She kept her eyes locked on mine as she considered my words. Then a slight smile curved her lips. “Okay, then. I guess I’m running point.”
Her hand turned over so our palms were touching and her fingers slid between mine. “But if I come to you with stupid questions, promise to tell me if you lose this faith you seem to have in me.”
“If you come to me with stupid questions, I’ll answer them,” I countered. “It’s the best way to learn, but if it looks like you need extra assistance, I’ll assign someone else to help.”
Adjusting her hand in mine so her fingers faced my wrist, she shook it. “Deal.”
Sadly, she withdrew from me after. Reaching for her coffee instead, she took a long sip before turning her laptop toward me. A spreadsheet was open on it, and she pointed at a column highlighted in red.
“Those are all the clients I haven’t spoken to yet. Should I introduce myself, or would you prefer to continue making the introductions?”
“Forward that to me. I’ll send out an introductory email to lay the groundwork. Then you can contact them from there to establish a personal connection.”
“I can do that.” She paused, bit the inside of her lower lip, and let out a soft sigh. “Would you have trusted me with all this if we didn’t also have that other aspect of our relationship?”
“I hired you when I didn’t even know I had a shot with you,” I reminded her, a frown drawing my eyebrows together. “Where is this coming from?”
She looked directly at me. “I’m not insecure or anything like that. I just want to make sure we’re keeping personal and professional separate, you know?”
I tipped my head back, studying the small motes of dust floating in the sunlight illuminating a section of the ceiling. “For the most part, that’s what we’re doing.”
“And for the other part?” I heard worry creeping into her tone, so I brought my gaze back to hers.
“I don’t make it a habit to bring coffee for my employees, but I enjoy being around you. I wanted to spend a few minutes with you having coffee together before the week started. Is that acceptable, or does that blur the line too much?”
Surprise flashed in her eyes, but she blinked it away. “You’re refreshingly honest sometimes. I’m glad you brought coffee, and I think it’s acceptable.”
“Good. We’re in agreement then.” I allowed myself a satisfied grin, then inclined my head at her as I got comfortable. “What did you get up to yesterday?”
She settled back in her chair as well, wrapping her fingers around her mug as some tension eased from her shoulders. “I watched a movie with Elena and did some work. You?”
“Aldo and I met to go over some proposals for the foundation.” He’d also used the time to drill me about Addy, but I didn’t mention it. “If you’d like to, there are a few people he thinks you might be able to talk to which would help him out.”
“I’d love to.” She beamed at me, but curiosity melted her smile away too soon. “I’ve been wondering about the two of you.”
My brows went up. “If it’s that thing Aldo wanted to know if you were wondering about on Saturday, mine’s bigger.”
She snorted as she tried to hold back a laugh. “Yeah, I’m not surprised to hear you say that. It’s not that, though. Thanks, but no thanks. You can keep those details to yourself.”
I smirked. “You didn’t want me to keep that detail to myself on Saturday night or yesterday morning.”
Pink streaks colored her cheekbones, but she shook her head at me, not backing down. “Maybe not, but I never asked for any of those details about Aldo.”
“Touché.” I chuckled as I unbuttoned my jacket. “What did you want to ask?”
“Your English is very good. From what I’ve seen, the two of you even communicate with each other in it and not Italian. Why is that?”
“Our father insisted.” I remembered the day in vivid detail. Mom had been opposed at first, but eventually relented. “I was very young when I told him I wanted to be a businessman. He said that if I wanted to be successful globally, I needed to be fluent in the most commonly used language for international business.”
“You were that dedicated even when you were little?” Her brows knitted together. “My brother was the same way. It doesn’t seem fair.”
“Why not?” I lifted my shoulders, pulling them back as I dropped them again. “I’ve always been interested in business. I’ve been reading the financial sections of the newspapers since I was thirteen.”
The corners of her mouth twitched. “So while other teenage boys were off exploring their newfound hormones, you were reading newspapers?”
“There was plenty of time to do both those things, Pasticcino.”
A burst of surprised laughter shot out of her. “Did you just call me a cupcake?”
“I did. I didn’t know if you’d know the word, though.”
“Please.” She rolled her eyes at me. “What do you take me for? One of those heathens who don’t eat cake? I learned the words for my favorite treats in my first week here. The only real question is why you called me that.”
“Because you’re my favorite treat,” I quipped, earning myself an eye roll so exaggerated I worried she might have hurt herself.
Thankfully, she ended it with a laugh. “Fair enough, but be prepared. I’m going to come up with something equally cheesy for you. Actually, I might just call you ‘cheesy’ from now on.”
“Is that supposed to be an insult?” I tucked my chin closer to my chest. “Because as far as I’m concerned, anything cheesy is good. The more cheese, the better.”
“It figures you’d say that.” She chuckled, crossing her tanned arms over her chest. They lifted her breasts, and my eyes dropped for just a moment. God, I love those things.
“I’ll think of something better,” she said, making me snap out of the beginning of a daydream where I’d unbuttoned her cream-colored shirt. “Don’t you worry.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it.” I winked and took another sip of my cooling coffee. Unfortunately, taking her in her office was going to have to wait for another day.
Glancing down at my watch, I realized more time had passed already than I’d thought. “I have a conference call soon.”
“Do you need me on it with you?” Her eyes flicked to her laptop.
“No, you keep working on that.” I tipped the cup back, draining the last dregs before standing up.
“Hey, Marco?” she said, suddenly hesitant with a rare flash of uncertainty in her eyes. “What did Aldo mean when he said your mother wouldn’t like me?”
I stilled. “It’s nothing really. She just not a big fan of Americans.”
“Oh.” Addy brightened, sitting up straighter. “I’m sure I could change her mind. I’m not bad with parents.”
“Let’s not put the cart before the horse, shall we?” I dropped my empty cup in the wicker trash basket next to her desk, then aimed what I hoped was an easygoing smile her way. “Meeting my mother isn’t something that’s going to happen anytime soon.”
“I know,” she said, still looking much happier than she had before she’d asked. “But I just wanted to know why Aldo would say that. If it’s only the fact that I’m American, it’s nothing for me to worry about. I’m sure I’ll win her over if I ever meet her.”
I highly doubted it, but I didn’t want to dash her good spirits over something that wasn’t relevant right then. “I’m sure you will.”
She smiled before nodding at her screen. “I’d better get back to it if you have to go take that call. Thanks for the coffee.”
“No problem.” I rounded her desk and leaned over to plant a soft kiss on her cheek, smirking when it seemed to surprise her. “Have a good day, Pasticcino. I’ll see you later.”
I heard her laughter as I closed her office door behind me. My own smile only slipped when I got back to my office and pulled my phone out of my pocket.
With my mother coming up left, right, and center
these days, I figured I’d better take it as a sign to call and check in with her. I dropped into my chair while I waited for her to answer.
When she did, it was with a dramatic wail. “Marco? Thank God. I was worried about you.”
“Worried?” I frowned, leaning back with my eyes on the wooden supports on the ceiling. “Why?”
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. I haven’t heard from you. You’ve forgotten all about me.”
I sighed but made sure to keep the sound quiet. “I saw you just a few weeks ago, Mama. When I got back from China, remember?”
“It feels like it’s been a year,” she lamented. “How are you? Have you given any more thought to meeting those lovely girls from my church? I’ve told them about you. They would be happy to go out with you.”
“I told you I don’t want to meet them. Please don’t talk to them about me.” I screwed my eyes shut, but as much as she annoyed me, I still loved her to pieces. “I’m fine. Are you okay?”
“Yes. I just miss you. I want to see you, Mi Bambino.” And that right there was why I had to get creative with nicknames for women in my life. English nicknames weren’t a big problem, but my mother had most of the Italian ones cornered.
“How about if I come to have dinner with you tomorrow night?” I asked. Arguing about being called her baby or trying to convince her that it hadn’t even been close to a year since I’d last seen her would only upset her.
Aldo and I tried to do everything in our power to avoid upsetting her. After everything she’d done for us and how she’d kept us going even after our father’s death, it was the least we could do.
“Why not tonight?” she asked in a small voice.
“I have to work late. Tomorrow, okay? I’ll even be there early.”
“Okay,” she agreed, though I knew she’d have preferred to see me right away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Mama.” I drove my hands into my hair once we’d hung up, Aldo’s comments and Addy’s questions flying around in my brain.
My mother was the epitome of love. Throughout my life, she had been its very embodiment. Unconditionally and truly, she loved us no matter what.
Why did it suddenly feel like she might not be happy if I found it?
Chapter 22
Addy
“Guess who has the night off tonight.” Elena danced into our kitchen, her earphones hanging around her neck as she set her bag down. “You and I are going out. I’m cashing in on that raincheck you owe me.”
I swallowed the piece of buttered toast I’d taken a bite of. “It’s never a good idea to go out on a Monday night.”
“We’re not going out drinking. We’re going out for drinks. There’s a big difference.” She grabbed a slice of toast from my plate, batting her long lashes at me. “You don’t want to fill up on that. I’m in the mood for Bellissima. I know how much you love their food.”
I heard the dull thudding of her music floating from the tiny speakers as she gave me a grin. Happily munching on her stolen bounty, she tapped her watch.
“Give me a few minutes to shower and get ready,” I said.
At her mention of my favorite bistro in our neighborhood, I decided against trying to get out of going out. The food there was a hell of a lot more satisfying than toast for dinner. Besides, I still hadn’t gotten to celebrate my new job with my best friend.
Polishing off the last bite of bread I’d already made, I headed back to my room. We met at the door twenty minutes later, then chose to walk the few blocks to the restaurant.
We ordered our drinks from the hostess before we were even seated, but Anita knew us and didn’t mind. After catching up with her for a minute, she left to get our order and Elena turned her attention to me.
“How was today?” she asked, cutting to the chase. “Did Marco get weird again? If so, I think it’s time he and I had a little talk.”
“Not necessary,” I said without any hesitation. “There’s no need to threaten his crown jewels with your Sicilian butter knife again. He was perfectly normal today. Sweet even.”
“Sweet?” A confused frown wrinkled her brow as she pulled her head back. “What do you mean, sweet?”
“He brought me coffee this morning.” My voice softened as I recounted the events that had kicked off my workday. “It had already been fixed just the way I like it, and he said that he enjoys spending time with me.”
“Well, I’d hope he enjoys spending time with you,” she teased as she smoothed out the deep purple tablecloth in front of us. “What else did he say?”
“A few things. We’re still getting to know each other better, and our relationship is growing. It makes every conversation feel meaningful, even if no earth-shattering information is shared.”
“But he likes you?” she asked, leaning over slightly. “He does, right?”
“I think so. It’s not like we’re on the cusp of some epic love story or anything like that, but we’re having fun.”
Anita appeared with a carafe of white wine and a glass for each of us on her tray. She hurriedly placed them down, left us to pour our own drinks, and went on to the next table.
Elena and I filled up our glasses, but she spoke while doing it. “Why can’t it be an epic love story? I can see the movie posters now. It could be called Billionaire and his Beauty.”
I rolled my eyes so hard I thought I might have pulled an optic nerve. “That’s a terrible movie title. There’s also that rule that says if you can think about it, it already exists.”
“That’s for porn,” she pointed out. “This would be romance at its best. The girl who was saved from taking it all off at a strip club gets swept off her feet by a hot rich dude who brings her coffee? It’s the stuff dreams are made of.”
“Exactly. Dreams, not reality. In reality, the girl didn’t need to be saved. She just needed an opportunity to save herself, which he gave her. Also, I haven’t been swept off my feet. They’re still planted firmly on the ground. Thank you very much.”
She pointed a manicured finger at me as she took a long gulp of her drink. “I see that sparkle in your eyes when you talk about him. There has been some sweeping. Let’s say you’ve been swept off of one foot.”
“That sparkle was put there by orgasms, not love.” My declaration was met by one curious and one disapproving look from the people at the table beside ours.
It was a beautiful summer’s evening, and the outside courtyard of the bistro was packed. I wasn’t surprised they had heard me.
Elena, as always, didn’t seem to care whether people were listening in on our conversation. She took another swig of wine and wagged her brows at me. “I’m still waiting for you to tell me all about those orgasms. It’s the least you can do for those of us who aren’t having any we’re not giving ourselves.”
I lowered my voice when I realized the eavesdroppers were becoming more interested in what we said. “What’s there to tell? You know as much about orgasms as I do. Plus, it’s rude to speak about what happens in the bedroom.”
“Fine, fine.” She put up her hands but pouted. “Don’t give me the details about what happens in the bedroom. But don’t get angry with me when I hold out on you next time.”
“Please do.” As much as I loved my friend, her colorful commentary had left me with the intense urge to bleach my brain a few times.
She gave her head a shake, but at least she didn’t stick with the topic. “In that case, let’s talk about outside of the bedroom. You say it’s not the start of a great romance, but why not? He’s crazy hot, he’s super successful, he brings coffee, and apparently, he gives great orgasms you’re too shy to talk about.”
“You just had to get that in there, didn’t you?” I sipped my wine, waiting for her to continue.
Shrugging her shoulders with a sassy grin spreading on her face, she downed almost half her glass. Once she swallowed it, she smacked her lips. “I did, but I’m letting it go now. I know you’re not too shy to talk about it. A
nyway, my point is that he’s the kind of man you don’t let go.”
“I’m pretty sure I have to have him before it counts as letting him go.” I caught Anita’s eye and ordered another round. She shot me a thumbs-up, motioned to the menus on the stand, and nodded her understanding. “I’ve never had money in my life, so him having money or not means nothing to me.”
“Bullshit,” Elena said firmly. “It means something to everyone to have a partner who can support them and their families. No one wants to have to worry about how they’re going to feed all the mouths conceived by their love.”
I used my glass to point at her, making sure none of the tart liquid spilled out. “You have a very different perspective on that than I do. All I want is enough money to feed my own mouth, as you know.”
“That’s what you say now,” she said flippantly before her expression turned more serious. “If this thing between you carries on, your ovaries are going to insist on creating little mouths.”
“That’s not true. My ovaries are well aware of our opinions on the matter. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“If you say so.” She didn’t look convinced, but I didn’t expect her to understand.
Elena wanted to have a big family eventually. She had been raised to believe it was the way to go, and she wanted everything that went along with it.
The last time we’d discussed what she wanted and expected in her future, she had informed me that she foresaw a whole room full of children and grandchildren coming to visit us in the nursing home one day.
Because yes, she wanted us to move into a nursing home together when the time came. That was one idea of hers I could get behind.
“I say so, but even if it was something I wanted, it doesn’t mean I would get it.” That was the crux of the problem for me. It was better not to hope at all than to be disappointed by what I ended up with. “I met his brother over the weekend, and he said their mother wouldn’t like me.”
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