(ANGELO'S POV)
Raffaele slowly walks toward the table as if he's not thirty minutes late. He has sunglasses perched on his nose, wearing a crisp navy blue suit. He pulls out the chair across from us, slides in, and finally takes off the sunglasses.
A slow, measured smile spreads across his face.
"Buonasera, Lolo (Good evening, Lolo)," he says, nodding politely in my direction.
"Sera, fratellino (Evening, baby brother)," Raffaele says to Val with a smirk.
I study Valentino, watching the subtle flex of his jaw. He barely glances at Rafa as he raises his wine glass to take a sip. I swallow hard and hope to God this dinner actually goes smoothly.
"You're late," I say evenly, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. "We agreed to meet by seven pm sharp."
Before Raffaele can respond, the waitress appears. "Excuse me, sirs. Are we ready to place our orders now?"
