the workplace. Of course, that agreement fell apart when I came onboard.”
“Did that count? I thought you were dating Sev before you joined Dantes.”
“Was blackmailed into joining Dantes. Don’t you read The Snitch? I guess Britt saw my relationship with Sev as a loosening of the rule and made a concerted effort to catch Marco’s eye. Then when both Lazz and Marco went after you…” Francesca shrugged. “I’m sure it felt like a slap in the face to poor Britt.”
Caitlyn considered the situation. Sunlight poured down across the red spans of the bridge and bounced off the whitecaps far below. If Francesca’s comments were accurate, it explained many of the barbed remarks Britt claimed were jokes. “Thanks, Francesca. I appreciate you clueing me in.”
Sympathy gleamed in Francesca’s dark eyes. “Anytime. I’m just sorry I had to trash someone you consider a friend.”
Caitlyn leaned back against her seat and studied her sister-in-law for a long minute. How odd that with one simple “I do” she’d gone from having almost no family to having one so sizeable that she didn’t even know all their names or faces yet.
A few minutes later they climbed the hillside above Sausalito and pulled into the drive of a large, rambling gated home. Francesca led the way through the dusky interior and out into a huge, meticulously tended garden, overrun with flowers, shrubs and shade trees. A wrought iron table had been placed beneath the widespread arms of a mush oak and set for lunch. Seated at the table was a woman who could only be Nonna.
Caitlyn returned the older woman’s stare, fascinated by Marco’s grandmother. She must be well into her seventies, considering she and Primo just celebrated their fifty-sixth anniversary. Yet she looked a full decade younger, her face one of radiant beauty despite the lines life had carved there. Or maybe because of them.
“Marco has your eyes,” Caitlyn observed.
Laughter danced within the hazel depths, revealing that Marco had inherited a second characteristic from his grandmother. “So does Lazzaro,” she said, her voice carrying the lilting strains of her Italian heritage. “Or did you not notice?”
Caitlyn blinked in surprise. “I…I guess I never did. But, of course they would since they’re identical twins.”
Nonna lifted a shoulder. “Ah. Once you have been touched by The Inferno, you see only one man clearly.” She kissed Caitlyn on both cheeks, followed by Francesca, then gestured to the two empty chairs. “Come. Sit. You will call me Nonna as Francesca does, and we will break bread together and talk as women have talked since the day we were formed from Adam’s rib. About men, life, children and then, inevitably, about men again.”
Francesca grinned. “Sounds good to me. Especially the men part.”
“Hah. With you I suspect children are more on your thoughts, yes?”
“Not quite yet, Nonna.”
“Time will tell. I am rarely wrong about these matters. But since that is not yet an issue, we will have a lovely glass of wine with our lunch.” A mischievous expression twinkled in her eyes. “Maybe two.”
“I’m sorry, Nonna,” Caitlyn began. “I can’t—”
“Because you are not finished with your workday.” Nonna waved that aside and poured the wine. “If it makes you more comfortable, consider keeping me happy for the rest of the day one of your duties. One of your primary duties since I have arranged for you to have the afternoon off. And keeping me happy right now involves drinking some Dante wine while we get to know each other.”
Caitlyn gave in gracefully. “A dangerous proposition. Last time I had a glass of your Dante wine, I ended up married to Marco.”
The other two women dissolved into laughter. “Such is The Inferno,” Nonna said. “It turns sane, rational women into creatures of instinct.”
The comment roused Caitlyn’s curiosity. “Would you mind if I asked you both a personal question?”
“Hit me,”
“Did that count? I thought you were dating Sev before you joined Dantes.”
“Was blackmailed into joining Dantes. Don’t you read The Snitch? I guess Britt saw my relationship with Sev as a loosening of the rule and made a concerted effort to catch Marco’s eye. Then when both Lazz and Marco went after you…” Francesca shrugged. “I’m sure it felt like a slap in the face to poor Britt.”
Caitlyn considered the situation. Sunlight poured down across the red spans of the bridge and bounced off the whitecaps far below. If Francesca’s comments were accurate, it explained many of the barbed remarks Britt claimed were jokes. “Thanks, Francesca. I appreciate you clueing me in.”
Sympathy gleamed in Francesca’s dark eyes. “Anytime. I’m just sorry I had to trash someone you consider a friend.”
Caitlyn leaned back against her seat and studied her sister-in-law for a long minute. How odd that with one simple “I do” she’d gone from having almost no family to having one so sizeable that she didn’t even know all their names or faces yet.
A few minutes later they climbed the hillside above Sausalito and pulled into the drive of a large, rambling gated home. Francesca led the way through the dusky interior and out into a huge, meticulously tended garden, overrun with flowers, shrubs and shade trees. A wrought iron table had been placed beneath the widespread arms of a mush oak and set for lunch. Seated at the table was a woman who could only be Nonna.
Caitlyn returned the older woman’s stare, fascinated by Marco’s grandmother. She must be well into her seventies, considering she and Primo just celebrated their fifty-sixth anniversary. Yet she looked a full decade younger, her face one of radiant beauty despite the lines life had carved there. Or maybe because of them.
“Marco has your eyes,” Caitlyn observed.
Laughter danced within the hazel depths, revealing that Marco had inherited a second characteristic from his grandmother. “So does Lazzaro,” she said, her voice carrying the lilting strains of her Italian heritage. “Or did you not notice?”
Caitlyn blinked in surprise. “I…I guess I never did. But, of course they would since they’re identical twins.”
Nonna lifted a shoulder. “Ah. Once you have been touched by The Inferno, you see only one man clearly.” She kissed Caitlyn on both cheeks, followed by Francesca, then gestured to the two empty chairs. “Come. Sit. You will call me Nonna as Francesca does, and we will break bread together and talk as women have talked since the day we were formed from Adam’s rib. About men, life, children and then, inevitably, about men again.”
Francesca grinned. “Sounds good to me. Especially the men part.”
“Hah. With you I suspect children are more on your thoughts, yes?”
“Not quite yet, Nonna.”
“Time will tell. I am rarely wrong about these matters. But since that is not yet an issue, we will have a lovely glass of wine with our lunch.” A mischievous expression twinkled in her eyes. “Maybe two.”
“I’m sorry, Nonna,” Caitlyn began. “I can’t—”
“Because you are not finished with your workday.” Nonna waved that aside and poured the wine. “If it makes you more comfortable, consider keeping me happy for the rest of the day one of your duties. One of your primary duties since I have arranged for you to have the afternoon off. And keeping me happy right now involves drinking some Dante wine while we get to know each other.”
Caitlyn gave in gracefully. “A dangerous proposition. Last time I had a glass of your Dante wine, I ended up married to Marco.”
The other two women dissolved into laughter. “Such is The Inferno,” Nonna said. “It turns sane, rational women into creatures of instinct.”
The comment roused Caitlyn’s curiosity. “Would you mind if I asked you both a personal question?”
“Hit me,”
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