SALVAGE PRIDE

15

Z shakes hands with the men and smiles appreciatively at their wives, accepting their condolences graciously. One of the gentlemen pats him heartily on the back while saying something they all nod to in response. Zeno motions toward the back of the house, and they wander off to join the gathering. When they are out of sight, his head falls back, and his chest heaves on a tormented breath.

His unguarded display of weariness draws out my own breath until my chest feels hollow and cold. My inner skeptic whispers that Zeno is simply annoyed at the imposition of hosting, but my gut is convinced that’s a lie. Zeno isn’t as immune as he’d like everyone to believe.

I step forward, drawing his gaze. Blue eyes, infinite as a clear summer sky.

“Here’s your water. Are you sure you don’t want anything else?” I extend the bottle, and our fingers brush in the exchange. Ribbons of electric current unravel up my arm and bury themselves deep in my belly, where a pool of warmth gathers. I do my best to ignore the sensation.

“No, nothing else.” His voice is the gentle rumble of distant thunder, sending a chill down my spine.

I offer a thin smile and turn to leave.

“Luisa,” he calls, hailing my attention.

I pause and peer at him over my shoulder.

“Thank you … for being here.”

I don’t know what to say. Shock ties my tongue. Instead, I nod and flee from the confusion that threatens to overthrow my system. I don’t know what’s going on. Why did he thank me if he doesn’t want me here? Is he merely out of sorts, or maybe he’s playing games with me? No, that doesn’t seem right. I saw him moments ago when he thought no one was watching. He wasn’t in a place to be playing games.

Even if it isn’t a game, that doesn’t mean he won’t go back to being his aloof self as soon as his grief passes. He’s shown me over and over who he is through the years; I won’t let a couple of days of civility dupe me into believing he’s something he’s not.

I shake my head, trying to clear my jumbled thoughts. Stepping onto the flagstone patio, I spot Grace talking with Gia and make my way over. Respectful of the somber mood, we greet each other quietly and fall into light conversation. In half an hour’s time, the patio is teeming with people, all talking amongst themselves in a mostly reserved fashion. I spot a number of familiar faces—the governor and his wife, a woman I believe to be one of our senators and a handful of B actors and singers. I’m sure other famous people are present, but I’m not the best at names and faces. Regardless of who they are, there is one commonality among them all. Everyone around us reeks of money. Having grown up around the wealthy, it normally doesn’t bother me, but even I feel out of place in this setting.

“Can you guys believe this turnout?” Livia hisses when she joins our circle.

I cringe. “Liv, it’s a wake, not the red carpet.”

“I know.” She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. “That doesn’t mean it’s not a great place to meet people.” Her irritation suddenly fades, and her eyes brighten. “Look over there, by the pool. See that gorgeous guy with the tattoo on his neck? That’s Renzo Donati, underboss of the Moretti family and totally available.”

“How do you even know that?”

Liv shrugs. “I asked Daddy.”

“Asked me what?” Dad appears unexpectedly behind us with Mom at his side.

“The names of the available deep pockets here tonight. I’ve got my sights set on Renzo. Think I’ll go introduce myself.” Her eyes are glued to her target, and I’m already feverish with embarrassment.

“Livia Banetti, don’t you dare!” I hiss, then look at my dad for reinforcement. Dad purses his lips and rolls back on his heels. “Livy, this really isn’t the place.” Not exactly the admonishment I was hoping for.

“Come on, Tony,” Mom cuts in. “If not here, then where? It can hardly hurt for her to say hello.

Here, Liv, take my drink. It’s always easier to flirt with a drink in your hand.” Jesus Christ. How do I share DNA with these people?

Dad says nothing as Livia strolls coyly in the direction of her target. I’m contemplating crawling under a table when a microphone clicks on, and tapping resonates across the crowd. We all turn toward the house, including Mr. Donati’s group, effectively cutting off Livia’s access to him. I breathe an enormous sigh of relief. Her efforts won’t be thwarted so easily, but for the time being, it’s safe.

“If I could have your attention, please.” Zeno’s commanding voice lassos the crowd, and I am no different.

My eyes are drawn to him and greedily consume his suited form. My ears strain in curious anticipation of what he might say. My heart falls to my feet when his searching gaze locks on mine. One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

The evening breeze tugs at strands of my hair, but Zeno’s gaze is unnervingly steady. Only after the crowd has quieted does he clear his throat and release me from his hold. I take a shaky breath to center myself as he begins his address.

“On behalf of my family and me, I want to thank you all for coming here tonight to celebrate the life of my father, Silvano De Rossi.” He pauses, his throat bobbing as if he’s struggling with his words. “I didn’t always agree with my father, but my respect for him was immeasurable. He was insightful, clever, passionate, and his loyalty was beyond reproach.” Zeno’s gaze drifts back to mine, his features hardening before he looks away. “He has touched all of our lives in ways we will never forget. But if he were here with us tonight, I’m confident he wouldn’t want us to mourn. ‘Life is about finding the silver lining,’ he’d say. So please, raise your glasses with me in honor of a man who lived life with abandon and who will never be forgotten.” He lifts a crystal champagne flute in his hand, the crowd mirroring his movement in a choreographed wave. “To Silvano.” His voice thunders overhead.