Page 62 of Claimed At First Sight

“But wasn’t it like that with Father in the beginning too?” I ask carefully. “You once told us how charming and sweet he was.” Though that’s difficult to picture.

Mamma’s hand stills in my hair.

“He was,” she admits. “But looking back, I can see there was always ambition beneath it. Your father wanted the Leonardi connection, the status our family name brought him.”

Bitterness settles in my stomach. Even after everything, there’s still something awful about hearing it spoken aloud so plainly. To me, it’s like Father deceived Mamma into falling in love with him.

“When I met your father, I was young and naïve.” Mamma resumes brushing my hair. “I’d like to think I’ve done a bit of growing since then.”

I study her reflection in the mirror.

“And Aldo?”

“Aldo isn’t your father. He’s already where he wants to be in life. He isn’t interested in more power or wealth. I think he just wants to be happy now.”

I wasn’t expecting that answer.

Happiness never seems to enter the equation in our world. The focus is always on strategic marriages. Not happy ones.

“You know,” Mamma says, “there’s a certain peace that comes with age. You begin understanding what actually matters and what doesn’t.”

I tilt my head. What is she on about? She’s only forty-two.

“You’re not that old,” I tell her.

“Old enough to have learned a thing or two.”

She stands again and gathers my hair with practiced fingers, twisting it into an elegant knot at the back of my head.

“So you’re not worried he’ll suddenly change? Like Father did?”

She considers the question instead of dismissing it.

“No,” she says at last. “And even with your father, it wasn’t overnight. It happened gradually.”

She pauses with a pin between her fingers.

“The more influence he gained, the more consumed he became by power.” She pushes the pin into my hair. “Then later his obsession with producing a male heir overtook everything else.”

I look down at my hands. That obsession shaped all our lives.

“And I’m not rushing blindly into this either, Mia,” she continues. “Yes, Aldo and I only spent a couple of days together in Sicily, but since then we’ve spoken every day on the phone, as you well know because all of you have been teasing me about it.”

A small laugh escapes her. I glance at her in the mirror and giggle too. Yes, we have.

“Honestly, getting to know someone this way has been wonderful. There’s no pressure, no need to perform. Just conversation.”

I stare at her reflection. She really means it. This isn’t just loneliness making her cling to someone.

“So this is serious?” I ask quietly.

Mamma’s eyes meet mine in the mirror.

“It could become that way,” she admits. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Not even your father in the beginning.”

Somehow that answer seems far more serious than if she’d simply said yes.

Mamma pushes the last pin into my hair before her hands settle on my shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze.