Page 11 of Bitter Poetry

“Yeah,” Jero says. “That’s a shame.”

CHAPTER 5

CARMELA

When I enter the dining room, my sister is sitting at one end of the table, and Dante is sitting on the opposite side beside my mother.

It’s not unusual for him to be here to visit Papa. Sometimes he joins us for a meal—this is not the first time I’ve found him talking to my mother while waiting on my father.

He smiles. “Morning, Carmela.”

“Morning,” I say. A flush creeps up my cheeks. I busy myself pouring a juice.

My graduation party is still fresh in my mind, where, later in the evening, I found out that the swimwear model had been kicked out. Jessica is in full conspiracy theory mode and convinced the woman is either his stalker or mistress who doesn’t know she’s supposed to keep a low profile.

My sister smirks at me like she is planning something. I throw her a look that says,don’t embarrass me.

“You look a little tired, Carmela,” my mother says as I take the seat next to my sister.

I mentally roll my eyes. I tossed on jeans and a T-shirt, put my hair in a messy bun, and have zero makeup on. Worse, I’m wearing flats, which I rarely do, and never when I know Dante is visiting.

“She’s been busy looking into college course options,” my mother adds, turning to Dante, perhaps realizing that she’s just drawn attention to my state of disarray.

“Have you decided on anything yet?” he asks.

“No,” I reply.

An awkward silence follows. Was I supposed to offer more? I’m caught somewhere between wanting to stab him with my fork, and acute jitters.

“And how is your brother?” my mother asks Dante. “We haven’t seen him in a while.”

Did Jessica just snicker?

Before Dante can answer, the door from the kitchen swings open, and a flustered Nina enters. “Sorry to interrupt you, Mrs. Accardi. Your driver was looking for you, said you had an appointment, and had asked him to take you.”

“Oh, I completely forgot,” my mother says, rising from her chair. We have a no cell in the dining room rule at my father’s insistence. My mother refuses to own a cell, either way. It’s not the first time she’s been reminded of an engagement. “My apologies, Dante. I must go. See you later, girls. Behave, Jessica.”

“Why doesn’t she tell you to behave?” Jessica mutters the moment the door closes.

“Because she knows I’m good,” I reply tartly.

Dante chuckles but covers it by taking a sip of his coffee.

“She’s obsessed with you,” my sister says, staring directly at Dante.

Heat floods my cheeks. What the hell? My eyes swing from my sister to Dante and back again.

“Sexy Dante,” she purrs in an exaggerated Italian accent that perfectly replicates Nina.

Dante chokes on his coffee.

God, kill me now. Jessica has long had a thing for accents and often throws out the ‘Sexy Dante’ quip just to get a rise out of me. Still, I wasn’t expecting her to actually say it in front of him despite her numerous threats to do exactly that. “She overheard…” I cut myself off, not wanting to get our maid in trouble. “Someone saying…” I wince. Now it sounds like it was me and not the damn maid. “She doesn’t even know what she’s talking about.”

“I know more than you.” She smirks and turns to Dante. “She wants to twerk for you while naked.”

“She?” Dante asks, brows raised, and lips curved up on one side.

“Nina,” Jessica says, popping a fresh strawberry into her mouth and munching contentedly. “She said she would share you with another maid because you were too much of a man for one of them to handle.”