore. If we weren’t at Evan and Angie’s reception, I’d tackle the piece of shit straight to the ground and feed him a bullet.
“Baba,” Aria stands, and I follow suit, her body going rigid beside me. I instinctively move a little closer, my protectiveness kicking in.
30
ARIA
What is my father doing here? Even more, what the fuck is Andrew doing here with him?
“I think someone forgot my invite to the happy celebration,” my baba says with a smirk.
I want to make sense of it all, but the only thing I can focus on is Dion’s possessive frame next to me.
I haven’t seen him in a year, and my feelings haven’t changed. I’m still consumed by him.
His toast during dinner made my heart leap into my throat. I knew he was talking to me through his speech, his words carefully chosen, each syllable resonating with unspoken emotions.
But I can’t do anything about it. I’m stuck. Stuck in this hell hole. Stuck in my engagement.
I glance up at Andrew. He’s staring at me with a vicious smile.
Then it clicks. Shit. Dion. He’s right next to me.
My heart starts fluttering erratically. My chest heaves. Andrew is going to think that I’m engaging with Dion when I haven’t even uttered a word to him. Oh my God. I’m going to pay for this.
Andrew has tried over and over for a year to catch me still talking to Dion. To no avail.
I subtly glance over at Dion and he looks like a kettle about to explode. His fists are clenched so tight his knuckles have gone white, and the strength of his death stare directed at Andrew is almost palpable. The two men are locked in a silent battle, and I’m caught in their path, a pawn in their twisted game.
The room is stifling. I can barely breathe. My hands are trembling behind my back, hidden from view.
I’m snapped back to reality when my father speaks again.
“Enjoying your little party, are we?” His voice cuts through the thick tension. The Godfathers all reach for their weapons, without drawing them.
My father pulls out a chair at the other end of the table. “It seems like my invitation got lost in the mail.”
“Tell me what you want and get the fuck out,” Evander seethes.
“Isn’t that a little rude, Diávolos?” my father sneers. “Congratulations, by the way,” he says, pouring himself a glass of ouzo. “If you thought we wouldn’t find out about your little celebration, you’re not as smart as you appear to be.”
“If you know anything, it’s because I let you find out. Do you really think you just stumbled across that information?” Evander retorts.
“Whatever,” my father dismisses. “I want to know why Peter and I weren’t invited to this dinner, considering his beloved daughter was getting married, and my own daughter is one of the guests.” He looks over to me and I stiffen. From the corner of my eye, I notice Dion leaning into me, like a bodyguard ready to shield me from my father.
“Don’t be stupid, Kastellanos. You know very well that your boss has gone into hiding. And I have no doubt he sent you here to do his bidding. You and Peter no longer have the right to sit among us,” Evander says.
“I beg to differ!” my baba suddenly shouts, slamming his glass down on the table. “We deserve to know what you’re plotting. Especially if it involves our business!”
Evander’s gaze narrows on my father. “I must say I’m very disappointed at your sheer audacity to grace us tonight. You no longer have any right to be here, even more so considering you’re not a Godfather. What makes the situation even worse is your unapologetic association with the Sisterhood.”
