“I don’t get it,” Daniele stared directly at Vittoria and when he had her attention, he said, “How does it work?”

“How does what work?” she replied warily.

His lips stretched but there was nothing joyous about the smile. If I had to call it anything, I would have called it mocking. “I just don’t know how you do it.” He dared to shift his focus to me then. “How do you sleep with the man who killed you father?”

The entire table ceased conversation and an awkward silence followed with the light clinking of cutlery cutting through. I was stuck between wanting to stand up and lunge at him from across the table then beat the ever-loving fuck out of him and checking to make sure the kids couldn’t hear what was being said. The latter won out and my head snapped towards the kids table where the boys were chatting away, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing beside them, but Ella…

Fuck me.

Ella sat stiffly with rigid shoulders, her fingers curled around the armrests of her chair, appeared both confused by what she’d heard and utterly shocked by it. She peered anxiously between Vittoria, Daniele and myself, knowing something bad was coming and bracing for it.

“And I’m not talking about sleeping either.” Daniele picked up his wine glass and swirled the contents. “Like, you’re fucking this guy. You’re actively choosing the have sex with a man who pulled the trigger. The one who shot the bullet that ended your dad’s life. How do you do that, Vittoria?” His expression turned grave. “How does one stoop so low?”

Vittoria’s face turned solemn. She placed her hands onto her lap and sat unmoving. In her eyes was… nothing.

My wife had checked out.

“Daniele,” pops warned, while I stood fast enough that my chair hit the ground with a hard smack.

I pointed a harsh finger at my brother and snarled, “You know what? I’ve fucking had it with you, you spoiled as fuck, useless shit. I know you like to poke and prod until you get a reaction and usually, I don’t bite, but today, you pushed the wrong person. Today, you pushed too far.” Giada tried to intervene but, I lifted my hand and received the silence I demanded. Only then did I look at the miserable fuck, sunk into his seat, and tell him how it was. “I’m the fucking heir and you’re nothing but the spare.” There was no mistaking it. I did not come to play. I glanced him over, disgusted. “Look at you, living with all the glory from the name pops built, living with all the benefits that the power I maintain keeps. Stayin’ warm from a fire,” I poked myself hard in the chest and thundered, “I fucking stoke.”