Chapter 50 Family Dinner
ARYA’S POV
I stood in front of my bedroom mirror, smoothing down the emerald dress I had chosen for tonight.
The emerald color made me smile despite my nerves. It reminded me of that night at the courtyard and the first time Giovanni and I had really kissed.
But the smile faded quickly, replaced by a cold feeling in my chest.
Giovanni hadn't been around all day. Not when I had come back from gelato with Marco and Christabel, their laughter still ringing in my ears.
Not when I'd showered and changed, trying on three different dresses before settling on this one. There no text message to confirm tonight's plans.
And according to Matteo, he wouldn't be riding with me to the restaurant either. But he would "meet me there."
The distance felt deliberate, like he was reminding me of my place after yesterday's kisses and confessions in the kitchen.
I pressed my hand against my stomach, trying to calm the anxious flutter there.
Maybe I had read too much into his gesture of bringing my family here. Maybe it was just another move in whatever game he was playing.
I sighed, grabbed my clutch purse and walked out of the room.
Matteo was waiting at the bottom of the stairs when I came down, there were two other guards behind him.
"Is Giovanni already at the restaurant?" I asked, hating how tentative I sounded.
"He'll be there."
"But is he there now? Or…"
"He'll be there," Matteo repeated, his tone making it clear the conversation was over.
I forced a smile onmy face. "Of course. Thank you."
Outside, the driver opened the car door for me, and I slid into the back seat while Matteo took his place in the passenger seat.
The drive was silent except for the low murmur of Italian radio, and I spent the entire time staring out the window.
My family was already dressed and waiting in the hotel lobby when we arrived.
My mother looked stunning in a navy dress, my father in one of his expensive suits. Marco had opted for dress pants and a button-down shirt and Christabel was wearing a pink dress with a bow in her hair that made her look like a tiny princess.
"Arya!" She ran to me immediately, wrapping her arms around my waist. "You look so pretty!”
"So do you," I said, kissing the top of her head.
My mother hugged me next, her hands squeezing my shoulders as she searched my face for something. "Are you alright? You look tired."
"I'm fine, Mom. Just nervous about dinner."
"Where's De Santis?" my father asked, looking around the lobby like Giovanni might appear from thin air.
"He'll be here," I said, the words feeling rehearsed now. "He had some work to finish up."
"How considerate," my mother said dryly. "Making us wait while he conducts business. That's quite the attitude for him to have."
"Mom." I groaned.
"I'm just saying, Arya. If he's treating you poorly then-“
He's not," I interrupted, even though I wasn't entirely sure that was true. "Everything is fine. Can we just... can we please just have a nice dinner?"
Marco caught my eye and shrugged, a small smile playing at his lips.
And Matteo directed us through the hotel to a private restaurant tucked away on the top floor. When we entered, I realized that we were the only ones there.
The entire space which looked like it was easily able to seat fifty people, was empty except for our reservation.
I shot Matteo a questioning look, but he avoided my eyes. We moved to the table, each of us taking our seat.
Dad tactfully dismissed taking the head chair and sat two chairs down away from mine.
"Quite the power move," my father muttered, taking in the empty restaurant. "Buying out an entire establishment just to torment us. "
He stopped as the door behind us opened. Giovanni walked in, and my breath caught despite everything.
He was wearing a dark suit and his hair styled back away face his face, making him look older. His eyes swept over my family with barely concealed contempt before landing on me for the briefest moment.
There was no warmth there… just ice and I shivered in response.
"Mr. De Santis," my father snapped, his voice tight. "How kind of you to finally join us."
Giovanni didn't respond. He moved to the head of the table and sat down without even a nod in my direction.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
"Well," my mother said, her voice overly bright in that way she had when she was trying to salvage an awkward situation. "Shall we sit? The table is lovely, and I'm sure the food will be too."
"Let's skip the pleasantries," Giovanni said gruffly, his voice flat. "We all know why we're here."
"To have dinner with our daughter?" my mother responsed.
"To negotiate," Giovanni said, his eyes fixed on my father now. "Isn't that right, Robert? You didn't come all this way for a family reunion. You came to try to get her back."
My father's jaw tightened. "She's my daughter. Of course I want her back. You just took her away from us like a thug.”
"She's my wife now," Giovanni countered. "Legally bound to me or have you forgotten?"
My father scoffed and rolled his eyes. “A forced marriage doesn’t count as a real one under the eyes lf God.”
"Suddenly religious now, are you?" Giovanni leaned back in his chair. "I seem to recall you not acting like this when you massacred my family. Funny how people are... flexible with their morals."
My father scowled. "You son of a-"
"Dad, please," I interruptedquietly, my hands clenched in my lap. "Can we just eat and act normal."
"Arya, stay out of this," my father snapped, not taking his eyes off Giovanni.
Giovanni's lips curved into something that might have been a smile if it had held any warmth. "Yes, Arya. Stay out of this, the adults are talking."
The condescension in his tone made my blood boil, but I bit my tongue.
"I want my daughter released from this farce of a marriage," my father said. "Name your price. Whatever you want and I'll give it to you, just let her go."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then we have a problem."
Giovanni laughed. "Do we? Because from where I'm sitting, I'm the one holding all the cards. Your daughter is legally my wife. You're sitting in a hotel that I own, surrounded by my men. You came to my territory, on my terms, with my permission."
He stood up slowly, his eyes never leaving my father's face.
"In fact," he continued, his voice dropping to something deadly quiet, "I have over two hundred men in this hotel right now who could end all of you with just a word from me. Do you really want to threaten me?"
The room went so silent, I could hear my heart pounding in my ears.
"You wouldn't dare," my father said, but there was uncertainty in his voice now.
"Wouldn't I?" Giovanni's smile widened. "Try me."
"Giovanni," I said, standing up, my voice shaking with anger and hurt. "Stop this. They're my family. You can't just-"
"I can do whatever I want, Arya." He turned to me then, and the look in his eyes was so cold I took a step back. "Did you really think yesterday meant something?”
"You're not my wife," he continued, his voice cruel. "You're a bargaining chip. A tool I'm using to destroy your father and the sooner you accept that, the easier this will be for everyone."
Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. "You're a monster," I whispered.
"Yes," he agreed simply. "I am. I thought you'd figured that out by now."
He moved toward the door, then stopped and turned back to my family. "Enjoy your meal. It's been paid for. And enjoy this time with Arya, because it's the last you'll be getting for quite a while."
Then he looked at me. "We're leaving."
"No," I said, my voice stronger now. "I'm staying with my family."
"Arya."
"I said no!" I was shouting now. "You brought them here, you arranged this dinner, you said I could see them. I'm not leaving just because you've decided to be an asshole!"
Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. "I'm giving you three seconds to walk to that door on your own. After that, I'm carrying you out. Your choice."
"Go to hell."
He moved faster than I anticipated. One moment he was across the room, the next his hands were on me, lifting me up and over his shoulder.
"Put me down!" I screamed, hitting his back with my fists. "Put me down right now, you bastard!"
"Apologize to them!" I yelled as he carried me toward the door. "You can't just… Giovanni, please! Apologize to my family!"
"Let her go!" my father roared, starting forward, but Matteo and the other guards moved to block him.
"Arya!" my mother cried.
Marco was hugging Christabel, hiding her face away from us.
Giovanni carried me through the door, and it shut behind us with a finality that made my heart crack and only then did I let the tears fall.
I hated Giovanni De Santis with every fiber of my being.
And I would never forgive him for this.