Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 109882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“No. Portuguese. On my father’s side.” I didn’t know why I felt the need to tell her that, but it was clear she was very proud of her heritage—maybe even old school about it—and I could understand her wanting the same culture and life for her son.
Her smile blossomed on her face, and I exhaled, not realizing I’d been holding it in. For some reason, her approval of me meant a great deal, even if Enzo said it didn’t matter one way or another.
“It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, Bianca.” Mrs. Santini reached out and took my hands in hers, surprising me as she gave them a little squeeze, coupled with a smile. “But please call me Nina. Mrs. Santini was my mother-in-law.” She smiled wider. “I can see why my son fell for you as fast as he did. You’re absolutely stunning.” She held my arms out and appraised me. “Beautiful.”
And just like that, I felt that tension leave me, that uncomfortable awkwardness of meeting her for the first time totally vanishing.
I was led inside, the door shutting behind us, Enzo thankfully never leaving my side. I spotted Paolo sitting at the dining room table with a glass filled with an amber-colored liquid. He set his glass down and rose as soon as he saw us, his expression not something I could read.
He inclined his head and said, “Bianca.” He didn’t make a move to touch me, not even shake my hand, and the way his eyes flickered to Enzo, I could only assume the scowl Enzo was giving his brother was the cause of his hesitancy to come closer to me. My lips twisted with surprised amusement at how possessive and protective Enzo was, even to his brother.
Paolo cleared his throat and said, “I’d like to apologize for the inappropriate way I spoke with you the first time we met.”
I felt my brows lower at his words. He hadn’t even been inappropriate, not to me at least, and certainly hadn’t made the situation uncomfortable. Obviously, he’d spoken in a way that could have hinted on inappropriate things that Enzo and I would have done or would do, but it hadn’t gotten to that point, because Enzo had shut it down. But still, Paolo’s apology caught me off guard.
It was very clear that Enzo had spoken to him since that night at the club and let him know how he’d disapproved of the situation. Again, I wasn’t familiar with the dynamics of something like this, where it was clear Enzo was the alpha and his word was law. But I supposed being the capo of the mafia would require a man to be held at a far different standard than I’d ever understand.
But I’d already told myself I was just going to go with the flow. Things were going great; Enzo was protective and respectful of me, and so if Paolo wanted to apologize for being flirty, I’d smile and say thank you and tell him that no apology was needed.
After I uttered the words, I turned and looked up at Enzo, seeing he already had his attention trained on me. I felt a flutter in my belly at the consuming gaze he laid upon me.
The rest of the evening passed by in a blur, with Nina talking about Enzo as a child, asking me about my childhood, and of course my parents. I felt like she was feeling me out, and although I had no doubt she was very much immersed in the mafia world, she never once brought it up. Then again, I wasn't sure that would have been a “proper” dinner conversation.
As the evening ended and we said our goodbyes, Enzo led me back to his Mercedes. Once we were both seated inside and he pulled away from his mother’s home, I couldn’t help but smile as I glanced at him. He, of course, already had his hand curled around mine, that heavy presence something I realized I yearned for.
“My mother loved you,” he said softly, his focus on the road in front of us.
“Maybe she was just being polite.” Of course I didn’t believe that. Nina had been so friendly, accepting me genuinely. There had been no awkwardness or tension, no uncomfortable pressure that everyone had been trying to make the evening comfortable. It just had been.
“You know that's not the truth.”
I rested my head on the seat rest and looked at him again. He wore a small smile, and I tightened my hand on his until he glanced at me. “I wonder how many people get to see that kind of smile on you.” He lifted our conjoined hands to his mouth and kissed my knuckles.
“Only you.” His voice was hard and unyielding, and to think I was the only one he showed this softer side to warmed me in every empty place in my body.