“Why do I remind your father of Barrett Campbell?” I asked, my gaze sliding to a distant Hadrian. He was conversing with Nico and Angelo, and Tor sat by himself slightly farther away. Definitely the broody silent type.
Luca smiled slightly and his eyes took on a dreamy quality. “Barrett Campbell is the only woman to ever put my father in his place. Hadrian’s wrong, you know.”
“About?”
“You and Barrett do have a lot in common. My father paid you the highest compliment when he said you were like her.” He peered at me. “Have you met her?”
“No.”
“But it was Ramsey Buchanan who introduced you to Hadrian?”
“Yes,” I said, brow furrowing. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Flynn and Ramsey are as close as brothers. I would’ve thought you’d have met her.”
He was digging for information and not being at all subtle about it.
Ingrid appeared in the den, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. Her eyes caught mine, and I was grateful for a reason to flee the conversation.
“Dinner is ready,” I announced to the room.
Hadrian arrived at my side and escorted me into the dining room. The table was set with a red satin tablecloth and white china. He helped me with my seat and then took the spot at the head of the table. Angelo sat at the other end. Luca was across from me on Hadrian’s left, his brother at his side. Nico took the chair at Angelo’s left, which put him next to me.
A bouquet of purple sterling roses rested in the center of the table. I looked at Hadrian who inclined his head and then winked.
I placed my napkin in my lap, unable to stop the rush of pleasure from Hadrian’s subtle tribute to me. Pleasure mingled with anxiety.
The first course was served along with crisp white wine.
“This is delicious,” Angelo declared, taking another spoonful of soup. “I’m impressed.”
“It was Eden’s idea for a menu change,” Hadrian said easily.
Eyes turned to me. “I can’t take any credit for the food. It’s all Ingrid.”
The table was relatively silent, devoid of conversation. Hadrian sat, his body erect, and I knew he wanted to get to the heart of the matter and discuss why they were there.
But Angelo showed no inclination to do business. He was enjoying his meal, and nothing important would be dealt with until the coffees and brandies were poured.
Even though I had no inclination to be sociable, the suspense was killing me, and I decided I’d rather make polite conversation than sit in silence with my inner turmoil.
I looked at Luca. “You mentioned riding horses at your home. Do you still ride?”
He nodded. “We’ve got an impressive stable. What about you? Do you ride?”
“I’m new to it,” I admitted. I reached over and placed my hand on top of Hadrian’s, which rested casually on the table. “Hadrian bought a mare for his mount, Midas, and he let me name her. I’ve been riding her most mornings, when the weather holds.”
Luca looked at Hadrian and then back to me. “You let her name your mare?”
“It made her happy,” Hadrian said with a negligent shrug. “And besides, it’s her mare now.”
“What did you name her?” Tor asked, breaking his silence. His voice was as dark as Luca’s was light. It was clear he wasn’t used to conversing, and as Angelo’s second son, he didn’t have to be affable or charming.
“My brother has a way with horses,” Luca explained with an amused grin.
Luca teased his brother with good-natured affection, yet Tor didn’t appear to hear him, nor did he engage.
“I named her Eris,” I said. “The Goddess of—”
“Discord,” Angelo finished.
“She nipped my shoulder when I wouldn’t give her a carrot,” I said, forcing a grin. “The name seemed obvious to me.”
“Midas likes his spirited mare,” Hadrian said. His tone was overtly suggestive, and heat crept up my neck when his eyes blatantly caressed me.
It made me think of his promise earlier when he’d given me jewelry, and I couldn’t stop the flash of desire I felt between my thighs.
“She’s the kind of mare that’s full of adventure,” I said. “Hadrian has been very generous to me.”
The table fell into a companionable silence as we continued to eat.
Luca broke the quiet when he said, “I’m dying of curiosity. I know Papà always insists on waiting until dessert to discuss business, but I’m from a different generation, and I think we should get to the point of our meeting.”