Vendetta E Ossessione (De Angelis Book 1)

Chapter 10

Chapter 10.

——♣——

Millicent spent hours in the library long enough to make her believe she fell asleep. Because by the time she opened her eyes, it was dark and the book had somehow made its way to the ground.

It had to be the drugs, no doubt.

Immediately, she left the library for the kitchen, hoping to get a drink. But as she approached the stairs, she smelled food even before she could locate the source.

The scent filled the east corridor and Millicent followed it with, partly because her stomach had been running on tea since morning.

The scent stopped at the kitchen, and Millicent pushed the door open.

It was the De Angelis brothers.

Ariel was standing in an apron while he stirred something in the pan with concentration. Beside him, the one whom she recognized as Aurelio stood chopping vegetables like it was a military operation.

She had completely forgotten about Angelo brothers who appeared to have followed him straight from the wedding. It was no wonder she hadn't seen any staff while coming. They probably sent them out.

"Ah," Ariel said, pointing the wooden spoon at Millicent upon noticing her. "Perfect timing. Kindly set the table."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Table. Plates. Cutlery." He gestured vaguely toward the cabinet with the spoon. "Unless you'd rather just stand there looking confused."

"I wasn't confused," she said. "I was surprised. There's a difference."

Aurelio glanced at her with something close to amusement. "He does this sometimes," he said, returning to his chopping. "Stress cooks. Don't read much into it. I'm Aurelio, nice meeting you.”

Millicent smiled softly and nodded. But before she could respond, Ariel interrupted.

"I don't stress cook," he said, deeply offended. "I cook because I am talented and the chef had the night off and someone in this house has to have standards."

"The chef had the night off because you told him to take it," Aurelio said evenly.

"Because I wanted to cook."

"Which is stress cooking."

"It is not—"

"I'll set the table," Millicent said before the argument would turn into something she'd have to witness.

She would just have to introduce herself to Aurelio some other time.

What was there to even introduce? She thought.

Hi there, I'm your brothers wife whom he despises so much but I'm sure you already know that due to how close you guys are.

She laughed silently, moving around the large dining table while the brothers continued bickering softly behind her.

She had expected the De Angelis household to feel like a cold prison. She hadn't anticipated Ariel in an apron arguing about the definition of stress cooking while Aurelio diced tomatoes like a surgeon.

It was their brother's house anyway, it wasn't a surprise that they'd treat it like theirs.

Just as she set down the last fork, the doors opened.

“Fottuto inferno,” she cussed, her mood ruined as she watched Angelo walk in.

And beside him was a man with a laptop under one arm, the other hand occupied with a glass of water while he spoke in a low hurried voice about something that Angelo was clearly half-listening to while unbuttoning his jacket.

She couldn't be staring at Angelo for too long or he'd get the wrong idea. But before she could avert her gaze, she caught something.

A red kiss mark on his cheek, and a floral feminine scent that her damn nose had to pick up.

She looked back down at the table and set the last knife straight.

Angelo moved to his seat at the head of the table without a word of greeting nor so much as a glance in her direction.

Then the other guy finally paused his stream of conversation, and mumbled a greeting upon noticing her.

“Good evening,” he muttered, sitting and opening his laptop, oblivious to the tension between her and Angelo.

And perhaps it was the overbearing silence at the dining or Angelo's arrogant aura, but Ariel suddenly came out at that moment.

“Finally, you guys are back,” he said, his friendly tone breaking the quiet. Then he looked at the other guy. "Laptop at the table? Really, Amedeo,” Ariel said, setting down a large dish in the center.

Millicent's eyes creased slightly. So that was his name?

Amedeo. The last De Angelis brother, rumored Occhio of I Corvi, and a man she needed to be very wary of if she wanted to have a successful mission.

"I'm working," Amedeo said to Ariel without looking up.

"You're always working."

"Someone has to be."

"Hey." Ariel pointed at him. "I cooked. That is work, skilled labor."

"Boiling pasta is not skilled labor."

"I did more than boil pasta—"

"Sit down and eat," Aurelio said quietly, coming out of the kitchen. And his words seemed to work, because Ariel sat and Amedeo angled his laptop slightly to the side.

Soon, they all began to eat quietly. And even though the food was excellent, Millicent couldn't seem to get her mind off the lipstick mark on Angelo's cheek as she secretly watched him eat.

"So," Ariel said, disrupting the quiet. "Millicent." He gestured at her with his fork. "What do you actually do? Like. Before all…" He waved the fork vaguely. "This."

She glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

"Hobbies. Interests. Were you doing anything or you were just waiting around being a Romano?"

"Ariel," Aurelio said mildly.

"What? It's a genuine question."

Millicent considered him for a moment, thinking of what to say because she'd be damned if she got swayed and revealed everything to the De Angelis brothers.

It's better they thought she was weak.

"I read," she finally said. "You already know that. I speak four languages and traveled when I could."

"Four languages," Amedeo repeated, without looking up from his screen. "Which four?"

"Italian, English, French, Arabic."

That made him look up, briefly studying her with an expression that was impossible to read. Then he returned to his screen. "Useful.”

Millicent wasn't sure if it was a compliment or an observation. With Amedeo, she was beginning to suspect there was no meaningful difference.

Soon enough, the conversation shifted. Ariel telling a story about a disastrous I Corvi operation in Sicily three years ago that had apparently involved a stolen boat, and Ariel himself swimming to shore in full formal wear. Aurelio disputed several key details and Amedeo, without looking up, contradicted both of their versions.

Through it all, Millicent just ate and listened, keeping her eyes off Angelo's cheek.

And Angelo? He said almost nothing through the conversations. He drank his wine and occasionally responded to something one of his brothers directed at him.

But not once did he look at her.

And she wasn't sure what bothered her the most. Him looking at her or the mark.

When he finally pushed back his chair and rose from the table, he buttoned his jacket without a word of explanation and walked out.

Unfortunately, the silence only lasted exactly two seconds before Ariel reached across the table and refilled Millicent's wine glass with generous enthusiasm.

"Right," he said brightly. "Who wants to hear about the time Amedeo accidentally hacked the Vatican?"

Amedeo's head snapped up. "We are not telling that story."

"Oh, we are absolutely telling that story—"

"Ariel, I will end you—"

"The Vatican," Millicent said, raising an eyebrow despite herself.

Amedeo pointed at her. "Don't encourage him."

"It was an accident," Ariel said solemnly, pressing a hand to his chest. "A beautiful, chaotic, entirely unintentional accident. And the Pope's personal email was frankly very unprotected for a man of his position.. ouch!” Ariel winced toward the end, Amedeo punching him by the arm.

Immediately, Millicent looked away, trying to hide her smile. But failed. And soon enough, she joined back to the conversation, letting herself enjoy the moment even though she was sure every one of them was equally suspicious of her as she was to them.