Page 71 of Loyalty

Siena’s gaze drifted to where Johnathan Marcello stood beside her father and Darren at the small wet bar against the far wall. His stare found hers as Matteo passed him a three-fingered glass of whiskey.

He doesn’t even drink.

Or, that’s what he told her.

Siena was stuck between staring at Johnathan in his black on black suit, and wondering why in the hell nobody had thought to tell her he was the guest tonight. She felt tricked somehow, but she didn’t know why.

After all, her father and brothers didn’t actually know she had history with Johnathan. Or … what one might consider to be a history.

Nonetheless, it was sure to be an awkward fucking dinner.

Johnathan still hadn’t taken his gaze off Siena. Kev passed her in the doorway, however, and that allowed her to break the staring contest for a moment.

She took the chance to grab her chair at the table, and sit down. Fixing the napkin over her lap, she ignored the conversation happening between the men of her family and Johnathan. Soon, her mother was coming out of the kitchen with dishes in hand. She thought to help her mom, but Coraline was quick to tell her to stay put.

It was only once the table was full and wine had been poured that the men finally joined Siena and her mother at the table. Like always, Matteo sat at the head of the table, while her mother sat on the end. Darren sat beside Siena, while Johnathan sat directly across from her, and Kev sat at his left.

Every single time she looked up after grace had been said, he was right there. Looking at her. Talking to someone else, but passing her glances. Never calling her out directly for conversation, but still managing to get someone else to pull her in to it every once in a while.

Before Siena knew it, half of her plate was gone, and she had downed three glasses of a white wine that tasted like rotten grapes and old vodka.

The buzz was just enough to keep her from letting the growing butterflies in her stomach take over completely. Barely …

“Siena,” her father said, “have we ever told you that Johnathan is connected to our family’s history?”

She peeked up from her plate, and her gaze darted between a suddenly frozen Johnathan, and her grinning father.

Something in Johnathan’s stiff as hell posture told her he was very uncomfortable. He picked up that whiskey glass he had barely touched, and tipped it up to his lips. Still, when he sat the glass back down to the table, the liquid level was still at the same spot.

He hadn’t sipped on even a drop.

“No,” she finally said quietly.

Matteo’s grin grew wider. “His great-grandfather was once the boss of the Calabrese—”

“Grovatti,” Johnathan interjected with a dull tone. “Then, it was called the Grovatti family.”

“My mistake, John. You’re right, but it’s been our family for so long now that it’s easy to forget.”

Johnathan’s grip on the steak knife in his hand tightened until his knuckles whitened. Siena again glanced between her seemingly oblivious father, and a very irritated Johnathan.

What was happening?

“Nonetheless,” Matteo said, “Siena, your grandfather Carl took over after Johnathan’s great-grandfather passed on. And that is how this organization came to be.”

The silence that passed over the table felt thick with something Siena didn’t really understand. Haughtiness from one side, she thought, and pain from the man across from her.

Johnathan hid it well, but for some reason, she could see it.

In his eyes.

There, he was hurting.

Siena downed what was left of her fourth glass of wine because she didn’t know what the hell else to do. The bitter, sour flavor stuck to her teeth and tongue, but it was better than talking.

Awkward was not a good enough word for this dinner.

“I never did understand why Johnathan Grovatti’s bastard son changed names after his father was killed,” Darren said from beside her. “Lucian, I mean.”