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“And why the fuck do you have connections in the Yakuza?”

Where Roman has done an excellent job at winning over my mother, it seems every word out of his mouth makes my father trust him less.

“Because I used to run with the Yakuza,” Roman answers honestly. “It’s not a secret.”

Ah. My father was trying to trip him up.

“Dad, Roman’s talking a lot of sense. What happened to me was because of Alto, and if he’s manipulating things, then cutting him out has to be a good step. At least dealing directly with them will?—”

“I don’t need you to tell me how to run this family,” he snaps, cutting me off. “What I need is for you to prove why I should trust anything that comes out of his mouth. Once a Gatti, always a Gatti.”

“Enzo!” Bianca snaps, slamming her wine glass down on the table. “Don’t be so rude!”

“It’s honesty,” he replies sharply. “Anything we talk about here will be reported back to his scumbag of a father, and I won’t have it.”

“He is our guest!” Bianca snaps again.

“I’m here for Jasmine,” Roman says calmly, his hand tightening reflexively against my thigh. “I understand your distrust?—”

“No, you don’t.” Enzo drains his glass. “What kind of cunt puts a man in such a position that he might lose his child, and then lies to his face and accepts a thank you when he’s the one that caused the danger in the first place, hm? How many years since he had Jasmine snatched, and he sat happy in his fucking castle. I should have crushed him when I had the chance because there is nothing worthwhile about any kind of Gatti.”

“Then why did you want them to get married?!” Biance slams both hands down on the table and rises out of her seat.

My heart punches up into my chest and the confession floods to the tip of my tongue. I need to tell her it was my idea, but before I can, my father also rises out of his own seat.

“Because the easiest way to get closer to that fucker is to lure him in with an engagement! He won’t dare retaliate because we all know the Mancinis and every other family is watching us like a hawk because the merging of both our families makes us big. And I want that. I want the people and the power. I want a seat at that fucking table. So yes, they will get married, but mark my words, Santino’s days are numbered!”

“You’re doing all of this because you want to sit at the big table?” Wine makes my mother’s temper flare, and in a flash, she’s yelling just as loudly as my father.

“Don’t act like you don’t. You’re obsessed with their bullshit parties and fancy dinners. I see how much you want to be a part of that world, so I’m doing this for you as much as for me!”

I remain silent. What point is there to me telling the truth? My father is so convinced that it really was his idea, I’m not even sure he will listen. Rather than engage, I take Roman’s hand and pull him from the table. He follows me without a word, and we remain silent until we’re in the garden and the warm night air blows away any lingering remnants of the argument.

“Wow,” Roman murmurs. “That was…”

“Are your family dinners not that eventful?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Damn. You’re missing out.”

He snorts softly and squeezes my hand as we walk down a slabbed path lined with half-asleep flowers and silvery nightlights. “Are you alright?”

“Me?” I glance up at him, squinting slightly as we pass under a low-hanging garden light. “I’m fine. My parents argue like that all the time.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm. My Mom is…she’s medicated. And when she’s not medicated, she’s really floaty and not really in reality, if that makes sense. So when something makes her happy, like dress shopping, dinner, and parties, we let her go wild. But sometimes she explodes like that, and my father has the same kind of temper.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No, my mother will forget this in a few hours.”

“I’m more concerned that I’m about to marry a woman who will become so floaty I’ll be having dinner parties every other week.”

“Oh!” I laugh softly and shake my head. “No, I’m fine. I take after my father, mostly.”

“Ah. So you’re a firecracker.”