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“Oh, whatever. When it suits them, they are professionals.” She sat down on the sofa next to me. “Only we know what it is like to be in Cosa Nostra,” she hissed.
Typical, my mother. She didn’t have the height to reach the top shelf, but she had no problem associating herself with Cosa Nostra.
“So, what are they proposing?” she asked.
I settled back on the sofa and ran my hands through my hair. “They suggest I marry to show that Cora has a stable support system here with me.”
Watching my mother was like watching a light switch being flipped on. She brightened up immeasurably. I regretted telling her, but she was going to find out anyway. We Italians spread our gossip faster than wildfire. “That is a genius idea. Our Roberto is a genius.” I watched warily, almost able to see the scheming in her head.
“Perfetto. I am meeting Zia Elena tomorrow, and I will ask her to invite Viviana’s daughter. She will be perfect for you. She has all the skills a good woman should have. She is young, beautiful, and unmarried, of course. Her mama has taught her to cook as well. You met her during Raffaello’s wedding. That girl is such a sweet girl and —”
“Mother,” I silenced her sternly, getting up. Something told me this proposal had already been in her plans long before today. She was too quick to spring her plan on me. “I will not get married because Roberto tells me to,” I glared at her. “And I’m definitely not going to get married to someone you want me to.”
“Antonio.” She stood up. “That Yuliya woman was an obligation to the family. Carlo should have never allowed it. But this time around, you marry a girl who understands where we come from. Our values.”
“And, of course, that is, according to you, only a Sicilian-Catholic girl, isn’t it,” I mocked her. “Because how could anyone else have good values, right?”
“You got that right. I want my Sicilian grandchildren.”
“You already have a grandchild.”
“She’s a mistake. Just like her mother was.”
“Fanculo,” I roared. “How are you even a mother?”
“Antonio, mark my words —”
The noise of someone barrelling down the stairs blew into the room. Bare feet. Divya skidded to a stop just inside the living room.
“What is it?” I hurried to her, my anger diminishing into worry for Cora.
“Oh.” She bit her bottom lip, sucking it in and giving a nervous glance to my mother. “Cora just turned over. I thought …you would want to see…” she trailed off, her eyes coasting to my mother again.
“Don’t you know better than to disturb us? Antonio is not interested in —”
“Mother,” I turned around. “If you even have an ounce of respect for that word, shut up and leave now,” I hissed.
I turned around and strode upstairs, but not before I heard Divya mumble, “I forgot she was here.”
But I loved that she was excited enough to forget.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ANTONIO
Ilet myself in, silent as a burglar and softly closed the front door behind me. Moving on weightless feet was a born trait of mine. Two weeks of travelling in Europe had been more exhausting than usual. I normally enjoyed going back home. Stopping by for some business in London had been an added bonus. But I had really missed Cora.
I made my way upstairs to my room, keeping my steps mute and using my sense of awareness rather than switching on any lights. I had landed one day earlier than planned and then gone straight to the office to meet Massimo to solve issues with the acquisition we had in mind. Whitewashing the business of Cosa Nostra was no smooth task. In the midst of it, I had forgotten to inform my staff about my arrival. It was late. Everyone in the staff quarters would be asleep. So will Cora and Divya. Divya. I had missed her too, in a strange kind of way.
I missed her voice, which seemed to have a slight break at the edge. Not all the time, and mostly when she spoke with me. I couldn’t stop wondering if it had the same catch when she came. She was always barefoot, strolling from one room to another. Her feet left behind a trail of desire for me to follow. Yeah, I had fucking missed her sexy body.
But it had been good for me to find a distraction. Burying my cock deep in Sonia in Milan had been an excellent one. I didn’t have to fucking lust after my nanny anymore.
I didn’t bother switching on the lights in my room. Instead, I dumped my bag on the sofa and got undressed in the dark. When I moved over to close the curtains, a flicker of a movement caught my eye. My eyes dropped towards the pool lying beneath my bedroom window.
What the fuck.
Why would she torment me like this?
