Page 27 of The Don’s Omega

I enter the room and head toward the seat she told me to sit in. Marcello watches me without speaking, but he fills my wine glass. The moment is awkward. Marcello is the only person in the room that I know, and he’s essentially a stranger. There’s no familiar face or person to help me navigate the dinner.

I clumsily pull out the chair beside Mrs. Foschini. It’s much heavier than I expected, so I struggle a bit, which is embarrassing. Solid wood furniture isn’t something I’m familiar with. Every piece of furniture I’ve ever owned has been cheap pine. My face is hot when I finally take my seat.

Mrs. Foschini pats my hand. Her skin is smooth and cool. “How are you settling in, Elio?”

“Great.” I smile stiffly, aware of Marcello’s dark gaze on me. He poured my wine, but he made no effort to welcome me or put me at ease. I suppose he figures there’s no need to put on an act. His family knows our upcoming nuptials are only for show. “My room is beautiful.”

“I’m so glad you like it.” Mrs. Foschini says something in Italian to Ornella who responds in the same language and leaves the room quickly. She points to the older dark-haired girl. “That’s Ginevra.” She turns to the other young girl. “And the baby of the family is Noemi.”

Noemi wrinkles her brow. “I’m not a baby, Mama. I’m twenty-two.”

“I didn’t say you were a baby,” Mrs. Foschini responds patiently. “I said you’re the baby of the family.”

Ginevra smirks. “You know, Noemi, bristling at the word baby actually makes you seem like a baby.”

“That’s not true,” says Noemi.

“It kind of is.” Ginevra shrugs. “If you were truly grown up, you wouldn’t care.”

“Oh, boy,” Marcello says softly. “Here we go.”

Noemi narrows her eyes at her sister. “I doubt you’d like being called a baby in front of our guest.”

“I wouldn’t care,” Ginevra shrugs.

“Girls, how about we pretend we’re civilized,” Mrs. Foschini says, giving me an apologetic look. “At least for this first meal with Elio.”

I smile. “It’s fine. I bicker plenty with my brother, Fabio.”

Mrs. Foschini’s expression becomes serious. “How is your brother doing?”

“He’s settling in nicely.” I glance at Marcello and find him watching me. “Thanks to Marcello, I think my brother will be healthy again very soon.”

“There’s nothing worse than when someone you love is ill.” Mrs. Foschini’s face softens. She sounds as if she speaks from experience.

“Yes.”

“You must love your brother very much to agree to what you’ve agreed to.” Ginevra’s expression is coolly assessing. She reminds me more of Marcello, whereas Noemi seems warmer, like Mrs. Foschini. “I don’t know that I’d have the guts to do what you’re doing.”

I look down at the linen napkin in my lap. “I didn’t really feel there was any choice. My brother is the most important thing to me in this world. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him.”

Mrs. Foschini pats my hand again. “I understand that completely.”

“We’re grateful you were willing,” Noemi says brightly. “Marcello needs an heir or there could be trouble.”

“Let’s not talk about all that,” Marcello cuts in. “Elio is here now and it’s our job to make him feel welcome.” He lifts his glass of wine. “How about we toast to Elio and Fabio.”

They all lift their glasses and my face warms. “Thank you.”

Once the toast is over, Ginevra leans forward. “What do you do for work, Elio?”

“I bartend.”

“Really?” Ginevra laughs. “How fun. Do you like it?”

I shrug. “Yes and no.”

“What don’t you like about it?” Noemi asks, sipping her wine.