Page 55 of The Billionaire's Destiny

“And it didn’t take too much of your time. Or are you mad because I didn’t invite you in?”

I pursed my lips. “No, I wasn’t mad or expecting anything. Seriously. Let’s drop it.”

“I never brought it up, and stop lying. You’re not good at it.”

I wanted to be angry, but he was right. Watching him masturbate had bruised my ego. Still, it was his choice, and I had no right to question it.

We rode in silence for a few minutes until I changed the subject. “I heard from my grandparents.”

“About the flowers? They left me a message about sending them to the hotel. How are they?”

“Good. We texted before you arrived.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, it was good actually.” I recapped our previous messages about the photo and how I resembled my grandmother.

“Oh, I’d love to see the photo. We’ll definitely have it enlarged and framed.” I handed it over to him, and his eyes widened. “Wow. Constance looks beautiful, just like you.”

My heart melted. “Thank you.”

“You know what my mom said when she saw you the first time?”

“What?”

“She said, ‘She’s too beautiful. Pretty girls are spoiled brats.” He laughed, and I let out a groan.

“Olivia’s pretty.”So, I guess she’s talking about herself.

“She was joking. Your mom was a stunner. My dad said everyone wanted to court Lorelei Belfiore.”

I laughed. “Never say she’s not stunning now. I think she’s going through a midlife crisis.”

“Why do you say that?”

I showed him the new photo with her blonde hair.

His eyes widened. “Whoa, Mama’s scorching hot. Is this a Tinder photo?”

I swiped his arm, and we laughed again; it eased a lot of the tension inside me. “But yeah. It looks like Mama’s going through something, and I don’t know if I’ve told you, but thank you for giving her your home on the Upper West Side. It was incredibly generous. She loves it.”

“She’s family. We’re all a family now.” I smiled, and he took my hand again and squeezed it. “Let’s put all differences aside and enjoy ourselves.”

Happiness rose inside me, and I held onto it because that was all I wanted.

Agroup of nuns walked past us, their rosaries catching the sunlight, standing out among the crowd of tourists in windbreaker jackets and sunhats. The Basilica di Santa Maria Delle Grazie was full to capacity for the afternoon viewing. A twinge of guilt rose as Rocco led us to the front of those who planned their once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage, given to us in a phone call. Despite it, I smiled at the familiar face of the woman I’m sure I met at the fundraising art event in Florence. Her eyes filled with recognition, and she crossed over, greeting us both with warm kisses on both cheeks. “Ciao, di nuovo.” Hello, again.

“Ciao, Angelina,”Rocco said, reminding me of her name.

“Che piacere vedette.”How lovely to see you. “Seguimi.”Follow me.

“Seguimi?” Rocco repeated.

“Sì, per favore, Mr. Marini.”Yes, please Mr. Marini.She led us to a set of glass doors that opened on a timer, allowing only a small group to enter at a time.

“Excited?” Rocco said, squeezing my hand.

I smiled. “I am.”