Chapter 3 - The Family Table
The morning sun flooded the glass conservatory overlooking Lake Geneva.
The table was laid with immaculate white linen, sterling silver, fresh berries, and steaming pots of dark espresso. But despite the warm breeze blowing in from the lake, the atmosphere inside the room was as tense as a hostage negotiation.
Emma sat to the right of the head of the table, wearing a borrowed pale-yellow summer dress provided by Sofia’s personal stylist, her damp hair neatly pinned back. Matteo sat at the head, looking impossibly sharp in a tailored grey suit with no tie.
Across from them sat Bianca Caruso and her father, Donato Caruso—a thick-necked, grey-haired man with heavy jowls and eyes like ice.
Sofia sat at the opposite end of the table, beaming with radiant happiness as she passed a basket of warm pastries to Emma.
“Eat, Emma, dear,” Sofia insisted warmly. “You look so pale. Matteo works his employees far too hard, but now that you’re family, I will ensure he gives you proper rest.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Romano,” Emma said, offering a tight, polite smile.
“Call me Sofia, please.”
Donato Caruso set his silver fork down onto his porcelain plate with a deliberate, loud clink. The small talk instantly died.
“So,” Donato rumbled, his deep voice carrying the heavy cadence of the old-country elders. “The great Matteo Romano has finally chosen a bride. And yet, Donato Caruso hears about it not through an official announcement between families, but at a breakfast table after a staff member wakes up in his quarters.”
Matteo didn't blink. He took a calm sip of his black coffee before meeting Donato’s aggressive gaze.
“Emma is not a staff member, Donato,” Matteo said, his tone smooth as glass and cold as steel. “She is an independent contractor who owns her firm. And she was in my private wing because she belongs there.”
Bianca leaned forward, her red lipstick gleaming under the bright lights. “It’s just surprising, Matteo. We’ve known each other for five years. We spent last weekend together in Miami discussing the port expansion. You never mentioned you were seeing anyone... let alone an event coordinator.”
Emma felt Bianca’s sharp words poking at her, testing for weak points. She took a deep breath, relying on her years of dealing with aggressive clients.
“Matteo is a very private man, Miss Caruso,” Emma said smoothly, resting her hand lightly on top of Matteo’s sleeve. She felt the muscle in his forearm tense slightly at her touch. “And to be frank, given how demanding both of our careers are, we preferred to keep our relationship away from public scrutiny until we were certain of our future.”
Donato narrowed his eyes at Emma. “An event coordinator from Chicago. What is your family line, girl? Where are your roots?”
“My father was a high school history teacher, Mr. Caruso,” Emma replied without a shred of hesitation or embarrassment. “And my mother was a pediatric nurse. My roots are built on hard work and integrity.”
A heavy silence fell over the table.
Sofia looked at Emma with tears in her eyes, patting her heart gently. “A wonderful, noble family,” Sofia whispered warmly. “Integrity is far rarer than money in our world, Donato.”
Donato’s jaw worked silently. He turned his harsh gaze back to Matteo. “And what of our agreement regarding the maritime transport licenses for the south harbor, Matteo? I was under the impression those licenses were meant to be locked within a secure family partnership.”
“The licenses remain a commercial discussion, Donato,” Matteo answered, his eyes locking onto the older man’s face in an unspoken challenge. “Unless, of course, you are telling me that Caruso Steel conducts its corporate transactions based on who I take to the altar?”
It was a brilliant, dangerous cornering move. If Donato admitted he was withholding licenses because Matteo wouldn't marry his daughter, he would look weak and petty before the regional business council.
Donato slammed his hand on the table, forcing a loud, hollow laugh. “Of course not! We are businessmen, Matteo! Business is business!” He stood up, turning to his daughter. “Bianca, come. We have a helicopter to catch back to the city.”
Bianca stood up, her face pale with fury. She looked down at Emma one last time, her eyes burning with promise.
“Congratulations, Emma,” Bianca spat softly. “I hope you survive the Romano family traditions.”
Without waiting for a response, the Carusos swept out of the conservatory, followed closely by two broad-shouldered men in dark suits.
The moment the outer doors clicked shut, Sofia let out a long sigh, reaching across the table to squeeze Emma’s hand.
“You did wonderfully, my dear,” Sofia said gently. “Donato is a bully. He has been trying to corner my son for years. But you... you stood your ground.”
May you like
Emma gave a faint smile, her chest tight. She looked down at Matteo’s hand, which was still resting beneath hers on the table.
His fingers slowly turned upward, capturing hers in a firm, steady grip.
