by Mandy Rosko
Isla looked over the shoes and the dress that she’d worn to the hockey game. There was no way she could wear those to a dinner with her family, not after they’d seen her and Arturo necking in that dress.
She set the clothes aside and looked through the rest of her luggage. She’d purchased some pretty sundresses when she’d gone out with Jane. She wasn’t wearing the dress she had on right now either. Meeting up with her parents in the dress that she’d had amazing sex in didn’t exactly seem right either.
Okay, so the white one with the red and black flowers on it. That was pretty and casual enough, but still looked good enough to be worn in a fancy place.
She hoped. She had no idea what Arturo had in mind, or where he was going to take them all for their dinner.
Where could he possibly want to take her parents? Isla was more worried about people looking at her parents, eating with Arturo Calendri, and knowing what was up.
The average person wouldn’t know Isla’s family or Arturo, but all the fanciest, most expensive restaurants fed the richest people in the city—business people, the sort of people who knew who the Calendris and the Kings were. Well, mostly the Calendris. That murder trial had put the family on the map for a long time.
It was their opinions that Isla was worried about. Would they think her parents were meeting up with Arturo to beg for the company back? She didn’t mind doing a little begging in private, but she really didn’t want anyone to see her doing it in public, or to assume that’s what her parents were doing, which they definitely were not.
Or just as bad, would they think Isla was doing, well, exactly what she was doing? Selling herself to get the company? She liked to think she was strong enough to handle the words of strangers, and she could to a certain extent, but if the entire city thought she was whoring herself out, that was different. That wasn’t one or two, or a dozen people… that was an entire city.
Isla sighed, looked herself over in the mirror with the dress on, even though she’d tried it on in the store already, and decided that after she did her hair and found a respectable pair of heels, this would definitely be the dress she wore to dinner with her parents.
She just had to call them now.
She called her mom first. Her dad had been the most disappointed and angry—after her grandfather—and though he’d calmed down since then, she wanted to talk to her mom.
Thankfully, her mother picked up on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Mom, hey, it’s me.”
“Isla? Oh, baby, it’s good to finally hear from you.”
Her mother didn’t sound angry or disappointed, and that took a load of pressure off Isla. She’d already spoken to her parents a couple of times, but that was mostly in text. Every time she heard her mother’s voice, things got a little easier for her to handle. Her mother wasn’t disowning her, that was for sure.
“I know, sorry, things have just been busy around here with Arturo,” she said.
His name had come easily from her lips. It probably shouldn’t have, but it did. She felt bad because it was easier to lie than admit she’d been nervous, but she hoped her mother would forgive her.
That was about when her mother started to sound a little uncomfortable. “Oh, I see. How is… everything?”
“Great!” Isla said, going for making everything seem over-the-top amazing. Here was where she did lie on purpose, because she didn’t think Arturo wanted her telling her mother about all the terrible things his father had been doing to get out of prison.
That reminded her, she was going to have to ask Arturo how things had gone when his father had seen the hockey game and watched his son kissing the granddaughter of the man he hated.
“Isla?”
“Yeah, um, anyway, I was calling to let you know that Arturo is finished with work, and he wants to take you and Dad out somewhere nice. A date, I guess. You both with him and me.”
“A date?”
“Yeah, something fun, I think. I know he wants to impress Dad at least.”
That much was only slightly true. Arturo just wanted to give off the impression that he wanted to impress her father, only so Isla’s parents wouldn’t be too worried about what Arturo Calendri was doing with their little girl.
“Well, that certainly sounds nice,” her mother said. “When is it?”
“Tonight at seven. I know it’s short notice, but he really wants to take you out. Do you think you can do it?”
“I suppose so. I’ll speak to your father. Where does Arturo want to go?”
Shit. “I’m not too sure, but it might be somewhere fancy. I’m picking out a dress right now.”
And getting the one she’d just had sex in washed. She didn’t want it to smell like musk in the remote vicinity as her mother—her mother who was still a virgin and never had sex, of course, because that was too horrifying to even contemplate.
“Well, all right. I’ll speak to your father, but I think we’re free.”
“Great.” Isla was stunned at her own relief. “I’ll see you tonight then.”
Her mother sounded like she was smiling, probably because of how happy Isla sounded about this whole thing. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“I love you. Talk to you later.”
“I love you, too,” her mother replied, and then hung up.
Isla stared at her phone, smiling wide and not even really knowing why. She was happy about this. She shouldn’t be so happy about getting her mother to believe she and Arturo were doing more than just fucking each other for a company.
It felt almost like she was actually getting ready to introduce a real boyfriend. That wasn’t right either. Couldn’t be right. So what was she so damned happy about?
She shook her head. She’d been in this room for too long; she needed to get out of here, maybe grab some lunch.
Isla sent off a quick text to Jane, letting her know about her date. There wasn’t a reply back, which made sense. Jane would be working this time of day, whether it was writing or her full-time job, she’d still have her phone off.
Either way, Isla wanted to send her an update. She checked herself over in the mirror, making sure her dress looked good, and then went to grab some lunch.
She was hoping to run into Arturo, maybe find out what his problem was and what had him changing his moods so suddenly.
She didn’t expect to overhear Orlando and Sebastian arguing with each other.
“They’re our brothers. They didn’t have anything to do with—”
“You’re not exactly innocent when it comes to what he did, so don’t pretend you had nothing to do with it.”
Isla stopped and stayed in the hallway. She didn’t enter the kitchen and couldn’t even see who was in there from where she stood. Orlando and Sebastian might be the only two people in there for all she knew.
“I had nothing to do with it,” Orlando said. “Neither did Arturo and Silvio. That was all our… Vincenzio.”
“You were about to say our father, weren’t you?” Orlando said nothing to that, and Sebastian let out a disbelieving snort. “Unbelievable.”
“It was a habit. I don’t actually think of him like that. Not anymore.”
Isla should probably go. This wasn’t any of her business, and it wasn’t even remotely right that she could hear any of this.
But she couldn’t help herself. She stayed. The curiosity inside of her was almost like a driving need. She already knew so much about the Calendri family, but still not enough.
Sebastian was blaming Orlando for missing his parents’ funeral? Martina had mentioned this, but now Isla was hearing about it.
“Yeah right. You’re the weakest, most pathetic of them all, you know that?”
“Shut up,” Orlando snapped.
“They shit on you for your entire childhood, and don’t think I don’t know that Vincenzio’s wife didn’t make you wish for a nice foster home. You should be glad that bitch is dead.”
“Well, I’m not glad and I am not we
ak!” Orlando snapped.
Isla really froze then. She’d never heard him sound so enraged. He was always so calm and collected.
Martina’s voice entered the conversation. “Both of you stop it! You’re brothers!”
“I’m not his brother and he’s not mine. None of you are.”
“Then why do you keep coming back here, huh?” Orlando snapped.
A couple of staff members hurried out of the kitchen, glancing back behind them like they were scared mice or something. They noticed Isla, but barely.
“Oh, and me coming here has nothing to do with you constantly inviting me?” Sebastian demanded. “Like you think we can all be some great big, happy family or something. There’s something wrong with you.”
“I never actually put a gun to your head. If you don’t want to be here, then don’t come here, invite or no.”
“Maybe I just want to make sure you’re still nice and happy with your half-brothers, still kissing up to them for a job. You have as much right to be pissed off as I do, but you still hang around here like a leech instead of making something for yourself.”
Orlando said nothing to that, and Isla actually started to shake a little. The anger and tension in the kitchen was so thick and heavy she could feel it from all the way over here. She didn’t want to feel this anymore. She didn’t want them to have to feel this either. It was all so horrible.
But then Orlando was storming out of the kitchen, fists clenched, and his normally kind and handsome face in a perpetual scowl.
And then, of course, he immediately noticed her standing there.
The accusation in his voice was cutting. “Where you listening this whole time?”
“I… no, I… I mean, I heard, but I came to get something to eat, and you were both yelling.”
“So you were listening?” Orlando said, not about to let her off the hook.
Sebastian came out next, his arms crossed, and at the sight of Isla, a smile formed on his mouth. “Well, this is just great. Arturo’s plaything sticking her nose in where it doesn’t belong. Why am I not shocked?”
Martina stood behind Sebastian. She covered her mouth with her hands when she saw who they were talking to.
“I….” Isla looked to Orlando, feeling like he was the one she owed the most apology to. “I did hear. I’m sorry. I should’ve left.”
“You should have,” Orlando said, and then he glared at Sebastian. “I won’t invite you over anymore, so don’t worry about being bothered.”
Sebastian shook his head. “You keep thinking you’re doing me a favor, but I’m trying to save you here. You’re the one who lets them walk all over you. You’re just too cowed to see it.”
Orlando, honest to God, looked like he wanted to punch his brother. He really did.
“Sebastian.” Martina put her hands on Sebastian’s shoulders, but he yanked himself away.
“Don’t fucking touch me. You’re worse than they are!”
Martina flinched, and the silence was thicker than their yelling had been. Sebastian shook his head, glaring at all of them, especially Isla.
“I did you a huge favor and told you exactly why Arturo brought you to that game, and you’re still here. It’s insane how women will whore themselves out and forget about their dignity for a little money.”
That stung. A lot. Isla said nothing to it, though. It wasn’t like she had a string of comebacks for something like that.
Sebastian shook his head, not bothering to hide how disgusted with the lot of them he was as he walked away from them.
32
Isla didn’t think it could get any more awkward after that. She, Orlando, and Martina were all silent, while Orlando still looked incredibly angry.
Pissed off was more like it. She didn’t know the man so well, but she’d also never seen him look like that before.
Everyone had a temper, and everyone could only be pushed so far, she supposed.
“Orlando, seriously, I am sorry,” Isla said. She wasn’t here to make enemies, or to make anyone else’s life harder, especially not Orlando or Arturo. Not even for Silvio, and she’d only seen his face once before. She didn’t even want to make Sebastian miserable, though he probably deserved it since he was an asshole.
There was something about this family that pulled at her, made her want to… not protect them, that didn’t make any sense, but at least ease some of the pain.
Orlando shook his head. “Forget about it. Martina, are you okay?”
His voice noticeably softened for the other woman, as did his expression.
For the first time, Isla took note that Martina was trembling slightly. The look on her face, the way her eyes shone… Isla was gutted at the sight.
Martina sucked in a deep breath, shook her head, and turned to leave without saying another word.
“Martina,” Orlando called, but she didn’t stop.
She did, however, call back behind her. “I am very well, Orlando. I will go into the kitchen, and I will bring you something hot to drink, yes?”
Orlando didn’t say another word. Isla got the feeling that was only because he figured Martina wouldn’t come back.
Isla knew why. She knew the look of a woman who wanted to cry in private. Martina was very clearly not the sort of woman to just sob when there were people around her.
Isla opened her mouth to say something, anything, but then shut it again before more than a tiny croak could come out.
Orlando looked at her questioningly, but she just looked away from him.
Too embarrassing. That was too embarrassing. What the hell did she think she was going to say that would make all of this better? She was an interloper here.
But she still had to say something. “I’m sure she’ll be all right,” Isla said.
And because she was that pathetic, it came out sounding a lot more like a question than a statement.
Orlando rubbed his hair and shook his head. “She’s… Martina is as good as my mother. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.”
“I… are you going to invite Sebastian back here?”
“No,” Orlando said, and then gave her a curious look before he too walked off.
In Martina’s direction. Isla wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to do, other than try to comfort the woman he’d just described as being like a mother.
* * *
And so, Isla went on a spectacular adventure where she stayed in her room until it was time for her to come out and have dinner with Arturo and her parents.
Yeah, it had been kind of boring whenever she tried to put out of her mind what she’d walked in on.
She didn’t even text Jane because it was too embarrassing. She didn’t know what to say, and she only knew that whatever she said would just have Jane coming back with support, telling her things like how it wasn’t her fault and it was an accident. Basically, being a good friend.
Isla didn’t need that.
Also, there was a lot of forehead smacking going on on her part. Why did she have to stand there? What the hell was wrong with her?
She could hardly work on any of her jewelry projects. She’d barely scratched out a couple of earring sketches when she’d looked up at her clock and saw that it was less than an hour before she had to go and meet her parents.
At least she was already in her dress.
She got up, grabbed her clutch purse and put on her heels before rushing out her door.
She pulled out her phone and sent Arturo a text that she was heading down to the foyer.
She hoped she wouldn’t run into Orlando or Silvio in that time, but part of her thought that by now they would’ve gone back to their own homes.
She’d almost made it to the foyer when her phone buzzed. A message from Arturo.
Already here.
He was?
Isla rounded the corner and found him standing by the door. He was leaning against the wall beside it, actually.
Martina was with him. Her eyes briefly g
lanced up to look at Isla, but Isla was the first to turn away. Yeah, she was still feeling the heat of the embarrassment for listening in on their earlier conversation.
Arturo was flicking his thumb over the screen of his iPhone, but then he looked up at her, smiled, and pocketed it. He stood straight, his smile lingering as Isla walked down the stairs.
She held onto the polished mahogany railing as she descended. The sense of self-consciousness flooded her. She couldn’t really describe it or understand why it was there, but it definitely had something to do with the way Arturo looked at her and the way his eyes flicked down to the exposed length of her calves and ankles.
His eyes lingered on her shoes for an extra couple of seconds, and Isla was very aware of the clicking sounds her heels made against the tile when she left the carpet and walked toward him.
“See something you like?” she asked, smiling and giving a little playful twirl.
“Something,” Arturo said as he looked down again, his grin widening.
She had to admit she liked this. “I have to say that I’ve never dated a man who looked down at my feet instead of my boobs.”
“Why? Do you hate it when men look at your boobs?” Arturo was definitely now looking at her boobs. “That dress and bra make them look really… pronounced. Why do that if you don’t want people to look?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I never said I didn’t want people to look. When you see this sort of cleavage—” she pointed at her chest “—it’s because I want someone to look, but why are you looking down at my feet?”
Isla hadn’t gone for slutty cleavage, but it was a good, flirty amount, still appropriate for a date that she’d be sharing with her parents, but she hadn’t thought in a million years that Arturo would be paying this much attention to her feet.
“It’s not your feet; it’s the heels.”
“You want to wear them?” she asked.
“Cute,” Arturo grunted. “No, they just make your legs look nice.”
Ah, it had almost slipped her mind that he liked a woman in heels. Apparently, it was more than just a little bit of a fixation for him.
“That’s because you’ve been too busy bending me, uh….” Isla stopped smiling and looked over at Martina. She’d totally forgotten that the woman was even standing there. She’d totally zoned in on Arturo in their conversation.
