I hate the Viscontis. And I hate that I have no choice but to suck it up and smile. “Aurora?” And I’m sick of being called Aurora. My name is Rory. “Let’s put this down, shall we?” Amelia slips her hand over mine and gently pries the steak knife from my grip. She flashes me a pitying smile and says, “Don’t listen to Dante. He and his father have their own issues going on and he’s just dragging you into the mud.”
