Page 61 of Redeemed (Dirty Air 4)

“I don’t want to be filmed anymore. I’d rather stay away from any kind of attention like that.” Santiago’s fists clench under the table.

“I don’t like the attention either.” I clutch onto his fist closest to me and force his fingers apart. They intertwine with mine, and he holds them to his thigh. The intimate gesture feels so right that it scares me.

“Obviously Santiago’s been hiding you from the world. I’ve never seen you before,” Giovanni says.

“Just how I like it.” Santiago’s hand tightens around mine, cutting off all circulation. Ouch.

Giovanni’s gaze moves from me to Santiago. “Do you think you’ll ever go back?”

“G

io…Smettila.” Matteo frowns at his son.

This night is going terribly wrong, and I don’t know how to stop it. Santiago cuts off any hope of blood circulation to my hand.

I clear my throat. “Giovanni, Matteo told me you’re finishing up your degree at a university in Milan. How do you like it?”

My brother stares at me with a raised brow. “It’s fun and I have lots of friends.”

“That’s great. I always saw happy students when I passed by NYU on my way to work. What’s it like?” My head bobs enthusiastically.

Santiago tilts his head at me, his eyes scanning my face. The weight of his attention is the equivalent of having hot coals run over my skin.

“You didn’t get a degree?” Matteo frowns at me.

I shake my head. “No. I had other priorities sadly. But I accepted that some people aren’t meant for college.”

“My uncle said the same thing.” Giovanni laughs.

“And look how he ended up.” Matteo’s eyes narrow at his son.

Okay, I’m guessing Matteo’s brother is a sore subject. I try not to pay much attention to the contempt in Matteo’s voice about not attending college, but it’s easier said than done. The icky feeling takes over, making me feel lesser than because I don’t have an expensive degree.

Those kinds of opportunities aren’t for people like me. They’re for those with money or people who can afford lost time and countless loans.

It’s like a thundercloud rolled in over my head, darkening my mood.

As if sensing the shift, Santiago releases my hand. I attempt to pull it back but he traps it against his thigh. His index finger drags across my knuckles, sweeping over the goosebumps spreading across my skin.

I don’t know what to concentrate on anymore—his touch or the bomb of a conversation with my family. I decide on the latter and gesture to my knife with my left hand.

Santiago huffs and releases my hand from his sensual torture. He smiles at the show I make of stretching my fingers. “Giovanni, what are you studying?”

“Engineering.” Matteo answers for him as he sits taller in his seat, preening like a proud peacock about his son.

“Oh, that’s awesome. What kind?” I pluck my glass of wine from the table and take a sip.

“Mechanical. I’m interested in working in the racing industry.” Giovanni’s gaze moves from me to Santiago again.

Oh, boy. Here we go again. His tampered down infatuation was fun while it lasted. Someone needs to teach my brother the art of not coming on too strong. I don’t want to imagine him picking up women in a bar.

The conversation turns toward racing and cars again. Giovanni steers clear of asking Santiago anything too personal, focusing more on his car collection and other hobbies he enjoys like boating.

Matteo and Giovanni seem to forget I sit beside their favorite racer. Santiago attempts over and over to include me, answering in a way that should bring their attention back to me. Nothing works.

I hate the look of concern Santiago sends my way. It’s one I’ve spent my entire life seeing on everyone else’s faces. He might as well call me out on being the poor foster kid who found her family, only to realize they’re not interested in me at all. Trust me, I see it. I don’t need Santiago’s awareness adding to my embarrassment. It’s obvious Matteo didn’t come here for me. He came to collect his “Dad of the Year” award after he introduced Giovanni to the next best thing since the invention of the iPhone.

Unease sits heavy in my gut, growing larger by the minute. Everything about this is fake—from my relationship with Santiago to Matteo coming here to spend time with me. It’s a sad fact to realize the most genuine thing here tonight is Giovanni’s infatuation. The uncomfortable thoughts batter against me.