It was chilly outside, but with his body heat too high in the designer suit Dom got him to buy, sitting in the garden wasn’t a bad idea. Lucrezia Bruni, his future wife, was to arrive today, escorted by Santo, the consigliere’s son, and her father. If Seth could have his way, he would stop time and never face her. Father was teasing him and wouldn’t even show him a picture, thinking it was all a great joke. Not. So. Fucking. Much. “Leave that,” muttered Domenico, scooting down next to Seth, the ever-present cigarette dangling from his lips. “You don’t want to be drunk when you meet them.” Seth scowled and pushed the glass away. “It’s just wine.” He knew Dom was as happy as he was with this arrangement, but it didn’t show much, and the disengaged façade was just making Seth more agitated. “Not your first glass, and it’s homemade. It’ll go straight to your head.” Domenico sighed and offered him a cigarette instead. His eyes were barely visible behind the black shades, and it gave him that emotionless, cyborg-like look.
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