I raise a brow. This must be some kind of compliment to his sons, but as Roman’s gaze narrows on his father and the two boys tense on either side of me, I realize that it’s anything but. I swivel my gaze toward Giovanni to find his hard stare on me.
I swallow hard but when no one responds to his comment, I find myself raising my chin. “Excuse me?” I question, keeping my tone low so as to not draw attention my way.
Giovanni rests back in his seat, using his napkin to wipe his mouth before carelessly tossing it down on the table. “I’m not going to lie, the impression you left me with on our last two meetings was less than acceptable. You looked ratty and broken, but it appears that my sons have wised up and pulled you in line. Perhaps you have learned from your mistakes,” he says, his tone darkening, “unlike your father.”
My brows dip low as my hands ball into tight fists beneath the table. A chill sweeps down my spine and I suck in a deep breath, forcing myself to remain seated. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap, instantly regretting my tone as he leans forward, his hard stare becoming hostile and full of disdain. Levi’s hand slips onto my lap, clutching my fists and forcing them free, a silent message telling me to calm the fuck down before this goes somewhere I’m not prepared to go.
Giovanni glances toward his sons’ hostile stares and laughs, probably assuming that he has us right where he wants us, or in the very least, assuming that I give a shit about my father. Giovanni stands and leans his big hands onto the table, his thick, gold chain clanging against the wood as his stare bores into mine. “How does it feel to be so worthless to your father?” he questions. “My sons are pieces of shit, and yet I wouldn’t give them up for anything.”
I scoff, unable to reel it in this time. “You wouldn’t give them up only because they’re too valuable to you, not because you have any fatherly affection toward them.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “I raised my sons in my image and they are exactly what I need them to be.”
“Soldiers.”
“Correct,” he says. “You, on the other hand, are just as worthless as your father. Imagine selling your child to a man like me and then coming back for more. Little does he know that you barely even cover his original debt, let alone his new one. I wonder what else he will give up. Tell me, Miss Mariano, do you have more siblings that we don’t yet know about?”
My jaw clenches at his arrogance and just the thought of my fist sailing across the table and slamming into his stupid face has something settling within me. “If I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t tell you.”
“Careful,” he warns me, his gaze narrowing dangerously. “You wouldn’t want to find out what happens to little girls who destroy my dinner parties. Watch your mouth. I’m feeling lenient tonight. This is your only warning.”
I swallow hard, not prepared to push my luck any further as I divert my stare back to my plate. I nibble at my food but my appetite is completely gone. This night has been impossible. I don’t know what to do, what to say, what not to say, and how the hell to even breathe without causing issues.
Conversation fills the massive dining hall and I find myself trying to distract myself by listening in. The couple just down from us are complaining about their three daughters and will be shipping them off to a boarding school, while the two men sitting just down from Roman are discussing real estate.
I let out a sigh, having hoped that at least one person in this room would have been discussing something interesting enough to hold my attention. Not able to continue torturing myself by shoving food down my throat, I push my plate away and find myself glancing up at Roman. His heavy stare is on me but his mind is clearly far away, deep in thought.
My brows furrow as I watch him in return, but he soon comes back to reality, his eyes softening just a bit. Ariana glances up at Roman with her big, fuck-me eyes, and seeing that I have his attention, she turns her ferocious stare on me. Her eyes narrow, and as I glance back at her, she’s left with no choice but to force a smile as jealousy courses violently through her veins.
She leans toward her husband, resting her fingers along his wrist. “Please excuse me,” she murmurs, keeping her tone low. “I need to use the restroom.”
Giovanni nods and she rises from her seat before cutting her sharp glare across to me. “Shayne, dear. Won’t you accompany me to the bathroom? What better chance for us to get to know one another? After all, it seems as though you might be around for a little while.”