Matthew glanced at his jabbering sisters. “What’s his story? Frankie’s always been a damn mute about the guy.”
I drummed my nails on the tabletop, trying to remember. “He caused a bit of a scandal, from what I recall. He’s the illegitimate son of an earl or maybe a marquess. At any rate, his father didn’t have other children, and then surprised everyone by naming Xavier as his heir instead of letting the estate pass to his cousin or nephew or whatever. Grandmother’s butler, Garrett, was English, and had a lot to say about the whole ordeal. It was this big to-do when a boy from East London was named presumptive heir to this title, apparently.”
“Then what happened?” Matthew wondered curiously.
I tapped my chin. “I honestly don’t know much. Just that Garrett thought he was an ungrateful, rebellious brat. Attending Dartmouth, for instance, instead of Oxford or Cambridge like everyone else in his class. That’s where he met Eric, who brought him home a few times when he was at school. Nice boy. Tall, like you said. After that, I heard he went to culinary school, of all things, and started several restaurants until his father died maybe three or four years ago…”
By the time I was finished talking, the room had gone silent. All five of Matthew’s sisters were silent and listening intently, the rest of their arguments apparently forgotten. Even his grandmother had stilled in the door, holding a platter of antipasti.
I blinked. “It isn’t the same Xavier, is it?” I asked as I looked around. “Sometimes he uses the name Sato. His mother is half-Japanese, I believe, and that’s her maiden name. Is that—it’s not the same person, is it?”
But by the look on Frankie’s face, he plainly was. And not only that, a fair amount of the story was news to her.
“Wait a second,” Joni said. “Are you saying that Sofia…our baby Sofia…could be royalty?”
“She didn’t say her dad’s Prince William, you idiot,” Marie said, earning a jab in the gut from Joni.
Frankie still hadn’t spoken, though her dark green eyes, so like her brother’s, were large and pleading.
“Did you know, Fran?” Matthew asked gently as he reached across me to clasp his sister’s hand. “About this title, or whatever it is?”
Matthew had been the self-appointed caretaker of his sister and her daughter for several years now. He had always told me that Sofia’s father didn’t want anything to do with them. His impression was that the man was some kind of derelict—a criminal, maybe, or just someone passing through New York on a lark.
Clearly, that wasn’t the case.
“I…” Frankie shook her head, and her eyes watered as she looked around. “I knew about his restaurants. And his mother. The rest, though…” She inhaled deeply as she buried her face in her hands. “I never knew,” she mumbled into her palms. When she looked up, her eyes were red and rimmed with tears. “I have to…can you all just give me a minute, please?”
There was an awkward silence around the table. The rest of Matthew’s sisters found their seats. Wine was poured, plates were filled, and finally, once the clink of silverware had started, Matthew’s grandmother finally took her seat at the head of the table.
“So,” said Mrs. Zola. “You want to get married.” Her sharp gaze flickered between me and Matthew, then down to my hand. “How did this happen?”
“I, ah, asked her in Florence,” Matthew said.
“Florence?” Frankie’s voice echoed. “Mattie, that was months ago.”
“We have had to stay discreet because of my...issues...with the press,” I admitted, rather uncomfortably.
His sisters did not look impressed.
“Three months ago. Three days ago. It doesn’t matter, Fran. The truth is that I knew the second I met Nina that she was the one.” He shrugged adorably as he looked at me. “What can I say? It was love at first sight. I couldn’t look away.”
“Well, we know that, fool,” Lea snarked. “You were making ga-ga eyes at each other the whole time she was here last time. But that’s not necessarily love. In your case, more like lust.”
“If it’s not love, then you don’t know a thing about your brother,” I snapped, unable to help myself.
Lea opened her mouth like she wanted to yell back at me, but was stopped when her grandmother put a hand on her wrist. Matthew took my hand in encouragement.
“I want you to be happy, Matthew,” said Mrs. Zola. “But…” She tapped a manicured nail on the glossy wood tabletop. Then, apparently deciding to take a different tack, she turned to me. “Nina. You’re a very nice girl. Strong. Smart. You been through a lot. And I don’t want to blame you for it, but there are problems, you see. Problems for my Matthew.”
I nodded. “No one here will argue that, Mrs. Zola.”
“The worst, you’re still married,” she started. “How are you gonna be engaged to my Matthew when you belong to another man?”
Matthew’s grip tightened.
“I do not belong to my ex-husband,” I said, perhaps more vehemently than necessary. Just the suggestion of it made my skin crawl.
“Nonna, they’ve been separated for months,” Matthew added. “It’s the issue of the money that’s holding up the divorce. That’s it. Well, that and he’s a damn criminal.”
“Yes, there is that,” Mrs. Zola replied. “And from what the papers say, so is she.” She jabbed a finger in my direction. “These crimes, they cost my boy his job, no? He worked for many years for this job. He loved being a lawyer, didn’t you, Matthew? And we were all so proud of him. People, they call their pasts baggage. We all got it. But yours, it’s a weapon. It hurt my Matthew. How much more will he have to take, eh?”
Matthew opened his mouth to argue, but I set a hand on his arm to stop him. All around the table, I saw his grandmother’s concern reflected in his sisters’
