Mr. Mysterious In Black (42 page)

Natalio’s voice came leveled and lower as if not wanting such contents to be overheard. “Maybe if you’d married someone you actually loved, and wasn’t concerned about what Mother was bringing to the marriage, then you wouldn’t have to…”

The sounds of approaching footsteps jerked me away from the door. I turned to see two maidservants striding down the hall, one was carrying an arm full of folded white towels and the other was carrying a tea tray. I ambled on, hoping I was succeeding at looking casual and not suspicious. But when I neared the maids, the shorter one with the towels leaned towards me and said, “Ya better be careful aroun’ here, girlie. These folks are lineage of piranhas.” She winked at me and walked on.

Relief flooded through me, and I sighed, grateful that I wasn’t caught by a figure that was less in my favor like Princessa Nelson.

After being sedated by the exchange of text messages with Kelsy, updating her about the formality and antiquity of the Nelsons, my abrasive welcome, and their unconcealed disdain for me, I took a deep breath and exited the powder room, bracing for the storm’s eye.

I took timid steps down the hall, not wanting to hurt even a wandering ant. The study door flew open and out breezed Natalio in a fit of pique, ensued by his brothers. Though I quickened my steps, I didn’t catch up with him because the hall was so damn long. I heard his distant call of my name from where he’d left me, so I hurried along and as soon as I entered the great room—which was now crowded with what I assume were the rest of the Nelsons, aunts and cousins and whoever—Natalio grabbed my wrist and tugged me towards the exit. “Come. We’re leaving.”

Protest? No, I did not. For I was ecstatic about fleeing the medieval family. As we reached the double doors for exiting, Trevillo, the eldest brother, caught hold of Natalio’s arm.

“Christ, Natalio, will you please calm down?” he said. “You know this is what Father wants. He’ll think he’s won. Because you’ll go home and be eaten up with guilt of your broken reverence then later give in to whatever he wants you to do just to regain his honor. You know that’s how it always plays off. Stay, and he’ll see that you’re serious about this.” Trevillo glanced at me and gave a faint smile, not knowing that I’d overheard—um, eavesdropped and knew what they were talking about.
Me.

Natalio heaved and looked down at me, his eyes flaming with rage, his nostrils flaring. In the hopes of quelling him, I reached up to cup his face and gave him a soft kiss. He pressed his forehead to mine and closed his eyes, his breathing evening out. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll stay.”

“Good,” his brother replied with a pat on the back. He leaned in and lowered his voice, “You really flipped out with that bit, brother. Now that he knows that we know, he’ll—”

“Stop playing Mr. Impeccable?” Natalio snapped.

Trevillo sighed and folded his lips. “Let’s just have dinner and get this dreadful evening over with, shall we?”

I
n the safety of Natalio’s arms, I stood reticent as the family engaged in dull conversations, waiting patiently and without complaints for the dinner’s commencement. For me, it was one helluva wait. What was taking so long? It was just food.

I’d scarcely finished the thought when a rotund, middle-aged manservant emerged through a set of double doors that had been closed on the right, holding a wand that seemed much too heavy for his proportion. He held it aloft before slicing it through the air and hitting it against a huge gold gong that I hadn’t even noticed was there. The blow elicited a loud, grating bang, ceasing all chattering and yanking everyone’s attention.

“Good evening, everyone,” he said courteously. “Dinner shall inaugurate.” He stepped aside and gestured to the double doors that were immediately pulled open by another pair of menservants. All the Nelsons garnered single file and walked through the double doors. I folded my lips and followed, trying with tenuous control not to fall into a howl of laughter at this family’s over-the-top absurdities. A small giggle managed to escape and Natalio glanced down at me with warning eyes.

The dinner room was white and…astronomic and archaically decorated with antique pieces and paintings. Silver draperies curved away from gold-framed windows. Elaborate high-back, red velvet chairs surrounded the longest dining table I’d ever seen. Above was an exquisite glistening chandelier that lit up the room. But what really made me refrain from taking these people seriously was the pig on a spit that spun on open fire next to the fireplace. It was as if I’d stepped into a scene of a Jane Austen novel. These people couldn’t possibly be serious.

What century was I in again? What country?

My teeth sank harder into my lip as I tried to suppress my threatening laughter. But I had to let my lip loose from the grip of my teeth when I tasted the metallic tinge of blood.

I was seated between Natalio and a plump, chattering aunt. Across from us sat Trevillo and Lovello. Their ascendant of a father sat at the head of the table, with Melinda on one side and Princessa of the other. The table was laden with fruits and delicacies, crystal glasses—no less, and the finest silver wares. The waiters came around filling our glasses with water and wine while the heavy commanding voice of Marcello Nelson welcomed and wished all the enjoyment of their monthly family dinner…

“The family that prays and eats together, stays together. We must never be too busy, too wealthy, or too proud for family. Because after everyone has failed us, we can always count on
family
.” He took a sip of his water and continued. “And to my children, you all know I love you dearly and I want only the
best
for you. This verse I shall continue to preach to you at every Third Sunday Dinner until I breathe no more: ‘My children,
listen
when your father corrects you. Pay attention and learn good judgment, for I am giving you good guidance. Don’t turn away from my instructions. For I, too, was once my father’s son. My father taught me, “
Take my words to heart. Follow my commands, and you will live. Get wisdom; develop good judgment. Don’t forget my words or turn your back on them. Don’t turn your back on wisdom, for she will protect you. Getting wisdom is the wisest thing you can do
!” My child, listen to me and do as I say, and you will have a long, good life. When you walk, you won’t be held back. When you run, you won’t stumble. Take hold of my instructions, don’t let them go. Guard them, for they are the key to life. My sons, guard your heart above all else, for it will determine the course of your life.”

The last sentence made me wince, as those were the same words Natalio had said to me when I’d begged him to take me back. And I began to wonder,
Was I bad for him? Was I not
best
for him?

So far no one seemed to approve of me, apart from Natalio’s brothers and his mother—maybe. Who said I could see their hearts? All other family members either gave tight smiles or downright sneers. I felt like Anne Boleyn seated at a table with the Tudors.

“Stop,” Natalio whispered against my ear. “He repeats this at every damn dinner. Stop reading into it. You
are
what’s best for me.”

How did he know what I was mulling over? Were we so connected? Gosh, I loved him.

The rotund middle-aged man entered the room and banged a smaller gong this time. When all the chattering had ceased, he spoke. “We now serve you the first course of the evening.” As he said this, maidservants marched in with trays. “Chilled broccoli soup with seared scallops, salt cod mousse and broccoli sprouts.” And then he departed.

Leaning into Natalio I whispered, “Seriously, is all this
really
necessary?”

Biting his lip to suppress his smile, he brought his index finger to his lips in a ‘shh’ gesture.

I rolled my eyes and eyed my soup dubiously. It was green.

“It’s delectable,” Natalio said. “And
healthy
. As matter of fact, I’ll be banning you from pizza. Now eat up. You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast—which was
pizza
.”

Ignoring him, I took a taste. It was indeed toothsome. As I lifted another spoonful to my mouth, the chilling voice of Marcello Nelson sounded. “Miss Francé.”

Inwardly preparing myself for whatever was to come, I looked to him.

“My son has informed me that you two are to be wed.”

My lips curved in an insincere smile. “Yes, Mr—”

“Tell me about yourself,” he demanded. As if he didn’t already know everything about me. If he thought I was going to put up with his bullshit he had another thing coming. I was
not
one of his offspring.

Natalio’s hand found mine and squeezed, but I barely felt it, because I was preparing for a match with the oh-so-feared Marcello Nelson.

“Sadie Elizabene Francé. Twenty-four years of age—Oh, what the heck. I’m wasting my time, aren’t I? It is without doubt that you have already conducted a background check on me, Mr. Nelson. There is no need to audit my veracity. I am candor personified.”

Marcello sucked a breath at my audacity and his eyes grew colder, his face harder, and his framed squared in his high-back chair. Natalio squeezed my hand and narrowed his eyes in warning, while everyone else at the table stared at me as if I was an asylum escapee.

Marcello spoke in a steady, ice-blowing tone. “Indeed, Miss Francé. You are correct. I
have
executed such a task. Your father is deceased. What of your mother?”

“My mother, at the moment, is battling with her own mortality,” I replied, composed. “You see, Mr. Nelson, HIV was the accolade my mother received for being wedded to an abusive, dominant husband of incalculable infidelities.”

There was a disrupting clatter ensued by a cough as Melinda’s soup spoon ‘
accidentally’
fell; her face was flushed a bright shade of crimson. And I watched as Marcello’s hand subtly disappeared under the table, and a second later Melinda’s eyes flew to his face on a gasp. He was no doubt sinking his fingernails into her thigh as a warning for her to contain herself. It was a famous move of my father’s. But he didn’t even look at her, he was looking at me. Whatever pain he was inflicting on her beneath the table was enough to set her in place. Melinda’s hand shook as she recovered her spoon and resumed eating.

Abuser.
Yes, this man was everything like my father. How could he be preaching goodness and all that’s holy when he was everything opposite?

With his eyes never leaving mine, he spoke again. “I have come to the conclusion that you are not worthy of my progeny, Miss Francé.”

Progeny!
How old was this man? I pulled my hand away from Natalio’s grasp that’d grown tighter around my wrist with every word I spoke. There was no way in hell that I was going leave this house with downcast eyes. If I was to leave, then I’d be leaving with a bang. All my life I’ve been antagonized. And at this point in my life I think I was immune to antagonism. His harsh tone or his cold stare didn’t scare me. My father was just the same, so I’ve had training enough to stand up to this double-ass.

With mock disappointment, I slumped my shoulders and peered up at Natalio who was glaring at me. “Oh no. You mean to tell me that I’ve gone through all that trouble to sink my claws into an eligible bachelor so my future would be secured and now…and now it will be thwarted? I won’t get to marry you without signing a prenuptial agreement, then divorce you twelve months later taking a chunk of all you own? Shucks! Well, that’s a bummer.”

Natalio eyes threatened to roll from their sockets, while everyone else gaped at me. I averted my gaze to Marcello whose demeanor hadn’t changed a bit. He was indeed a hard nugget to crack. I had work on my hands. “I’m ascertained your progenies’ posteriors will be ecstatic that you’ll be too wizened or crippled to dictate to them. I can already taste their elation, Mr. Nelson,” I said without batting an eyelash.

Marcello leaned forward, bracing an arm on the table, his steely gray eyes pinioned mine. “Miss Francé, a prudent person foresees danger and takes precautions. The simpleton goes blindly on and suffers the consequences.”

So now he was threatening me through bible verses?
How low!
Game on Marcello Nelson, because I read the bible, too.

I held my composure, and his gaze. “Like a fluttering sparrow or a darting swallow, an
undeserved
curse will not land on its intended victim.”

Almost imperceptibly, his head jerked back as if he couldn’t believe I could quote the bible also. But only I noticed, because all widened eyes were transfixed on me. Natalio was fuming but I didn’t give a hoot.

Marcello tightened his lips. “My child, eat
honey
, for it is good, and the honeycomb is sweet to taste.”

I inwardly rolled my eyes and retorted, “And yet, in the subsequent chapter it warns, ‘It’s not good to eat
too much
honey, and it’s not good to seek honors for yourself’.”

Marcello blinked.

And at that instant, Natalio pushed back his chair with a loud screech and grabbed my hand pulling me from my chair. “Enough, Sadie! We’re leaving.”

“No,” ringed Marcello’s voice. “Dinner has already begun. You shall stay.” He leaned back in his chair, tracing his index finger across his lower lip as his gaze remained locked with mine. “You’ve got a pair of balls on you, Miss Francé.”