Chapter 173

“Drink up, you sissy!” Giana laughs, sipping at the straw of her way-too-strong bloody mary.

I just cough, looking askance at mine. “G, this is like 90% vodka, 5% tomato juice, and the rest is horseradish. Honestly, it’s basically clear.”

“I am freshly a widow, Iris,” Giana says, even as she laughs. “You are not allowed to critique my bartending skills – it is rude, this is part of my grieving process.”

And I laugh with her then, a little baffled and impressed by the way that she’s covering her clear grief with a thick layer of bravado and humor. But I can see it there – in the way her jokes are a bit too brash, the way she pastes her smile determinedly on.

So I roll my eyes, taking another sip of the drink and coughing when it fails to go down smoothly. Giana grins and pats me on the back, turning back towards the little computer tablet where we’re looking up tickets to Disney and flights for this afternoon.

We chatter away, making her plans, and I don’t explain what happened in Lucy’s room at all, even though I can tell she’s curious and gives me plenty of opportunities. But Giana lets me have my space on it. Even though I know that Giana would be a sympathetic audience, I just…can’t bring myself to tell her.

Not when I don’t fully understand.

Not…not when it means envisioning it again – Lucy on her knees, looking up at my husband in that sexy way. The way…the way his hand drifted over her hair.

I grimace, my head turning harshly to the side as I grit my teeth, willing the thought to leave my mind.

“Oh christ, Iris,” Giana sighs, sloshing more bloody mary mix into my glass. “It’s not that strong.”

But I don’t even have a chance to counter Giana and explain that it is precisely that strong – even if that’s not what made me have that reaction – because suddenly the kitchen door bangs open and Nico strides in.

Uncharacteristically, he stumbles over his feet when he sees the two of us standing at the kitchen island with the tablet in front of us. “What…what the fuck are you two doing here?”

I just stare at him, not knowing what to say. Am I…not supposed to be in the kitchen?

“We’re planning a trip to Disney,” Giana says, too cheerful, daring him to ask more.

“What?” Nico breathes, staring at her.

“You heard me,” Giana says, crossing her arms, a smirk playing at her lips. “The kids and I are leaving tonight.”

Nico just stares at her for a second and then shakes head as if to clear it, crossing his own arms. “And who the hell do you think is paying for this?”

“Iris,” Giana says casually, rolling her wrist elegantly to point a finger at me.

Nico whips his gaze to mine as his brows draw harshly together.

“I’m donna now,” I say quietly, hesitating. “And that means I can do whatever I want?”

“Oh, what the fuck ever,” Nico says, suddenly in motion again as he crosses to the other side of the island and begins to shoo us away like geese in a barnyard. “Do whatever you want – just go upstairs now!”

“What?” Giana says, planting her feet down and refusing. When I begin to do as I’m told, she reaches out a hand and snaps it around my wrist, stopping me. “Why do we have to go upstairs? What’s going on?”

“Just go!” Nico snaps.

“No!” Giana shouts back, turning to glare at him.

“Giana,” Nico growls, glaring down at her. “God damn it, this is not the time!”

“If you want me to go, you’re going to have to fucking carry me!” Giana shouts, returning to herself and I think enjoying this a little bit.

“Fine!” Nico shouts back, reaching for her.

Giana squeaks in fear, not having expected that, and dashes behind me. “You have to carry both of us!” she amends.

Nico groans crossing his arms again and glaring hard at us. “Upstairs. Now. God, you fucking women -”

“Just explain,” I say, looking anxiously between the two of them, knowing that Nico isn’t going to stop until he gets us out of the kitchen and Giana isn’t going anywhere until she knows why.

“Because,” Nico growls, stepping towards us. “Christian is coming in here with his two fucking brothers for coffee in about two minutes, and I –“

“Elio’s here!?” Giana gasps, hope flooding her face as she snaps her head towards the door. And then, before I know what’s happening, Giana’s pulling me along with her as she moves eagerly not towards the stairs, as Nico would prefer, but towards the door that leads to the rest of the houes.

“Giana!” Nico shouts after us, desperate as hell.

“Giana, I don’t want to go out there,” I gasp, grabbing at her hand around my wrist and trying to pry myself loose, throwing my weight back so she can’t pull me. “Christian wouldn’t want me to –“

“Oh, grow a fucking backbone, Iris,” Giana snaps, whipping towards me to glare at me. “After what he did to you this morning? You’re still scared to do something that’s going to make your ‘sweetheart’ husband angry?”

My eyes go wide as I realize that Giana didn’t push me on what happened this morning because she wanted to give me space – but because she already put it together herself.

But of course she did – Giana’s much more versed in this world than I am.

And suddenly – I don’t know why – but what she says makes a great deal of sense. I stand up straight, a grim determination to do whatever the hell I want coming into my heart, my mind. Giana grins at me, a little reckless, and turns back towards the door.

This time, she doesn’t have to tug me along with her as she moves to the door. I go of my own free will.

“Iris!” Nico calls after me, half groan and half shout.

But we’re already gone, moving through the halls at a rapid pace, Giana clearly knowing where to go. She pushes through doors with incredible confidence and I follow along in her wake, a little stunned, until finally she wrenches the elaborate knob of the final door and we spill into Don Romano’s ornate office.

I go still as we enter, remembering the last time I was here – remembering my ex boyfriend sprawled out across the ground. And my eyes whip up to Christian, sitting in his father’s chair – taking the spot of the King.

He stares at me, shocked. And I stare right back.

But neither of us are given much time to consider this turn of events as Giana lets out a desperate cry and throws herself across the room into the arms of a man who is clearly her husband’s brother – and mine. Elio – because it can only be him – wraps his arms around Giana, murmuring his sorrow at the loss of her husband.

Instantly, she breaks into tears, burying her face in his shirt.

I study him for a moment – a little surprised to see that Elio looks…so much older than Lorenzo, even though he was second-born. And paunchy, too, with dark circles under his eyes.

“Iris,” Christian says evenly, and I whip my gaze back to him to see him quietly standing and buttoning his suit coat as he gestures towards the man next to him – a handsome Romano who…

God, he could be Tony’s twin, couldn’t he?

“I’d like to introduce you,” Christian says quietly, clearly pissed that I broke into the room like this but taking in stride, “to my brothers. Giuseppe and Elio.”

I just stare at Christian, and then at Giuseppe, having absolutely no idea what to do. Fighting, of all things, the ridiculous urge to…I don’t know, to curtsey? I have no idea.

Luckily, Giuseppe saves me. “Iris,” he says, moving slowly across the room with his hand extended. “I have to admit that…I wish we were meeting on a more auspicious occasion. But I’m certainly glad to meet you. We’ve been hearing about you for a long time, though I admit that I never thought I’d meet the famous ‘Daisy’ in the flesh.”

“Thank you,” I murmur quietly as Nico comes into the room, closing the door behind me. I slip my hand into Giuseppe’s as he comes close enough to reach, giving it a small shake. “Um, it’s very nice to meet you too.”

Giuseppe gives me a warm smile, apparently seeing my anxious awkwardness and giving me a pass on it. I return the smile, grateful.

But our nice moment is instantly interrupted by Elio’s booming voice.

“Well!” he shouts, and I turn – my hand still in Giuseppe’s – to see him crossing the room with Giana pinned to his side, his arm warm around her. “This is the stripper bride?”

I instantly blush a deep red. How on earth did he hear about that already? Quietly, I pull my hand from Giuseppe’s.

“God damn it,” Elio murmurs, his voice low and lascivious as he lets his eyes blatantly drift all the way down my body. “Don’t I wish that I’d caught your act before Prince Charming here came and pinned you down.” I quite suddenly feel very, very naked, even underneath all the fabric of Giana’s dress.

“That’s fucking enough, Elio,” Christian snaps, and we all turn towards him now.

Because there’s murder in my husband’s voice as he glares hard at his brother.

And as we all know from the events yesterday, Christian is very, very capable of acting on his threats.