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Marzia regarded me warily. “Okay.”
I smiled. Marzia might not be sold on the idea of a stepmother yet–and I wasn’t too hyped about having a stepdaughter–but it was comforting to know there was at least one Vigliano I could be civil with. Even if it was a six-year-old.
When I looked across the table, Giova
i was staring at me. He inclined his head when he caught my eye. I scowled but said nothing. I spent the rest of the evening listening to Marzia talk about fossils and avoiding the gaze of my future husband.