Page 14 of Ruined By Protection (Feretti Syndicate #5)

Evelyn waves dismissively. "Please, we used to change in front of each other all the time at summer camp. Remember the summer we shared that tiny cabin by the lake?"

The memory brings a small smile to my face despite everything. Evelyn and I had been inseparable that summer, staying up late whispering secrets and giggling until the counselors threatened to separate us.

"I remember," I say softly.

Before I can argue further Evelyn plops down on the bed, clearly not planning to leave. With a resigned sigh I turn my back to her and pull my T-shirt over my head, trying to be quick about it.

I hear her sharp intake of breath.

"Hazel..."

I freeze, shirt clutched against my chest.

"It's nothing," I say automatically, the lie bitter on my tongue.

I hurriedly reach for the dress but Evelyn is already touching my shoulder. I turn and her eyes widen as she takes in the fingerprint bruises on my upper arms, the yellowish marks on my ribs from last week.

"Oh my God," she whispers.

Shame burns through me. I hate that she's seeing me like this—broken, marked. I try to cover myself with the dress but it's too late.

"He did this to you." It's not a question.

I nod, unable to meet her eyes.

"I'm not going to make you talk about it," Evelyn says, her voice steady despite the anger I can feel radiating from her. "But when you're ready, I'm here. Anytime. Day or night."

She helps me into the dress, her movement gentle, careful not to press any of my bruises. The dress fits perfectly, the dark green fabric falling just past my knees.

"You look beautiful," she says, and I can hear the effort it takes to keep her voice light. "Let me do your makeup?"

I nod, grateful for her understanding, for not pushing me to talk when the wounds—both physical and emotional—are still so raw.

Evelyn links her arm through mine as we make our way down the grand staircase. My heart plunders my insides with each step. I've spent the last two years playing the perfect wife at Elliott's business dinners but something tells me this will be entirely different.

"You'll be fine," Evelyn whispers, sensing my anxiety. "Just be yourself."

"My 'self' is currently a nervous wreck," I mutter back.

She squeezes my arm. "They don't bite. Well, except maybe Enzo."

I shoot her a horrified look and she laughs.

"I'm kidding! Mostly."

We follow the sound of voices to a large dining room dominated by a long mahogany table. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over the space, illuminating artwork. The room falls quiet as we enter and six pairs of eyes turn toward us.

"Everyone," Evelyn announces, "this is my cousin, Hazel."

A man rises from the head of the table. He's tall with dark wavy hair and intense brown eyes that seem to evaluate everything they see. His presence fills the room, commanding attention without effort.

"Welcome to our home, Hazel," he says, his voice deep and carrying a hint of an Italian accent. "I'm Damiano Feretti."

So this is the don. Despite his welcoming words there's something about him that makes me want to take a step back.

"Thank you for having me," I manage, my voice steadier than I feel.

Beside Damiano a blonde woman stands and approaches me with a warm smile that transforms her beautiful face. She's slender but strong-looking, with bright green eyes that crinkle at the corners.

"I'm Zoe," she says, taking my hands in hers. "We're glad you're here."

There's genuine kindness in her eyes and I feel some of the tension leave my shoulders.

Lucrezia bounces up next, her dark hair swinging. "We've already met but officially—I'm Lucrezia Feretti." She kisses my cheek. "That dress is perfect on you."

My eyes drift to the man seated beside where Lucrezia was sitting. He's massive, with a buzz cut and steely blue eyes that miss nothing. His hands rest on the table and I notice small scars criss-crossing his knuckles.

"Daniel," he says with a curt nod, not bothering to stand.

Evelyn guides me further into the room to where Noah waits with a small smile.

Next to him sits a man who can only be Enzo Feretti.

The family resemblance to Damiano is clear, though Enzo's features are sharper, more predatory.

His hazel eyes darken as they flick over me, assessing, before returning to the woman beside him.

"Enzo," he introduces himself simply, his voice a low rumble. His arm lies possessively around the waist of a slender woman with long dark hair and crystal blue eyes.

"I'm Sienna," she says softly.

I search the room for Matteo, but he's nowhere to be seen.

"Please, sit," Damiano says, gesturing to an empty chair between Evelyn and Lucrezia.

I slide into the seat, grateful for the friendly buffer on either side. The table is set with fine china and crystal glasses that catch the light. Three different forks line the left side of each plate and I suddenly worry about using the wrong one, trying to recall my hotel training.

"Matteo will be joining us shortly," Damiano says to Enzo, as if reading my thoughts. "He had to take a call."

My stomach flips at the mention of his name. I reach for my water glass, needing something to do with my hands.

"So, Hazel," Zoe says, her voice gentle but direct, "Evelyn tells us you're from Austin?"

"Yes," I answer, setting down my glass. "Born and raised."

"I've never been," Lucrezia chimes in. "Is it as weird as they say?"

A small laugh escapes me. "Parts of it, yes. But it's a beautiful city."

"And what did you do there?" Enzo asks, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

"I was a bartender," I say, deciding honesty is my best approach. "At The Remington Hotel."

Sienna tilts her head slightly. "Was?"

I swallow hard. "Yes. I... got married. My husband didn't want me working."

A heavy silence falls over the table. I can feel their eyes on me, searching for the things I'm not saying.

"And now you're here," Damiano states, his gaze intense.

"Yes."

Before he can ask anything else, the dining room door opens and Matteo strides in. His dark eyes immediately find mine and for a second I forget how to breathe. He's wearing a tailored navy suit that emphasizes his broad shoulders, and his face is set in hard lines.

"Sorry I'm late," he says, taking the empty seat across from me. "Security issue at the casino."

"Nothing serious, I hope," Damiano says.

Matteo shakes his head. "Nothing we can't handle."