Page 36 of Mafioso's Muse
‘You don’t need to bepushedfor that.’ He looked out the window, allowing the tension between them to dissipate. ‘Let’s get some food into you.’
The dining room featured an assortment of rich mahogany furnishings and colourful dinnerware. Salvatore and Antonio were already seated at the table when the pair entered. They fell silent and rose from their chairs when they spotted Willow.
‘You remember my father,’ Vaughn said.
Willow nodded. ‘Of course. Good to see you again.’
Salvatore gestured to an empty chair. ‘Sit, sit.’
‘And I don’t believe you’ve met Tony,’ Vaughn said as he smoothly pulled Willow’s chair out.
‘No.’ She sat. ‘Though I’ve seen you around the theatre a lot. Should I call you Antonio or Tony?’
‘My friends and family call me Tony.’
Willow was unsure what to do with that, as she was neither.
It was incredible to Willow how two brothers could look so similar and yet be so different in the same breath. Same build, same colour hair, same teeth, hair, smile. However, Antonio’s face was unshaven, he wore a polo T-shirt and jeans, and he had only one visible tattoo: a partially covered cross on his bicep.
‘Nice to meet the dancer Ma hasn’t stopped talking about since the bar opening,’ Antonio said.
Willow’s eyebrows rose. ‘I can’t be that interesting, surely.’
Paula walked in carrying a tray of something. ‘All I said was that you seemed like a lovely young woman, and you had kind eyes.’
Willow straightened her already straight cutlery.
‘I hope you like osso bucco,’ Paula said.
‘As in the poet?’ Willow asked, looking up.
Salvatore’s expression turned to one of pure horror. Then, noticing Vaughn’s smirk, he relaxed.
‘What did I miss?’ Antonio asked, looking between everyone.
‘I may have thought that caponata was a composer when the menu was being discussed the other day,’ Willow explained.
Antonio grinned down at his plate. ‘I wouldn’t worry about it.’
‘Given you’re one-eighth Italian,’ Vaughn said, ‘I think it’s shameful.’
Suppressing a smile, Willow glanced sideways at him, noting the playful glint in his eyes despite his serious face.
Paula gestured to a bowl. ‘Try the olives, Willow. It’s a family recipe.’
‘My mother was an exceptional cook,’ Salvatore said, pushing them closer to her. ‘Eat, eat.’
Willow placed a spoonful of them on her plate and popped one into her mouth. Flavour exploded. Garlic, lemon, chilli. ‘Delicious. Vampires wouldn’t dare after a few of these.’ When she snuck a look at Vaughn, she found him watching her with that trademark intensity of his.
‘How long have the two of you been… acquainted?’ Antonio asked as he served himself some prosciutto.
‘A few weeks,’ Willow answered, feeling awkward about the short time period and the use of the word ‘acquaintance.’
Antonio paused chewing. ‘A fewweeks?’
‘Willow is here asmyguest,’ Paula said, giving Willow a reassuring smile.
Antonio tossed an olive into his mouth, eyes on his brother, who wasn’t saying a word. ‘Right.’