Celeste;
"Good morning, miss, your presence is being requested downstairs for breakfast."
Puffing my cheeks, I reply, "Alright, I'll be down in five."
The door clicks as the servant exits, my gaze falling to the lock.
Sighing exasperatedly, I roll off my messy mattress, slipping my feet into my flip-flops and heading downstairs to acknowledge my summon.
Partially nervous if it's the Don's order.
I mean, the way things spiraled, of course he'd want to give me a severe interrogation of his own. I don't even know where my stance is in his thoughts.
I'll have to proceed with caution.
Taking the turn and approaching, my pace subconsciously slows.
At the large table with multiple chairs, only my fiancé sits, busy scrolling through his phone and leaning against the upholstery.
He seems really focused on Mafia business and whatnot.
As usual, in his black suit, slacks, and shiny polished wingtips, his form regal and sophisticated.
"Good morning," a cheerful smile replaces the dry look on my face.
Romano's gaze cuts to me. "Morning, Celeste. How are you?" he resumes scrolling.
Wow. "I'm fine," I take in the displayed meal before I reciprocate, "How are you?"
A slight lift in his lips, and that's all. "Same."
"Okay."
Why am I getting the impression he doesn't want to talk?
I sneak a peek at him, confirming from his expression if any of my escapades from last night have reached him.
But he appears neutral. Not the slightest speck of suspicion from him.
It seems the guard on watch hasn't tattled yet—neither has the head maid.
It revives a sense of calm in me.
I focus on what's for breakfast—chicken lasagna with risotto, bruschetta, and a side of caprese salad drizzled with olive oil and basil.
My mouth instantly waters.
And then I remember, "Uh, the servant said you sent for me?" Because he's the only one present at this point, so it has to be him.
"Oh, yeah, I did," he cuts me an easy smile and slides a box over to me on the table.
My eyes light up seeing what it is. "Oh my…" with a hand hovering around my mouth, I gasp, unable to contain the fluttering joy.
Biting down on my lips to rein in the emotion, I reach out and grab it from the dining table.
It's an iPhone.
At this point, my insides are bursting with a prickling sense of happiness. So much so I shoot up from my seat and fly over to his, my arms around his neck in an excited vice.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Romano," I shriek.
His hand slides around my lower back, resting at my waist as I lower into his lap.
"It's been weeks since I lost my phone, and I…" Words can't describe the bubbling sensation riding me right now.
He's smiling at me. "You're welcome."
"Really, Romano, I'm really grateful, I thought…" I let the words hang—not because of the tension lodged in my throat, but the reason for it.
Caruso prowls forward in a heavy gait, his gaze stuck on me…us. His boots strike marble as he strides in our direction.
And suddenly, I feel heat surging in my body. As if I'm caught doing something wrong.
Which almost makes me slap myself upside the head when I recall I was, in fact, doing the wrong thing last night. With him.
Though not in that regard. But it was still so goddamned wrong.
Romano catches the shift and throws his head over his shoulder to spot Caruso approaching, his hand subconsciously tightening around me.
"Morning, brother." Caruso deadpans as he strides past, grabbing an apple on his way and heading right out.
Not without me catching the hard set of his jawline.
As though he'd wanted to have a peaceful breakfast, and his brother and I had ruined it.
I can't tell Romano's expression as he watches his brother's back—the man's moods and thoughts have been unnecessarily difficult to decipher.
However, he looks slightly tense.
It's the wrong timing, but an idea springs forth in my mind, just watching Caruso snatch an apple off the bunch stacked on the table.
And here I was, worrying about how to deal with a head maid. The solution just delivered itself on a platter.
A faint beam fights its way onto my lips.
Romano slides his eyes down to me, lips tugging as usual—but now I see it as the façade it is.
I let the excitement brim in my gaze. Of course, I'm not just happy because of the mere fact of getting a mobile phone. It makes my operation here easier.
I obviously couldn't have gotten one under their noses, could I?
"You like it?" that rich masculine baritone of his slips out soft and gentle.
I bob my head profusely. "I do."
"Good. My number is already stored as an emergency contact. You can call me directly henceforth."
"That'll be great," I mutter, feeling my chest a little lighter.
Now realizing the compromising position we're in, I permit a reddish stain on my cheeks as I sheepishly mumble, "Sorry," while starting to lift myself from him.
"There's no need, Celeste," a rumble echoes from his chest in slow laughter. "By the weekend, we'll be officially married. Piccola Mia."
He still doesn't stop me.
WHAT?!
On my feet now, I sway from the impact the news has on me—though he only sees it as me losing my balance. He steadies me.
"So soon?" it spills out before I can even plan the statement, my irises dilating. I try my best to curb my reaction before Romano notices.
"Actually, yes," he affirms. "Having second thoughts?"
He asks calmly, but I swear I spot the green in his eyes darken.
Clenching hard onto my new iPhone, I gulp through the tight noose around my neck. "No," I wheeze out.
He pins me with an undecipherable stare for a while before his thin, fleshy lips break into a slow, gentle smile. "Good."
"It's Father's idea, anyway. So I'm sorry if you feel uncomfortable with how fast it is."
No trace of that disconcerting expression from earlier. Only the usual, kind Romano. And I almost fall for it.
"Oh, since it's your father's choice, then...there's nothing to be done. It's fine."
He nods. "Thank you for understanding."
I manage to plaster on a shaky smile. But I feel that isn't all. The way his thick eyebrows scrunch tells me so.
And here it comes—
"Also, there's going to be an engagement party before we go to the bureau to get our marriage certificates."
Of course. Parties. It's always parties with these fellows.
Romano is looking at me, perhaps in a bid to gauge something from me.
But I sure as fuck won't give anything away.
Not until I'm done with this fucking family.
So I maintain my tilted lips as I spout coherent, out-of-context shit, "Romano, my door lock is bad."