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“You’re my father. Of course, I’ll have lunch with you,” I reply, kissing him on the cheek before sitting down opposite him in the Michelin-star restaurant.
I didn’t tell Connor Dad asked me to lunch, but George is standing nearby, and two other men are at the door. I’m pretty sure he knows by now, but I turned my phone to silent.
I may want to get out of the family business and all its archaic rules, but I love them. I love my father.
I don’t love that I’m lying to him. He’s been asking for a decision on whether I want our ceremony to be held at the Mancini Mansion on Long Island.
Your mom would’ve wanted you to,one of his texts said.
Ugh. Guilt is weighing heavily on me.
Not just that. Getting married at the house is something I wanted, but not for my fake wedding. Which I clearly can’t tell anyone about.
I came close to telling Sienna so many times. I have no one to talk to. But I know if I did, it would be too risky, and she would talk me out of it.
“You seem happy,” she said earlier this week. “Is this what being in love does? Maybe Idowant a boyfriend, then.”
“Highly recommend it.” I grinned.
Love?
I’m not sure what I felt about Connor. I know my feelings aren’t platonic. I know I really like him—I mean, he’s Connor Barrett—but it’s more than justlike.
Despite the layers of rippling muscle, his dark, moody eyes, and the way he feels inside me, I enjoy his company.
Even when he’s trying to ignore me and be all broody and dark, his eyes follow me. Or he’ll throw a blanket over me. Or let me choose the TV channel.
He feels like it’s something.
I just hope I’m not imagining it because I’ve stupidly convinced myself there’s a chance this could turn into something real.
Which I know is a recipe for disaster.
I pick up the menu and focus on lunch.
“I see he has you well-protected,” my father says, glancing behind me at George. Four of his own men are at different spots in the restaurant, and two are outside.
I know exactly how to spot them.
My eyes follow his to where George stands, and I nod. “Oh, yeah. You don’t have to worry about me. Connor takes security very seriously.”
We place our orders and watch the server fill our glasses with wine. I plan to have half a glass, as we are busy working on another big event at Bloom Events, and Donna is watching me closely.
She asked if I was going to resign now I’m engaged to Connor—something she was shocked about, just like everyone else in my life. What she didn’t ask about was my roots. As in, being a Mancini. Whether she knew or is just respecting my privacy, I don’t know, but I really appreciate it.
I told her I am absolutely not resigning and am fully committed. I need that job, despite Connor’s billions and the two black credit cards in my purse.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Mia?” Papa asks, then holds up a large palm. “Hear me out. I love you,mia faglia,but have you questioned why this man wants to marry you?”
I blanch.
“Sorry?”
“We are a powerful family. I taught you to be street smart, Mia. Can you truthfully tell me this man loves you?”
No. No, I can’t.
Because he doesn’t.
