Page 36 of Where the Wind Whispers

The Gallucci mansion was brought to life by the decorations coloring up the halls and the twinkle lights strung up along the vaulted ceilings. Violet didn’t know what occasion warranted the catered party, but she was always the last to know anything where her family was concerned.

She was not a priority now.

Violet walked among familiar faces but offered little more than a nod and a smile when someone tried to engage her in conversation. There was no doubt in her mind that these people—her father and mother’s people—had already formed one opinion or another about her. She was not going to play pretty and pretend for the crowd any more than she would have to throughout the night.

Thankfully, her father wasn’t demanding too much of her. Alberto had mostly left her alone.

It didn’t matter.

Violet was beginning to think the party wasn’t about her. Given the way the guests’ attention focused mainly on her parents, her brother, and his wife, she figured it had something to do with them.

Italians always had to make a show of things.

Over the years, Violet had become accustomed to such parties for nothing more than a simple announcement or even just because someone wanted an excuse to get plastered.

Violet milled about a little more, acting interested and taking flutes of champagne only to dump the contents into the closest flowerpot the moment someone turned their back. When the people started to swell into the two main rooms, she pushed her way into the kitchen, needing to breathe.

She was careful to keep her features schooled no matter where she went—someone was always watching and reporting on her.

Even when she was alone in the kitchen with no one else around but the staff for the catering company, Violet’s false smile didn’t crack. It couldn’t.

“Where is the sparkling water?”

The high-pitch demand of Andrea damn near made Violet’s façade slip as her mother flew into the kitchen with Nicole close on her heels. It seemed Andrea had found a new pet in her son’s wife—a little plaything that would nod and smile while agreeing to whatever she said.

Nicole was, essentially, the daughter Violet had never been to her mother.

Maybe she should be glad the two had one another.

They were both vile.

“Hello!” Andrea snapped, her heel tapping against ceramic tile. “Water? Anyone? Now!”

“Here you are, Mrs. Gallucci.”

One of the servers for the catering company stepped forward with a flute of sparkling water in hand. Andrea snatched it with a frustrated sigh then handed it over to Nicole with the same irritation.

“Seems a bit much,” Andrea ranted on, not caring who was in earshot to hear her, “I had wine at supper every night with my preg—”

Her mother’s words stopped when her gaze landed on Violet.

“What are you doing hiding in here?” Andrea demanded.

Violet didn’t move from the wall, perfectly content with her place. “Staying out of the way, Andrea.”

“Better you do,” Nicole muttered around the rim of her glass.

Andrea didn’t say a thing, simply gave Violet a piercing look that said she agreed with her daughter-in-law’s statement, and then she was gone, a hand waving over her shoulder as she went. “Five minutes, Nicole.”

“Got it.”

It seemed like the wait staff decided to leave the kitchen at that moment, or the majority of them did, with trays in hand to serve the guests.

For the most part, Violet was alone with Nicole.

She didn’t like that.

Since her arrival back at her family’s mansion, Violet had been put in Nicole’s path one too many times. Her former friend had no qualms with letting her opinions fly, no matter how unwarranted or unwanted they were, and those around them simply allowed her to do it.