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Which it did. I have to fight my smile again.
My mother hums like she expected as much and takes another dainty bite of caviar. "Well, then. Enough of the useless blind dates. When did you last speak with Dante Parisi?"
Shit. I should've known he would pop up in this conversation.
"Not long ago," I hedge vaguely, taking another bite to ensure I couldn't answer another quick question from her. Unfortunately, it just reminds me that this seafood is making me a bit nauseous, and I chew slowly, wondering if I'm coming down with something.
If I am, I better not tell her. My parents don’t make mistakes, and they don’t tolerate sick days well. Russos are supposed to visit a doctor immediately and fix the problem, not wait for it to pass, as I figure I'll do with this queasy stomach.
Mother doesn't seem to notice. "You know, I value your independence, darling. Of course, I do. But you're a powerful young woman, and you'll be drawing much attention—especially unwanted —if you go for too much longer without settling down. Call it archaic, but it's true. They say people are afraid of a career woman like yourself, but I was the same way, and I never made a better choice than marrying your father. Kept the rabble away, and he's my closest confidante. Two on a team is always better than one, and once you have a family, it will all be so…."
I know she's still talking and should keep listening, but I'm too distracted by envisioning what she's already said. Marrying Dante Parisi to get other guys to stop sniffing around. Having to physicallybewith that man, to eventually pop out some no-doubt spoiled runts that look like him. Not that he's hideous, because he isn't, but I'm not attracted to him.
It sounds odious. All of it. It always has.
Without bidding, my mind swaps Dante for Roberto in this future envisioning, and I grip my hands together in my lap, heat flooding my face. If I was with him, settling in for a new life, starting a family, watching him laugh and play with a dark-eyed, dark-haired child every bit as mischievous and beautiful as he is…
My heart twinges with warmth, and tears prick my eyes.In another world, I would want exactly that.
God. Why the fuck am I nearlycryingover this? That is so unlike me.
I shake my head and take a sip of sparkling water. Two days with a secret boyfriend, and I'm fucking baby-hungry. It's insane—and it can't happen. He's a Giovanni. I'm a Russo. We're hiding the passion consuming both of us while we work on this deal, and no one can ever know about it.
Because if they found out… Well, that can't happen.
"—was picking you up soon?" Mother looks at me expectantly.
I blink. "Sorry, could you repeat that?"
She tuts at me. "You seem tired. Didn't you hear what I said, or are you staying up too late at night and exhausting yourself at work? It makes for a bad conversationalist, and we Don’t want that, darling."
Truth be told, Ihavebeen up a lot at night...ever since Roberto showed up back in LA. I clear my throat twice in succession.
"I'm just a little tired, but I'll tune in better. What were you saying?"
"I said, did your friend Mandi text you that she would be picking you up soon? She texted me, oddly enough."
I smirk. "She's throwing me a surprise party. God help me; she's so set on it."
"It's not a surprise if you know," she points out.
"She didn't want me to betoosurprised and risk me breaking someone's arm by mistake."
Mother nods as if this is the most natural precaution for my best friend to take and then sighs and leans back, setting down her utensils. "Well, if you knew about this party in advance, I hope you had her invite Dante Parisi. You two should be at more social things together, especially now that this new deal is gaining traction. Once you're done as a representative, I hope you'll give work a break and let him date you to get things going in that respect."
So pragmatic. I probably get it from her.
I sigh. "Yeah, she invited him."
She looks genuinely pleased. "Good. And darling, I hope you know how proud your father and I are of your efforts. He was raving about your success with that contact in Chicago a few days ago—and it's spurred quite a few things from Las Vegas to here, I understand. Well done."
Really it was all Roberto, but I said nothing. My mother is particularly embittered against the Giovannis, and I think she would rather slit her own wrists than hear that I was getting along with one, much less falling for one.
Shit. Falling for one?Is that what's happening to me?
Before I can overthink my feelings more, Mandi appears beside our table with a bright smile, her blond curls up in a stylish messy bun. "There you are! And hi, Mrs. Russo. My God, you're always just so flawless. I swear, it's like you're reverse-aging—and those Jimmy Choos are todiefor."
As always, my mother isn't immune to a little flattery. She chuckles. "It's good to see you too, Amanda. I hope you'll help Giulia with her hair before the party. It's fine for a lunch date, but if Dante Parisi will be there, she needs something more dramatic to show off her pretty face."
