Page 149 of Pietro

She nods slowly, then straightens in her chair. The vulnerability disappears behind that polished exterior. "Well. At least there's good news tonight."

"The best news," Vittoria agrees.

Aria takes another sip of wine, her gaze settling on me again. "So, Nora. When are you and my son getting married?"

Nico chokes on his water.

Lorenzo starts laughing.

I freeze, my brain stuttering over the words. "I—what?"

"Marriage." Aria says it like it's the most natural question in the world. "Surely you've discussed it. A Don needs a wife. That's how things operate."

I turn to Pietro.

He's got his head down, two fingers pinched against the bridge of his nose. The picture of disappointment.

"Mamma." His voice is tight. "Nora is still young. We're not discussing things like that here."

"Why not?" Aria waves her hand dismissively. "You're together, aren't you? She's living in your penthouse. Working at your side. The family already knows?—"

"She's twenty-three," Pietro cuts in. "And we've been together for two months. Can we not do this now?"

Lorenzo leans forward, grinning like the devil. "Mammahas a point though. A Don does need a wife. It's tradition."

"Vaffanculo,"

Lorenzo just laughs harder.

I'm still frozen in my chair. Marriage. She's talking about marriage like it's inevitable. Like I'm already part of this family.

"I'm just saying," Aria continues, completely unbothered by Pietro's cursing, "that these things should be considered. Planned properly. A Sartori wedding is an important event."

"Mamma." Pietro's voice drops to that dangerous tone. "Enough."

"I'm only thinking of the family."

"The family is fine."

"Is it?" Aria raises an eyebrow.

"I said enough."

The table goes quiet.

I stare at my plate, my face burning. This is mortifying. Completely mortifying.

Nico clears his throat. When I glance up, he's watching me with an unreadable expression. Then he does something unexpected.

He nods. Just a small tilt of his head. Acknowledgment.

It's not approval. Nico is far from liking me. But it's something. A tiny gesture that saysI see you're uncomfortable and I'm not going to pile on.

"Well," Giulia says brightly from the doorway. "Who wants dessert?"

"Sì," Vittoria says quickly. "Dessert sounds perfect."

The tension breaks slightly as Giulia disappears into the kitchen.