Player(72)

Val’s father stepped forward and extended his hand. “Good to meet you, Sam. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

I took it, clasping it firmly, pumping it with a friendly shake and a sideways smile. “Pleasure to meet you, sir. If what you’ve heard is from Dante, I’ll go ahead and see myself out.”

He laughed, a genuinely amused sound, touched with surprise. “You’ll learn soon enough that Val’s opinion counts more than all four of her brothers put together.”

Max faked a cough, masking the word lameculos with impressive skill.

I had no idea what it meant, but it couldn’t have been good. This was confirmed by the look Val’s dad shot at him.

“Cállate,” Abuelita said with the flick of her hands. “Fósforo. Don’t listen to them. They are just matches, quick to flame, easy to put out.” She snapped her fingers and gave her grandsons a look that had them glancing at their shoes.

“It smells incredible,” I said, wandering over to the stove where a simmering pan sat, sizzling with black rice and seafood.

“Mama makes paella like I’ve never had before,” Victoria said from my elbow.

Abuela waved her hand again and made a sound of dismissal. “When you’ve made it your whole life, it’s not so hard. Have you ever been to Espa?a, Sam?”

“No, I’ve always wanted to go to Barcelona.”

It was Abuelo’s turn to make a dismissive noise. “Everyone wants Bar?a. Where you need to go is Madrid. That is where you find culture. Food and cava and flamenco.” He curled his fingers in a wave, plucking the strings of his guitar without looking. I could almost see a dancer in my mind, stomping her heels to the beat.

“Dinner is almost ready,” Victoria said. “Boys, will you set the table, please?”

“I’ll help,” I offered.

Val laughed, a tittering sound that indicated her nerves. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” I said, reaching for a stack of plates as four hurricane-lobos descended like the thunderhead she’d warned me of.

“We’ll help, too,” Dante said, wearing a wolf smile if I’d ever seen one.

“Great. Grab the knives,” I said, shifting to make room. “And I’ll follow you in.”

Dante humphed. “Maybe you’re smarter than you look—” I almost smiled until he added, “—but I doubt it.”

Her face pinched in fury. “Leave him alone, Dante, or I swear to God—”

“Val, come here and help me with this, would you?” her mom asked from across the room.

Val gave me an apologetic and mildly terrified look. Then, she pinned Dante with one that I was surprised didn’t actually make him combust on sight.

“Coming,” she said.

I waited patiently while they gathered up glasses and wine and cutlery, and one by one, they filed past me into the dining room. Each took the opportunity to eyeball me. Franco was last, his glare punctuated by a smirk and a small shrug.

We moved around the long, rustic table in a silent assembly line. Knife, fork, glass, napkin, and plate—me—last.

“So, what do you want with my sister, Haddad?” Dante’s voice was as fiery as wood coals. “Because whatever it is, I know it can’t be good.”

Knife, fork, glass, napkin, plate, shift.

“Would you believe me if I said I just want to make her happy?”

A laugh from the quartet, dry and distrustful.

“Not a chance.”

I nodded. “Figured. I also figured there’s nothing I can say to convince you. Give me a little time, and I’ll prove it to you.”

Dante glanced at his knife, the light glinting off the blade. “Why do I have the sneaking suspicion you’re full of shit?”

“Because you’re a suspicious guy. It’s the only reason I ended up with Shannon instead of you.”

His square jaw clamped shut and flexed. “Fuck you, Haddad.”

“I don’t mean it like that. It’s part of who you are, man. If you trusted people, you’d get the girl more often.”

Knife didn’t move, and fork, glass, and napkin waited, eyes shifting between us.

“Please don’t stab me with a dinner knife. I don’t think she’d ever forgive you.”

A dry laugh through his nose eased the tension only marginally. We shifted around the table.

“If people were worth trusting, maybe I’d agree. But you don’t know what she’s been through. You don’t know what bullshit she’s put up with. And if you hurt her, I swear to God—”

“Listen, if I hurt her, I’ll come back here of my own free will and let you put that steak knife to good use. I know I don’t deserve her, and I know you don’t have a reason to trust me, but I mean it—I just want to make her happy for as long as she’ll have me. That’s it. That’s all. I know you’ve heard about me, but I’d bet you’ve never heard me to be a liar.”

Dante assessed me, his jaw muscle bouncing. The other brothers shared a look.

“I’ll beat your face inside out, gilipollas. You so much as make her think about crying, and I’ll come and find you in your fancy apartment and bust your teeth like a stack of plates. You hear me?”