Page 52 of Forbidden War (Forbidden 2)
“I’m going to get changed,” Marco says. “You go ahead and pick out a few bottles to bring to the meal tonight. Just let Greg know what you’re taking.”
Greg is the tasting room director and head sommelier, and he was happy to give me and Marco access to all the wine storage areas. I hope he’ll let me know if I’ve made a good choice.
“Sounds good. See you soon,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel.
He leaves me to it, and after taking a little longer than I should to select the wine (which is wholeheartedly Greg-approved), I head back to the house.
Happy voices echo through the first floor as I run to my room to change into a simple blue dress and flats. When Marco and I enter the dining room together, I see that Livvie is positively glowing in her seat between Frankie and their mother. Dante sits at the head of the table, Armani on his left. Marco and I sit beside Armani, and Charlie and her husband beside us. For the first time since I’ve arrived in this home, the room is filled with palpable joy and good cheer.
Chef Alain and his staff set out the dishes of food, announcing each one with a flourish. As Frankie mentioned, there is pizza topped with caviar, smoked salmon, and crème fraîche; luscious lobster with a truffle butter sauce, shallots, and cauliflower; and seafood risotto. I’ve never seen so many luxurious ingredients all together like this before. There is also a fresh microgreens salad with shaved parmesan and anchovy balsamic vinaigrette, cold lemon-garlic broccolini, and grilled watermelon. Once our loaded plates are set in front of us, I’m up.
Taking a deep breath, I move to the sideboard and pick up the first bottle, which I’m sure will be dispatched quickly. I turn toward the family and explain that it’s a medium-bodied Bellanti Vineyards Sauvignon Blanc with notes of citrus, peach blossom, and green herbs, brightly acidic with (as I was told by Marco) a steady finish.
I hold the bottle out for their inspection the way Marco showed me, then uncork it and let it breathe for a moment. And then I pour it exactly the way he’d demonstrated, my hands shaking just a little. I have to open the second bottle in order to fill everyone’s glass, but I catch Frankie’s eyes on me and I swear she looks as proud as a mother duck watching her ducklings swim.
“Beautifully done,” Marco compliments as I take my seat.
Dante nods his approval.
As for Armani…he doesn’t look displeased, so that’s something.
Dinner is a jovial affair. Everyone catches Livvie up on their news, and plans are made for a girls’ trip down to San Francisco for shopping and afternoon tea at Lovejoy’s before Mrs. Abbott returns home. The food Alain prepared is delicious, of course. And the wine is incredible. By the end of the meal, I am full, relaxed, content. Everyone else is, too.
Normally, the men retire to the library after we eat if the Bellantis’ “other” business needs to be discussed, but tonight they gather at the head of the table once the plates are cleared. Marco pours everyone a whiskey and they start speaking quietly amongst themselves.
I move over to join the women. Frankie is staring at the men intently, making no secret that she’s listening to their conversation that’s quickly turning tense.
“There’s no way in hell.” Armani’s voice rises above the others. “We’re not calling this war even. It’s far from over.”
Frankie takes Livvie’s hand, and Charlie wraps her arm around them both. Their mother sits next to Charlie, drinking hot tea that smells distinctly of chamomile and lemon. I flash her a smile and a regretful shrug. I’m sure we women had hoped that there would be no mention of the Brunos tonight, but the men can’t seem to help themselves.
Dante shakes his head. “We can’t keep going on like this forever—do you want to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, never knowing where the next bullet is coming from? Livvie is home now; they have nothing on us. We need to call a truce while we can.”
Armani narrows his eyes. “They’re not going to agree to end this. If they do, it’ll only be so they can stab us in the back the second we let our guard down. We have the advantage right now. Let’s use it.”
“Marco, what do you think?” Dante asks, turning toward the youngest Bellanti.
My husband sighs. “I don’t like this war. I wish we could call it off and walk away.”
“See—” Dante starts.
“But,” Marco interrupts, “I unfortunately have to agree with Armani. I don’t think the Brunos would follow through in good faith with a ceasefire, and I don’t think we can take them at their word. They’ve betrayed us before.”
“The kid is right,” Armani says to Dante. “Besides, we can’t put an end to this until we find the tattooed man. He’s the only one who might give up the truth about what happened to Dad. Who was responsible. Who needs to pay.”
He looks over at Livvie with a mix of concern and apology, which surprises me. He seems genuinely troubled about Livvie’s feelings in all this.
“He’s not involved,” Livvie says quietly. “He’s not the man you think he is.”
“He kil—” Armani cuts himself off, seeming to decide on a softer approach. “He works for the mob. He’s not the man you think he is.”
“So are the three of you,” Livvie points out. “And you’re all good men.”
Her gentle compliment shuts the three of them right up. Armani drags his gaze away and returns to his drink.
Frankie leans her head against her sister’s. “He let the Brunos’ men take you. At the very least, he led them to you.”
“No.” Livvie shakes her head. “They must have found him somehow, and that led them to me. He loves me. And I love him. He would never do that.”
Charlie sighs and tucks Livvie’s hair behind her ear. “Unless everything you think you know about him is an act. Sometimes men lie. And they can be such good actors, you’ll never realize it until it’s too late.”
“No,” Livvie says firmly. “He’s not like that. He’s different. He wants to get out of the business. He just got caught up in it, and he was forced to follow orders and—”
“Livvie,” her mother says softly. “I don’t doubt that he’s told you all these things—but he can love you and still be using you. Maybe he even thought he could trade you in return for his freedom. People are complicated. Sometimes good people do bad things…they can be forced to make impossible choices.”
“I can’t talk about this right now,” Livvie says, standing abruptly. She looks around at all of us. “Dinner was wonderful. Thank you, all of you. I’m going to bed.”
With that, she hurries out the door.
The mood in the room deflates as soon as Livvie is gone. The rest of us excuse ourselves, but as I head through the halls with Marco, I can’t help wondering if Livvie’s view of the tattooed man isn’t legitimate after all. Of course I understand where her mother and sisters are coming from—their concerns are logical enough, and they only want to protect her from physical harm and keep her heart safe, too. But what if Livvie and her tattooed lover are the real thing?
After all, aren’t I part of a star-crossed love story, too?
