“You should eat,” Scott said. “We have a long night ahead.”
I caught it again. The hint of warning in his voice. The slight inflection of arrogance, as if he knew something I didn’t.
Refusing to play his games, I kept my gaze ahead. My mother caught my eye and smiled. She looked stunning in her Italian designer one-shoulder drape gown. It was a deep blue, a perfect match to the sapphire and diamond pendant she wore. Suzanna was in an equally beautiful gown with her hair styled in a complex updo.
At some point during the first course, Scott rested his arm along the back of my chair, his fingers dancing precariously close to my skin. If I sat straighter, putting more space between us, he shifted closer. It was a battle of the wills, neither of us prepared to lose.
“Everything okay with your food, Arianne?” Mike asked across the table. I placed down my silverware and forced a smile. I’d picked at the entrée, moving it around my plate to give the appearance of having eaten some.
“I’m saving myself for dessert.”
He chuckled. “You have a sweet tooth? You’ll be right at home with Scott then. He’s a huge fan of dessert. Growing up he couldn’t get enough of Suzanna’s cannoli and tiramisu.”
Pain lanced my chest. Scott and tiramisu didn’t belong in the same sentence together, not when that word reminded me so much of Nicco.
“Arianne, what is it?” My father’s baritone voice reverberated through me.
“Nothing.” I grabbed my wine glass and drank it down. “I’m fine.”
“She’s just a little nervous I suspect,” Suzanna said. “It’s to be expected.”
“You need to relax, baby,” Scott raised his voice slightly, enough that the nearby tables had to have heard him and roped his arm around my neck. “I’ve told you, everything is going to be fine.”
Everything inside me screamed at him to get his hands off me but I swallowed it down. I couldn’t cause a scene, not here. Not in the middle of this godforsaken dinner with Verona County’s elite.
Grabbing his hand in mine, I removed it from my neck and placed it back in his lap. “And I’ve told you, I’m fine.”
“You’re going to have to watch that one,” Mike laughed. “She’s feisty.”
“Don’t I know it,” Scott murmured under his breath.
The servers began collecting our plates, giving me a moments reprieve.
“Why don’t you go see if you can get us a proper drink?” Nora suggested to Dan.
“But, babe, they have table ser—”
“There’s a bar over there.”
He finally took the hint and got up. Nora wasted no time sliding into her date’s empty chair. “Are you okay?” she whispered.
My eyes flicked to my parents and the Fascini. They were deep in conversation and Scott was busy texting someone.
“I’m fine.”
“It would be okay if you’re not. It’s kind of intense.”
“I’ll be okay. I bet Dan thinks he’s entered The Twilight Zone.” I let out a quiet sigh.
“After the Centenary Gala I think he knows the score where your dad is concerned.”
“Abato,” Scott leaned around me. “So nice of you to join us.”
“I was invited, asshole,” she sneered.
“Yeah, because I suggested it.”
“You? Un-fucking-likely.”
“Truth.” His shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “I didn’t want Arianne to feel out of her depth.”
“How very thoughtful of you,” I mocked, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.
“Fuck this, I’m going to take a piss.” He got up and strolled away from the table.
“God, he’s a vile asshole.”
“Tell me about it. He’s trying so hard to push my buttons.”
Nora grabbed my hand. “And you’re doing so well not rising to him. Nice little dig with the dress by the way. How’d he take it?”
“Tried to pretend he didn’t mind, but it irritated him.”
“Good, he deserves it, trying to tell you what to wear. Who the hell does he think he is?”
“My fiancé apparently.” Bitterness clung to every syllable.
Her expression fell. “Shit, Ari, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’ll never marry him. I’d rather—” I stopped myself.
“Don’t ever say that,” she gasped, concern glittering in her eyes. “It won’t come to that,” she whispered the next words. “Nicco would never allow it.”
My breath hitched at the mention of his name and she frowned. “What is it?”
“We had an argument earlier. I said some things...”
“What things?”
“It doesn’t matter.” It did. But I didn’t want to relive the conversation. I’d been frustrated and hurting, and I’d taken it out on him.
“Are you—”
Dan chose that moment to return, looming down over us. “I got us doubles; something tells me we’re going to need it.”