Daniele did not offer his hand or a hello. He just stood there, glared at me like I was nothing more than a nuisance. A fly circling his head and he wanted to slap me away as hard as possible.

Ettore then turned towards the kitchen where Nunzio was tasting something from a large pot. “You’ve met my pops. The woman cutting bread is Emilia.”

“That’s my wife,” Sandro piped in happily.

Ettore went on, “You’ll remember my sister Giada from the reception.” Oh. The sweet, smiling woman was another sibling. At least one of them was rooting for me. “Sammy, Giada’s husband, is… I don’t see him, but he’s here somewhere.”

Giada threw in. “He’ll be up in a minute. He’s in the cellar slicing the prosciutto.”

“And their daughter, my niece, Nikki is,” Ettore looked around. “Where’s Nikki?”

Giada made a thoughtful sound, but averted her gaze when she carefully explained, “We thought it best she didn’t come today. She flew out this morning.”

Ettore’s brow furrowed as he pulled out a chair for me and helped me sit. “Why?”

Everyone else took their seats as Giada fluttered about the subject. “Well, after what happened yesterday,” I could tell she was trying to be diplomatic when she said, “she was a little… mad.”

From behind us came a much more forward explanation, “She went around to the uncles looking for a gun.” The tall, sturdy man placed a platter of thinly sliced prosciutto and provolone cheese onto the table, wiped his hand on his pants then took my own without asking and pumped it once. “How are ya? I’m Sammy.”

“Hi,” was my polite reply.

Ettore’s brows rose in surprise. “She went looking for a gun?”

Well, great. Now I had a target on my head.

I don’t know what possessed me, but with the children safely seated in the next room, I couldn’t seem to help myself from clearing my throat and muttering, “Well, if she still needs one, tell her I know a guy.”

And, Gods of Hell, the silence that followed my very bad joke was brutal.

My neck burned, my cheeks flamed, and then I was just about to apologize when Nunzio Scala began to chuckle. Sandro followed close behind. Then Sammy and Tino joined in. Giada didn’t laugh, but her eyes did. And soon, the entire table – apart from Daniele – was laughing.

Fighting the urge to throw up, I made eye contact with Ettore and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

He looked at me for a long moment in confusion, as if he couldn’t figure me out. And then, to my shock, I watched as his eyes softened and his lip twitched. I guess my apology was accepted because he reached across the table, picked up a bottle of red wine and poured a little into my empty glass.