Page 46 of Broken Crown

And just like that, for the first time since I arrived, I could relax a little.

I’d always wanted siblings. Always wondered what it would be like to have a sister I could confide in or a loving, overprotective brother. My throat tightened with emotion at the thought.

Their mother surveyed her children with the cool calculation of a general watching her troops defect. Her narrowed gaze moved from face to face, lingering longest on Sebastian’s hand at my waist.

Finally, she took a step deeper into the courtyard.

Stretching out her arm, she said, “My name is Filomena Juliette La Russa Diamanti, but you may call me Signora Diamanti.”

Honeyed poison, sweet on the surface but deadly underneath.

Before I could take her hand, Sebastian cut in. “You may call her Filomena…or Mother.”

His words were a deliberate provocation, his tone daring her to object.

Her proffered hand curled into a fist as a vein throbbed at her temple despite the Botox.

“Or Nonna,” Arcangelo added from behind his glass. “Given the trajectory.”

The courtyard went electric. Even Rafaello’s mouth twitched.

Filomena’s head snapped toward her youngest son, her expression murderous. Her forehead was impossibly smooth, as was the high arch of her eyebrows. She might have been trying to show anger, but the years of plastic surgery prevented it.

Her deeply tanned skin had the appearance of worn leather, and that, coupled with her dyed jet-black hair, gave her a rather harsh, unnatural appearance. The scent of expensive perfume wafted from her, too strong, too assertive, just like her presence.

Sebastian raised a single eyebrow, daring her to react.

His body tensed against mine, ready for battle over this small but significant point.

Inhaling harshly through her pinched nose, she unclenched her hand and offered it to me again.

I resisted the urge to curtsy. “Pleasure to meet you. My name is⁠—”

Her fingers tightened painfully around mine as she gave me a once-over. “I know who you are.”

The contempt in her words made my skin crawl.

When she pulled her hand from mine, she deliberately scraped her long, pointed thumbnail along the back of my hand, marking it. The sharp sting was followed by a thin line of red appearing on my skin.

Sebastian’s gaze dropped to my hand as his entire body went rigid with fury.

“Oh dear.” Arabella’s voice was silk and arsenic. “Those talons really are getting out of control, Mother. Perhaps your manicurist could file them down. Before someone mistakes it for…aggression.”

The word landed with precision. A daughter calling her mother an animal without ever raising her voice.

Sebastian’s eyes turned cold and deadly as they locked onto his mother’s face.

Without a word, he lifted my injured hand to his lips and kissed the mark his mother had left, his eyes never leaving hers, a silent declaration of war.

After pulling my arm back, I cradled my hand against my middle, desperately wishing I was anywhere but here. The courtyard with its carved stone walls and blooming purple bougainvillea suddenly a beautiful prison.

Filomena placed her hands on her hips and surveyed her children.

She was outnumbered, and she knew it. Every polished insult, every carefully placed barb from her own children had drawn the battle lines with elegant brutality.

After yet another dramatic pause, she waved her hand in the air. “So is no one going to get their poor mother a drink?”

Arcangelo bowed slightly and swept his arm to the side. “Right this way, Mother. I believe they have that Barolo you enjoy. The one that pairs so well with…humble pie.”